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floralfloyd · 4 days ago

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Too Late: Part 2

SUMMARY: After leaving, you've put some distance between you and Tyler. And Tyler has to come to terms with you being gone. But he can't let you go, and comes up with a plan to try and when you back - or at least figure out what to say to you. That is until an unexpected accident throws a wrench in both of your plans. Tyler is determined to show you that he can be there for you when you need him to, but the emotions of being around him again start to rise inside you. Memories of what you once had - and what you lost - keep pulling at you. Especially when Tyler doesn't let the space between you stop him from quietly being there when you need him most.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and support on Part 1 of this! I was definitely not expecting this story to take off and get the reactions it did! Thank you for the comments, reblogs, and likes! This story ended up being way longer than I planned on it being and there will be a PART 3 coming soon (probably sometime next week after the holidays so I can finish up the last few holiday fics I'm working on)

WARNINGS: None, just a lot of heart-shattering angst. This one made me cry while writing it, so be prepared!

WORD COUNT: 6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

TYLER’S P.O.V.

Tyler stood on the front porch of his old farmhouse, staring out at the horizon as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the tree line. The weight of the conversation he was preparing for sat heavy in his chest. His truck keys dangled from his fingers, his grip tightening and loosening as doubt gnawed at the edges of his determination.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to you–only that he needed to say something. He couldn’t let things end the way they had, not without trying to make it right. He had so many things he still needed to say to you.

But the weight of your words, the hurt in your eyes the last time you’d spoken, kept playing on a loop in his head. Then the doubts crept in. What if he’d already blown it? What if showing up just made everything worse?

But then he thought, what if it helped? What if it fixed everything? What if you gave him a chance?

With a final sigh, he pushed off the railing and headed for his truck. He figured you were probably at your mom’s house which wasn’t too far of a drive from his place. He pulled open the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel.

He had just turned the engine over when his phone buzzed in the cup holder. He glanced down and saw your best friend’s name flashing across the screen. His stomach dropped. Why would she be calling? Was it to chew him out for breaking your heart? He wouldn’t blame her if it was. Tyler hesitated, his hand hovering over the phone. He almost let it go to voicemail, but then a pang of guilt hit him. He deserved whatever lecture your friend was about to give, so he swiped to answer.

“Look,” he said, bracing himself. “I know what you’re going to say, and-”

“Tyler.” Your friend interrupted, her voice sharp but trembling slightly. His brow furrowed at the crack in her tone. “Something’s happened.”

The world seemed to tilt under his feet, Tyler clutched the steering wheel as your friend’s words came out in a rush. “It’s her mom. There was a car accident. Her mom’s in surgery right now. She…she’s at the hospital by herself, and-”

“Wait,” Tyler cut in, his voice hardening as he processed her words. “Surgery? Is…is her mom gonna be okay?”

“They don’t know yet,” your friend admitted, her voice quieter now. “Tyler, I don’t know. It…it sounds bad. And she’s…she’s trying to be strong, but you know how she gets. She’s telling us all that she’s fine, but I don’t think she is.”

Tyler stayed silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His pulse pounded in his ears as the reality of the situation hit him. Your mom was in the hospital. You were alone. And here he was, debating whether or not he should show up.

“I think you should go.” Your friend said.

“I don’t think I’m the guy she wants to see right now,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your friend huffed, frustration creeping into her tone. “You’re exactly the guy she needs right now. Whether she realizes it or not.”

“She told me-”

“I know what she told you, Tyler.” Your friend snapped, cutting him off. “Trust me. I was there the night of her birthday when you weren’t. I know. But I also know she’s hurt and scared and stubborn as hell, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you. She won’t say it, but I will…get over yourself and get to the hospital. She shouldn’t be alone right now, and you know it.”

Tyler’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t respond right away, his mind spinning with doubts and what ifs. What if showing up made things worse? What if you pushed him away again?

“Tyler.” Your friend said softly, her tone shifting. “You love her, don’t you?”

The question hit him square in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. “Of course I do,” he murmured.

“Then prove it,” she said simply. “Be there for her.”

Your friend hung up after that, but her words lingered in his mind. Tyler sat frozen for a moment, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He could still hear your voice from the last time you’d spoken, the way it had cracked with anger and pain. The fear of making things worse clawed at him, but your friend’s voice echoed louder: Be there for her.

Tyler put the truck in drive and started making his way towards the hospital. Screw his doubts. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. And if there was even a chance you needed him, he wasn’t going to let you down again.

YOUR P.O.V.

The waiting room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional voice paging a doctor over the intercom. You sat in the corner, hunched over with your elbows on your knees, your hands clasped tightly together. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but you hardly noticed. Your foot tapped a restless rhythm against the tiled floor, the nervous energy pulsing through you too much to contain.

You’d sent everyone away. Your best friend had tried to stay, but you insisted you didn’t need her hovering. You also told her some lie that the nurses said only immediate family could stay. Your dad had called multiple times, offering to send a neighbor or someone to sit with you until he could get there. But you told him the same thing. You didn’t need anyone there with you. You’d be fine until he could get there.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by the steady thud of boots against the linoleum floor, echoing down the hallway. You barely glanced up, expecting to see another loved one ignoring your instructions to stay away.

Without lifting your head, you muttered, “Go home. I’m fine.”

The boots stopped. You waited for a response, but none came. Irritation flared, and you straightened slightly in your chair.

“I said, go home,” you repeated, sharper this time.

Still nothing. Finally, you glanced up, ready to tell whoever it was to leave in no uncertain terms.

The words caught in your throat when you saw him. Tyler stood in the doorway, his hat tucked in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed with concern, but his eyes softened when they met yours.

You swallowed hard and dropped your gaze back to your hands, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room. “Your friend called me,” he said simply. “She told me what happened.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands tightening in your lap.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to be here. You can leave.”

Tyler didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unrelenting. Finally, you glanced up to see that he hadn’t moved an inch. His expression was unreadable, but there was a steadiness in his gaze that made your chest ache.

“Go home, Tyler,” you said again, this time with more force.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, studying you. “When you can look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay without lying,” he said, his voice steady and calm, “I’ll leave. Until then, I’m staying right here.”

The breath hitched in your throat, and you quickly looked away, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. You couldn’t meet his gaze. Not when he saw right through the mask you’d been wearing all day.

Your eyes landed on the brown bag in his hand. The logo was instantly recognizable, and despite everything, a flicker of confusion crossed your face.

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Tyler glanced down at the bag as if just remembering it. He crossed the room, closing the distance between you, and held it out.

“Figured you hadn’t eaten today,” he said simply. “It’s well past supper, and you need food. Stopped by your favorite place and got you your usual.”

You blinked at him, the unexpected gesture catching you off guard. For a moment, you just stared at the bag in his hand, unsure whether to take it.

When you didn’t move, Tyler set it down gently on the chair beside you and crouched down so he was at eye level. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “Just eat something, okay?”

The tears you’d been holding back all day finally broke free, and you quickly turned your head, pressing the heel of your hand against your eyes. Tyler didn’t say anything, didn’t try to touch you or pry. He just stayed there, steady and calm, his quiet presence more comforting than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore, so you reached for the bag, the smell of your favorite meal filling the room as you opened it. It was still warm, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

You managed to eat about half of the food Tyler had brought before your stomach protested. Setting the container back into the bag, you folded it shut with deliberate care, focusing on the crinkle of the paper as a distraction. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, steady and unrelenting. The silence stretched again, broken only by the distant murmur of hospital staff and the faint beeping of monitors from somewhere down the hall.

After a few moments, Tyler cleared his throat, the sound startling in the stillness. “Do you have any updates?” he asked, his voice low but careful, as if afraid of pushing too hard. “Have you heard how she’s doing?”

Your throat tightened, and you shook your head without looking up. You couldn’t speak—not without your voice breaking. You clenched your hands in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you tried to keep the tears at bay.

Tyler’s eyes softened as he watched you, the effort you were putting into holding yourself together painfully clear. He saw the slight tremble in your hands, the way your shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. Without a word, he stood from the chair across the room and moved to the one beside you. You didn’t look at him, but you noticed the shift, and felt the heat of his presence closer now.

You glanced sideways as Tyler settled into the chair, his broad frame filling the space beside you. He didn’t say anything, but he opened his arm, leaving it resting on the back of the chair as he leaned slightly toward you. It wasn’t an overt gesture—just enough to let you know it was there, an unspoken invitation.

You hesitated, your breath hitching as you looked at the open space he was offering. A part of you wanted to retreat, to keep the wall between you firmly in place. But the ache in your chest—the one you’d been fighting all day—finally won out.

Slowly, you leaned over, your weight shifting until your head rested against his chest. His arm closed gently around you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. He didn’t pull you in too tightly, giving you the space to move if you wanted, but the warmth and steadiness of him made you feel like the world might stop spinning just for a moment.

The steady beat of his heart was soothing against your ear, a rhythm that felt like home in a way you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about right now. You closed your eyes, your shoulders sagging as the tension slowly began to leave your body.

Tyler didn’t speak. He didn’t ask any more questions or try to fill the silence. He just sat there, holding you as the tears you’d been holding back slipped quietly down your cheeks. And for the first time that day, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely alone.

The quiet warmth of Tyler’s presence, combined with the emotional toll of the day, eventually caught up to you. Your breathing slowed as you sank deeper against his chest, the exhaustion overtaking your attempts to stay awake. Tyler glanced down at you and realized you’d fallen asleep, your face relaxed for the first time since he’d arrived.

He didn’t move. He stayed as still as he could, not wanting to disturb you. His arm remained firmly around you, holding you steady as your head rose and fell gently with the rhythm of his breathing.

Tyler rested his head back against the wall, his free hand rubbing tiredly at his face. He stared at the sterile ceiling tiles above, his mind racing with a mix of relief and guilt. He was here, and you were letting him be here, but he couldn’t help thinking about all the times before when he hadn’t been.

Nearly two hours passed in silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of passing staff. Tyler shifted slightly, careful not to wake you. Just as he was debating whether to adjust his arm that was starting to go numb, the sound of the waiting room door opening caught his attention.

He turned his head, his gaze landing on the doctor who stepped into the room. The man was middle-aged, with a kind but tired face, his scrubs wrinkled from what must have been a long shift. Tyler straightened slightly, his movements gentle enough that you didn’t stir.

“Are you the family of (your mom’s name)?” The doctor asked, his voice soft but clear.

Tyler hesitated for a second, glancing down at you. “She is,” he said, his voice low so as not to startle you. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he shook your shoulder gently. “Hey, wake up,” he murmured.

You stirred, your brow furrowing as your eyes blinked open. For a moment, you seemed disoriented, but then you sat up quickly, your hand brushing your hair from your face as you glanced between Tyler and the doctor.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice still thick with exhaustion.

“The doctor’s here with an update about your mom,” Tyler said gently, giving you a reassuring look.

You swallowed hard and turned your attention to the doctor, your hands twisting nervously in your lap.

“Surgery went well,” the doctor said, his tone calm and steady. “She’s in recovery now. We’ll keep her here for a few days to monitor her, but she’s expected to make a full recovery.

A wave of relief hit you so hard it almost felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your lips parted as though to speak, but no words came out. Tyler’s hand moved to rest lightly on your shoulder, grounding you as the doctor continued.

“She’ll be groggy for a little while when she wakes up, but she’s stable.” The doctor reassured.

“Can I see her now?” you asked quickly, your voice trembling.

The doctor nodded but held up a hand. “Only one person can go in at a time. She needs to stay as calm as possible while she comes out of the anesthesia.”

You hesitated, glancing at Tyler for just a moment. His blue eyes softened, and he gave you a small, encouraging nod. “Go ahead,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

Your heart clenched at the steadiness in his voice. Without another word, you stood, your legs shaky beneath you as you followed the doctor out of the waiting room. Before you passed through the door, you glanced back at Tyler. He was still sitting, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher—concern, affection, and maybe something deeper.

He gave you a faint smile, his eyes never leaving you as you disappeared into the hallway.

A few hours later, the hum of the hospital had settled into a quiet rhythm as the nurses moved efficiently between rooms. You had been sitting at your mom’s bedside for as long as they allowed, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. Relief had begun to seep into your bones, replacing the earlier tension, but exhaustion lingered, weighing heavily on you.

Eventually, a nurse came in, her smile kind but firm. “She’s stable now and will need her rest through the night. We’ll call if there are any changes, but it’s best if you go home and get some sleep too.”

You nodded, reluctant but understanding, and stood slowly, brushing your hand against your mom’s. You whispered a quiet goodbye and promised you’d be back first thing in the morning.

As you made your way back to the waiting room, you pulled your phone from your pocket. You’d been dropped off earlier and hadn’t even thought about how you’d get home. You scrolled through your contacts, landing on the name of a neighbor who’d always been quick to lend a hand. Just as you pressed the call button, Tyler’s voice interrupted you.

“I can drive you home,” he said softly, standing up from the chair where he’d been waiting.

You froze, lowering the phone from your ear. “Tyler, it’s late. You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” he interrupted, his voice calm but steady. “But I’d like to. If you’d let me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The idea of being alone in the car with him made your chest tighten. Not because you didn’t trust him—but because you weren’t sure you could handle the quiet, the possibility of him pressing you about everything that had happened between you.

Almost as if he could read your mind, Tyler raised his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. “It’s just a ride home,” he assured you. “That’s it. No talking, no pushing. I know this isn’t the time for… everything else. I just don’t think you should be alone right now.”

His words settled over you, soft and sincere. You studied him for a moment, searching for any sign of an ulterior motive, but there was none. Just a quiet steadiness in the way he looked at you, the same steadiness that had kept you grounded all night.

Finally, you nodded, slipping your phone back into your pocket. ��Okay,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Tyler gave a small nod, grabbing his jacket from the chair and slipping it on. He didn’t say anything else, just gestured for you to follow him.

The night air was crisp, the faint hum of insects filling the quiet as you and Tyler stepped into the dimly lit hospital parking lot. He stayed a step ahead, his boots scuffing softly against the pavement as he led the way to his truck. When you reached it, Tyler opened the passenger door, pausing to glance at you.

You climbed into the seat, the familiar scent of his truck—faintly leathery, with a trace of pine—wrapping around you like a memory. He waited until you were settled, buckling your seatbelt, before carefully shutting the door.

You watched him through the windshield as he walked around the front of the truck, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the rumble filling the silence.

As he eased out of the parking lot, Tyler glanced over at you. “Do you want me to take you to your mom’s house or home?”

The word hung in the air between you for a beat too long. Tyler’s jaw tightened slightly, and he quickly corrected himself, his voice quieter. “I mean… my place. Do you want me to take you to my place instead?”

You turned your head to look out the window, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across your face as the truck rolled forward. Your mom’s house would feel empty, too quiet for you to face tonight. Every room would carry the weight of her absence, the echoes of your worry. The thought of sitting there, alone with your thoughts, was unbearable.

“Can I… stay with you tonight?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

Tyler’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, he just nodded and turned the truck onto a familiar road, the one that led to his old farmhouse.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Of course.”

The drive was quiet after that, neither of you saying much. The occasional hum of the truck’s tires against the road filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt more like an unspoken agreement to let the quiet speak for itself, to let the exhaustion and the events of the day settle.

As the farmhouse came into view, its porch light glowing faintly in the distance, you felt your shoulders relax ever so slightly. Tyler parked the truck in the gravel drive and killed the engine, the sudden stillness almost startling.

He glanced at you, his voice low. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

Tyler unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside and flipping on the lights. The warm glow illuminated the familiar space, but as you stepped through the doorway, you hesitated. The house felt the same, smelled the same—like cedarwood and faint traces of whatever cologne Tyler always wore—but you didn’t.

You paused just inside, unsure if you had the right to walk through it as freely as you used to. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, and your arms wrapped around yourself almost instinctively, like a shield.

Tyler paused near the bottom of the stairs and glanced back at you, his brow furrowing slightly when he noticed your hesitation. He rubbed the back of his neck before offering a small smile.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, his voice soft. Then, after a beat, he added, “You know where everything is.”

You nodded faintly, still unsure, but before you could say anything, he gestured to the stairs. “I’m gonna run up and see if I can find you something comfortable to wear for tonight. Be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, Tyler jogged up the stairs, his boots thudding softly against the wooden steps. You stood there for a moment, listening as the sound of his footsteps faded, before finally stepping further into the house.

You found yourself drifting toward the kitchen, your fingers brushing lightly against the edges of the counters as you passed. The farmhouse kitchen had always been one of your favorite spots—it was warm, lived-in, and full of charm. But now, as you glanced around, you noticed how disheveled it was.

Dishes were piled high in the sink, crumbs scattered across the counters. A forgotten coffee mug sat near the edge of the table, and you spotted a pair of work gloves tossed haphazardly onto one of the chairs. It was clear Tyler hadn’t been keeping up with housework.

Your chest tightened slightly. He was probably just as exhausted as you were after the week you’d both had. Without really thinking, you filled the sink with warm water, adding soap until suds began to rise. You rolled up your sleeves and got to work, grabbing the first plate from the pile.

The rhythm of cleaning was soothing, your hands moving on autopilot as you scrubbed and rinsed. One dish turned into two, then three, until the pile began to shrink. You didn’t hear Tyler come back down the stairs until his voice broke through the quiet.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Startled, you glanced over your shoulder. He was leaning against the doorframe, holding a neatly folded T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.

“I know,” you said softly, turning back to the sink. “I just… wanted to help.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Tyler set the clothes down on the table and walked over, his boots clicking lightly against the tile. He reached past you and grabbed a clean dish towel, drying one of the plates you’d just washed.

The two of you worked in quiet tandem, the only sounds coming from the water and the soft clink of dishes. When the last plate was dried and put away, Tyler finally spoke again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he repeated, his voice lower this time.

You dried your hands on the towel and glanced at him. “I know,” you said again, meeting his gaze. “But I wanted to.”

Tyler held your gaze for a long moment before nodding. He motioned toward the clothes he’d brought down. “Those should be comfortable.

You nodded, taking the clothes from the table and brushing past him, your fingers grazing his for just a moment.

Tyler held your gaze for a long moment before nodding, but instead of leaving it at that, he started to speak, his words coming out in a ramble—something you knew he only did when he was nervous.

“I, uh, was looking to see if maybe you’d left something here. You know, clothes or—just… something. But it looks like you cleared everything out when you left—”

He cut himself off abruptly, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a stone dropped into still water. You saw the flicker of regret cross his face as if he wished he could take them back.

Your chest tightened the reality of the distance between the two of you crashing back in. You forced a nod, your throat too tight to speak, and clutched the clothes tighter to your chest.

Without another word, you turned and headed toward the bathroom down the hall, your steps quick and purposeful, driven by the sudden need to put space between you and him.

You changed into the clothes Tyler had given you, silently hating how comfortable they felt. The fabric was soft and worn in all the right ways, and the faint scent of him lingering on them—woodsy, clean, and unmistakably Tyler—settled you in a way you didn’t want to admit. It felt too easy, too familiar, and you tried to shake the thought as you ran a hand over your face and took a steadying breath.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the farmhouse was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old wood floors beneath your feet. You padded into the living room and spotted a throw pillow and blanket folded neatly on the back of the couch. Without giving it much thought, you reached for them and began to lay them out, preparing to make a bed for the night.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you pause, and you turned to find Tyler standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. His brows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

You glanced at the blanket in your hands and then back at him. “I’m making a place to sleep,” you said simply, motioning toward the couch.

He shook his head almost immediately, his expression firm. “No, you’re not.”

Your brow knit in confusion. “What do you mean, no? I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Tyler.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened briefly, but his voice was calm and steady when he spoke. “And I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

“Tyler—”

He cut you off, his tone a little more resolute this time, though still gentle. “You’re sleeping upstairs. In the bed. End of discussion.”

You frowned at him, not sure whether to feel annoyed at his stubbornness or oddly comforted by it. “And where exactly are you planning to sleep, then?”

“The couch,” he said plainly, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

“Tyler, that’s ridiculous—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted again, his voice softening just slightly. “You’ve had a hell of a day, and you’re not about to spend the night crammed on this couch. You need to rest, and you’re sleeping in the bed.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the way he was looking at you—his gaze steady and full of quiet insistence—made the words catch in your throat. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you. Finally, you exhaled, realizing there was no point in fighting him on this.

“Fine,” you muttered, reluctantly grabbing the pillow and blanket and handing them to him. “But if you wake up sore in the morning, that’s on you.”

Tyler chuckled softly, taking them from your hands. “I’ll take my chances.”

As you turned to head upstairs, you could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t until you were settled beneath the covers, the familiar scent of the farmhouse wrapping around you, that you realized how much you’d missed the quiet comfort of this place—and, if you were being honest, him.

Downstairs, you heard the faint sound of the couch creaking as Tyler settled in, followed by the soft exhale of his breath. And for the first time in days, you felt the edges of exhaustion pulling you into sleep, knowing you weren’t alone.

The soft sounds from downstairs pulled you from your sleep, and for a moment, you lay there disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. The room was too quiet, too still, and it wasn’t until you spotted the framed photos on the wall—the ones you’d seen countless times before—that you remembered where you were. Tyler’s house. His bed.

You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and the faint smell of coffee and something cooking reached you, accompanied by the faint clang of a pan. Pushing the covers off, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, padding toward the stairs.

The kitchen came into view as you reached the bottom step, and you stopped in the doorway, momentarily caught off guard. Tyler was standing at the stove, barefoot, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that clung to his back just enough to remind you how unfairly attractive he was. He looked so casual, so domestic, like he belonged here in this space that had always felt like home to you too. And that realization was almost too much to take, given the current mess of emotions between the two of you.

He must have heard your footsteps because he turned, a faint smile tugging at his lips when he saw you. “Morning,” he said, his voice warm and easy, like this was just another day in the life you used to share. “How’d you sleep?”

You hesitated for half a second before answering. “Fine,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “Thanks for…everything last night.”

He just nodded, as though it were a given. “Feel free to make yourself some coffee,” he said, motioning toward the Keurig sitting on the counter.

You blinked, your gaze landing on the sleek machine that had replaced the old, battered coffee pot he’d had for years. The sight of it caught you off guard, like it was proof that time had moved on in this house even when you hadn’t been here to see it.

“I didn’t remember how you like your coffee these days,” Tyler admitted, running a hand through his hair. “With all the stuff you used to add to it, I figured I’d mess it up. But there’s still some pods and syrups in the cupboard. And I, uh—” He cleared his throat and motioned toward the fridge. “I went to the store and picked up some creamer. It’s the kind you used to like. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have it, just in case.”

Your chest tightened at his words, at the small gesture that felt far too thoughtful for what you thought you deserved right now. You opened the fridge to find the familiar bottle sitting there, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at it, trying to process the sudden wave of emotions.

“Eggs’ll be ready in a few minutes,” Tyler said, his voice pulling you back. He glanced over his shoulder at you as he stirred something in the pan. “Hope you’re hungry.”

You shut the fridge door and turned, your gaze settling on him again. He looked so at ease, so natural standing there, that it made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t expected. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep your voice steady as you replied, “Yeah. I think I could eat.”

He nodded, turning his attention back to the stove, and you lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before making your way to the counter to fix your coffee. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d stepped back into a memory, even though you knew things weren’t the same anymore.

Not even close.

You sat across from Tyler at the small wooden table, the one that had been in this kitchen for as long as you could remember. The plates between you held scrambled eggs and toast, simple but enough to ease the ache of an empty stomach. The air between you was thick with an awkwardness that neither of you seemed willing to address, and the only sounds filling the room were the soft scrape of forks against plates and the occasional clink of a glass being set back on the table.

You stared down at your plate, taking another small bite, trying to focus on the food and not the tension that was quietly suffocating the space. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. Setting your fork down, you cleared your throat softly, your voice tentative as you broke the silence.

“Thank you,” you said, your gaze lifting to meet his, though he didn’t look up right away. “For everything. For… being there for me.”

Tyler’s fork hovered over his plate for a moment before he set it down. He looked down at his plate, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “It was about time,” he murmured, his voice quiet but weighted. “About time I was there when you needed me to be.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, cutting through the delicate balance you’d been trying to maintain. You blinked, your throat tightening as you realized what he meant. He wasn’t just talking about yesterday or last night. He was thinking about all the times he hadn’t been there—your last birthday, the other moments and milestones you’d quietly endured alone. The guilt in his tone was unmistakable, and it settled heavily in your chest.

“Tyler…” you started, your voice soft, but he quickly shook his head, stopping you before you could go any further.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said firmly, finally glancing up at you. His eyes were steady, but there was a flicker of something raw in them that made your breath hitch. “It is what it is.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, cutting off any argument you might have made. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what you could even say to that.

Tyler leaned back in his chair, his expression softening slightly as he tried to steer the conversation away from the growing tension. “Once you’re done eating,” he said, his voice lighter now, though it still carried a trace of that earlier guilt, “I can take you over to your mom’s to get your car.”

You nodded, grateful for the change in subject, even if it felt like a half-hearted attempt to escape the unspoken weight between you. “Yeah, okay,” you murmured, reaching for your glass and taking a sip of water.

The silence returned, but this time it felt less oppressive. You both focused on finishing your meals, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a fragile truce. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough for now.

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floralfloyd · 5 days ago

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It's Everything || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello:) hope you're well and having a good week:) I was wondering if i could get a Jake Seresin x reader where they're friends but they both feel something more. Jake always teases her cause he likes to see her blush... Read Rest Here

A/N: This just felt like a 3x1 so it is! The three times Jake was sweet on you and the one time he had to do something about it. I really like this one :)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4.8k +

TW: Talks of assault, men being men, blood

The Hard Deck

“There she is.” Jake’s overly pretty face broke out into a smile seeing you walk up to the group looking more than exasperated. How could you not though? The entire dagger squad was. You guys were more than exhausted. Yet here you were. Drinking beer on a Tuesday night, “Worried you weren’t going to make it out tonight darlin’.” He shot you a wink as you sat across from him taking some airmen’s spot.

You couldn’t help but to smile at the sweet boy who’d captured your heart without a second thought, “I wasn’t going to.” You hummed grabbing for his beer knowing he’d let you take a drink before getting one for yourself.

His eyes raised in curiosity as he drunk you in. Even tired you were prettier than you knew. He couldn’t believe some lucky guy hadn’t caught your attention yet. He was only bidding his time. He didn’t really want to make a serious move until after the mission. He could make it another few weeks, maybe.

“What brought you here then pretty girl? My handsome face?” Shameless. He was diabolically shameless. Leaning forward you caught the slight tilt of his head as he watched you. He always seemed to have an eye on you.

And damn your genetics for giving you the rosiest cheeks that only seemed to darken when you talked with him. You caught the snicker of his longtime military buddy, Payback. He patted Jake’s back before walking off knowing that as soon as you walked in all of Jake’s attention was only going towards once place, you. He was an absolute damn sucker for you, and he’d only known you for a little over two weeks.

It started with a smart-ass comment back to Rooster that caught his attention the first day in class. You fully grabbed it when you became the first pilot to actually take down Maverick, even before he did. He knew he had to get to know you when you put him in his place after he knowingly screwing you over in the air. But damn, did it feel good to be getting some attention from you. Even if you were yelling with all your might.

“Something like that.” You mumbled out knowing there wasn’t a use in lying to the man you’d too hopelessly fallen for. He’d figure it out one way or another, he always seemed to. It didn’t help you weren’t the best liar either.

He grinned all too thrilled with your admission, “Hmm, is that so? You came out of the house for me?”

Rolling your eyes you took another sip of his beer, “Well, you invited me. And I said I’d come. So, here I am.” Trying to play it off as coy as possible giving him a bashful smile in the process.

“Since you’re here then, can I get you beer sweetheart?” He played along with you

Nodding your head, you finally relaxed back into your seat, “I wouldn’t stop you.”

He shook his head stifling the laugh that came out. He knew how he acted around you and he tried his hardest to not act like a middle school girl with the biggest crush but you… you brought out a giddiness he never knew could come from relationships. After his college girlfriend shattered his heart he swore off relationships altogether. Afterall, he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy. But then you walked into his life. You seemed to challenge his harder than anybody had before but did it in such a way that he wanted to be better. You kept him on his toes, in the best way of course. He was falling faster and faster day in and day out. And he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t think he wanted to stop it.

Before walking away, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Always taking a chance at giving you a soft touch. He simply craved it. He realized it after Rueben pointed out that he was always trying to sit next to you in class. He’d tried to avoid the topic of you, but Rueben knew. He knew Jake was into you, really into you. Jake made sure never to cross any boundaries with you, always asking before doing.

Jake set the light beer down in front of you before sitting in the seat across from you, “You did good today. Set the fastest time yet.” He spoke as his eyes roamed your face.

You sighed. You did set the fastest time. Just over two and a half minutes. But it still wasn’t good enough. And you didn’t really think you had much more to give, “Not good enough.”

He bit back the frown that wanted to come through, “Cut yourself some slack.”

You finally made eye contact with him again. Just that damn gaze could set your cheeks on fire. He had to know. You hadn’t admitted it out loud, but your face gave you dead away.

“Do you?” You asked him. You weren’t trying to be an ass but you this was you. Always challenging him.

He shook his head quickly letting the smile come through, “No.”

“See.” You took a long sip of beer hoping it’d hit you sooner than it probably would.

He set his glass down at this same time you did. Again, he leaned forward, “You know as well as me that you’ll be the first to get there in 2 minutes. Give yourself a week. You’ll figure it out.” He took your hand that lingering by your half drunken glass of beer. Giving it another gentle squeeze, you felt all the love from him in that moment. How in the hell was this the same man you’d heard so many stories about?

“Awfully confident in me Seresin.” Your eyes watched his thumb rub against your pointer finger hoping to give you an ounce of comfort.

“Come on darlin’. You’re the most confident pilot I know. You’ve got a reason to be too. Don’t get soft of me know.”

You scrunched your nose before shaking your head, “I’m not going soft. I just don’t know if it’s physically possible Jake. I’m beat. And I’m still fifteen fucking seconds off the mark.” You looked down in defeat. Damn that jet for always getting the better of you. Your favorite weapon that always seemed to hurt you too.

“Mav did it.” Jake laced his fingers in with yours wanting to feel

“Mav’s Mav.”

“And you’re you.” He shrugged your comment off like it was nothing. Jake was never for building people up. Especially not the people that he was competing against. But damn, you showed up out of nowhere and completely rocked his world. Changed his viewpoint.

Rolling your eyes, you avoided his gaze sure your face was already red as a summer ripe tomato, “Flirt.”

He hummed in agreement, “Yeah sure. But I think you like it.” He knew it was a risk. He might’ve been crossing a line you hadn’t set. His heart began to hammer in his chest as the anxiety of what he just said rang through his ears.

He caught your eyes as you looked up in surprise, “I do. That I do.”

Bob’s House

You walked through the front door of Bob’s house the next Sunday night wearing one of Jake’s old Cowboy’s jerseys that he swore wasn’t too big for you. Setting down the tray of cookies you picked up from the grocery store down you turned to Jake, “Alright, who are we rooting for?”

He grinned as he took the jacket of your hands with the intention of hanging it up for you, “We went through this in the car darlin’.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed Jake. You know I don’t watch football!” A quiet laugh escaped from your mouth

He shook his head while laughing with you, “The Cowboys. America’s team. Even got a star to prove it.” He smiled with achievement pointing to the star on his chest.

Bob walked in hearing the tail end of the conversation, “Don’t listen to him Y/N. Can’t believe you made her wear that.” He pointed to your jersey, “She should be wearing a cheese head. Packer green.”

“That’s not right Bob.” Jake shook his head quickly.

“Oh boy.” You laughed at the both of them giving the other a stare down, “You guys take this seriously then?”

Jake smiled at your cluelessness to it all. It amazed him that somebody so in the trenches with all these men would be so clueless to the NFL. The thing that consumed eighteen weeks of all the guys lives ever year.

“It’s a good escape.” Bob spoke up before heading out of the kitchen, “Come on. The loveseat is saved for you guys.”

Jake laughed at your brightening face. He’d found it so endearing about you. No matter how hard you seemed to try it never stopped the cute little blush that came upon your face when somebody mentioned the both of you together. Jake loved showing off the growing relationship between the two of you. You were much shyer about it than he was. Not ashamed, no never. Just shy as all get out.

Jake held his hand out for you to take. He noticed the slight hesitation as your fingers laced together with his. Your mind never let you enjoy the small things as it started reeling from what all your dagger squad members could think. In reality they knew the two of you had a thing for the other. Jake was rather obvious about it. Nat even cornered you at one point in the week demanding answers which you really couldn’t give. You didn’t have a clue what to label it. You did admit you had feelings for him to her.

Your worst fears didn’t come to life as nobody even really noticed the two of you joining the watch party. You took a seat at the open loveseat leaving Jake more than enough room.

Waiting for you to get comfortable he slid into the seat right next to you before snaking his arm behind your head letting you know it would be more than fine to cuddle on up to him if you wished. He knew you were hesitant about the entire thing. He wasn’t dumb. He didn’t want to scare you off before he even had a chance. He’d take it slow and strategic. However he needed to.

“Here.” He grabbed the blanket on the headrest and threw it over mostly you, with a little bit covering half of him, “I know how cold you get.” He waited and was more than happy to see his favorite blush coat your cheeks.

“Nothing gets past you, does it Jake?” You turned to him scooting just a bit closer, letting your leg brush against his.

He nodded, “Nothing you do does sweetheart.” He shot you a wink knowing just how mad it’d drive you. He found utter enjoyment in seeing you react to his advances. He knew if he was doing the right thing or not. You were so much gentler than any of the other girls he usually went for. A fucking menace in the skies and a levelheaded pilot on the ground. He knew he’d never grow tired of getting to know you and your quirks. He just knew he’d grow to love every single one of them. Trouble didn’t begin to describe this situation.

Slowly over the course of the game, you sunk closer and closer to Jake. You cheered when he did and booed the same. Watching more of Jake than the game. It wasn’t lost on him. He caught your glances a few times. He tried not to look because it spooked you. It would take a while again before he saw you out of the corner of his eye watching him again. He liked when you looked at him. He wanted to know what you were thinking. Dying to know really.

He grabbed at your hand just after halftime, underneath the blanket for your sake. He liked it when you were relaxed and at ease. He really just liked you. Wanting you to be happy was all.

Near the end of the game, he gave your shoulder a squeeze garnering your attention to him. He smiled as his eyes landed on yours, “Yeah Jake?” You whispered trying not to have any watching eyes on the two of you.

“I haven’t told you how pretty you look tonight.” He whispered in your ear for discretion.

It’s like he was trying to kill you right then and there. God, you adored the man far more than you should, “Thanks Jake.” You turned your head towards his catching his intense gaze once more.

“Anytime beautiful.” He shot you a wink before draping his arm around your shoulder once more. He pulled you into his side a touch more. He watched as you finally got comfortable enough to lay you head on his side. You were tired after all. It was close to eleven on a Sunday night.

“You’re so sweet too me.” You whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Of course the two of you would be having this kind of conversation within earshot of half your class.

He shook his head, “I disagree. Not sweet enough. Just you wait darlin’.”

You looked at him curiously, “For what?”

“You’ll see. Gotta impress you and all that. For when I ask you to be my girlfriend.” Jake was pushing the boundaries and he loved seeing your face light up

“Really?”

“Really, really. We just gotta get through the mission first. Can’t give you any distractions.” And Jake was serious. He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt at his expense or vice versa.

You nodded your head quickly before diverting your eyes away from him. Damn. He really did like you. It might not be too good to be true.

“Alright.” You breathed out.

He smiled giving your shoulder one last comforting squeeze, “Just you wait.”

Before A Training Exercise

“Rooster, Hangman. You two are up first today. Winner picks punishment.” Mav spoke knowing exactly what he was doing by pairing the two men. The manual shut with a thud dismissing the class to get changed. Mornings were meant for class and the afternoons were jet time.

You turned to Jake sitting next to you giving him a quick once over. Trying your best to hide the look of concern on your face you turned away quickly. Instead of saying anything you opted to pack up your bag. Why’d you have to make things so awkward suddenly? Why’d you have to go liking him? It was easy the first week when your heart was clueless to the fact you’d fall in love with the man. Now you acted all weird around him all the sudden. It’s like your brain forgot how to communicate with him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly next to you, leaning closer so nobody would hear. Nobody would hear though because almost everybody was gone. Just the two of you and a few stragglers near the door remained in the classroom.

You shook him off trying your best to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Giving you a rather dramatic frown, he put a gentle hand on your shoulder, so you’d stop being so distracted with your bag and focus back on him. Again, Jake wasn’t stupid. He began noticing the small tweaks in the way you acted. The way you began to close off to his advances. Like you were suddenly so nervous around him. He had a sneaking suspicion as too why, but he didn’t want to presume. He needed to knock down those walls you’d been slowly building back up. Lucky for you, Jake was up for the challenge. He was convinced he’d do damn near anything for you.

Once your eyes finally landed on his he spoke up, “Y/N… come on. I know you better than that.”

Your heart rate rapidly picked up with that damn look he was giving you. So soft and sweet. A look he’d never be caught giving on base if he wasn’t absolutely sure all the guys were gone. A look seemingly only reserved for you and only you.

“Just, be careful out there, alright?” You asked, nearly begged him.

A small smile rose from the face full of concern, “You worried about me sweetheart?” That sweet smile turned into a teasing smirk knowing that’d get your face to heat up.

And it sure did, “Shut up Jake.”

He laughed while pulling your chair closer to his, “You don’t need to be worried about me darlin’. It’s just Rooster.”

“Just Rooster?” You laughed this time, “Jake you two nearly collided playing a game of chicken last time you were up in the air.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up once more, “I’ll admit, that was dumb. Cyclone made that very clear to us. That won’t happen again, promise.” He smiled over to you trying to reassure your worries. He found it quite endearing just how worried you seemed to be. Jake was naturally observant, especially when it came to the people he loved. You were certainly at the top of his list. So, he noticed a lot about you. How you couldn’t seem to keep your hands still. How you wouldn’t meet his eyes no matter how hard he tried. The slight flush of your cheeks and the way you bit your lips together. You were concerned for him.

You sighed deciding it was better to just let it out. Might as well. He made it very clear to you how he felt. Now, it was your turn, “You fly as if nobody cares for you Jake. Like you don’t care if you crash. God, Jake I don’t think I’d be able to get back in a jet if I ever saw you go down. I just… I worry about you. A lot.”

He grabbed at your hand giving it a squeeze, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I do care though. You know that to be the best you have to make some calculated risks…”

Your sigh stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, you turned your head towards him. When your eyes met his it hit him how much this had been affecting you.

“Is it worth it?” You paused waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t you continued on with your thoughts, “One of these calculated risks could fucking kill you Jake. You know what happened to Roosters dad. Accidents happen Jake.”

He nodded quickly before pulling you into his chest, “If I’m honest with you. Yes, it was worth it. Before you came along. You’re making a lot of choices difficult darlin’.” He laughed nervously not expecting this conversation in the slightest. Jake was always cool, calm, and collected. He was always prepared. You threw him for a loop though. Made him all sorts of nervous.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled feeling somewhat… ashamed? By the conversation going on between the two of you. Talking about these kinds of things felt so foreign to you. Guys never really truly paid you much attention so kindly before. Sure, you’ve had a boyfriend or two. But they always turned out to be the scummy men you should’ve known better of getting involved with. But damn, all you wanted was some love. You had a lot of it to give.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s a good thing.” He grinned while taking your chin in his hand turning your head slowly towards him, “It’s a very good thing pretty girl.”

And damn, the look in his eyes was giving you love. So much love in the way he looked at you. It’s exactly what you wanted. Who would’ve thought one of these asshole pilots would have actually captured your heart so effortlessly? But Jake, Jake was different.

The Concert

Nat invited a few of you out to the local concert venue for a small show for a band she loved. You agreed to go just in spirit of making Nat happy. She’d become one of your closest friends and confidants over the last few weeks. Pushing yourself beyond the limits you thought possible day in and day out really bonded people together. You’d long since forgotten the competition amongst the group.

Jake wasn’t going to go until Natasha name dropped you in the conversation. It made her laugh how quickly his tune changed once he realized you were going. Any excuse he could make to be near you he would. How you couldn’t see that so clearly was beyond Nat’s understanding. It made her sick how idiotic the two of you were being. She knew Jake was planning to ask you out after the mission, she just thought it was dumb he was waiting for so long. She thought you’d be more distracted by him waiting. But it wasn’t her fight to pick. So, she stayed as quiet as Nat could.

She grabbed your hand leading you out to where some people gathered to dance knowing you wouldn’t object like all her fellow airmen would.

“You know he’s obsessed with you right?” Your eyes rose in surprise at her straightforwardness. Although, it shouldn’t have surprised you. It was Nat after all. She let you know her feelings.

“Who?”

Rolling her eyes, she found a good spot off to the side where the two of you could chat and dance without much interruption, “Seresin. Don’t play dumb with me Y/L/N.”

“I know he likes me. I don’t think he’s obsessed with me though.” You looked down thankful for the darkly lit room hiding your surly on fire cheeks.

She threw her head back in laughter, “He’s watching you right now. He’s always watching to make sure you’re okay. You may not notice it but some of us do. Reuban has to snap him out of his daze half the time, he’s lost in thought watching you.”

Your grin couldn’t be contained. That made you far too happy to hear. Before you could reply though somebody bumped into you. Thankful your drink was almost gone or it would’ve spilled right into Natasha.

“Oh, sorry gorgeous. Didn’t see you there.” He shot you a wink which did not do it for you. He was much older than you.

“S’fine.” You turned back to Nat with wide eyes hoping the man would

He didn’t get the hint though, “Care for a dance?”

You shook your head quickly not turning back to him completely. Nat watched with an amused grin on her face. It wasn’t uncommon for either of you to get hit on. Two pretty girls surrounded by a bunch of men. That’s why you typically only went to places with the guys. You knew you’d always be safe should something arise.

“No, not really.” You shot back at him.

Nat’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and the creepy man and Jake suddenly much more alert. He noticed the change in your body stance, far more defensive. How your face looked annoyed even from across the room. He all but ran over to you when the man put his hand on your shoulder.

“Aw, come on gorgeous.”

You shook his hand off, “I said no.”

He rolled his eyes, seemingly accepting your answer. Jake sat back down seeing the man vanish into the crowd. He’d just have to keep a closer eye out on you, that was all. His eyes scanned the crowd, frowning when he found Nat but not you. She pointed towards the other side of the room where the bathrooms were. He sent her a quick nod before getting up and making his way over to them. Might as well escort you if he could.

When he got close to the single stall door though his blood ran cold when he heard your raised voice muffle a, “I said get off me.”

Jake didn’t hesitate to open the door, rip the man from your grasp and throw him against the wall before kicking him while he was down. You, completely surprised by the turn of events watched with wide eyes as Jake went in for a second kick to the stomach.

“Jake, let’s go.” You pleaded. Afraid he’d do something the both of you would regret later on.

He turned to you getting ready to argue back but when he saw your scared expression and fidgeting hands, “Alright, darlin’.” He took your hand and led you out of the venue quickly, not turning back to hear the commotion behind you when the next person went into the bathroom stall.

He only stopped once the both of you were in front of his truck, “Did he hurt you?” His eyes scanned you quickly stopping seeing the rips in your shirt and the blood dripping down one of your arms.

“No, I’m fine. I got him first. Punched him right in the nose before you jumped in. Thanks for that.” You gave him a soft

“You’re bleeding sweetheart.” He pointed to your arm with the fairly surface level cut.

Eyes looking down you frowned, “Oh.” Then you noticed the rips, “Damn, this was one of my favorite shirts.”

He laughed softly. Thankful you were seemingly fine. More annoyed by the rips than the cuts, “Come on, hop on in. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

“Home?” You were curious as to where he’d be taking you.

He nodded opening his truck door for you to hop in, “Back to mine? If that’s alright with you.”

You jumped up to his wish and grinned, “Yeah, that works.”

“Good, I could use the company anyway. That band sucked. Nat has the weirdest taste.”

You laughed as he shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in much easier than you did.

“I didn’t think they were too bad.” You hummed leaning back into the seat letting the adrenaline of the last thirty minutes die down.

“Oh, they were awful. Speaking of which, mind texting the group? I’m sure they’re starting to get worried.”

You agreed sending a quick message from your phone to the small group that had gone out that Friday night. You grinned when Nat sent you a winky face back separately from the boys. The ride home was fairly quiet as you rode back in a comfortable silence. He helped you out and into his apartment which was way cuter than you were expecting. Of course, leave it to him to continuously surprise you.

“You sure you’re alright? You’re awfully quiet.” He asked you while he got the first aid kit from the kitchen. He had you sitting down on his couch a room away.

“Mhmm, I’m fine. Just tired.” You yawned, “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m just annoyed I didn’t get to you sooner. He hurt you.”

You smiled feeling the love radiating from him, “Didn’t even feel it, honestly.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” He frowned while wiping it clean with an alcohol wipe. You let out a soft hiss when it crossed the open wound, “Shit, sorry darlin’. Should’ve warned you.” His frowned deepened.

“Stop apologizing. Thank you Jake. You got there in plenty of time. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Honestly.” You brushed a soft hand across his cheek oh so thankful that he did intervene when he did.

This time he looked down and away feeling the blush on his cheeks. He wasn’t used to you being so forthcoming with him. Maybe, just maybe, he was rubbing off on you.

“It’s nothing.” He tried brushed it off.

But you wouldn’t take that for an answer, no. You took his chin in your hand feeling all kinds of bold as he looked back at you with the softest eyes. Your favorite look on him.

“Don’t say that Jake. It’s everything. You’re everything.” You wanted to kiss him, God you wanted to. But you’d respect his wishes and pull back.

But even he couldn’t respect his own wishes as he took your head in his hands murmuring a, “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s alright.”

“That’s definitely alright.” You grinned with utter glee. Jake closed the distance letting your lips connect for the first of many, many kisses the two of you would share.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem

873 notes · View notes

floralfloyd · 6 days ago

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Calm After The Storm

Summary: Tyler Owens x Fe!Reader -> Tyler checks in on you after a tough tornado.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, little angst, Tyler dries Reader's hair, love confessions, kisses. Not Proof Read.

Even after two separate showers, silence, blasted music, and two hours spent alone trying to comprehend everything that had just happened, your ears were still ringing.

Nobody had seen it coming.

An EF-5 had hit the town out of nowhere. All the data had shown it being an EF-2 at the most, then the wind just seemed to keep building and building until it had destroyed everything and everyone in its path.

Thankfully, the motel you and the other wranglers had been staying at was just outside of the town, so where you’d spent the night was okay. But for others…their homes had been torn from the ground completely.

You, Tyler and the others had stuck around for as long as you could until Tyler called it a day. There was a huge Costco two towns over. You’d all go there in the morning and resupply before coming back. Until then, you all needed time to recover.

Tyler had kept his eye on you. From the minute the tornado had started to grow, he saw the fear in your eyes. You managed to keep it together for everyone else. You always seemed to have that superpower. Put on a front for everyone else because if you panicked, then it would only make them worse. But not with him.

From day one he’d seen right through it.

In all honesty, he’d been there himself. Before he started bull riding professionally, he built up that same strength. “You don’t face your fears, you ride ‘em.” That’s what he told people when they asked if he was scared.

He’d be stupid if he wasn’t scared. But that didn’t mean he had to hide from the things that scared him.

And you definitely didn’t hide.

Not at first, at least. He could already hear the excuse you’d give the others. You were tired, you had to update the rest of the data, you wanted to get a headstart, you’d fallen asleep and forgot to set an alarm. Whatever you told the team, they’d believe you. It was all plausible. And you would eventually get around to processing all the data by the next day.

But Tyler saw the truth. You had a tendency to keep a distance from the rest of the team after a hard chase. And part of him didn’t blame you. He’d done the same once or twice over the years, just needing a little space for a while.

But this wasn’t the time to be left alone. You needed someone. Whether you wanted to talk about it or not, you needed someone. At least to share a breathing space.

So, after three hours of giving you space, hearing your shower switch on and off next door at least three times, he grabbed a spare shirt and knocked on your door. You didn’t come to the door. He heard your voice, but it was barely audible through the door.

He waited a minute before trying the handle. The door clicked open right away and he popped his head inside. You were sitting by the wooden vanity on the opposite side of the room. You were dressed in some fresh clothes, but between the lack of heating in your room and your freshly washed hair, Tyler could see the goosebumps across your skin.

“Hey, mind if I come in?”

You shook your head lightly before looking at your hands. “No, come on in.”

He nodded and entered before closing the door behind him. “You don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to speak.” He gripped the shirt in his hands a little tighter as he made his way over to you, his eyes going from the floor and up to you in the mirror. “But I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Okay.”

Again, your voice was quiet. Tyler could see the mask falling and shattering on the floor right in front of him.

You didn’t continue speaking, so Tyler took the lead. “I brought you one of my jackets. They’re a little thicker so…”

He watched you for a minute. You didn’t move until he got to the very back of you. “Come here.”

Taking your hand and helping you stand, Tyler gave you a brief smile. He shook his jacket open before holding it out for you. You turned around and he helped glide it up your arms and over your shoulders.

Carefully, he untucked your hair as you turned around before he buttoned it up.

“Thanks,” you said, quietly.

Tyler smiled. “Looks better on you than me, anyway.”

He fixed the collar, your eyes finally meeting his green ones. Then his thumb brushed at the ends of your hair.

“You got a hairdryer?”

You were a little confused. “Yeah, but I can let it air-dry.” you let out a small laugh. “Don’t think I’ve got the energy to hold one up right now.”

Tyler shook his head. “You’ll catch a cold. Here, sit down.”

“Tyler, you don’t-”

“It’s a hairdryer. I think I know how to work one.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

Tyler smiled and nodded his head. “I know. But I’m not having you get sick on me now, Sweetheart. Sit down.”

You did as he said and watched as he moved across to your bathroom and found the hairdryer in a cupboard under the sink. You watched as he unravelled the cord, rounded you and crouched by your side to plug it in.

“Heat protectant?”

You went to reach for it, but Tyler beat you to it. “Just relax.”

You smiled. And so did he.

Laying the dryer on the desk for a moment, he sprayed the protectant across your hair, as well as under before running a brush through your hair to get rid of the knots. Each time he hit one, he’d grab a small fistfull of hair before holding it loose against your scalp to avoid pulling on your hair too much.

Then he started the hairdryer.

Running your hair through his hands as he did so, you felt yourself leaning into his touch and slowly falling asleep in your seat. Maybe you’d start asking him to do it more often.

Eventually the hair dryer stopped and Tyler picked the brush up again and where you’d still find knots when you’ve brushed it, Tyler found none. The brush ran smoothly through your hair.

“There.”

Tyler placed the brush down before sitting on the bench beside you, his back to the mirror. “Thank you. You know, you might have missed your calling as a hairdresser.”

He chuckled. “Thanks.” Then he looked at you. “How are you feeling?”

You sighed a little, “I don’t know. I didn’t even see it coming.”

“None of us did.”

“I can’t even bring myself to look at the data,” you admitted to him. “I can’t step outside because I feel like the minute I do, everyone is gonna realise it was my fault. That’s if they haven’t realised it already. I missed something.”

Tyler shook his head and took hold of your hand. “It’s not your fault. Y/n, none of us saw that coming. And you didn’t miss anything. We all saw those numbers and we all took the chance. This job is only part science. The rest is part religion. Faith. Chance. Whatever you want to call it. We can rely on the data but sometimes Mother Nature decides to throw us a curveball.”

Tyler placed his hand against your cheek and tilted your head to look at him. “Nobody saw that coming today. And none of this is your fault.”

“Tyler, I was so scared. I thought…”

He nodded, his heart breaking as he saw the tears in your eyes and the shake in your voice. Pulling you into his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around you and just held you. One of his hands held the back of your head, smoothing your hair down.

“We’re not going anywhere. You won’t lose us. You won’t lose me.”

Your fingertips dug into him a little harder at his last statement before your arms came up his body and you hugged him around his shoulders and neck.

“I promise.” In his promise, he held you a little tighter, too.

Less than six hours ago, a moment flashed across his mind as he went from looking at you across from the field to the building tornado. If neither of you ran fast enough, someone would have been lost in the tornado.

“Sweetheart…” Tyler’s voice whispered softly as he moved his head back a little to look at you.

When you finally did look at him, he wiped the tears from your eyes and tried the already fallen ones from your cheek. “I promise.”

With his eyes on you, you saw the truth in his eyes. You both knew the dangers that came with your jobs, but he meant it. He meant his promise. So you nodded.

You believed him whole-heartedly.

And he nodded back, brushing the hair from your face before cupping your cheek once more and pressing a light kiss to your other.

But as he pulled back, an idea flashed across his mind and it seemed to flash across yours, too. Because half a second later, his lips were pressing a light kiss to your own. Your hand gripped to his shirt a little tighter as you made a small noise with your mouth as he went to pull away.

You weren’t ready to stop the kiss, because once you did, you didn’t know where you and Tyler would be.

So, with you still in his hug, he held you tighter as he kissed you. By the time you’d both broken the kiss, you could still feel his kiss on your lips and his arms around you.

You’d left an imprint on each other to last a lifetime.

“We should get some sleep.” Tyler told you as his thumb traced your temple.

“Stay with me?”

Tyler nodded before resting his forehead against yours. “Always.”

“Good.”

He leaned forward and peppered a soft kiss to your lips before standing, and bringing you with him. He helped you into bed first before switching off your bedside lamp, leaving his side on. Finally, rounding the bed, you heard the buckle of his belt before the fabric of his jeans fell down his legs, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxers. Leaving his jeans folded over the back of a chair, he climbed into bed beside you before pulling you into his side and switching the final lamp off.

As you took a deep breath in, your senses were filled with Tyler and Tyler alone. From his shirt that you were wearing, to the man himself who held you in his arms, you finally realised something.

The ringing had stopped in your ears and it had as much from the moment Tyler’s voice had rang through your room.

With his arms around you, you nuzzled into his side finally letting your eyes close and letting yourself relax under his touch as his lips pressed a kiss to your head. “Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

Tyler hesitated for a moment before speaking, hoping you were still awake enough to hear him. “I love you.”

In the silence, you shuffled around a little until you were looking at him. You had a thousand questions, but they could go unanswered for now, because despite the questions, you already had your answer.

“I love you, too.”

With his gaze on you, you felt your cheeks heat. You were glad the room was shrouded in darkness, but with his hand that came to hold your face, you were sure even if he couldn’t see it, he could definitely feel your blush.

His thumb brushed across your cheek for a moment before he pulled you up by his bicep and held you against his body as he kissed you once again. It peppered out, until eventually you rested your head against his chest, hearing his quickened but steady heartbeat.

That was how you fell asleep, and he kept his promise. Because when you woke up, you were still in his arms, his fingers flexing across your hip when you readjusted yourself at his side.

263 notes · View notes

floralfloyd · 7 days ago

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The Misus said so | T. Owens

Tyler Owens x wife!reader

A/N: so I’m obsessed with Glen Powell and of course I had to do a little something with Tyler Owens because Glen looked so good in that movie. Hope you enjoy!

SUMMARY : After chasing a tornado, Tyler suggests the team take a break in his hometown—a place none of them have ever visited, except Boone. To their surprise, they discover that Tyler shares his home with a pregnant woman he refers to as his wife and a young boy he calls his son.

WARNINGS : fluff, Tyler being head over heels for his wife, cuteness, some inaccuracies regarding tornadoes

3.4k words

The sun was just beginning to set as the red truck and van rumbled down the dusty back roads of the Arkansas countryside. Tyler Owens was behind the wheel, relaxed but focused, his hands steady as he navigated the familiar terrain. In the passenger seat, Boone sat with an easy grin, the kind only a best friend could wear, fully at home in the quiet camaraderie of the ride. He occasionally glanced at Tyler, clearly anticipating something more than just a pit stop.

In the back seat, Lily was hunched over her tablet, reviewing footage from Cairo, her drone. “The inflow jets were insane,” she murmured. Boone snorted, swivelling to glance at her.

Boon leaning towards Tyler with a raised eyebrow whispered so only Tyler could hear him. “So, when are you gonna drop the act? I know where we’re headed.”

Tyler chuckled, but his eyes stayed on the road. “Guess it was hard to slip one past you, huh?”

“You think?” Boone replied with a smirk. “What gave it away—oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’m Jake’s godfather?”

Tyler shushed him, not wanting Boone to spoil the surprise. Of course Boone knew about your existence and of your son. Boone had been Tyler’s best friend for years, even before they started YouTube. He had been there when you guys met, started a relationship, got married, had your son and the last time he was there was for your gender reveal.

Lily leaned forward and turned toward Tyler, a crooked grin plastered across her face. “Alright, Ty, spill it. Where the hell are we going? You’ve been suspiciously quiet since we left the highway. And now you’ve got Boone whispering stuff into your ear. When has he ever been this quiet?”

Tyler chuckled but kept his eyes on the road. “Relax, lily. I told you, we’re heading to my hometown. Figured we could all use a real bed and a home-cooked meal for a change. Motel breakfasts are starting to taste like cardboard.”

Dani, who talked from the radio given that she was behind in the Van, raised an eyebrow. “Your hometown? Tyler you’ve only ever talked about it once, what is there to do here really? Is there some sort of catch?”

“No catch,” Tyler replied smoothly. “Just thought you guys deserve something better. And I figured it’s finally time you meet someone really important to me.”

The rest of the team stayed curious and said nothing more. They trusted Tyler—he had proven himself time and again in the chaos of the storm-chasing world. If he said they were in for a treat, they believed him.

After another twenty minutes of winding roads and open fields, Tyler turned onto a long gravel driveway lined with vibrant green grass. The farmhouse at the end of the drive came into view, its white paint glowing softly in the golden light of the setting sun. Animals roamed nearby, adding life to the picturesque scene.

The team climbed out of the Truck and Van, stretching their legs and taking in their surroundings. The farmhouse was surrounded by rolling fields, with a red barn off to one side and a small garden near the porch. The air was warm and smelled faintly of wildflowers and fresh hay. There was a small lake in front of the farmhouse surrounded by fences.

“Wow,” said Dexter, the least chaotic team member. “It’s… peaceful.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said softly, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “It is. Home sweet home,” Tyler said as he approached the house more.

Boone followed his pace, grinning. “Ah, the Owens family ranch. Been too long since I’ve been here.”

“You’ve been here before?” Lily asked, surprised.

“Sure have,” Boone replied. “I’m practically family.”

The front door creaked open, and you stepped onto the porch, wearing a white top stretched slightly over your rounded belly and a pair of jeans. Tyler’s cowboy hat sat snugly on your head, the one he hadn’t worn in years. Your face lit up the moment you saw him, a smile breaking across your lips.

“There’s my troublemaker,” you said warmly, your accent as sweet as honey.

Tyler’s grin widened as he climbed the steps, pulling you into a gentle hug careful not to press too hard against your belly. “Hey, darlin’. You look beautiful.”

Boone didn’t hesitate. “Y/N! Look at you, glowing as always. How’s my niece?,” he said, bounding up the steps to greet you. He hugged you warmly, then ruffled your hair affectionately. “And still stealing hats, I see.”

You laughed. “Good to see you too, Boone. Baby’s fine. And yes, it’s mine now.” You turned back to your husband and hugged him once again. The hug felt like home. After days worrying for your husband he was finally back home and in your arms.

The team hung back awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Dexter was the first to break the silence. “Uh, hi. I’m so confused right now.”

You laughed loudly, your eyes twinkling. You knew the team must be confused, as Tyler had never spoken about you unless it was with Boone. “Y’all must be Tyler’s team. I’m Y/N. The wife.”

Upon the reveal, the team let their mouths hang open in shock. They never imagined Tyler out of all people would be married with a kid on the way. He was always the reckless one, the first to jump into danger. Nobody ever really thought about him potentially having a family, with the way he was. They also didn't expect Boone to have known and let this a secret for so long. That man can never shut his mouth.

Tyler turned back to his team, gesturing for them to come closer. “Everyone, this is Y/N—my wife. Y/N, meet the crew: Boone you already know, This is Dexter, Dani, and Lily.”

You smiled warmly and waved them inside. “Y’all must be starving. Tyler called ahead, so I made enough food to feed an army. Come on in and make yourselves at home.”

As the group filed into the house, Lily glanced at Tyler, her eyes wide with surprise. “You’re married? And… you’re going to be a dad?”

Tyler grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I never mentioned that, huh? Meet the real reason I get back in one piece after every chase.”

The house was cosy, filled with the comforting smells of roast chicken, fresh bread, and apple pie. The dining table was already set, you had clearly gone out of your way to make the team feel welcome.

“This is incredible,” Lily said, taking a seat at the table. “You really didn’t have to go all out for us.”

You waved her off with a laugh. “Oh, please. Tyler told me how hard you’ve all been working. Besides, I saw the live stream of that last tornado. Y’all are insane, by the way. I thought I’d reward your bravery or, well, craziness with a good meal.”

Boone leaned back in his chair, grinning, finally happy to be home. “It’s both, Y/N. And that tornado was a beauty, wasn’t it?”

“Did you see the way the funnel shifted when it hit that open field? Classic EF-3 behaviour.” Tyler suddenly asked as he turned to you. You smiled at the excitement in your husband's voice, nodding towards him. Despite dropping out and never finishing his career in meteorology he was quite well educated in the field of tornadoes.

Dexter nodded, his voice animated. “And the inflow jets—did you catch those? Perfect conditions for a multi-vortex system.”

You chuckled as you started serving the food. “I don’t understand half of what you’re saying, but I could tell y’all were thrilled. It was like watching kids on Christmas morning.”

As the conversation flowed between all of you, a soft noise interrupted. From the staircase next to the dining room came the sound of small, hesitant footsteps.

Everyone turned to see a little boy, about three years old, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was rubbing his sleepy eyes with one hand, clutching a worn stuffed bear in the other. His curls were tousled from sleep, and he blinked at the group with a mixture of curiosity and shyness.

“Daddy?” the boy said softly, his voice thick with sleep.

Tyler’s expression melted. “Hey, bud,” he said, getting up from his chair. He crossed the room in a few strides and knelt down to scoop the boy into his arms. “What are you doing up? Thought your momma put you to sleep for the afternoon.”

The boy rested his head on Tyler’s shoulder and mumbled, “I Had a dream.”

Tyler kissed the top of his son’s head and held him close. “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy 's here.”

Boone chuckled, leaning back in his chair at the sight of the small kid. “There 's my boy. Come here, kiddo.”

Jake squirmed out of Tyler’s arms and ran to Boone, climbing onto his lap. Boone greeted him with a fist bump. “What’d I tell you about staying up past your bedtime, huh?”

Jake giggled. “Uncle Boone!”

The rest of the team stared, dumbfounded. Dani finally blurted out, “Wait you knew about this?!”

Boone shrugged. “Of course. I’m his godfather and uncle. Perks of being Tyler’s actual best friend.”

“Everyone,” Tyler said, turning back to the group, “this is Jake, our little man.”

Jake lifted his head from Boone's shoulder and looked at the team, his big brown eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces. “Hi,” he said shyly.

Lily smiled warmly. “Hi, Jake. I’m Lily. It’s nice to meet you.”

You walked over and gently ruffled your son's curls. “Jake, these are Daddy’s other friends. They’re going to stay with us tonight.”

Jake’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yep,” Tyler said, bouncing him lightly. “And you know what? I think they might even make pretty good aunts and uncles, don’t you?”

Jake giggled, his earlier sleepiness forgotten. “Yeah! Now I have more people to play with!”

“That’s right buddy.” Boone smiled, hugging the kid one last time before he jumped out of his lap and went back to his fathers embrace.

The meal progressed with a light-hearted warmth that settled over everyone like a blanket. Boone and Dexter were animatedly recounting their most chaotic storm-chasing moments, while Dani and Lily chimed in with their own tales. Jake sat on Tyler’s lap, happily munching on a slice of buttered bread, his small hands gripping the edges of the plate to keep it steady.

You observed the scene with a soft smile, your hand resting on your growing belly. Tyler caught your gaze as he let his free hand rest on top of the one holding your belly. He smiled down at you. He was happy to be home.

“You’ve done good, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low but full of admiration.

She tilted her head, her smile widening. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Ty.”

The team exchanged subtle glances, sensing the affection radiating between the two. Lily, unable to resist, leaned over to you. “You two are adorable. What’s your secret?”

That caused a laugh out of you. “Oh, it’s no secret. Just a lot of patience and knowing when to call him out on his nonsense.” You shot Tyler a teasing look, and he feigned innocence.

“Hey now,” Tyler said, grinning. “I’m a perfect angel.”

Jake looked up from his plate, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Daddy’s silly!”

The table erupted into laughter, and Tyler tickled Jake’s sides, eliciting a burst of giggles from the little boy. “Come on Bug, eat all your food. Don’t want you to be hungry later.” You looked at your son as you gently grabbed his bread and gave it to him. Gently caressing his forehead and kissing his cheek lovingly. All while Tyler stared at you with adoration in his eyes.

As the evening wore on, You excused yourself briefly to check on the dessert. Tyler took the opportunity to follow you into the kitchen, leaving Jake to sit back on Boone lap and be entertained by the team.

The kitchen was warm and cosy, filled with the comforting aroma of apples and cinnamon as you carefully pulled the steaming pie from the oven. You moved with practiced ease, placing it on a cooling rack, when suddenly you felt a familiar presence behind you.

“Now, what do I have to do to get my hands on a slice of that?” Tyler’s voice was low and teasing, the grin audible in his tone.

You smirked, not bothering to turn around. “Depends. Are you talking about the pie or me?”

Tyler laughed softly and stepped closer, slipping his arms around your waist, his front pressed against your back. “Both, but let’s start with you.” He leaned in, brushing his lips along the curve of your neck.

“Ty,” you said, your voice half a warning, half a giggle. “We have company, remember? We don’t want Boone to catch us again do we?”

“They’re busy stuffing their faces and trying to keep Jake from giving Boone another black eye,” he murmured, his lips trailing to your ear. “Besides, I don’t get moments like this nearly enough.”

You sighed, leaning back into his embrace. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re gorgeous,” he countered without missing a beat, his hands sliding up to rest gently over your growing belly. “And carrying my baby girl? That makes you even more irresistible.”

You carefully turned in his arms, bow facing each other as you rested your hands on his chest. “You’ve got a silver tongue, Mr. Owens. Has it ever gotten you into trouble?”

He grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling. “Only when I’m not careful. Lucky for me, I married a woman who keeps me in line.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re not so cocky now, are you?”

“Only with you,” he said, leaning down until your foreheads touched. “Well, and maybe with Jake when he gives me that little puppy-dog look. Kid’s got my heart wrapped around his finger. Can never say no to him.”

You laughed softly, holding his figure even more, not wanting to let go. You leaned your head on his chest, looking sideways outside the window to the sun that illuminated your home.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured as his chin rested upon your head.

“And you’re a shameless flirt.”

“Guilty,” he admitted, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “But seriously, I just wanted to thank you for this. For all of it. I know it’s not easy having me running around the country chasing storms.”

You turned in his arms, eyes meeting his. “Ty, I knew what I was signing up for when I married you. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, you always come back to us. That’s what matters.”

His expression softened, and he placed a hand gently on your belly again. “And soon, there’s going to be even more reason to keep coming back.”

You placed your hand over his, your smile tender. “She’s going to love you just as much as Jake does. Maybe even more if she inherits your stubbornness.”

He chuckled. “Let’s hope she gets your patience instead.”.

Your expression softened as you traced a finger along his jawline. “You’re a good dad, Tyler. I see it every day in how Jake lights up around you. And I know you’re going to be just as amazing with our daughter.”

He kissed you softly, a lingering tenderness in the way he held you close. “That’s the plan, sweetheart. Keep coming back to you, Jake, and this little one. Always.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash from the dining room.

“Jake!” Boone’s voice carried through the house. “Why am I always the bad guy?”

“It wasn’t me!” Jake shouted back, his voice ringing with childlike defiance.

You groaned, pulling away with a reluctant smile. “Guess I’d better rescue Boone before Jake recruits the others against him.”

Tyler laughed, giving you a playful smack on the ass as you walked away. “Don’t take too long, baby. I’m still waiting on that pie—and you.”

You threw him a teasing look over her shoulder. “Behave, Ty.”

When you stepped back into the dining room, Jake was perched on Dexter��s lap, gleefully recounting how Boone had “knocked the chair over all by himself.” Boone stood nearby, arms crossed and feigning offence.

“For the record,” Boone declared, “this kid’s already mastered the fine art of scapegoating.”

“I learned it from Daddy!” Jake said with a giggle, earning a roar of laughter from the table.

You sighed, shaking your head as you started slicing the pie. “I see Jake’s picking up all your best habits, Ty.”

Tyler grinned shamelessly, taking a seat next to you. “Can’t blame the kid for wanting to be like his old man.” He reached over to ruffle Jake’s curls, then turned to you. “But if you want to keep us in line, you’d better bring that pie over here before we all riot.”

You rolled your eyes, setting the pie on the table with a grin. “You’re lucky I love you, Tyler Owens.”

He leaned back in his chair, giving you a wink. “Lucky’s an understatement, baby. I hit the jackpot.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As the last bite of pie was finished and the laughter around the table quieted, you leaned back in your chair, feeling satisfied but a little tired. Tyler’s gaze met yours across the table, his expression softening with concern as he stood up, stretching his back.

“We need to clean up.” You muttered under your breath, ready to stand up until Tyler pushed you gently back down to sit.

“Alright, everyone,” Tyler said, his voice carrying the gentle authority that always seemed to get things done. “You’ve all eaten, now it’s time to let my wife take a break. She’s been working hard today.”

Jake, who had been leaning back in his chair, looked confused. “Why do we need to clean up?”

“Because the Missus said so,” Tyler interrupted with a wink, his playful grin lighting up his face. “And trust me, when the Missus speaks, everyone listens.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the playful banter between them, but you appreciated how Tyler always made sure you weren’t overburdened. It was his way of showing care, in everything from big gestures to little moments like this.

One by one, the team began to rise from the table, and soon enough, the dishes were being cleared away. Boone and Dexter were the first to take charge of the plates, laughing as they competed to see who could load the dishwasher faster. Lily helped wipe down the table, while Jake, who still looked a little reluctant, finally took the trash bag outside with Boone’s encouragement.

It didn’t take long before the kitchen was tidied up, and the team filed out to check on the horses. You watched them from the window as they made their way to the stables, chatting with Jake in tow, all smiles and laughter. You felt a contentment settle over you, watching the scene from your peaceful spot inside.

Tyler, noticing that you hadn’t moved from your seat, stepped toward you and held out his hand. “You need a break, too,” he said softly, as if reading your thoughts. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

You stood, taking his hand, and together you walked outside to the front porch. The soft evening light bathed the world in golden hues as you made your way to the rocking chair. Tyler sat first, patting the seat next to him, and you sank into the chair beside him, leaning back with a sigh of relief.

Tyler settled beside you, his hand resting gently on your baby bump. His thumb traced slow circles, a tender gesture that made your heart swell. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the gentle rocking of the chair soothe your tired muscles. The sound of the team’s voices echoed from the stables, a distant hum of joy and energy, but it felt far away from the calm you found in this quiet moment.

You rested your head on Tyler’s shoulder, your fingers resting over his hand on your belly. “Tired?” He asked you, noticing your calmness and weight on his shoulder.

“No. I’m just thinking about how much I missed you.”

He kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arm tighter around you. “Missed you more. And I mean it, Y/N. Everything we’ve built here… it’s the reason I keep going. The reason I come back.”

Your eyes glistened as you looked up at him. “You’re the reason this feels like home, Ty.”

He smiled, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you again, slow and sweet. “Then I guess we’re even, Baby.”

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floralfloyd · 7 days ago

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Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Twelve: [Bring Me The Horizon]

Summary: After Jensen and Jake finish their face-off, you tell Jake how it is. He practices the art of holding himself accountable for his actions, and you get a call that would send you into a downward spiral. Putting you in jeopardy right before your surgery.

Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!

Word Count: 5.1k

Author Note: WOW and we’re back baby. Another year has passed us by and we are finishing this series. Strap in for the final three episodes of this roller coaster of a series. You never know where we might just end up.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The triangular theory of love is a theory developed by Robert Sternberg. In the context of interpersonal relationships, the three components of love according to the triangular theory are, intimacy, passion, and a decision/commitment component. For Jake, he felt like love was more than just a triangular theory. Love is all-encompassing in every aspect of life. And if you look closely, love can be seen all around us in all different forms.

“Bradshaw, now’s not the time man,” Jake sighed as he made his way back down the hospital hallway to your room, walking with his shoulders down and his ego battered and bruised. “I gotta fix an issue and my head’s not–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, Rooster interrupted with a crucial question he needed answered now.

“How is your mother gonna react when I show up to take your kids?” The genuine concern in Bradley’s voice was clear enough for Jake to stay on the line as he walked. “Do I need to be concerned about her calling the cops?”

“Dude,” Jake groaned to himself in frustration as he walked with purpose down the hall. He could feel his rage and frustration bubbling to the surface with every step he took. Who did this Jensen guy think he was? Who did Jake think he was? You didn’t ask for any of this and you definitely didn’t deserve his tantrum before. “She’s not gonna call the cops on you, just tell her to call me if you have any issues and get Jas to help you.”

“Your mother is a terrifying woman–” Rooster added, just to rub salt into Jake’s already existing childhood wounds.

“Well, at least she’s alive.” Jake had never regretted a sentence more in his life. The second he realised what he’d said and who he was speaking to, his heart fell straight out of his arse. “Bradshaw I didn’t mean–” Before Jake had a chance to speak, before he had a chance to explain that he wasn’t talking about Carole—he was talking about you—the line went dead.

“Fuck!” Jake looked at his phone screen to see the call had indeed been ended. He felt the panic inside his chest. The guilt.

Jake had developed a pretty uncanny ability to fuck things up. He couldn’t help himself at the moment. He was having a hard time regulating his emotions. It never had been his strong suit, but now it was worse than ever. Perhaps the idea of losing you forever was the cause. Jake couldn’t accept the possibility that there was a good to fair chance you might not walk away from this fight.

But he could see the bottom of your bed again and where your feet were underneath the breathable hospital blanket that did nothing to keep you warm. With every step Jake took in the hall, he got closer and closer to where he’d left you. And with every step he took he tried to formulate an apology that would reflect his utter sorrow. His pain. His guilt. You were the first person that deserved an apology for Jake’s actions. Bradley would just have to wait.

In hospitals, people see addiction every day. It’s shocking how many kinds of addiction exist. It would be far too easy if it were just drugs, alcohol and cigarettes people were addicted to. The hardest part about kicking an addiction is wanting to kick it. I mean we get addicted for a reason, right?

Often, too often, things start as a normal part of your life and at some point, cross the line into obsessive needs, compulsive out of out-of-control desires. It’s the high people chase. The high that makes everything else…fade away. But nothing could make Jake Seresin fade away. Nothing so far had helped you kick the addiction. Not even when you left.

The harsh reality about addiction is it never ends well. Because eventually, whatever it is that was getting you that high…stops feeling good and starts to hurt. So when the very person you were addicted to walked back into your hospital room, the hurt started all over again well and truly after the high had died down.

“Okay,” Jake stopped in his tracks when he saw that look in your eyes. Although a sense of calm washed over him the second he saw you again, he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see after the way he behaved before. “I recognised I’m in the wrong here.” It was the look he wished he’d never been on the receiving end of again. A look of disappointment mixed with anger, hatred, and, above all, sadness. “I owe you an apology.”

“No thanks,” The tone you conveyed was sinister. There was no warmth. No love. No room for compassion or empathy. “I’m not interested in another empty apology.” You didn't even look Jake’s way. You just continued on with the little word finder you had picked up in Jensen and Jake’s absence. “If you’re done swinging your dick around in the hall like a psychopath, I need to rest.”

Jake was stunned. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew he deserved that. He knew he’d taken things too far. He knew he’d flown over the handlebars the second Jensen stepped into your room. But it was all out of fear of losing you. Why couldn’t you see that? Jake felt as if he could stand right in front of you and you’d look straight through him.

“Honey, don’t be like that,” Jake sighed as he took a few steps towards your bedside. The bouquet Jensen had brought you was lying haphazardly on the little bedside cupboard. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did alright, I know, and I promise you I’m trying here.” Jake sighed as he looked at the flowers another man had gone out of his way to buy you. A dying man.

A dead man walking.

“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” You replied yet again without paying any mind to Jake’s whereabouts in your room. “Never really was your strong suit.” You murmured just loud enough for Jake to hear your mild insult. You could have said it louder, hell, you should have. But regardless of Jake’s actions…he was an addictive drug. One that made it incredibly hard to kick the habit. One you knew you’d go back to. One you wished loved you the same way you loved him.

“Jensen knocked some sense into me,” Jake tried his best to explain all the while he tried to hold back the lump in his throat. The kind of lump that brought tears and panic attacks with it. “He was kind enough to set the record straight.”

“You understand how big of a piece of shit you have to be to say what you said, right?” It was the first time your tone had changed. There was something beyond painful in the way you spoke. Something Jake had tried time and time again not to be the cause of. Heartbreak. Betrayal even. “You jealous, insecure man.”

For a second, Jake absorbed the blow. He took it on the chin like a champion because nothing you were saying was wrong. He was scared of losing the love of his life in a way that wasn’t just through marriage.

“I know,” Jake replied as he picked up the bouquet and looked around. He was looking for somewhere to put them. Somewhere to display the beauty that they emulated. Beauty that reflected you. Where could he get a jug or something to put these in? “I don’t have an excuse to give you, honey,” Jake was trying his best to stick to the honesty is the best policy crap he’d been taught as a child. “I’m just, I got so worked up when he came in here knowing more about you than I did and–”

“Jensen is a friend from group therapy,” You explained yet again. “And this is the last time I’m gonna say it before I let you run off with whatever version of a warped reality you wanna believe but I swear, there isn’t anyone else.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed as you closed your find-a-word book. “I have cancer, Jake. In what world would anyone want me?”

“You love her, don’t you? You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake could hear himself asking the all-important question. He could see himself standing in the hall with the man who had selflessly intertwined his life with yours in order to make you feel less alone in the world.

“Maybe–” Jake vividly heard Jensens reply as he stood staring at the tears that fell down your cheeks. Tears he was the very cause of. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.”

“Me?” It was the sincerity in Jake’s voice that broke you as he put the bouquet down where he’d originally found it and made his way to sit beside you on your bed. “I want you forever and the very idea that some guy—some guy I know is a better man than I will ever be—brought you, my wife, flowers when I didn’t? Kills me.”

“I don’t care about the flowers,” You sighed as Jake wrapped you up in his arms.

“I know, but I let my own insecurities out in a way I never should have and I’m so sorry for the things I said. You don’t deserve that, ever.” It was genuine. The apology for his actions. Jake knew he was in the wrong with how he acted out. You could very clearly see that he was truly sorry. But letting him know that now would have been too easy.

The pair of you sat in your hospital bed for the better half of five minutes silently enjoying each other’s presence and gentle touch. Until you broke.

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to say apology accepted?” You smiled softly as you nuzzled into Jake’s chest a little more. Finding a comfortable position to rest in as you sunk lower in the hospital bed that wasn’t built for two fully grown human beings.

“Nope,” Jake chuckled as he kissed the top of your head, freshly shaved and matching his own. “And I don’t think Rooster is gonna be accepting any apology I give him anytime soon, so the list is growing.”

“What happened with Rooster?” You asked cautiously. You felt the tension take over your husband’s body as he processed what you‘d just asked. Jake held you a little tighter as he once again kissed the top of your freshly shaved head. The notes of your shampoo must have seeped into your scalp. He could still vividly smell the residual fragrance of bergamot.

“Nothing that can’t be explained,” Jake sighed softly. He hated himself with a deep-rooted passion right now. The one thing he wanted to do more than anything else was take you home and pretend everything was alright for just one night. But he couldn’t do that. “Please, don’t worry about my mistakes when you have so much on your plate already. I’ll figure it out. Rooster and I always do.”

“Hmm,” You replied with hesitation as you let your eyes close. The lup-dup of Jake’s heartrate soothed your soul, a heart that begged to be loved in all the ways he deserved to be loved. “I hope so. Martha Stewart’s best and closest friend said the words that sent her to prison,” You explained all the while Jake’s fingers drew unidentifiable objects into the supple skin of your forearm, careful not to mess with any of the tubes attached to you. It was grounding. “So whatever happened between you and Bradshaw I hope you fix it before he spills all your dirty little military secrets.”

“Good thing you’re a true crime author, huh?” Jake smiled with a reluctance to give in to his biggest desire. What would be the repercussions of sneaking you out of this hospital right now?

“No way you’re ending up in one of my books anytime soon,” You giggled softly. Jake felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of your happiness. You felt it too. The moment his heart decided it needed a second to process the laughter you let out. “I love you.”

“I love you too, honey,” Although the circumstances said otherwise, for a second Jake felt like the luckiest guy on the planet. To be loved by you. To be the one you called home. To be the man you chose would forever be Jake’s greatest accomplishment in life. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you in any of them.”

************************

“No signs of life.”

There’s a reason surgeons learn to wield scalpels. They like to pretend they’re hard, cold scientists. They like to pretend they’re fearless. But the truth is they become surgeons because somewhere, deep down, they think they can cut away that which haunts us.

Weakness, frailty, death.

It isn’t just surgeons. It’s paramedics too. First responders like to think they have a hand in what fate holds for you. They believe that if they can move a little quicker, stop the bleeding a little faster, and save you from life-threatening injuries, they can give you extra time. Even for just a day.

But the truth is, we don’t know a single person who isn’t haunted by something…or someone. And whether people try to slice the pain away with a scalpel, pull someone from a car wreck, or shove it in the back of a closet…our efforts usually fail.

So the only way we can clear out the cobwebs is to turn a new page or put an old story to rest…finally, finally…to rest.

“Do we have any information on the victim?” Ilona shook her head as her unit chief looked around the scene. A single-car accident. The mangled wreck of twisted aluminium and shattered glass really painted a telling tale of destruction. No one could have survived the magnitude of injuries that they would have sustained on impact.

“I’ll see if one of the guys picked up a phone or something, perhaps it’s still viable,” Ilona replied in a monotone voice. She was new to the horrors that her job sometimes brought with it. The hurricane forced winds that would sometimes knock her right off her feet. But she was learning how to work through the plethora of different emotions in a professional manner. “Poor guy, what do you think happened?”

The black body bag laid out on the stretcher was a not-so-gentle reminder that life was a precious gift. Paramedics carried the deceased man until they were loading him into the back of the van. No sirens would be needed for this particular patient.

“Crash investigation should have a report for us in about a week,” Taylor, the unit chief, replied as he watched the doors to the ambulance close with a thud. “We’ll need to get an ID as soon as possible to inform the family.”

“I have a phone!!” Ilona heard the explanation from one of her co-workers. She turned with a grin on her face back to her boss.

“We have a phone,” She repeated. “I’ll get right on it chef.”

************************

Lydia still felt awful. She hadn’t quite shaken the existential dread that came with her almost career-ending mistake. She sat behind the desk at the nurses station just replaying the events back in her mind. How could she just assume someone to be someone’s emergency contact?

In retrospect, Lydia now understood clear as daylight that relationships were interpersonal and held deeper value than what was on paper. Jake Seresin may not have been your emergency contact, but he sure was the love of your life.

“You want me to do her observations?” Lydia heard one of her colleagues ask with a snicker. They all knew by this point in time what she had done. But now wasn’t the time to retreat and fall back. If she wanted to get past this, she needed to put on a brave face.

“Nope,” Lydia shook her head as he rose to her feet. “I’ve got it,” She explained with a faux smile. “Is he not intimidating?”

“Mr. Seresin?” Her colleague, Rebecca, replied with a mouthful of two-minute noodles she’d been scoffing down in the small window of reprieve. “Guy’s like a labrador. I mean, that is if you didn’t fuck up his wife’s chart badly enough to call the wrong person labelled clearly as an emergency contact.”

“Ha. Ha.” Lydia barely had the time or the energy to humour her coworkers as they giggled and snickered as she made her way into your room. Jake was wide awake. He hadn’t noticed Lydia standing in the threshold of the door. But Lydia noticed how he held you with such care as you slept soundly.

“Oh,” She cooed softly as she knocked her knuckles against the door. “Sorry to interrupt Mr. Seresin but I need to take some observations for Dr. Ignati.”

“Would it be alright if she slept for even just five more minutes?” Jake was quick to advocate on your behalf. He could tell just how tired and overwhelmed with everything you’d become. Now that he was here and by your side, he was going to make sure you got the best possible treatment there was to offer.

Lydia looked around at the Christmas lights that hung around your room. They twinkled and changed colour on a whim, never staying the same colour for long. The way they hung like they’d been thrown all over the place added a joyful smile across her face.

“I’m sure I can take my time,” Lydia agreed as she approached your bedside. “How’s she been feeling?”

“As good as you’d expect to feel given the circumstances, kid,” Jake replied with a yawn. He was able to stretch his limbs a little as he did so. Although, with every move he cautiously made, Jake was careful not to disturb you. “I assume her surgery is still going ahead as planned?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Lydia confirmed as she checked over your chart and wrote down what she saw on your monitors. “Dr. Ignati should be around earlier in the morning to discuss everything once more.”

“How long have you been working here?” Jake asked. He thought some small talk would be beneficial for not only him but for Lydia too. He could tell the question struck a nerve but pressed on nevertheless. “Because if I’m being perfectly honest, it doesn’t seem like very long.”

“Eight months now,” Lydia replied with a short tone. Jake chuckled to himself as he watched her cross out what she had previously written and wrote down what she had originally intended. “Can you tell I’m also not very good at my job?”

“It doesn’t seem out of ignorance,” Jake offered up his version of advice. “I just think you’re rushing things.” The advice didn’t fall on deaf ears like Jake thought it might. Instead, Lydia stopped what she was doing and took a nice deep long breath in. “In my line of work, things can go wrong in the blink of an eye,” Jake explained as he gently rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand with his thumb. If he was careful, he could feel the throbbing of your pulse point. “Gotta learn how to trust your instincts.”

“My last instinct was that you were your wife’s emergency contact,” Lydia didn’t feel as if she needed to remind Jake of her biggest mistake of all time, but she did anyway. Jake understood what it was like to stay hung up on mistakes he couldn’t change. But he knew what he was about to say next would ease the burden Lydia was feeling.

“Honestly, that’s more on me than it is on you,” Jake sighed as you stirred in his arms. He hoped you‘d stay asleep for just a little longer. You needed it. You deserved to rest soundly.

“How so?” Lydia asked softly as went back to her duties. What Jake said to her next, however, had Lydia looking at the situation she found herself in from a different perspective. And sometimes a little perspective is all you need.

“Well, I shouldn’t have let it get to a point where I wasn’t.”

************************

Life gets easier when you realise that there’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Decisions are simply pivots. Each one you make will take you down a new road that will likely be both magic and miserable. Beautiful and ugly. That’s because life is a polarity. Easy doesn’t exist without hard. Good doesn’t exist without bad.

There is no right or wrong answer. Trust that whatever decision you make can always be followed by another decision.

“I hate this,” You mumbled as you walked to the bathroom with your IV support poll. “I already hate all of this so much.” You knew you were feeding into the depression, but you couldn’t help but feel down in the dumps about your current situation.

“I think everything you’re feeling is valid, honey,” Jake answered as he trailed behind, giving you the independence he knew you wanted to keep but also staying close by in case you needed him. “After surgery–” Jake couldn’t even finish the sentence he’d planned to speak into existence.

“Don’t mention surgery,” You interrupted as you made your way over to the shower. “I don’t even wanna think about the surgery tomorrow.”

“You do know that even if you ignore it, you still have to have surgery?” Jake asked as he frowned his brows and looked at you through the mirror. “We’re on the same page about that, right?”

“What if I told you I’m just scared and don’t want anything to happen while I’m cut open like a fish?” You sassed as you looked back at Jake through the mirror. “If something happens–”

“Hey, nothing's gonna happen,” Jake was quick to close the small gap between the two of you. He stood so close that your back pressed up against his chest. His eyes never left yours through the mirror you stood before. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or the kids for that matter.”

“You left the kids with your mother,” You reminded your husband as he pressed his lips into a tight line of regret. “That alone is gonna cause them enough trauma Mr. ‘I won’t let anything happen to the kids’”

“You wound me, sweetheart,” Jake sighed as he tilted his head back and let out a sigh. “Besides, it’s actually you she hates, not the kids,”

“Do you wanna help me shower or not?” You finally turned around to stand face-to-face with Jake. He was already smirking ear to ear. And it didn’t take long at all before his hands were dropping to your waist, slowly but surely making their slightly calloused way to the exposed skin of your ass. The hospital gown left little to the imagination. Jake wasn’t complaining.

“When have I ever passed up the opportunity to see you naked?” Jake replied with a smirk you recognised was laced with lust. You felt him squeeze softly at your arse cheek playfully. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” You giggled as Jake made sure to count the staples on your head. He knew whatever came next would have to be soft. It would have to be gentle and full of love. Not that it ever wasn’t full of love.

“You drive me crazy, honey,” Jake explained as he caught your lips with his. You couldn’t help but to melt into his body as you kissed him back. Jake’s hands kneaded at the handfuls of arse he never wanted to let go of as he moaned into your mouth.

The feeling was electric. The moan your husband let out sent shivers down your spine. It was an animalistic attraction that you’d tried so hard to suppress in your separation. But no toy on earth could satisfy you like Jake could. Not even when they were bought with his money.

“I love you so much,” Jake cooed as he pulled back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “You’re gonna get through this, I promise,” He left it at that as you wrapped your arms around his waist for a much-needed hug.

When you let go, you took a moment to drink in the sight of your husband. You stared at all the perfect little imperfections that littered his skin. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than normal. That was to be expected though.

“Jake?” You cooed as you reached up to swipe the pad of your thumb across his lower lip.

“I’m right here,” Jake replied as he kept his eyes closed. If he opened them he knew the tears he was trying so desperately to keep in would fall. If he cried in front of you he'd never be able to stop himself.

“I need you to wake up for me, alright?”

“What did you say?” Jake frowned as he opened his eyes and looked at you all confused. He knew what you said. He heard it crystal clear. But he needed you to repeat it. He needed to hear you say it again, just once. The fluorescent bathroom light flickered as he stared at you. For a second…Jake stood alone in a hospital room he didn’t recognise. Only for him to find himself standing right before you again in the blink of an eye. “Honey?”

“I said I need you to get my phone for me?” You repeated calmly. “My phone is ringing and if I try to race to it I won't get there in time.” The explanation fit the response you gave him. Jake thought for a moment there he was going crazy. He needed more sleep, that was without a doubt the answer to his second of madness.

Jake silently nodded in agreement before he kissed your forehead. He was only gone for a few seconds before he returned with your phone. Still ringing.

“Who is it?” You asked as you reached out to take your phone from Jake. By the look smeared across his face, it wasn't someone he necessarily liked.

“It’s your boyfriend,” Jake teased as he handed you your phone. Based on that comment alone you knew it was Jensen.

“Careful Seresin,” You teased lovingly, hoping Jake believed what you had told him earlier. “He might be my next husband if you don't play your cards right.”

Jake knew you were kidding and if anything he deserved that comeback. He didn't like the guy, that much was true. But he could see how having someone who knew what it was like to not know your own body could be beneficial to the mind.

“You caught me at a bad time,” Jake watched as you answered the phone and held it up to your ear. “I–oh,” You paused. The immediate worry that took over the expanse of your face was enough to have the little hairs on the back of Jake's neck standing on edge.

“Jensen Huges–” The name hung heavy in the air around you as you listened to the woman on the other end of the line. According to her, there had been a small piece of paper tucked into the phone case of this particular phone at the scene of an accident. Your name. Your number. “Oh, no, no don't tell me that,” You begged.

Jake was unable to hear what was being said in the silence, but as he watched your eyes well with tears, he knew.

“Y/n, give me the phone, honey,” He whispered as he gestured to your phone. You shook your head in response as you continued to listen to the woman who had introduced herself as Ilona. A police officer with the Rhode Island police. “Sweetheart?” Jake cooed as he reached out for you. The second his fingertips grazed your shoulder…You fell. “Shit–”

“NOOOOOOO!” The guttural scream you let out scared Jake to his very core. He’d never in his life heard you sound the way you did as you crumbled on the floor in the bathroom. “NOOOOOO!”

“Baby, baby I'm here, what happened?” Jake asked softly as he cupped your face in his hands. Your phone was long forgotten. It had crashed down when you did. “Tell me what happened so I can help you, honey?”

“He–he left me,” You managed to gasp out between sobs. “And I can’t–I can’t breathe, Jake, I ca–”

“Hey, I’ve got you,” Jake promised you as he held you tightly in his arms. “It’s gonna be alright,” Jake seemed to have been in the business of making promises he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep. He had no fucking idea if things would be alright. But he needed them to be.

“I can't do this without him,” You cried out in utter anguish. “He, he was the st-strongest,” Jake could tell where this was going as you struggled to speak through your grief-stricken sobs. “If he—then I,”

“I’ve lost count of all the rooms you've been tall in Y/n,” It broke his heart to see you like this. So full of heartbreak. So full of hopelessness. “You gotta keep fighting, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,”

“I don't know how to!” You admitted to not only yourself but to your husband as well. “I don't know how!”

“I’m right here, honey,” Jake held you as tight as he could on the bathroom floor. “You don't have a choice,” He explained as you cried your heart out in a way Jake had never seen you cry before. He could hear your voice echoing in his head.

“You need to wake up,”

“Don't give up on me now Y/n, I can't lose you to this alright?” Jake felt his own tears streaming down his cheeks. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. The way you willed yourself to wake up from this nightmare you were living broke his heart into pieces. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. “Please, you gotta keep fighting this.”

“He was the stronger one,” You replied as you cried yourself into a ball in Jake's arms. Clutching at his arms as your nails dug into his forearms. Grief was a funny thing. “I can't–”

“You have to,” Jake cried with you. He was losing the love of his life and there was nothing he could do to stop this nightmare from happening. “I’m gonna be right here every step.”

“I just want you to wake up,” It was all you said. Jake knew he heard you that time. He heard you loud and clear… “Please, don't leave me,”

But he had no idea what you were saying.

**********************************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic

@itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere

@withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30

@accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989

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floralfloyd · 7 days ago

Text

Too Late

SUMMARY: Tyler is forced to choose between the career he loves and the woman he loves. After leaving for a chase after a fight with his girlfriend, Tyler's world spirals into chaos. He struggles to balance is job with the life he wants. Both you and Tyler are forced to confront what you're willing to sacrifice for love and whether there's still time to fix what's been damaged.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I apologize that it's taken me so long to get it written. Work kept getting in the way and then I was struggling with writer's block. And then I started writing again but it was mostly Glen himself and I was struggling to finish this. I hope it's worth the wait! I'm working to get requests done as I have time and the inspiration is flowing! Hope you enjoy! xx

THERE WILL BE A PART 2 COMING TO THIS! because for some reason it's impossible for me to write angst and leave it at that.

WARNINGS: None, just a lot of heart-shattering angst. This one made me cry while writing it, so be prepared!

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

The hum of the television filled the living room, a soft background noise to the steady rhythm of Tyler’s breathing. His arm draped lazily over your shoulders, his hand resting against your collarbone, warm and reassuring. You leaned into him, your legs tucked under you, savoring the rare stillness of the moment.

Tyler had been home for twelve hours, and for ten of them, he’d been passed out in your bed, utterly spent after a grueling two-week storm chase. You’d stayed up waiting for him to walk through the door last night, running on caffeine and the sheer anticipation of seeing him again. When he finally stumbled in, soaked to the bone and bone-tired, you didn’t mind his muttered apologies for being late or the faint smell of rain that clung to him. You were just happy he was home.

Now, as he held you on the couch, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin, you allowed yourself to breathe. It was these quiet moments that made all the waiting, all the worry, worth it.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tyler murmured, his voice husky from sleep. He shifted slightly, his head tilting toward you, those familiar brown eyes heavy-lidded but focused entirely on you.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” you admitted softly, your fingers toying with the hem of his T-shirt. “Two weeks felt like forever.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt. “I didn’t think it would take that long. Storms were... unpredictable this time.”

You reached up, brushing a stray lock of his wavy brown hair off his forehead. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re home now—that’s what matters.”

He let out a long breath, leaning his head back against the couch. “Home,” he echoed, almost as if the word was foreign to him. But the way his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, made it clear that he understood exactly what it meant.

“Hungry?” you asked after a beat, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Starving,” he admitted, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, you’re in luck. I made lasagna last night. Figured you’d need something hearty after living off gas station snacks and fast food.”

Tyler chuckled, his voice rumbling against you. “Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am to have you?”

You tilted your head to look at him, your smile mirroring his. “Not today. But you can start now.”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll do better,” he promised, and in that moment, with his warmth surrounding you and the steady beat of his heart under your ear, you believed him.

The oven beeped softly as you set the timer, the warm smell of lasagna already starting to fill the kitchen. It wouldn’t be as good as it was fresh last night, but Tyler wouldn’t care. He’d scarf it down and tell you it was the best meal he’d had in weeks, and you’d believe him because that’s just who he was—always grateful, always sincere.

You were rinsing a glass in the sink when you heard the faint buzz of Tyler’s phone vibrating against the coffee table in the living room. His deep voice carried over the quiet hum of the house as he answered. You couldn’t make out the words, but you had a pretty good guess who it was. Boone or Dani, maybe both. You leaned against the counter, straining to catch fragments of the conversation. Tyler’s voice was calm but firm, his words clipped in the way they always were when he was focused on a problem.

The sound of his footsteps moving toward the stairs made your stomach twist. You turned just in time to see him disappear up to the second floor, the weight of dread settling over you like a heavy blanket. You didn’t need to ask what was happening; you already knew.

Still, you found yourself following him, your bare feet padding softly on the stairs. By the time you reached the doorway to your bedroom, Tyler was pulling clothes from the dresser, a duffel bag already lying open on the bed. He didn’t notice you at first, too preoccupied with finding what he needed. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you watched him.

“How bad is it?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Tyler glanced over his shoulder, startled by your presence, but he didn’t stop packing.

“Really bad,” he admitted, shoving a few shirts into the bag. “There’s a cell headed straight for Oklahoma City. Boone says it’s one of the nastiest cells he’s seen in a while.”

“How long will you be gone this time?” you asked, already bracing yourself for the answer.

He sighed, pausing as he reached for a pair of jeans. “I don’t know. Hopefully just a few nights.”

You nodded, though the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow. “Do you really need to go? You just got back, Ty. Can’t you sit this one out? Just once?”

Tyler turned to face you, his expression conflicted. “I wish I could, but this one’s bad. Towns are gonna need us. Javi and Kate are already on their way, and Dani’s meeting us there.”

You flinched at the mention of her name. Kate. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Tyler—you did, completely. He was a good man, loyal to a fault. But lately, it felt like every story he told, every update he gave, involved her. Kate this, Kate that. The team. Always the team.

The crack in your voice surprised even you when you finally spoke. “Just go. Go hang out with Kate. You’ve gotten pretty good at that.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and electric. Tyler froze, the shirt in his hand forgotten as he turned to look at you. His face fell, hurt flickering in his eyes before he sighed and set the shirt down on the bed.

“That’s not fair,” he said quietly, his tone even but weighted. “You know that’s not what this is about.”

“I know,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes as you looked away. “I just... I don’t want you to go, Tyler.”

“I don’t want to go either,” he said, stepping toward you. His voice was softer now, but there was still a hint of frustration. “But this is what I do. What we do. You knew that when you moved in.”

“And what about what I need?” you countered, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’ve been gone for two weeks, Ty. Two weeks. I barely got you back, and now you’re leaving again.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. Instead of answering, he reached for you, his hand brushing against your arm. But you pulled back, shaking your head as a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Don’t,” you murmured. “Just… pack your bag.”

You turned sharply on your heel, heading back downstairs before the tears welling in your eyes could spill over. Tyler’s sigh was heavy, cutting through the thick silence of the house. You heard his footsteps following you, faster now, as he called after you.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “C’mon, wait.”

You didn’t stop. You didn’t want to have this conversation, not when your emotions were this raw, but he caught up to you at the bottom of the stairs, his hand reaching gently for your arm.

“Sweetheart, please,” he tried again, stepping in front of you to block your retreat. His green eyes searched yours, filled with concern and something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t want to leave like this.”

You scoffed, pulling your arm free and folding it across your chest. “Funny, that. You seem to have no problem leaving any other time.”

He winced at the jab, but his expression softened as he tried to explain. “It’s not what you think. I know you’re upset about Kate, but—”

“This isn’t about her, Ty,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you turned away from him.

The frustration in his face shifted to confusion. “Then what is it? Why are you so upset?”

Your hands clenched at your sides as you looked at him, trying to find the words that would make him understand. “I’m upset because you’re leaving. Again. Because every time you walk out that door, I don’t know how long it’ll be until I see you again. And I’m supposed to just… deal with it. Like it doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter.”

“Darlin’…” he started, but you cut him off again.

“My birthday party is on Saturday, Ty,” you said, your voice cracking as you met his gaze. “In two days. You knew that, right?”

His face told you everything you needed to know before he said a word. He’d either forgotten or hadn’t thought about it when he’d agreed to meet up with the team. The guilt in his eyes was enough to send a fresh wave of hurt through you.

“I’ll try to be back for it,” he said finally, but you could hear the hollowness in the promise. You both knew it wasn’t likely.

You felt your heart ache, the words barely leaving your lips. “Do you even realize what that does to me? The hoping, the waiting—knowing you probably won’t be there?”

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away. “I want to stay,” he said earnestly, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “I do. But I can’t. I’m needed out there. These storms, they—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Don’t say it.”

“Darlin’, just let it go,” he pleaded, his voice desperate now. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I swear. And when I get back, we’ll have a date night. Whatever you want. You plan it, I’ll make it happen. Just... let me go, okay?”

The tears you’d been holding back slipped free, rolling down your cheeks as you finally broke. “I can’t just let you go,” you said, your voice trembling. “Not this time, Ty. Please. Don’t make me try to make you stay.”

He reached for you again, but this time, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him take your hands in his, his warmth grounding you even as your heart shattered.

“I just…” Your voice cracked as you looked up at him, the tears blurring your vision. “I just want to be enough. Just once, I want to be enough for you to stay.”

The words hung in the air, raw and aching, as Tyler’s grip on your hands tightened. He opened his mouth to respond, but for the first time, he seemed at a loss. His eyes searched yours, the storm inside him almost as intense as the one he was chasing.

Before Tyler could say anything else, his phone buzzed, the sound sharp and intrusive in the quiet tension between you. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. His jaw tightened as he sighed, the weight of the message clearly written in his expression.

“Boone’ll be here in about fifteen minutes,” he said softly, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “I need to finish packing.”

You didn’t respond, only nodding as you reached up to swipe at the tears still slipping down your cheeks. His words, as well-intentioned as they might have been, were a knife to the heart. He wasn’t saying, I’ll stay, or even, Let’s finish talking. He was saying, I’ve already made my choice.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Tyler said, his voice heavy with something that might have been regret. “We can keep talking then.”

But you both knew the truth. He might want to come back to this conversation, but the fact that he was finishing packing first told you everything you needed to know. Nothing you could say would make him stay.

When he returned downstairs, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, you heard Boone’s old beat up van pulling into the driveway. The headlights briefly lit up the kitchen window before Tyler opened the door and called out to his friend, “I’ll be right there.”

Then he turned back to you. You were still at the counter, picking absently at your lasagna, the fork dragging across your plate. The second plate—the one you’d made for him—sat untouched, cooling and forgotten.

He hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer. “Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice full of unspoken apologies. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt him lean in to press a kiss to your lips. You turned away at the last second, and his kiss landed awkwardly on your cheek. He sighed and shifted, settling instead for a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the words past it. “I love you, too.”

And you did. God, you did. You loved him to a fault, even when it felt like your love wasn’t enough to make him stay.

“Be safe,” you whispered.

“I will,” he promised, his words like a balm to a wound that wouldn’t heal.

You watched him walk out the door, your eyes stinging with fresh tears as Tyler’s truck rumbled to life. You watched through the kitchen window as Tyler threw his bag into the back and climbed into the driver’s seat, his figure silhouetted in the dim glow of the driveway lights. Boone threw his own bag into the backseat and then climbed into the passenger seat.

And then they were gone. Tailights headed up the driveway and then disappearing as Tyler turned onto the highway.

You stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty driveway, wondering—When will he be done with this? With chasing every storm, every call for adventure? You blinked, and the tears spilled over, hot and unrelenting.

You made your way back to the living room, the familiar comfort of the worn couch doing little to ease the ache in your chest. Your mind wandered as you sank into the cushions, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric.

You thought back to a conversation you and Tyler had a few weeks ago, one of those late-night talks where the future seemed so bright and full of possibility. He’d talked about marriage, about having kids. About building a life together.

But now, as you sat there in the quiet, the weight of his absence pressing down on you, a painful thought crept in. How could he ever be a husband or a father when he barely had time to be a boyfriend?

The realization broke something in you. You wanted that life with Tyler more than anything. You wanted to be his wife, to see him become a father. You wanted to build a family with him, to share those moments of joy and chaos and love.

But you didn’t want him to be a part-time dad. You didn’t want a husband who was always somewhere else, chasing storms and leaving you behind.

And for the first time, you wondered if the life you wanted was even possible with the man you loved.

* * * *

TYLER’S P.O.V.

The rhythmic hum of Tyler’s truck tires against the highway should have been soothing, but to Tyler, it felt like nails on a chalkboard. He stared out the window, his elbow propped on the door, fingers pressed against his temple. The world outside was dark, illuminated only by the truck’s headlights and the occasional glow of a passing sign.

Boone cast a sideways glance at him for what had to be the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes. Tyler knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke up, but he wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet.

“You gonna tell me what’s eatin’ at you, or do I have to drag it outta you?” Boone finally asked, breaking the silence.

Tyler didn’t respond at first, just shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck.

“C’mon, man,” Boone continued. “We’ve been friends too long for me not to know when somethin’s wrong. You’ve barely said a word since we left, haven’t turned on the music, and you’re starin’ out the window like the answer to life’s problems is out there somewhere.”

Tyler sighed, long and heavy, before leaning back in his seat. “It’s nothin’, Boone. Just tired.”

Boone snorted, unimpressed. “Bull. You’ve pulled all-nighters before and still wouldn’t shut up the whole ride. Don’t make me guess, Ty. Just spit it out.”

Tyler let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re like a damn bloodhound, you know that?”

“Yup. Now spill.”

Tyler hesitated, but finally gave in. “We had a fight,” he admitted quietly.

Boone glanced at him again, his brows furrowing. “You and her?”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah. Right before I left.”

“What about?” Boone asked, his tone softening.

Tyler hesitated again, struggling to find the right words. “I dunno, man. Not really Kate, but…I guess kinda about Kate?” He let out another sigh. “She’s not mad about her, though. She’s mad about me leavin’. Again.”

Boone didn’t say anything at first, just let Tyler talk.

“She told me she needed me to stay,” Tyler continued, his voice quieter now. “For her. For once, she needed me to stay, and I still…I didn’t.” He swallowed hard, the weight of his own words settling heavily on his chest.

Boone nodded slowly. “And you think you messed up bad this time?”

Tyler’s laugh was humorless, almost bitter. “Yeah, Boone. I think I really screwed up. She turned away when I tried to kiss her goodbye, man. That’s never happened before. And the look on her face…” His voice cracked, and he paused, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

Boone glanced at him again, concern etched across his face. “She loves you, Ty. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But what if…what if it’s not enough anymore? What if I’m not enough anymore?” He shook his head, his voice breaking again. “I can’t lose her, Boone. I can’t.”

Boone tightened his grip on the wheel, his jaw set. “Then don’t. You’re stubborn as hell when it comes to everything else, so don’t give up on this either. You’ll figure it out, Ty.”

Tyler nodded, running a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

The two fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t quite as heavy. Boone reached over and turned on the radio, keeping the volume low. Tyler leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the roof of the truck and trying to figure out how the hell he was going to fix this.

* * * *

TWO DAYS LATER, YOUR BIRTHDAY

The sun streamed through your bedroom window as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your phone. A single missed call and a few unread texts from Tyler stared back at you. You hadn’t opened the messages, too stubborn—or maybe too hurt—to even look at them. It wasn’t that you didn’t care. You cared too much, and that was the problem.

You opened the Life360 app for what had to be the hundredth time in the last two days, watching Tyler’s little icon blink on the map. Still in Oklahoma. Still chasing storms. Still too far away to make it home.

Even if he left right now, you calculated bitterly, it’d be three, maybe four in the morning before he walked through the door. But he wasn’t leaving. You knew that. The tracker told you everything you needed to know—Tyler Owens wasn’t coming home for your birthday.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, your chest tightening with the familiar ache of disappointment. It wasn’t anger. No, anger would have been easier. Anger would have been a quick burn, a flash of heat that you could let out and be done with. This was worse. This was the cold, dull ache of hurt.

You stood and moved to the mirror, staring at your reflection as you got ready for the party. You’d spent weeks planning this, excited to celebrate with the people you loved most. Now, the thought of facing them felt almost unbearable. Everyone would ask about Tyler, and you’d have to put on a brave face, smile through the questions, and pretend like you weren’t holding your breath every time your phone buzzed, hoping it’d be him telling you he was on his way.

But you knew better. He wasn’t coming.

As you brushed a stray tear from your cheek, your mind wandered back to the conversation you’d had with Tyler a few weeks ago. He’d talked about your future together, about getting married and having kids, painting a picture of a life you’d always dreamed of. But now, the cracks in that picture seemed impossible to ignore. How could you build a life with someone who was always halfway out the door?

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply as you fought to push those thoughts aside. Not today. You wouldn’t let them ruin today. This was your birthday, and you deserved to enjoy it, even if he wasn’t there.

Straightening your shoulders, you turned back to the mirror and gave yourself a firm nod. You’d put on your best dress, your brightest smile, and celebrate with the people who were here. But as you stepped away from the mirror and picked up your phone again, that stubborn, nagging ache in your chest reminded you that no matter how hard you tried, a part of you would always be waiting for him.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air. String lights hung from the trees, casting a warm glow over the backyard, and the scent of barbecue wafted through the cool evening breeze. Everyone had shown up—friends, family, even a few coworkers. It should’ve felt perfect.

But as you smiled and greeted everyone, it felt like you were moving through a haze. The excitement and joy on everyone else’s faces only seemed to amplify the emptiness you felt inside. You plastered on a smile, accepting hugs and well-wishes, thanking people for coming, but the effort was exhausting.

A couple of hours in, you found yourself standing near the drink table, sipping from a plastic cup of wine and watching the crowd. Your mom made her way over, a warm smile on her face, but the moment she reached you, her brow furrowed slightly.

“Honey, where’s Tyler?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with curiosity.

You froze for a moment, gripping the cup a little tighter. “Oh, he’s, um, he’s on a chase,” you said, forcing the words out. “It came up last minute.”

Her expression softened with understanding, but you could see the concern flicker in her eyes. “I’m sure he wishes he could be here,” she said, reaching out to touch your arm.

You nodded quickly, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah, of course. He’s been texting me. He feels awful about it.” The lie slipped out so easily, you almost believed it yourself.

Your mom gave you a small squeeze before drifting back into the crowd, but the interaction left you rattled. You tried to shake it off, turning to join a group of friends by the fire pit, laughing at their stories and pretending like everything was fine.

But as the hours dragged on, the weight of Tyler’s absence pressed heavier on your chest. Every time someone asked about him or mentioned how great the party was, it felt like a reminder of what was missing. You glanced at your watch—10:03. The party was supposed to go until one, but you couldn’t stay another minute.

You slipped away quietly, grabbing your purse and coat from the entryway. A few people called out goodbyes as you left, and you forced a smile, waving over your shoulder as you made your way to the car.

The drive home was a blur. By the time you walked through the front door, the tears you’d been holding back all evening finally broke free. You kicked off your heels and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body.

You’d wanted so badly to enjoy tonight, to celebrate with the people who loved you. But the one person you needed most wasn’t there, and no amount of pretending could fill that void.

You thought about all the times you’d told yourself it was okay, that Tyler’s work was important, that you understood why he couldn’t always be there. But tonight, it didn’t feel okay. Tonight, you just felt… alone.

And as you curled up on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest, a single thought echoed in your mind: How much longer can I keep doing this?

* * * *

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains as Tyler stepped through the front door. Exhaustion pulled at him, but it wasn’t what he noticed. What stopped him cold was the sight of you curled up on the couch, a pillow clutched to your chest, tear tracks staining your cheeks. His heart sank.

He set his bag down quietly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He knew he’d hurt you—he always knew—but seeing it like this, seeing you broken because of him, twisted the knife in his chest.

Carefully, he walked over and crouched beside the couch. For a moment, he just looked at you, the rise and fall of your chest as you slept. The way your fingers clung to the pillow as if it could offer some comfort.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick.

Tyler leaned down and slid his arms under you, lifting you gently. You stirred slightly, murmuring in your sleep, but you didn’t wake. He carried you upstairs, careful not to bump into anything, and laid you down on the bed. He pulled the blankets up to your shoulders, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before leaving quietly.

A few hours later, you made your way downstairs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your body felt heavy, your chest tight. The events of last night still hung over you like a storm cloud.

As you reached the living room, you noticed him sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. A bouquet of wildflowers sat on the coffee table in front of him, their bright colors almost mocking in the dull atmosphere.

He heard your steps and looked up, his face lighting up with a hopeful smile. “Morning,” he said softly, standing and walking toward you.

You stopped at the base of the stairs, arms crossed, as he closed the distance. He reached out, pulling you into his arms.

“You look pretty,” he said, his voice warm and tender.

You huffed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I cried myself to sleep last night, so I’m sure I look like a supermodel,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm.

His smile faltered, and his brow furrowed. “You cried yourself to sleep?” he repeated, his voice dropping with guilt. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You pulled away, shaking your head, and walked past him into the living room. His gaze followed you, the weight of your silence pressing down on him.

“I missed you,” he said softly, his voice tentative.

You didn’t respond. You sat down on the armrest of the chair, staring at the flowers but refusing to acknowledge him.

Tyler sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, silent treatment. Got it.” He stepped closer, his tone pleading now. “What’s it gonna take to make this up to you?”

You looked up at him then, your eyes sharp and filled with hurt. “It’s too late for that.”

His face fell, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if the words hadn’t fully sunk in. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking.

You took a deep breath, the words tasting bitter as you forced them out. “I mean I’m done, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having you miss things—important things—for the job.”

He staggered back a step, as if the words had physically struck him. “No, no, don’t say that,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t say that.”

His knees hit the floor in front of you, his hands reaching for yours. “I can’t lose you. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll talk to the team—I already did. I told them I’d cut back on the days I’m on the road. I swear to you, it’ll be different.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “It’s too late, Tyler. You should’ve done that months ago. I begged you to.”

His hands gripped yours tighter, desperation pouring out of him. “I know. I know I screwed up. I know I’ve hurt you. But I love you. I need you. Please… just give me one more chance.”

You looked away, your heart-shattering at the sight of him, broken and pleading. You wanted so badly to believe him, to believe that things could change. But deep down, you knew the cycle would continue.

The finality in your voice broke him. He leaned his forehead against your knees, his shoulders shaking as he choked back a sob. You reached down, your fingers threading through his hair one last time, and then you stood, walking away before you could change your mind.

* * * *

A WEEK LATER

The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Tyler shuffled aimlessly from room to room. He hadn’t left in days, couldn’t bring himself to. The walls seemed to press in around him, suffocating and empty. The coffee table still held the dead bouquet of wildflowers he’d bought for you, their once-vivid colors now dulled to brown. Next to them sat the small red box, untouched, its contents a painful reminder of what he’d lost.

He sank onto the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. His eyes burned, swollen from too many sleepless nights and too many tears. He hadn’t eaten much. He hadn’t showered. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Every corner of the house was haunted by you—your laughter, your smile, the faint scent of your perfume still lingering in the air.

A sharp knock at the door startled him. He ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the knocking came again, louder this time, and then he heard Boone’s voice calling out.

“Tyler! Open the damn door!”

Tyler groaned, dragging himself off the couch. He unlocked the door and swung it open, only to find Boone, Lilly, Dexter, and Dani standing on his porch. They took one look at him, and their faces fell.

“Jesus, man,” Boone said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The others followed, their expressions a mix of concern and shock.

“You look like hell,” Lilly said softly, her hand brushing his arm.

Tyler let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, it feels about right.”

They gathered in the living room, their eyes flicking to the dead flowers and the mess of empty coffee cups and takeout containers scattered on the table. Boone cleared his throat, leaning forward.

“All right, spill. What the hell happened?”

Tyler sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. He took a shaky breath before finally speaking. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell silent. Boone exchanged a confused look with Dexter, while Dani’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Gone?” Lilly asked. “What do you mean, gone? We knew you two fought, but… Tyler, we thought you’d work it out.”

Tyler shook his head, his voice breaking. “She’s done. She walked out, and I don’t blame her. I couldn’t—” He stopped, his throat tightening. “I couldn’t give her what she needed. I wasn’t there for her. She deserved better, and I couldn’t be that for her.”

Boone leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Tyler, man, you’ve gotta talk to her. Fix this.”

“It’s too late,” Tyler said, his voice hollow. “She’s made up her mind.”

The group exchanged glances, unsure of what to say. Boone’s gaze drifted to the coffee table, where the small red box caught his attention. He reached for it, his fingers brushing the worn velvet.

Tyler’s head snapped up. “Boone, don’t—”

But it was too late. Boone flipped the lid open, his eyes widening as he took in the ring inside. The room went still.

“Tyler,” Boone said, his voice low. “What is this?”

Tyler’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “It’s… it was supposed to be hers,” he said quietly. “I was going to ask her that night we got back. I was going to tell her I was ready to change, ready to be better for her. Ask her to give me one more chance. But it didn’t matter. I waited too long.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, pressing down on everyone in the room. Lilly’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Dani reached over to place a comforting hand on Tyler’s arm.

“Tyler,” Dexter said gently, “it’s not too late. If you love her, you fight for her. You show her you’re serious. You don’t give up now.”

Tyler shook his head. “She’s better off without me,” he muttered.

“No,” Boone said firmly, closing the ring box and setting it back on the table. “She’s not. She loves you, Tyler.”

Tyler didn’t respond. He just stared at the floor, the weight of their words battling with the doubt and regret that consumed him.

The room fell silent again, each of them searching for the right thing to say. Finally, Lilly spoke up, her voice soft but determined.

“Tyler, you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll help you figure it out.”

Tyler’s shoulders sagged, and for the first time in days, a flicker of hope pierced through the darkness. “I don’t know if she’ll even listen,” he said quietly.

“You don’t know unless you try,” Boone said.

Tyler stands up abruptly, grabbing his keys, his mind set on finding you. But Boone, ever the realist, steps in his path. He holds up a hand, a half-smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Ty, you’re not going anywhere like that," Boone says, looking him up and down. "You’ve been living like a hermit for a week. You smell like you’ve slept in a barn, and I’m pretty sure your hair has its own ecosystem. Go take a shower, put on some clean clothes, and then we’ll talk about how you’re gonna win her back. You can’t even look at her like this."

Tyler stares at Boone, then looks down at his own disheveled appearance, realizing his friend might have a point. With a sigh, he drops the keys onto the counter. “Fine.

Boone watches him with a knowing look as Tyler trudges upstairs, and the team remains silent for a moment.

Boone sighs and heads toward the door, turning back once to glance at Tyler’s room. He knows his friend isn’t ready to give up, and neither is he. Tyler had made his mistake, but it wasn’t too late to change. They just had to get him there first...and then hope by some miracle that you'd listen to what Tyler had to say.

355 notes · View notes

floralfloyd · 9 days ago

Text

Nobody's son. Nobody's daughter.

Jake Seresin x Reader

Returning home to Texas for any time has always meant visiting his aunt and uncle. As a kid, their large estate outside of Houston had been an exciting opportunity to sample the finer side of life. Rubbing elbows with businessmen and their rich wives. Still, he feels he's little more than a toy soldier at these events. Perhaps he's found someone who knows exactly how it feels to masquerade.

Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey Wondering Why by The Red Clay Strays Cowboy Like Me by Taylor Swift Moodboard for this fic

Warnings: If you know me in real life do not read this, The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, fake dating-ish, rich people, smut (oral m+f receiving), (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please) Word Count: 6.5K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

Champagne bubbles sparkle as another perfunctory conversation fizzles into more ostensible laughter. Jake stands idle, nodding and responding with an easygoing politeness when required, while scanning the room for his uncle. He's always had little patience for people feigning interest in the lives of others, or masquerading in curated caricatures of intriguing lives. His eyes have never cared to be distracted by the glitter of diamonds, or the flash of gold wristwatches. Taking another sip of his drink he finds himself rather bored in this room of pretenders.

Returning home to Texas for any time has always meant visiting his aunt and uncle. As a kid, their large estate outside of Houston had been an exciting opportunity to sample the finer side of life. Horses were kept for hobby riding rather than ranching; lush green land without a cow in sight; and a backyard swimming pool. As he got older his presence was requested at their swanky cocktail parties. He was rubbing elbows with businessmen and their rich wives. His military career has become a talking point for his relatives and he feels the eyes of the room on him wherever he floats through the grand house. “Your uncle is proud of you,” his mother always insists her brother means the best, “your grandfather was a pilot too, you know. It's in your blood”. Still, he feels he's little more than a toy soldier at these events.

Setting his empty glass down on a tray Jake is determined to find his uncle and make an excuse to leave early. As somewhat expected his uncle Robert is chatting with his business partner, Mr Bell. From what Jake can remember from previous encounters, he's a nice enough man, but he can only hope he's not dragged into more small talk before he manages to escape. It’s the Bells who are hosting tonight’s cocktail party, and Jake accepts that an early excusal might not be possible.

Beside the two older gentlemen stands a young woman. She's gorgeous standing by the glow of the fireplace. He finds his feet moving him in their direction before he has a moment to consider what he might say when he gets there. Immediately, she reminds him of some kind of goddess. It's silly, childish even. But still, he can't help it. Curves highlighted and hidden in the same artful drapes of deep cherry silk of her dress. Her eyes shimmer like focused jewels as she follows the conversation happening next to her. Her shoulders relaxed in an easy elegant posture. He entertains the idea of a world where a man like him might paint her likeness on his aircraft. Comforted by her calm demeanour, and perpetual in awe of her stunning features.

“Jake,” his uncle waves him over, “you remember my friend George Bell”.

“Mister Bell,” Jake greets with a handshake, “it's nice to see you again. Thank you for inviting me tonight, sir”.His posture is perfect as the older man nods and claps him on the shoulder. “I believe you were just about twelve the last time you were here. You’ll have to join me in the library later for a drink”. He has no interest in staying any longer than he has to, but a glass of whiskey from a bottle worth a month of his salary, and a round of pool may serve to soften the obligation of his presence. “Yes, sir,” he accepts, and then his attention shifts entirely to her.

He’s seen this young woman in photographs and painted portraits throughout the house, though he’s certain now the images do her no justice. He’s bold to assume her identity, and it will surely bite him in the ass if he’s wrong, but he feels certain she must be Mr. Bell’s daughter, and he greets her accordingly, “Miss Bell”.

“Lieutenant Seresin,” she smiles, “it's a pleasure to meet you”. He shouldn't be so pleased that she knows who he is, but he finds himself pushing out his chest with pride. “The pleasure is all mine,” he assures her. Her smile grows, a fantastically playful glint in her eyes that tells him she's excited to be speaking to someone she considers to be a peer. “Then it's an honour,” she insists, “if half the stories I've been told are true, you're very accomplished, Lieutenant”.

In most scenarios like this, Jake has gotten good at walking the line between exaggeration and faux modesty, any attempt to shift the conversation away from himself, yet today she allows her to tease him. “Call me Jake, please”.

“Only if you insist”.

“I do,” he says, urging some level of familiarity to grow between them as they're both dragged into another round of bromidic small talk.

He endures the conversation about the weather, and fields questions about what the temperatures are in California at this time of year. He gracefully sidesteps conversations about his job, and his politics, artfully avoiding escalating discussions as easily as he had mastered lag pursuit maneuvers in his first year of flight school. With each opportunity to make her laugh he manages to succeed, only fueling his desire to do it again.

It's too soon that she's called away to speak with a group of women across the room. He kicks himself for not engaging her in more direct conversation, and wonders if the stolen glances, and the subtle wink he'd shot her way were enough to convey his interest. It's stupid, like a middle school crush, and he knows he couldn't have just asked her out in front of her father and his uncle. He’d hate to look untoward in their company. But, the missed opportunity burns nonetheless.

An entirely unexpected fortuity is all but handed to him on a silver platter when he's asked to join Mr. Bell for a game of pool in the library. The older man pours him a generous glass of scotch before speaking.

“I have a favour to ask you, Jake”.

“I'm happy to help if can, sir,” Jake responds easily, though he can't help but find himself growing nervous by the prospect and any potential implications. He briefly envisions himself, ending up as muscle for hire, taking out an unsavoury business associate, his dreams of becoming an admiral slashed as he ends up on the wrong side of the wrong people.

His anxieties are quickly replaced by absolute surprise at the words Mr. Bell speaks next,

“I'd like for you to escort my daughter to the theatre this weekend,” there's an unexpected vulnerability as he continues, “My wife and I will be out of town, and since her engagement was called off she worries that people will talk-- you know how it is”.

In all honesty, Jake cannot say he does know how it is, but he can imagine. His aunt had been talking about some young woman of some kind of societal importance who had been jilted weeks before her wedding. He hadn't been paying attention at the time, far more interested in the apple pie he was eating and the football game on TV. From what he can recall rumours were running wild, but no one had the full story. He understands now that Bell's daughter must be the woman his aunt was talking about. Without knowing her, he had felt sorry for her. But pity is now replaced by deference. He finds himself more in awe of how she managed to walk the rooms this evening with her head held high, knowing what people must be whispering about her behind her back. He understands that a pastime and patronage she clearly enjoys has been jeopardized by the possibility of having to attend alone, but he worries that his presence, and lack of regard for certain expectations and niceties may hinder more than it helps.

“I've never been to the theatre before, sir. I'm not sure I would be the best escort”.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Bell stops him, “you're a good man. Dress well. Pick her up. Watch the play. Drive her home”. There's no room for argument or debate, and the truth is that despite the odd, and somewhat unfortunate circumstances Jake finds a selfish little part of himself chuffed by the opportunity to take the dreamy girl out for a night.

“Come around six o’clock you can park your truck here, and ask Steven in the Garage for the keys to the Benz. I'm going to assume you can drive manual”. Jake easily accepts the new instructions, raising his glass in the sign of a toast before the two of them begin their billiards game as if no conversation had passed between them.

Saturday comes around in what feels like the blink of an eye. Jake makes sure his slacks, blazer, and button-up are pressed and his shoes are polished ready for the night out. After some debate on what to wear, his choice is ultimately decided by the lack of options hanging in the closet of the guest bedroom at his aunt and uncle's house. He'd learned years ago not to visit without at least two sets of slacks and jackets, but had never considered that he might have an occasion to truly worry over the outfit he's putting on. He's eager to make a good impression, but worries he'll look like he's trying too hard; keenly aware that this evening he's not just representing himself. He will also be purporting to assume responsibility for the social reputation of a woman who has already been unfairly judged and derided.

He showers and combs his hair before slipping into charcoal grey pants and jacket. He fastens the cuffs of his white shirt with onyx cufflinks borrowed from his uncle. He's conservative with the application of his aftershave, conscious of the fact he's attending a society function, not a nightclub happy hour. He's certain either way that her opinion of him could not be swayed by a whiff of Tom Ford cologne.

At the Bell residence, Jake retrieves the keys to the Mercedes. A stunning mid-century model painted in oxblood red, so perfectly polished he can see his reflection staring back at him. Keys in hand he rings the doorbell and waits patiently. Through the door, the faintest tip tap of high heels echoes in the grand foyer. The sound is followed shortly after by a small clatter and a hardly muffled “shit!” Jake grins ear to ear, barely containing a laugh when the door swings open.

“Lieutenant,” she greets.

“Jake,” he insists.

“Jake,” she corrects herself.

“Shall we?”

She nods, shutting the door behind her, a small clutch purse in one hand. He offers his arm to her. If she notices him flexing she doesn't say anything, but his cheeks flush as he reminds himself he's not flirting with some tag chaser at The Hard Deck. Cheap come-ons are worth anything here. She won't end the night in his bed. This isn't even a date, it's a favour to her father.

She ignores the gentlemanly offer of his arm, and all but skips down the stone steps towards the driveway leaving him to stare dumbfounded.

“Let's go!” She calls to him, walking backwards to the waiting car.

She's dressed in a dress made of black velvet today. It flares out at her waist and ends at a conservative length. But her back is exposed and he tries to stop his eyes from tracing the plunging neckline. With stockings and her towering heels, she manages to make bourgeois sexy.

“You look lovely. That's a nice dress” he tells her when he catches up.

“Thank you,” she smiles, “it has pockets!” Her free hand immediately finds the hidden pouch to demonstrate. His smile graces his face, and his earlier anxieties about expectations and decorum quiet themselves as he watches her open the car door for herself quickly making herself comfortable.

There's a casual air to her demeanour he hadn't expected. Their communication at the cocktail party earlier in the week had led him to believe that she was not as prim as the circumstances expected her to be. Her teasing tone and her eyes searching the room for more stimulating conversation told him she had been holding back, and putting up appearances. He had no reason to believe that tonight would be any different.

A few minutes down the road she leans forward to turn on the radio, the local country station playing at a low volume.

“Your dad must like me,” he attempts to joke.

“I like you,” she says, her eyes looking out the passenger side window.

“Well sure, what's not to like,” he smirks, “but your dad leant me a nineteen fifties Benz”

“I leant you a nineteen sixties Benz,” her correction leaves him with his brows furrowed.

“This is your car?”

She doesn't turn her attention to him but responds, “Birthday gift”.

He feels it, the achy routine gratitude. The compunction that comes from being forced to save face and feign grace; saying thank you for something you never asked for. There's a hollowness that accompanies the realization that this chunk of your life is not your own, and worse, wondering if you could do any better even if it were. Incidentally, he's familiar with a similar gut-churning shame. The weight of undeserved praise and misplaced guilt have often pulled at his ribs. He loses sleep each time they pin a medal on his chest; when the ends don't seem to justify the means, and he can't tip the scales enough in his favour to win a restful sleep at night. It's never enough.

“It's a fantastic car,” he tells her honestly, “you have excellent taste”.

“Thank you”.

He hears his fears and scruples in her quiet sigh before the words escape her. He knows the echo of apology in a simple thank you as well as he knows his name. Silence settles between them again.

At the theatre, she stays seated in the car until he comes around and opens the door to offer his hand. With fluid, graceful movements she steps out of the vehicle and he passes the keys to a waiting valet. Jake matches her walking pace noting the way she slows as she makes her way closer to the entrance of the theatre. Her back straightens and she makes a concentrated effort to paint a smile. Gone is the easygoing woman he picked up; replaced by an edited version. He has no choice but to respect the way she's managed the transition with such poise. Her hand rests in the crook of his arm their footsteps falling in time. “What are we seeing this evening?” He asks her with genuine interest.

“Much Ado About Nothing,” she tells him in a measured tone though he notices the sparkle in her eye, “it's a comedy”.

“One of my favourite Shakespeare plays”.

She smiles broadly, “And here I was thinking you were just an accomplished pilot”.

He shrugs, “I accidentally joined the drama club in high school”. He's blessed with a surprisingly unrestrained burst of laughter. He laughs too.

Massive wooden doors with ornate stained glass panels open into a grand foyer of floor-to-ceiling marble. Columns carved with care and precision line the walk to the grand staircase. Overhead a mural is painted on the smooth plaster. Pastel depictions of cherubs and florals surround the massive crystal chandeliers that light the hall. He feels out of place, the shoulders of his jacket suddenly feel too tight, and he wonders if anyone can tell he should have had it tailored. He breathes deeply determined to stop any ounce of his discomfort from showing as her hold on his bicep grows tighter the further into the crowd they move.

As a pilot, he has to be good at evaluating scenarios and making decisions. He doesn't overthink it, he just does what feels right. He straightens his arm dropping her hand from the crook of his elbow and intertwines their fingers. If she's shocked by the adjustment she doesn't let it show. “Trust me?” He whispers. She nods her breath leaving her in laboured puffs, each one easier than the last as they glide through the room and towards the private box the Bells have reserved for generations.

“Are you alright?” He dares to ask when they're on their own in the quiet of the balcony.

She nods, releasing his hand in favour of taking her seat. “Yes, I apologize,” she tells him, “I saw my fiancés family-- it startled me more than I anticipated”.

He shrugs, “Nothing to apologize for. The only thing worse than running into your ex is running into your Ex’s mom”.

A sliver of joy peaks through, the slightest spark of good humour returning to her eyes. No tears gather, but he can see the genuine sorrow fighting to make its way to the surface. He's happy to help her combat it. “What did he do anyway?”

She scoffs, “As if you haven't heard to rumours”.

“I've heard the rumours but I'd rather know the truth”.

He watches as she studies him, seemingly determined to root out any dishonesty. He lets her weigh his worthiness and steels himself to the reality that while he may be far more well-intentioned than most people she knows, he's not a very good man. He's sure she knows that. He knows her eyes see straight through him.

Her eyes avoid his as she speaks misplaced shame wraps around her like a shroud, “I found out from members of my mother's church group that he had called off the engagement. I was apparently one of the last people to know”. The statement lands heavy but she continues anyway, “I never truly got any explanation besides a list of my faults”.

“He's an idiot,” Jake is quick to interject. He's certain she has her flaws, who doesn't? But the idea that a clever, witty, honest, thoughtful, and beautiful woman such as herself could fail to measure up to some arbitrary, antiquated or otherwise acceptable standards baffles him.

“Worst of all, I don't think I'm lacking in any capacity. I think, maybe, I was just too much for him. Too excitable. Too interested in the politics of business to keep my mouth shut--too outspoken to be his wife in any case”.

What hurts more he wonders; going through hell to pull yourself up to snuff, or cutting away pieces of yourself to fit a mold. “Then maybe he wasn't meant to be your husband,” the advice comes easy and he prays he sounds like he's offering comfort.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her hand reaching for his with a shaken reach. He's more than happy to provide the support.

The room shifts when the lights dim. The crowd goes silent, and for a moment before the stage curtain raises Jake can swear he hears his heartbeat. There's an intimacy that demands to be felt, and it grows between them. Her hand resting just above his knee, his arm stretched across the back of her chair. It's casual and as comfortable as possible despite the layers of clothing he's afraid he's sweating through. He watches her more than he watches the play, turning away with a flinch each time she looks his way. Her laughter is infectious, and he leans in closer to hear it over the guffawing of the audience below.

As the show continues, any cohesive thought running through his mind is halted as she begins to draw soft circles on his thigh with her thumb. The pattern is uneven and irregular enough that he manages to write the action off as mindless fidgeting. He doesn't dare to allow himself to believe that it could be an unceremoniously daring attempt at flirtation. In the short time he's known her, he has learned to consider her to be a person of deliberate and careful action. He doesn’t think she would trifle or toy with any kind of advance; insouciant or serious.

The lights come up again, soft music filling the theatre as intermission begins. She's no longer touching him. Their private bubble seems to burst as the chatter of other patrons fills the space. The affinity they had built in the dark hangs suspended, waiting just beyond their reaches. Neither of them mentions it.

“Should we go get a drink?” He extends the invitation half hoping it doesn't sound like he's making a pass at her, half praying that it does. He hedges his bets on her answer; prepared to sit in silence for the 30-minute break if that's what she wants. He's shocked when she says, “I thought you'd never ask”.

Jewelry sparkles beneath the light of equally bejeweled chandeliers, and gilded sconces. The toes of polished shoes make Jake think he's never shined a show in his life. Years of keeping his uniforms in pristine condition don't compare to the easygoing luxury of brand-new Italian patent leather. An order of two scotches on ice (the lady’s choice) runs him the same as a round of drinks at The Hard Deck would. The scotch doesn't taste any better here than it does when Penny pours it back in San Diego, but he holds his tongue for the sake of appearances. It's odd, he'll admit, standing in a crowd not identified by his rank or achievements, and yet being judged for nothing more than a projected image of inherited class. Like an ant beneath a microscope; so small, and insignificant, but under such scrutiny from the giants around him. His confidence waivers and for the second time this evening he believes he was correct when he told Mr. Bell that he may not be up to the task of escort.

She smells like vanilla, honey, and now whiskey as she leans into his side. Her hand slipping into his own again calls him to attention as her countenance shifts; cool and calculated. He lifts his chin, and scans the room, his empty glass abandoned at the bar.

“Miss Bell!” An older woman calls as she approaches, her hands outstretched in an overly saccharine greeting.

“Hello, Mrs Calhoun,” she manages through partially gritted teeth accepting the uncomfortable hug the woman forces upon her.

“I wasn't expecting you tonight,” Mrs Calhoun says, no attention spared for Jake, her focus clearly set on weeding out some kind of scandalous revelations, or calaminious scuttle to pass along to her waiting group of equally interested gossips. Growing up in Texas, Jake was well aware of how quickly news moved traveled down the clothesline-- dirty laundry aired for the whole community to chatter about. But the idle talk his mama and the neighbours shared feels so innocent compared to the chronicles passed amongst the Houston elites at cocktail parties, and theatre intermissions it seems.

“you've been so antisocial since the wedding was called off, i do hope you've been taking care of yourself”.

“I've been busy,” she responds quickly to Mrs Calhoun’s jab, hesitating before adding, “your son seemed quite embarrassed by the whole affair, I thought it best to allow him some time to process”.

Jake is clever enough to see the battle fought beneath the niceties, and silently cheers her unwillingness to allow Mrs Calhoun to embarrass or belittle her. “What a sweet girl, such a shame the two of you couldn't make things work. You probably still could, you're both young enough. If he saw you in a dress like this I'm sure he'd change his mind,” Mrs Calhoun coos, “such a flattering silhouette; very slimmin--”.

“Mrs Calhoun, have you met Lieutenant Seresin, my escort for this evening?” Jake steps easily into his role of soldier and defender, a curt yet polite nod conveys his ‘hello’. “Pleasure,” he lies.

“A lieutenant? How interesting!” The woman says, her expression souring as she suddenly makes excuses to leave.

She's across the room in a flash joining a flock of tittering ladies who are not subtle at all as they cast their gaze towards him and a lovely girl who is now hiding her face against his chest. Her giggles are muffled but he's glad to hear she hasn't been too shaken by the encounter.

“They're all looking at us,” Jake thinks it's best to tell her. There's nothing worse than being blindsided. He expects her to take at least a half step away from him; to straighten herself back into the straight backed paper doll their audience came to see. Instead she moves closer looking up at him with wide eyes and long lashes, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Maybe we should give them something to look at…” she suggests, and his stomach drops, certain he's not hearing her correctly.

“What do you have in mind, honey?”

She answers with a kiss, and he’s happy to be the one to kiss her, but he’ll be damned if he doesn't a proper job of it. How ungentlemanly would he be to not be thorough in his work? What a disservice it would be to her if he did not take the opportunity to deepen the embrace, his find purchase on her hip, and in the back of her hair. By the starry-eyed look on her face when he pulls away he’s convinced he’s met the mark of the task; the shocked expressions from the Calhouns confirm his suspicions of her ex lacking any kind of rectitude or skill.

The kiss wasn't long enough or anywhere near steamy enough to be considered anything close to vulgar. He knows the two of them will be the subject of several buzz lines in the community tomorrow, but he hopes it won't be anything implying promiscuity or untoward behaviour. Her cheek is warm beneath the pad of his tomb, and he's sure his cheeks are flushed. He tries not to become too giddy at the prospect of being promoted from escort to boyfriend for the evening. He's not naive enough to think this is anything more than one of those fake dating scenarios from the made-for-TV Christmas films his Mama has always enjoyed. It's a calculated and clever choice, and he's happy to oblige; to be a pawn in something bigger than any of his own wants or desires. He's used to it. He's made a career out of it. Lieutenant Seresin reporting for duty.

A three-bell tone notifies everyone that it’s time to return to their seats. As the lights slowly dim once more her hand returns to the place it had taken on his thigh earlier in the night, any remaining tension in her shoulders released as she busies herself with tracing invisible shapes once again. In the darkness of the room, Jake’s face blushes as he tries not to shift too suddenly in his seat, her hand moving an inch or two higher up his leg. Long-manicured fingers move at a teasing pace until they find his belt buckle. He has no choice but to stop her, even though he’d prefer not to. His lips brush the shell of her ear as he captures her wrist in his hand, “Behave,” he whispers, managing to keep his warning somewhere between stern and playful. A soft gasp escapes her, her eyes glinting in the low light with a mischievous glee. Good God, he’d be hard-pressed to deny her anything looking at him like that. He releases her wrist, and she resumes her mission.

He feels guilty; as if he’s corrupted her somehow, and he knows that feeling alone is a disservice to her. In the extraordinarily short time he’s known her he’s learned that she is headstrong and determined in the most brilliant ways. While she’s spent her life slipping in and out of different roles to ease the minds of those she’s been forced to associate with, she has done it all by choice. As exhausted as she must be, it’s a game she’s learned to play, and she’ll never allow herself to lose. He urges himself to consider that his role in her life may just be that of a buffer, a simple stand-in to offset the weight of the outside world. His penchant for cocksure, self-assured, over conference aside, he’s not dumb enough to truly think that he could be her freedom, but he’ll allow himself to sleep tonight with the belief that he could be happy being a conduit for it.

She’s indescribably pretty looking up at him. Her skirt billows around her where she kneels between his thighs, her hair slightly tousled, and her lips glossy. He’s met his fair share of beautiful women. He’s lost count of the partners he brought home for a night. Most of their names he’s now forgotten, and he feels dreadfully sorry to them all because he knows this image before him now will be burned into his mind for a lifetime. He won’t forget Miss Bell, nor her elegance. He won’t ever fail to recall her smile, or he erudite quips. His breath stutters, and he thanks the Lord for the players on the stage making the audience laugh as he struggles to hold back a softened moan.

The rest of the evening’s performance passes in a blur and they’re outside waiting for the valet to bring the car around before he knows it. She reapplies her lipstick with the help of a small compact mirror, and he swears his knees go weak at the sight. He tips the valet well for the speed with which he returns, and she gives a kind “thank you. Have a good night,” to the man as she ducks to slip into the passenger seat.

“You should come inside,” she says as they pull through the gate outside her home. “I should?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “And why is that?” he asks hoping he’s not pressing his luck. “Because I like you, Jake,” she says simply. He doesn’t need more convincing.

Her bedroom is as warm, plush, and luxurious as he could have anticipated. Their clothes strewn across the floor leave a conspicuous trail from the door to her bed. The dress he'd been admiring her in all night must've cost a pretty penny but it's tossed aside with his pants and shirt that she'd made quick work of.

He lets her have her fun perched, straddling his lap as hands and lips explore exposed bodies. He's careful about leaving his mark knowing his presence in this house tonight must be that of a ghost. Neither of them say it, but they both know this is a secret they'll keep forever. Jake pinches her hip when she nips particularly hard at his collarbone.

“Careful. That's property of the United States Navy, honey”.

His warning doesn't dissuade her and she's convinced to leave another bite in the same place. He rolls them over, settling his weight between thighs. He leaves kiss stain bruises along her torso, taking his time to lap, suck, and soothe with the goal of hearing her sighs.

He lowers himself to his belly kissing from her ankle to her knee as he pushes one of her legs then the other over his shoulders. “You don't have to--”.

“I want to,” he insists with a playful nip at her hip, but she still looks hesitant. “I won't if you don't want me to,” he assures her, beginning to pull away.

“ I do!” She says quickly, “it's just my ex never--”

“He's an idiot,” he replies easily before diving in for a taste. He means it too. He has abandoned reason and found heaven. He's collapsed like a man starved before her. Only an absolute fool would balk at the opportunity to please a woman, especially one who looks so pretty with her head tilted back, her fingers tangled in his hair; a plea for more. How could he deny her?

It's a year later when he's invited back to the theatre. His girlfriend’s had held proudly in his own as they both sidestep the conversations they do not wish to be a part of. “Miss Bell,” people still call out to her, and she obliges them with polite small talk, correcting them as they ask about her Lieutenant, she's proud of him and his recent promotion, ensuring that they are all aware of the correct honorific, but insisting they just call him Jake. It's who he'd prefer to be in her company; a truer version of himself. The Calhouns make themselves scarce, avoiding himself and Miss Bell like the plague, and neither of them has any complaints about that.

Mindless catching up, and society-bound exchanges are far less painful with a companion. They take turns filling people in on their lives out in California, slipping inside jokes between the lines unbeknownst to the people around them. Little secrets just to keep the other entertained, the reward of a smile enough to pull them through the crowds. Neither of them relaxes completely until they've made it to the Bell’s private box. His hand moves to rest on her thigh by instinct at this point, he palm warm on her exposed skin. He loves her in this dress, emerald green, with an elegant slit up the skirt. She leans over to kiss him and he’s more than happy to indulge her.

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floralfloyd · 9 days ago

Text

at the heart of it all

Summary: you’re Jake’s date to a family wedding, where every moment highlights the quiet love the two of you share.

Word Count: 544.

Warnings: established relationship, no use of y/n, fluff (duh).

***

The warm buzz of laughter and music filled the backyard, lights strung across the trees casting a soft glow over the wedding party. Jake stood next to you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a grounding weight amidst the cheerful chaos.

“You okay?” he murmured, leaning down so his voice reached only you.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth tugging into a smile. “I’m good.”

Jake’s green eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he grinned. “You’re lying,” he teased lightly, his tone affectionate. “C’mon, darlin’, they’re my family. You’ve met them countless times. They’re harmless.”

“Harmless? The same people who’ve already shared six embarrassing stories about you?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jake chuckled, the deep sound making your chest feel tight. “Okay, fair. But if they get too rowdy, just let me know and I’ll throw ‘em off the dance floor.”

You laughed, leaning into him slightly, the warmth of his presence calming your nerves. Jake pressed a quick kiss to your temple before stepping back to adjust his tie.

“Here,” you said, reaching up. “Let me.”

He stilled as your fingers deftly straightened the knot, his eyes fixed on your face with an expression so soft. “What would I do without you?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

“Probably show up looking like a mess,” you teased, patting his chest once the tie was in place.

Jake’s smirk returned. “Good thing I’ve got you then.”

***

The reception was in full swing by the time Jake guided you back to your seats, a plate of food in his hands. “Here,” he said, placing it in front of you. “You haven’t eaten anything all night yet.”

“Jake, I-”

“No arguments,” he interrupted, shooting you a playful look. “I know how you get when you’re nervous, and I’m not letting you faint somewhere like this.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face. “Thanks.”

“Always,” he replied, brushing his fingers against yours as he handed you a fork.

***

Later, as the two of you stood with a group of Jake’s cousins, he kept a steady hand on your back, his thumb tracing small circles that only you seemed to notice. When someone directed a question your way, Jake gave you a subtle, gentle nudge, his eyes meeting yours with an encouraging warmth.

You took a breath and began to answer the question, and Jake’s expression melted into something tender. Even in a crowd, he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room.

***

As the night wound down, you found yourselves swaying together on the dance floor. Jake’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as the music slowed.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, voice soft against your ear.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

Jake’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not letting go.”

Your lips met in a kiss that felt like a promise, a reminder of the love that had brought you here–to this moment, this new second family, this life you were building together.

***

A/N: i had soooo much fun writing this, i feel like i’ve enjoyed writing the meet-cutes but wanted to give a more “established” relationship a try! i hope you liked it!!

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floralfloyd · 17 days ago

Text

Unforgettable

SUMMARY: Based on the song Unforgettable by Thomas Rhett. You're at a bar enjoying a game when you meet Ben, and your night takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: I actually wrote this earlier this year during the summer right after I watched Anyone But You. But I didn't love the final result. I got a couple of requests about writing for Ben so decided to revisit this one and made a few tweaks to the original story.

I'm still working on other requests, the next tone that will be up is a longer one, so here's a little something for you guys in the meantime!

WARNINGS: Alcohol Consumption. I think that's it?

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

The bar buzzed with energy, a mix of laughter, shouts, and clinking glasses filling the air. The scent of buffalo wings, fried food, and draft beer hung heavy, mingling with the faint chill of the air conditioning battling the warmth of a crowded room. You sat perched on a stool at the bar, a plate of wings in front of you and a Mang-O-Rita sweating in its can nearby. The first quarter of the football game played on the flat-screen TVs overhead, the crowd erupting in cheers or groans with every snap of the ball.

Your team was down by three, and you muttered under your breath as the quarterback scrambled and barely avoided a sack. A half-laugh, half-growl escaped you when the ball soared through the air, only for the wide receiver to drop it.

"Oh, come on!" you yelled, your voice rising above the general din.

You picked up your drink, taking a long pull to soothe your rising frustration, when a flash of movement caught your eye. A guy had just taken a seat a few spots down the bar. His hair was tousled slightly, his smile easy as he exchanged a few words with the bartender.

You noticed him only in passing at first, more focused on the game. A cute face in a bar, but nothing to write home to mom about. But when your team fumbled the ball and the crowd groaned in unison, you glanced his way again. He was watching you this time, his beer halfway to his lips, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your gaze met his for just a moment before you turned back to the screen, pretending you hadn’t noticed. Still, your pulse quickened slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was from the botched play or the weight of his stare.

The game pressed on, and so did your attention, though every now and then, you felt the pull of his gaze. When you turned your head again, this time intentionally, his smile was still there, playful and just a little intrigued.

You tipped your drink back, holding the empty can up as if showing it off, then raised your eyebrows at him—a silent challenge. His grin widened, and before you could lower your hand, he was already on his feet. He weaved through the crowded bar with confidence. His gaze never left yours, and when he reached your side, he glanced at the empty can in your hand before gesturing toward it.

“Another Mang-O-Rita?” he asked, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of mischief.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment before offering a small, amused smile. “Sure, why not?”

He motioned to the bartender, ordering you another drink and a fresh beer for himself. As you waited, he turned back to you, extending a hand. “I’m Ben.”

You slipped your hand into his, his grip firm but warm. “Nice to meet you, Ben.”

The bartender set your drink down, and Ben handed it to you before motioning toward the empty stool beside yours. “Mind if I join you?”

You gestured toward the seat with a casual wave of your hand. “Be my guest.”

He settled in, the faint scent of beer and a hint of cologne reaching you as he leaned his elbows on the bar. Up close, you couldn’t help but notice the slight flush to his cheeks and the easy, lopsided grin that suggested he might not be entirely sober.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your drink before meeting his gaze again. “So, be honest—are you drunk right now?”

Ben scoffed, sitting up a little straighter as if to prove a point. “Sober as a judge.”

You snorted, giving him a skeptical once-over. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he replied, a touch of mock indignation in his voice. “I’ve had, like, two beers. Three, max.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the grin tugging at your lips.

He leaned closer, his smile widening. “You’re still talking to me, though, so I must be doing something right.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll let you stick around—for now.”

The game played on, but it barely registered in your mind as you and Ben fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, the way he could turn even the simplest things into something absurdly funny. It was clear he was a natural at keeping things light, and it didn’t take long before the laughter between the two of you became effortless.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a voice broke through your bubble.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” He asked motioning to the empty bar stool on the side opposite of you from Ben.

You turned to see a guy standing a few inches away, a drink in his hand and an interested look in his eyes.

You glanced at Ben briefly, noting how he still had a half-empty beer in front of him. Before you could say anything, the guy took a step closer, his attention fully on you now.

For a brief moment, you froze—unsure of how to handle this new development. But then, on impulse, you reached over, your fingers brushing Ben’s as you laced them together, bringing his hand firmly into yours. The guy raised an eyebrow, looking at your clasped hands, then back at you with a confused expression.

You met his gaze with a polite but firm smile. “Actually, I’m here with my boyfriend.”

Ben gave him a slight nod, still with that easy confidence, but there was a protective edge in the way his hand tightened around yours.

The guy hesitated, glancing between the two of you before mumbling a quick, “Oh... sorry,” and backing off. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving you and Ben in a moment of relative peace.

You looked over at Ben, who was still holding your hand, his smile soft and amused.

“So I’m your boyfriend now?” he asked, his voice playful, but there was something almost curious in the way he said it.

You grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Guess so. You’re doing a great job so far.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, if I’m your boyfriend now, I better get to know you better.”

Ben leaned back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tapped his finger against his beer bottle.

“Alright,” he said, suddenly serious, “I’ve got it. Your middle name—I'm gonna guess it.”

You blinked at him, a little surprised. “Uh, what? Why?”

“Why not?” he replied with a playful grin. “I’m just trying to get to know you better. You can’t blame me for that.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stifle the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, go ahead. But you’re probably never going to guess it.”

He looked you up and down as if carefully studying you, then made a dramatic show of thinking.

“Hmm... I’m gonna say... Rose?”

You raised an eyebrow, laughing lightly. “Rose? Really? No, but nice try.”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Alright, alright. I’m just warming up. How about... Grace?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nope. Keep going.”

For the next half hour, Ben threw out an endless stream of guesses. “Lily?” “Scarlet?” “Charlotte?” You shot each one down with a grin, keeping the mood light. In between his increasingly absurd suggestions, you both watched the game, commenting on plays as they unfolded, laughing at the terrible calls, and groaning at missed passes.

“Okay, last guess,” he declared dramatically, holding up a finger. “I’m going with... Claire.”

You stared at him for a second, before leaning back slightly in your chair and grinning. “Not even close.”

Ben leaned forward, his face full of mock offense. “I’m telling you, I’m one guess away from cracking this code. I’ll get it.”

You shook your head, amused at his persistence. “You know what? You can keep guessing all night, but I’m not telling you. You’ll have to find out another way.”

The bar erupted in cheers as the final whistle blew, sealing your team’s victory. You jumped to your feet, arms raised, and let out an excited whoop. Ben was grinning beside you, leaning back against the bar with an amused expression as he watched you celebrate.

“You’re really into this, huh?” he teased, his voice cutting through the noise.

You shot him a playful glare. “Of course! That win was huge. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who sits quietly through a game.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. “Hey, I cheered plenty. Just not, you know…” He mimicked your exuberant fist pump, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes.

Before you could fire back, the music shifted, the upbeat tempo vibrating through the bar as people began crowding onto the makeshift dance floor. Ben’s grin turned mischievous as he straightened up, holding his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the crowd.

You raised a skeptical brow but took his hand anyway, letting him guide you off your barstool. “Wait,” you asked, your voice filled with playful suspicion. “Do you even know how to dance?”

Ben’s grin deepened as he turned back to you, pulling you into the throng of moving bodies. “Guess you’re about to find out.”

He wasted no time proving it, immediately syncing with the beat as he started moving with an ease that caught you off guard. His hands found their way to your waist, guiding you effortlessly. You swayed together for a few beats, and then, without warning, Ben spun you out.

You gasped as your feet slid across the floor, twirling in time with the music. But then—just as quickly—you stumbled, your balance faltering as the sudden movement caught you off guard.

Before you could even think about crashing to the ground, Ben’s arm shot out, his hand steadying you at the waist. He grinned at you, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You good?”

You laughed, steadying yourself in his grip. “I think you just gave me a heart attack.”

Ben just smirked, clearly pleased with himself. He gave you a playful look, and with a swift move, he spun you out again, this time more confidently. You twirled in a perfect arc, the lights above casting shadows that made it feel like you were dancing in a movie. When he pulled you back toward him, he did so with an easy elegance, seamlessly pressing you into his chest as you melted into the movement.

It felt effortless with him, like you were caught up in something bigger than just the moment, the way he made it all feel so natural. The dance continued, full of spins, twirls, and moves that made you laugh and spin more than you ever had on a dance floor.

At one point, Ben pulled you in close, his arms wrapped around you in a secure embrace as the song slowed again. You were still grinning, breathless from all the dancing, but there was one question you couldn’t shake. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

Ben’s eyes flickered for a split second, like he’d just been caught in something unguarded. But he didn’t hesitate long. “My mom... she used to teach me.” His voice softened, but only for a moment before he pushed you out into another twirl, this one more dramatic than the last.

The sudden movement made you laugh, and before you could ask anything more, you were spun away from him again, lost in the rhythm and joy of the night. Ben seemed to shift effortlessly from playful to graceful, making everything feel so easy while still keeping a little distance from that brief, vulnerable moment he had just shared.

You couldn't help but feel like there was more to him than he let on—more than just the carefree guy who danced with such confidence. But for now, you let it go, swept up in the music and the way he moved, feeling closer to him than you ever expected.

The bar had emptied out a bit, and the night was winding down. You glanced at the time on your phone, the evening slipping away faster than you'd expected.

You leaned over, giving Ben a soft nudge. “It’s getting late... I should probably head home soon.”

Ben’s smile softened, but there was a hint of reluctance in his eyes, like he wasn’t quite ready for the night to end either.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He motioned toward the bar. “I’ll get the tabs.”

You raised an eyebrow as he stood up. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he cut you off, his easy grin back in place.

After he paid, he turned to you, taking a step closer as the two of you started toward the exit. “So, uh… I guess I’ll see you around?”

You paused, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. He was fumbling slightly over his words, clearly trying to figure out how to ask if he could see you again without sounding too forward. You could tell he was the type to keep things light, but maybe this moment called for a little boldness.

You glanced at him sideways and raised an eyebrow. “So, are you going home… or are you coming to mine?”

Ben’s stride faltered, his eyes widening slightly as the words hung in the air between you. For a second, he seemed speechless, clearly caught off guard. Then he quickly recovered with a low laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, I walked here… from my place.”

You gave him a playful wink, leaning against the door of your car. “Then it looks like you’ve got options, Romeo.”

Ben stared at you for a moment, clearly unsure of how to respond. The air between you was thick with unspoken thoughts, and the playful challenge in your voice seemed to linger in the night.

After what felt like a beat too long, Ben gave you that signature grin—the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Without another word, he stepped forward, following you to your car.

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floralfloyd · 18 days ago

Text

Scar Tissue: Beau Simpson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @b-bradshaw @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman

Companion piece to:

Nine Months - Beau comes home from his deployment to a surprise revelation.

Beau has his face buried in the pillow, his teeth biting down on the fabric as your hands smooth over his back, fingers digging into the knot in his right shoulder. It’s scar tissue from Syria, his doctor tells him. Every so often it stiffens, reducing the movement in his arm. He usually goes to chiropractor but he’s been cooped up on an aircraft carrier for the past few months and he needs the relief.

“I know.” You whisper reassuringly as your thumb presses even harder into the scar tissue. “I know it hurts but it’ll be over in a minute.”

He grunts his response as the muscle tightens before it gives way under you’re ministrations. The relief floods his senses, his body relaxing into the mattress.

“Better?” You ask and he shifts, his cheek pressing into the pillow as he nods his head. You lean over him, your lips lightly brushing over his temple before you clamber off him. He watches as you stride into the bathroom, that silk, floral kimono fluttering as you walk. You rinse the lavender oil off your hands before drying it with a hand towel he doesn’t recognise.

There’s been a few new changes to the house while he’s been away. A dark wood antique desk has appeared in the living room, tucked underneath the window that looks out into the backyard, an ergonomic chair goes with it. When he put his clothes away he noticed office attire in the wardrobe. Power dresses, blazers and high heels. It’s how he knows you’re serious about retiring from the military, that this isn’t just a knee jerk reaction to a deployment that was far too long for either one of you.

“Was the deployment the tipping point?” He asks you as you step back into the bedroom, rubbing lotion into your hands. “Or was it something else?”

You lean against the doorframe, toying with your wedding ring as Beau shifts into a sitting position against the headboard, the sheets pooling around his hips.

“I don’t have a choice.” You say finally. “My time with Victim’s Support is coming to an end and I found out my next posting is Naples.”

The air rushes out of Beau’s lungs, his chest constricts because a posting isn’t like a deployment. It’s longer, a hell of a lot longer. Three years to be exact. He can’t imagine going that long without you, seeing you in intervals, a couple of weeks at a time. He understands now, that you’re sacrificing your career for the marriage, that you’re giving up one of the most important things in your life so the two of you can be together.

It’s an echo back to that first time he was deployed to Germany. You’d had a choice of posting and you’d picked San Diego so you could be together but he was already shipping out.

“I had lunch with Mic last month when he came up from Washington.” You say quietly, your attention still focused on your wedding ring. “His firm is opening a new branch here in San Diego, they’ve offered me a job and I’m going to take it.”

“Is that what you want?” He asks you, his voice a little rough and you swallow hard against the emotion in your chest, your eyes stinging.

“I don’t see us surviving any other way.” You say softly, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “I can’t go three years without you Beau, no matter how much I may like Italy.”

“And you do like Italy…” He says with a mirthless smile as he stares down at his own wedding ring. “Ally… I don’t know if I can retire.”

You try to hide the hurt but he sees it, he sees everything when it comes to you.

“I understand Beau.” You say, your voice completely devoid of emotion. “You’ve got to do what’s best for you.”

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

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floralfloyd · 20 days ago

Text

Painted Him Perfect

SUMMARY: Inspired by Alexandra Kay’s song "Painted Him Perfect." Tyler and his soon-to-be ex-wife grapple with the stark reality of their crumbling marriage as she makes her way to Oklahoma to finalize their divorce. Despite the façade of a perfect relationship portrayed to their fans, her heartfelt video revealing their separation exposes the cracks hidden beneath the surface.

WARNINGS: ANGST. DIVORCE.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

She stared into the camera, her finger hovering over the record button. It felt strange—foreign, even—to sit in front of the camera like this, alone. The space next to her on the couch seemed too big, too empty. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

With a shaky breath, she pressed record.

“Hey guys,” she started, her voice soft but clear, “I know you’ve all been wondering... asking where my ring is, and why I haven’t been around much lately.” Her throat tightened, but she pushed forward. “It’s hard to say this, and I’m a little embarrassed, but... I guess it’s time I be honest.”

The camera was unforgiving, capturing every flicker of pain in her eyes, the quiver in her voice that she tried so hard to hide.

She paused, swallowing hard. Just say it, she told herself. Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Tyler and I... we’re in the process of separating.” The words were out now, floating in the space between her and the camera, no longer just a thought she could bury deep inside. “I... we gave it everything we had. But sometimes, even when you love someone, it’s not enough to fix what's broken.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to stay strong, for them, for herself. “The truth is, I painted him perfect. I painted our relationship perfect. I wanted to believe that what we had was flawless, but... it wasn’t. And it’s time we both move on.”

With trembling fingers, she reached out and stopped the recording. The silence in the room felt deafening. She stared at the dark screen for a moment, letting the gravity of what she’d just said sink in. It was done. The video was out there, and soon, everyone would know the truth.

Hours later, the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road was the only thing keeping her tethered to the present as she drove. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the divorce papers lying in the seat beside her like an unspoken weight. The highway stretched endlessly in front of her, but her thoughts were stuck on the video she’d recorded earlier.

I guess it’s time I be honest...

She’d replayed those words a dozen times since pressing upload, still second-guessing if she’d said too much, or too little. Had she painted herself too much as the victim? Had she been too hard on Tyler? Or maybe, she’d gone too easy on him. After all, he’d let her do all the talking. He hadn’t been the one sitting there in front of the camera, baring his soul. That had been her.

I painted pink skies at sunrise to cover all the blue... she thought bitterly. For years, she’d made excuses, drawn pretty pictures over the cracks in their marriage so no one would see.

Seven years. It felt like a lifetime, but also like it had gone by in a blur. High school sweethearts, everyone had called them the perfect couple. She’d believed it too, for a long time. She’d even convinced herself that love was supposed to hurt sometimes, that the sleepless nights spent waiting for him to come home, the tears shed quietly so no one else would hear—that was what real commitment looked like.

The reality, though, had been far different. The long-distance stretches while Tyler was off filming for the channel, the pressure to always be “on” for their audience, the way they’d smile through the tension in front of the camera, and then barely speak off it... It had eaten away at them, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to salvage.

A sharp pang of regret twisted in her chest as the road signs blurred past. She didn’t know if she was more upset about the end of their marriage or the fact that she had to drive all the way to Oklahoma to finalize it. Just his signature, she thought, glancing at the divorce papers again. Then it's done.

But why did it feel so unfinished? Why did a part of her still ache to see him? To talk to him one last time? Would this be the closure she needed, or just another painful reminder of how far they’d fallen?

She sighed heavily, turning up the music on the radio, trying to drown out her thoughts. The fans would know by now. The comments had probably started pouring in—shocked, confused, supportive, heartbroken. She hadn’t checked yet. She wasn’t ready to face it. What she’d told the camera had been the truth, but somehow, it still felt like a betrayal.

“Tyler and I... we’re in the process of separating.”

The phrase echoed in her mind. Even saying it aloud had felt surreal. How had they gotten here? The perfect couple. The YouTube sensation. The high school sweethearts that everyone thought had it all. We painted it perfect—a lie they both were complicit in.

She gripped the wheel tighter as she neared Oklahoma, her heart pounding in her chest. Would he fight it? Would he avoid signing the papers like he had been doing for weeks? So much so that she was now driving to where he was because he refused to come home. Would he try to stop her from walking away? Or would he finally just sign the papers, let her go, and close this chapter of their lives?

The thought of seeing him again stirred up something painful and raw. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the idea that he’d try to convince her to stay one last time or the fear that he wouldn’t.

The neon motel sign flickered dimly in the distance, casting a dull, orange glow on the cracked pavement. As she pulled into the parking lot, her heart sank further into the pit of her stomach. This was it—the place where everything was about to end. The place where she'd officially close the chapter on a love she'd clung to for too long.

She parked and sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the dashboard, trying to steady her nerves. Tyler and his crew hadn’t arrived yet. The thought brought a small wave of relief, but it didn’t last long. He’d be here soon enough. She’d have to face him, and there’d be no more hiding behind a screen or carefully crafted words. No more painted pink skies.

With a deep breath, she grabbed her overnight bag and made her way to the office, the cool night air doing little to ease the tension winding through her body. The clerk handed her a room key without much fanfare, barely making eye contact as he rattled off the directions. She thanked him quietly before heading to her room.

Once inside, she dropped her bag on the floor and sank onto the edge of the bed. She texted Tyler that she was there and what room she was in. Then she looked around. The room was small, plain—just a bed, a TV, and a small table near the window. It was far from the kind of places she and Tyler used to stay when they traveled together for his channel, but maybe that was fitting. Their relationship wasn’t anything like it used to be either.

She kicked off her shoes, curling her legs up under her as she sat on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. The silence was suffocating, the weight of her decision pressing down on her more than she had anticipated. She needed a distraction, something to fill the space, so without thinking, she reached for her phone.

She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the YouTube app. She hadn’t looked at the comments since posting the video. A part of her didn’t want to. But the other part—the part that had shared her life with these people for years—needed to know how they were reacting. Did they hate her? Did they blame her? Or maybe they were just as confused as she was.

Opening the app, her video was the first thing to pop up on her feed. The thumbnail image was a still of her sitting on the couch, her eyes downcast, hands folded in her lap. She clicked on it and scrolled down to the comments, bracing herself for whatever she might find.

The messages were already flooding in. Thousands of them. Some were supportive:

"We love you, and we’re here for you, no matter what. 💖"

"I can’t believe this... You and Tyler were my favorite couple, but I respect your decision. It must have been so hard."

"I always looked up to you two. My heart’s breaking, but I understand."

She blinked back tears as she read through more of them. Some were shocked:

"What? I never saw this coming!"

"Please tell me this isn’t real... you two seemed so perfect together."

And then there were the ones that cut deep, even though she knew they didn’t mean to:

"I thought you guys were the real deal. It’s hard to believe all those vlogs were just a lie."

"I don’t know how to feel about this. I feel like I’ve been watching a fake relationship this whole time."

She bit her lip, scrolling faster, her chest tightening with every message. It wasn’t a lie. She and Tyler had loved each other. Maybe they still did, in a way. But what they had wasn’t enough anymore. They had grown apart, and pretending otherwise would’ve been cruel—to themselves and to the people who’d supported them for so long.

Her finger paused over a comment that stopped her in her tracks.

"Why didn’t you fight harder to save it? Real love is worth fighting for."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, and she quickly wiped away the tears that had begun to spill. She had fought. She had given it everything she had—four-hour drives one way just to see him for a night. She had sat through numerous sessions of couple’s therapy with tears in her eyes, hoping, praying that they could fix what was broken. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

She threw the phone down on the bed, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair. Why did she look at the comments? What had she expected? Closure? Validation? She didn’t know. But now, sitting in this dim motel room, alone with her thoughts, all she felt was regret. Maybe not for the video, but for the way things had turned out.

The truth was, she had to be honest with them. She owed it to the fans who had supported them, who had cheered for their relationship, even when things were far from perfect behind the scenes. They deserved to know why she wouldn’t be around anymore. They deserved the truth.

But it didn’t make it any easier.

She leaned back against the headboard, pulling the thin motel blanket over her legs as she closed her eyes. Her mind wandered back to the good times, the times before everything had gone wrong. The road trips, the late-night filming sessions, the moments that felt so real, so genuine. She had painted those moments perfect in her mind, just like she had in the videos.

But now the paint was peeling, and all that was left underneath was the raw truth. They had fallen apart, and there was no covering it up anymore.

The sound of tires crunching gravel outside made her sit up straight, her heart jumping in her chest. She stood and moved to the window, peeking through the thin curtain. Tyler’s truck had just pulled into the lot.

He was here.

Her heart raced as she watched him get out of the truck, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was dreading this meeting just as much as she was. His crew began unloading their gear from the back, but her eyes stayed locked on Tyler.

This was it. The moment of truth.

She stepped away from the window, her body tense as she moved back to the bed, her thoughts spinning. In a few minutes, she’d face him again. The man she’d spent nearly a decade of her life with. The man who, despite everything, still held a part of her heart.

And all she had to do was get him to sign the papers.

A soft knock echoed through the small motel room, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. Her heart stuttered as she stood, wiping her clammy hands on her jeans before making her way to the door. She hesitated for a second, hand hovering over the knob. She wasn’t ready for this—for the finality of it all. But it had to be done.

With a deep breath, she turned the handle and pulled the door open.

There he was, standing just outside her door, looking as worn and exhausted as she felt. Tyler’s eyes met hers for only a split second before darting away, his jaw tense, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and something about the sight of him made her chest tighten.

"Hey," she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

"Hey." His voice was low, hoarse even, as he walked past her into the room. He paused in the middle of the small space, turning slightly as she closed the door behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, weighed down by everything left unsaid. She stood by the door, leaning against it, her arms crossed over her chest. Tyler shifted on his feet, his eyes glued to the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.

Finally, he broke the silence. “So... the video.”

She swallowed hard, the guilt already gnawing at her. “Yeah.”

Tyler lifted his head slightly, meeting her gaze for the first time since he walked in. There was a tightness around his eyes, a frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “You didn’t tell me you were going to post it.”

Her stomach twisted at the hurt in his voice. "I thought we talked about—"

“We talked about saying something, but we didn’t agree to this,” he interrupted, his voice sharp but not angry. Just... tired. “You went ahead and posted it without even running it by me.”

She exhaled, pressing her back harder against the door. “I know. I’m sorry. I just... I felt like I had to do it. People were starting to ask questions, and it didn’t feel right to leave them in the dark.”

“And it felt right to tell the whole world before we even finished this?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with emotion. “Before we talked about this in person? Before we even signed the damn papers?”

His words hit harder than she expected. She had told herself she was doing the right thing, that she owed it to their fans to be honest. But she hadn’t considered how Tyler would feel, how he might see it as another layer of their relationship unraveling without him being able to stop it.

She dropped her gaze to the floor, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just... I needed to be honest with them.”

There was a long pause, the air between them thick with unsaid words. Tyler rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a breath like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Are you really sure you want to do this? End it like this?”

Her heart clenched painfully at the question. She had known this moment would come, that he’d ask. And yet, standing here, face-to-face with him, she still wasn’t sure how to answer. She felt like she’d been unraveling for years, trying to hold onto a marriage that was slipping through her fingers. But now, standing in front of the man she’d loved for more than a decade, she wasn’t sure if letting go was the right thing anymore.

Tyler took a step closer, his eyes pleading. “We can fix this. We can try again—go to a different therapist, take some time away from everything, whatever it takes. Just... don’t throw it all away. Not like this.”

Her chest ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the desperation that was so unlike him. This was Tyler—confident, easygoing Tyler who had always been the strong one, the steady one. But now, here he was, asking her to give them one more shot, to believe in what they once had, even though she wasn’t sure she could anymore.

“I don’t want to give up on us,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I still love you. I know things haven’t been perfect, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to try one more time?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. She had wanted to believe that for so long—that if they just worked harder, they could fix what was broken. She had made excuses for their distance, for the growing cracks in their relationship, because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. But now, after everything, she didn’t know if they could go back to the way things were.

“I don’t know if I have anything left to give,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tyler’s face fell, and for a moment, she thought he might walk out right then. But instead, he took another step toward her, his hand reaching out to touch her arm gently. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just... let’s not make any decisions tonight. Let’s take some time. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Her resolve wavered, and she hated herself for it. She had been so sure, so certain that this was the right thing. But now, standing here in the same room with him, she could feel her walls crumbling. A part of her still wanted to believe that they could make it, that they could find their way back to each other.

But another part of her knew that they were too far gone.

She stepped back slightly, creating space between them even though it hurt to do so. “Talking tomorrow isn’t going to change anything.”

“I’m not ready to give up,” he said, his voice thick. “But if you are… I guess I don’t have a choice.”

His hand fell to his side, and for a long moment, they just stood there in silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Tyler’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening even as the hurt shone through his eyes. Slowly, his gaze drifted to the small table by the window where the divorce papers lay, neatly stacked, the pen resting on top of them.

The silence stretched between them, oppressive, until finally, Tyler moved. He walked toward the table, his movements slow and deliberate. She watched as he picked up the pen, holding it in his hand like it weighed a thousand pounds.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at the papers. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath, and her heart ached at the sight. This was it—the moment they both had been avoiding for so long.

Without looking at her, Tyler leaned down. The pen hovered above the line where his signature was supposed to go, and for a second, she thought he might not do it. But then, in one swift motion, he pressed the pen to the paper and signed his name. The scratch of the pen was deafening in the quiet room, each stroke feeling like a nail in the coffin of their marriage.

When he finished, he dropped the pen on the table, the clatter sounding final. He kept a copy for himself, rolling it up and putting it into his back pocket. He then pushed the other copy of the papers back across the table toward her, but still, he didn’t look up.

“Let me know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you change your mind.”

She stared at the papers, her heart heavy as she realized that it was really over. He had signed, but the weight of the decision still hung in the air between them, unresolved and agonizing.

She watched as he turned toward the door, every step he took feeling like a knife twisting deeper into her chest. Just before he reached for the handle, he paused, his hand resting on the knob.

“Whether it’s me or someone else…I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” he said softly, not turning around. “I really do.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, alone once again.

96 notes · View notes

floralfloyd · 21 days ago

Text

What's Mine

SUMMARY: After months of secretly seeing each other, you and Tyler find yourselves caught between professional boundaries and personal desires. When a flirtatious rival pushes Tyler's jealousy to the surface, he claims you in a way that leaves no doubt about your relationship status-to you or anyone else.

A/N: sorry that these requests are taking so long! I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to juggle writing with Thank you to the person who sent the request for this one in. This one came from the prompt “I’m not the jealous type, but what’s mine is mine.” I've had this one mostly done for a while (like a week or so) but the scene at the end just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to. But I think I'm finally happy with the final result. Hope you like it! xx

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing (I assume, I'm not positive though). Smut (P in V, Unprotected)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the low strains of a country tune from the jukebox. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily were engrossed in a heated pool game, their competitive banter rising above the noise. You and Tyler had claimed a small table near the edge of the room, tucked away just enough to let you watch the chaos unfold.

Tyler sat back in his chair, nursing a Budweiser. His long fingers tapped idly against the glass bottle, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of quiet intensity he always carried. You were close enough to feel his presence, that steady, grounding calm he exuded without even trying. But far enough apart to not draw suspicion from the rest of the team.

Your drink was nearly gone, and you stood, brushing your hand lightly over his shoulder. “I’m getting another. You want one?”

He glanced up at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, darlin’.”

You nodded and made your way toward the bar. It was busy, and a line was forming as people crowded to get the bartender’s attention. You leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you waited.

“Hell of a storm today, huh?”

The voice came from your right, smooth and friendly. You turned to find a man standing beside you, his elbow resting on the bar. He was tall, with a confident grin and a storm-chaser logo stitched onto his jacket—a rival team.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but neutral. “Definitely one to remember.”

“Bet you’ve got some good footage from it,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. “You’re with Owens’ team, right?”

You nodded, not bothering to hide the pride in your voice. “That’s right.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I mean, you guys have a solid team. And... well, looks like you’re not just good at chasing storms.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile tight. “Appreciate the compliment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Tyler. He was still at the table, but his body language had shifted. His posture was no longer relaxed; he sat forward slightly, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His sharp green eyes were locked on you, his expression unreadable but intense.

The man at the bar didn’t seem to notice. He continued, his voice low and smooth. “If you ever get tired of running with Owens, maybe you should give our team a shot. We’ve always got room for someone like you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks but I’ll pass. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

The man didn’t back off, his grin turning slightly smug. “Well, if you ever change your mind—or just feel like grabbing a drink sometime—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you cut him off firmly, turning back to the bar as the bartender handed you your drink.

You glanced over your shoulder toward Tyler. He was still watching, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes flicked briefly to the man beside you before returning to yours. There was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

You gave the man a polite nod before stepping away, leaving him at the bar as you made your way back to Tyler.

As you approached, Tyler’s gaze never left you. He set his beer down, his fingers drumming once against the table before he stood.

“Everything good?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it—a quiet undertone that only you would catch.

“Fine,” you replied with a small smile, though you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral, but his eyes gave him away. “No reason.”

You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. His attention briefly flicked past you, toward the bar where the man still lingered. Tyler’s jaw tightened again, and he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leaned in. “Let’s dance,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Dance?”

“Yeah,” he said, already guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stayed on your back, the contact warm and steady as he maneuvered you through the crowd.

The dance floor was dimly lit, strings of lights crisscrossing overhead and casting a warm glow over the couples swaying to the music. The song was slow and soft, a welcome contrast to the energy of the bar. Tyler stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, turning to face you.

“Here?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart gave a little leap at the intent in his eyes.

“Here,” he confirmed, sliding his hands to your waist.

He pulled you closer, the motion smooth and confident, and suddenly the crowded bar felt a lot smaller. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft, worn fabric of his flannel. The scent of him—faint cologne, beer, and the outdoors—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the song dictating the slow, deliberate steps. Tyler’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the hem of your shirt where it met your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you pressed against him.

But there was something in the way he held you tonight—something different. His movements were just a little firmer, his grip a little more possessive. You felt it in the tension radiating from him, in the way his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re tense,” you teased, tilting your head to study him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too even, his expression unreadable.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at the bar like it owes you money.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flicked past you, just for a moment. Curious, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted the storm chaser from earlier still lingering at the bar, his eyes darting toward you and Tyler on the dance floor. When you turned back to Tyler, his jaw was tight again, his green eyes darker than usual.

“Oh my God,” you said, the realization dawning. A grin spread across your face. “You’re jealous.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning in just a little closer. “You’ve been staring him down ever since I got back.”

Tyler’s hand on your waist slid a fraction higher, pulling you tighter against him. His voice dropped, low and rough. “I’m not the jealous type,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “but what’s mine is mine. And I didn’t like how he was looking at what’s mine.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his tone, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “What’s yours?” you asked, your voice light but laced with challenge. "Not sure I know what you mean."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, his other hand combing up and his thumb brushing along your jawline. The touch was intimate, deliberate. “You know exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled, though your heart was pounding. “Do I? Because last I checked, there’s no label on this... whatever this is. We’re just keeping things casual, remember?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I?” you countered, tilting your head as if to test him. “Because I’m thinking maybe I’ll let him buy me my next drink. He seemed nice. Even offered to let me ride with him if I want.”

Tyler’s grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You better watch that mouth of yours,” he warned, his voice low and steady, “before it gets you into trouble.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Leaning in closer, you let your hand rest on his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel. The touch was casual enough to appear innocent, but the way his eyes darkened told you he didn’t take it that way.

“What kind of trouble?” you asked softly, your voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity.

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small, almost dangerous smile. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep running that little mouth of yours,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m gonna take you against the nearest surface I can find. And trust me, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone—including him—knows exactly who you belong to. So unless you want us both taking a ride for indecent exposure tonight, I'd suggest you knock it off.”

A shiver ran down your spine, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could recover, the song shifted, transitioning into a faster tempo. Tyler pulled back, the satisfied glint in his eyes unmistakable as he saw the look on your face.

He grinned, spinning you out in a smooth twirl under his arm before pulling you back against him. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

And then, without warning, he dipped you low, his hand steady at your back as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was firm and unapologetic, a silent claim that left no room for doubt to anyone looking.

When he pulled back, his hand still cradling your back, you blinked up at him, your breath uneven. His gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Are you done being a brat, or do I need to make things even more official?”

You laughed softly, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” you teased, still catching your breath. “I kind of like seeing you jealous.”

Tyler’s hand stayed firmly on your back as he guided you off the dance floor, weaving through the clusters of people. You were still reeling from the kiss—your lips tingling, your heart racing. His confidence had left you breathless, but there was also something grounding about his presence, his solid grip on you as though letting go wasn’t an option.

As you reached your table at the edge of the bar, Tyler pulled you into a quieter corner where the music softened to background noise. His hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly over your hip as if staking his claim.

“Subtle,” you teased, leaning against the wall. “You think that was enough for him to get the message?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small smirk, his green eyes glittering with amusement. “Don't care. I wasn’t doing it for him,” he said, his tone low and deliberate.

For a moment, you forgot the noise of the bar, the crowd, and even the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. All you could focus on was Tyler—his steady gaze, the way his hand still rested on your hip, and the unspoken promise in the way he stood so close to you.

“So, what was that all about then?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice softer now.

Tyler leaned in slightly, his free hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The proximity was intoxicating, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“I told you,” he murmured. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “But we're still not official, though,” you pointed out, your tone teasing.

Tyler exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I want something,” you shot back, your eyes glinting with challenge.

Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand resting on the side of your face as he caressed your jaw. “You want official? Fine,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes held something more—something tender.

Tyler leaned in, his forehead brushing yours as he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Call me whatever you want—boyfriend, lover, or just Tyler—but as long as you call me yours, that’s all I care about.” His thumb traced the line of your lips, and the weight of his words settled around you like a promise.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, fierce and tender all at once. He kissed you slowly, his mouth lingering over yours, as if sealing the words he’d just spoken with a kiss that spoke louder than anything else. His hand cradled your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Tyler’s lips pulled away from yours, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes, that mischievous spark returning to his gaze. He traced his thumb gently over your cheek, as though savoring the moment.

“So,” he said, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, “was that official enough for you, or are you gonna make me actually say it?”

You tilted your head, matching his grin, letting your fingers lightly graze the back of his neck as you gave him a playful challenge. “I think I kind of want to hear you say it,” you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

Tyler sighed dramatically, his eyes rolling with mock exasperation, but it was clear he was enjoying this little moment just as much as you were. He leaned back slightly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave you a mock-serious look.

“Darlin’,” he began, his voice dripping with affection and a touch of humor. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

You burst into laughter, the sound light and carefree, as Tyler grinned at you, clearly pleased with himself. His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips quirked upward.

“See?” he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. "I don't know...I kind of liked it,” you replied, a hint of sweetness in your voice. “Thank you. I know you probably think it was stupid, but it was nice to hear.”

Tyler leaned in, brushing his lips over your forehead in a soft, affectionate kiss. “Darlin', I'll do whatever makes you happy. If that means saying it, then I'm happy to do it,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer again.

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone, and for a moment, all the teasing and banter fell away. This was real—so much more real than you’d expected it to be when the two of you started this quiet, undefined thing.

The moment hung between you, charged and intimate, until the sound of laughter from your team broke the spell. You glanced over Tyler’s shoulder to see Dani and Boone watching you from the pool table, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” you said, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Tyler turned to follow your gaze, his hand dropping back to your waist. “Good,” he said simply. Then, louder, so the rest of the team could hear, he added, “Yeah, we’re together. Anyone got a problem with that?”

The table erupted into laughter and a chorus of good-natured teasing, but no one seemed surprised. Dani shot you a knowing look, and Boone raised his beer in a mock toast.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you turned back to Tyler. “You're as subtle as a freight train,” you teased.

He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “You love it,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And he was right—you did.

As the night eased into a comfortable rhythm, the initial teasing about you and Tyler began to fade—well, mostly. The team had always been a tight-knit group, and now that the two of you were officially “out,” it seemed like fair game for them to poke fun.

Dani was the first to pounce, sidling up to your table after winning yet another round of pool. She leaned her cue against the wall and smirked. “So, is this why you always rode shotgun with Tyler on every drive?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Boone joined in, raising his beer. “Oh, I get it now. ‘I’ll navigate.’ ‘I’m the best with maps.’ Sure, that’s why,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes.

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I am good with maps,” you said defensively, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dexter, usually the quiet one, chimed in with a rare grin. “Guess that explains all the ‘extra stops’ you two needed on those long drives. Thought it was weird how often you needed coffee breaks.”

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Oh my god, you guys are impossible.”

Tyler, on the other hand, was taking it all in stride. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, the very picture of smug confidence. “Jealousy’s a bad look on y’all,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re not jealous. Just annoyed it took you this long to admit what we all already knew.”

Boone nodded in agreement. “Seriously, the way you two looked at each other—like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. We were just waiting for the dramatic kiss in the rain.”

Tyler grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You shot him a look, though you couldn’t hide your own smile. “Interesting is one word for it,” you muttered, leaning into his side despite yourself.

As the team’s attention shifted back to their game, you stole a moment to glance up at Tyler. His green eyes met yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar faded away. He gave you a small, almost private smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

When it was finally time to call it a night, the group began gathering their things. Dani slung her bag over her shoulder and paused by the door, looking back at the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, lovebirds,” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “Try to keep it down tonight, okay? Some of us would like to actually get some sleep for once.”

Your cheeks went bright red as the rest of the team burst into laughter. “Dani!” you protested, your voice high with embarrassment as you hid your face in Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler, however, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. He tightened his arm around you, giving the group a lazy grin. “No promises,” he said, his tone teasing but dripping with that cocky charm you both loved and hated.

The laughter grew louder as you groaned again, playfully smacking his chest. With his arm still wrapped around you, Tyler guided you out of the bar, his hand resting securely on your hip as you stepped into the cool night air. The laughter and teasing from your teammates still echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think they’ll ever let us live this down?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not a chance,” he said, pulling you closer. “But as long as I’ve got you, I don’t really care.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked toward his truck.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of a country station playing on the radio. Tyler had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on your knee, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of your jeans. Every so often, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn’t help himself.

But your mind was racing, and as much as you wanted to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his touch, you couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. Was what happened back at the bar real, or was it just Tyler getting caught up in the moment?

When you pulled into the motel parking lot, the tension was still simmering beneath your skin. Tyler parked the truck, turned off the engine, and hopped out, coming around to open your door like he always did. You followed him up the stairs to your room, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you turned to face him. “So…” you started, your voice careful, testing the waters.

Tyler paused, halfway through pulling his flannel shirt off. He tilted his head at you, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “So?” he repeated, his tone light.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “What happened back there… at the bar,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Was that real? Or are you gonna wake up tomorrow and tell the team it was all some big joke? Just you messing around for some laughs?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything. But then Tyler stepped closer, his flannel discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his plain white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice steady, “do I look like I’m joking to you?”

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you saw was certainty.

“I meant every word I said tonight,” Tyler continued, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you a step closer. “You’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. “But… you said we needed to keep things low-key,” you reminded him, though your voice wavered.

“That was before,” he said simply, his thumb brushing along your side. “Before I realized how much I hated watchin’ someone else try to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, but it was the tenderness in his eyes that made you melt.

“Tyler…” you whispered, but whatever you were going to say next was lost as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It started slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. But as you kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair, it deepened, his grip on your waist tightening as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Tyler walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your jaw—each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours.

“Does that feel like I’m jokin’?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “No,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

He grinned, that familiar cocky charm flashing through for just a second. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

The kiss deepened as Tyler pressed you back onto the bed, his hands trailing down your sides with a possessiveness that sent shivers through you. His touch wasn’t rushed—no, Tyler Owens was deliberate, savoring every moment as though he had all the time in the world to prove his point.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. The sight of him like this—raw, unguarded—made your heart race. He sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and then peeled it up over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands roamed your bare skin, his touch warm and grounding, but his eyes were what made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. His thumb traced along the edge of your bra, just barely brushing your skin. “All mine.”

His words sent heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. Tyler leaned down, his lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “belongs to me.”

He kissed his way down, his lips teasing, his hands skillfully finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease. As he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze was reverent, almost awed.

“My girl,” he said, his voice low. His hands moved to your waist again, hooking into the band of your jeans.

As the cool air hit your skin, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Tyler noticed immediately, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet yours. His head tilted slightly, and his lips curled into a smirk that sent a wave of both heat and embarrassment through you.

“None of that,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth. “They all know now, sweetheart. No need to hide.”

Your eyes widened, and you gave him a look that was part incredulous, part exasperated. “Tyler, we can’t …what if we get a noise complaint!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles.

“I don’t care about a noise complaint,” he said, leaning down until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “The team knows. Hell, everyone at the bar knows. But now…” His smirk widened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Now it’s time every chaser in this motel knows who you belong to.”

“Tyler,” you started, but before you could get another word out, his mouth was on yours again, silencing your protest. His kiss was commanding, his hands sliding over your body in a way that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.

“Now,” he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Who do you belong to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, he shifted, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked against your skin, and the combination of his touch and his words sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Tyler,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, that infuriatingly smug smirk firmly in place. “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “Say it again.”

You glared at him, your face heating with both embarrassment and arousal, but the challenge in his eyes only spurred you on. “You,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

His grin softened slightly, turning into something warmer, something that made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulled back, his hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and the possessiveness in his voice was tempered by an unmistakable tenderness.

As he kissed you again, deeper this time, your earlier doubts and insecurities melted away. Tyler wasn’t just claiming you—he was showing you, in every touch and every word, that he meant it.

Tyler’s hands moved over your body with a slow reverence, his touch igniting sparks wherever his fingertips lingered. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier softened into something else—something deeper. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze steady and intense as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He finished undressing you as he slid your panties agonizingly slow down your legs, letting them fall away as his hands brushed your hips. The air felt charged like you were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of you could name.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky but carrying a weight of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

Your hand found its way to his face, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Tyler…” you whispered, but you couldn’t find the words to finish. The look in his eyes—unwavering and full of something unspoken—was undoing you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, and then the tip of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, slow and deliberate. His hands framed your face as he kissed you fully again, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He shifted, guiding your body beneath his as he shed the last of his clothing, his movements unhurried but purposeful. The heat of his skin against yours was electric, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that had your heart pounding.

Tyler paused for a moment, his weight braced above you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“I need you to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about wanting to fuck you. It’s more than that.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in them wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss, your lips conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.

When he finally started to push inside you, the moment felt like time had stopped. His movements were slow, measured, as if he were afraid of rushing it. This wasn’t like the other times you’d been with Tyler before. Every time before had felt like it was just physical. Practically ripping clothes off of each other and hot and heated kisses him getting inside of you as fast as he could.

But this time…this time his touches were just a little softer. His kisses were just a little deeper. And the way he was holding you, like he was cherishing you made you swoon.

As he moved with you, his hands roamed your body. He murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with affection. And when your hand gripped his shoulder, your nails digging slightly into his skin, he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to his in ways that felt like second nature. But it wasn’t just physical—there was something so much deeper in the way he held you, the way his hand laced with yours, fingers intertwining as though he needed to feel connected to every part of you.

It wasn’t long before the tension building between you both crested, your body trembling in his arms as your climax washed over you. Tyler held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear. When he followed moments later, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the quiet groan that escaped his lips sent another shiver down your spine.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breathing the only sound in the room. Tyler finally shifted, rolling to his side but pulling you with him so that you stayed nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as though letting go was not an option.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “I meant it, you know. You’re mine.”

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you’re mine,” you said softly, the words feeling like a vow.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your back. “Damn right, I am.”

As you lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the moment settled over you. This wasn’t just another night, another stolen moment of passion. This was the start of something new—something real.

And as Tyler held you close, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him, you couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

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floralfloyd · 21 days ago

Text

Five More Minutes

SUMMARY: You and Jake are headed to The Hard Deck to meet the daggers, but a few things risk making you late.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I apologize that it's taken me a month to get it written. I hope it's worth the wait! I'm working to get requests done as I have time and the inspiration is flowing! Hope you enjoy! xx

WARNINGS: None, smut is implied but none actually happens.

WORD COUNT: 767

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Jake sprawled on the edge of the bed, bouncing his knee impatiently as he watched you at the vanity. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Babe, come on,” he drawled, leaning back on his palms. “We’re gonna be late! We were supposed to be there by nine!”

“Five more minutes,” you called over your shoulder, carefully applying the last bit of mascara. Your voice was calm, but Jake could hear the teasing lilt in it, and he knew you weren’t in any rush.

“Five more minutes?” he repeated, raising a brow and letting out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart, you said that twenty minutes ago. You realize they’re all gonna roast me for this, right? Phoenix is gonna have a field day.”

“Phoenix already roasts you,” you shot back, swapping the mascara for your lipstick. “I’m just giving her more material to work with.”

Jake groaned, flopping back onto the bed in defeat. “I knew you’d be trouble the moment I laid eyes on you,” he muttered, though his tone was light and full of affection.

“And yet, here you are two months later, and still with me” you replied, smirking as you caught his reflection in the mirror.

He propped himself up on his elbows, his green eyes narrowing as he watched you smooth a hand over your outfit.

“Here I am,” he agreed, his smirk matching yours. “Sittin’ here, waitin’.”

“You wouldn’t be waiting if you hadn’t joined me in the shower,” you shot back, not even looking at him as you adjusted an earring in the mirror. Your knowing look in the reflection caught his eye, and Jake’s smirk widened into something that made your stomach flip.

He sat up straighter, feigning innocence. “Now, I don’t recall you complainin’ about that,” he drawled, standing and taking slow, deliberate steps toward you.

You met him halfway, tilting your chin up as he closed the distance. “I wasn’t,” you admitted, your voice softening just a little. “But we both know that’s why we’re running late.”

“Not sure what you’re talkin’ about,” he murmured, feigning innocence as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips found the spot just below your ear, brushing against it in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

You sighed, trying to maintain your composure as he trailed soft kisses along your neck. “Jake,” you warned, though your tone lacked conviction. “We’re already late.”

Jake pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his smirk now bordering on devilish. “Five minutes,” he said, mimicking your earlier words as he leaned down again. “Hell, I only need two.”

You raised a brow, fighting the urge to smile. “Is that so? Pretty sure I remember you needing a lot more than two in the shower.”

“Let’s give ‘em a real reason to wonder why we’re late.” His mischievous grin returned, and he started tugging you toward the bed.

You raised a brow, laughing as you dug your heels into the floor to stop him.

“What happened to you trying to rush me five minutes ago, huh?” you teased, your voice light and playful. “Weren’t you the one whining about how we’re gonna be late?”

Jake stopped, turning back to you with that signature cocky smirk you both loved and hated. “I realized I had my priorities all wrong,” he said, his tone smooth as honey. His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer. “A little late never hurt anybody. But missing the chance to keep you in my arms a little longer? Now that would be a crime.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip at his words despite yourself. “Wow, you’re really laying it on thick tonight,” you said, though the corners of your lips twitched upward. “But we’re still not skipping out just because you’ve got no self-control.”

Jake leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, his grin never wavering. “No self-control when it comes to you, sweetheart. Guilty as charged.”

“Okay, Casanova,” you said, gently patting his chest and stepping back. “Let’s get going before your squad decides to start placing bets on whether or not we’re ever showing up.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented with a chuckle. “Just know, sweetheart, that the second we get home, you’re mine.”

“And you’ll still only need a few minutes,” you quipped, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Keep talkin’ like that, darlin’,” Jake called after you, grabbing his jacket with a chuckle, “and we’ll see who’s beggin’ for more time later.”

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floralfloyd · 22 days ago

Text

what a cruel summer! | tyler owens x reader (18+)

Tyler laughs. That deep, clear rumble that sends every girl swooning into his arms. You aren’t immune to its charm from your spot, a roiling envy settling in your stomach as you turn away from where you had been watching them out of the corner of your eye.

You can’t be jealous. You just can’t.

No matter what this feels like.

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI. drinking. porn w some plot??? smut. unprotected pnv (wrap it before you tap it pls). oral, m+f receiving. spanking. dirty talk. no use of y/n. fwb relationship and feewings.

word count: 5.1k

The heat of Oklahoma is only bearable because of the storms that pass through, with their cold fronts and sweet smelling rain, creating rotating funnels of wind for you to chase with your friends.

That, and Tyler Owens.

It wasn’t meant to be this serious, which is why you keep telling each other that it isn't. You almost exclusively dance only with each other because you’re the only two that are only ones who aren’t clumsy and like doing it, sneaking into each others rooms for sex but staying overnight because it’s easier than sneaking back to your respective beds. Tyler insists you ride with him in his truck because you have an uncanny ability for reading the radar and navigating, not because he’ll push to get as close to the cell as possible so that you can get the perfect shot for your journals.

It’s not serious, but when he holds you close and spins you around the floor of whatever sticky dive bar you’re in, it sure feels that way.

It felt that way when some guy put his cowboy hat on your head, taking it back only after Tyler snatched it from your head, pulling you backwards into his chest while drawling that the guy had picked the wrong girl.

It feels that way on the odd day off in some hotel pool when you’re perched on his shoulders after another winning round of chicken fight and his short nails are digging into your thighs while you tangle your hand in his hair. The image of your thighs around his head border on too much to handle while he cheers you on- “Atta girl!”

“I’m getting another round.” You say to no one, well aware that your friends are deep in a debate about who was stupider in today’s chase and will not hear you. They don’t notice that Tyler has been gone for the better half of 15 minutes, laughing and charming the young female bartender. She can’t be much younger than you, but has on one of those tiny blank tank tops that make boobs look like gravity is a suggestion. That paired with low pigtails that the middle-aged men at the end the bar are drooling over; you’ve decided you can’t possibly compete with her. You step up to the spot only a few spots down from Tyler and the girl, desperately trying to make eye-contact with the other bartender for a refill.

You’re just close enough to hear their conversation as he tells her about the tornado you had chased earlier that day.

“That must be so scary.” She gushes, resting her chin in her hand, “You’re so brave. I could never do that.”

You can’t be jealous. You just can’t.

No matter what this feels like.

“Another one, miss?” The older bartender asks. You nod, “and a shot of Jack,” placing a few bills on the counter as he prepares your drinks.

“Is that your team in the corner over there?” She asks. Their two voices are growing nearer to you. You trace your finger down a grain in the wood, wincing at the stickiness that follows you as your drinks are placed in front of you. You down the shot before you can think too hard about it, the bittersweet liquid burning down your throat.

“Yup. Best in the damn south. And this-” Tyler claps a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump back into his chest. His stupidly firm, warm and comforting chest.

“This is my wingman. My partner. Don’t know what I’d do without her guiding me.” Tyler’s hand slips down your middle, tucking you firmly into his side.

You look up meet his gaze, hoping your face is as steely and sharp as the mask you desperately want to wear. “Probably drive straight into a tornado and die.” You deadpan, wrapping your lips around your straw and raising your eyebrows.

“Without you darlin,’ I don’t think I’d be getting anywhere near any one of ‘em.” Tyler grins down at you, squeezing your waist as he pulls you closer to his side. “Nice meetin’ ya, Bailey! See ya ‘round.” That’s all the goodbye he affords her as he guides you back to the group with his hand on your lower back.

“She seemed nice.” You say, trying to keep the bitterness out of your tone. You fail.

Tyler laughs, clearly bemused by the whole situation.

“She’s alright. Why? You jealous, darlin’?” Tyler stops, tugging your belt loops to face him. The sudden movement combined with your tipsiness makes you stumble, placing a hand on his pec to steady yourself.

You set your jaw as you snatch your hand away as if burned, glaring up at him. “Never.”

“Well then, you won’t have an issue with me asking her to dance? Her shift is over soon.”

Your free hand clenches into a fist, squeezing tightly as you shake your head.

“No?” Tyler asks, a knowing look on his face. Mouth quirking up at the side, in that stupidly charming way.

“No.” You repeat, turning on your heel and walking back to your table. When you sip from your drink, he’s talking to Bailey again and she steps out to the dancefloor as he guides her around. The men from the end of the bar watch as they do so, jealousy clear on their faces. You’re sure it must be clear on your own too, taking another larger sip and wincing. The bartender made you a double. Not that you’re complaining as you suck it down quickly. “Let’s do shots!” You exclaim to the group, grabbing Kate’s arm. A resounding ‘yes!’ is heard from around you and two of the guys head to the bar, returning with enough shots for everyone to have two.

Tyler is peering over Bailey’s head curiously, watching as you knock both back in quick succession. Tequila. Your personal nemesis. You cannot bring yourself to care. “Let’s dance!” You giggle to Kate and Lily, dragging them to a spot on the dancefloor opposite of Tyler. They oblige you easily, moving to the beat. As the night crawls on and the music gets louder, you’re fed shot after shot until Kate has you hanging off of her left side and Lilly clutching her right hand. Tyler has long since abandoned Bailey, choosing to stand with the guys and watching you move with a smile on his handsome face. All it does is make you sad.

“Alright, party girls. Come on, last call is coming up and we should get back.” Tyler has appeared in front of you, the rest of the guys in tow.

“Aw!” You pout, stepping away from Kate and looking up at him. “But I’m not done! And you can’t leave Bailey!” You sing her name bitterly, wrinkling your nose and spinning, maintaining eye contact as best you can. You’re warm and swaying, much lighter than earlier. You manage to ruin your own mood when you face him again, shocked that he would still be in front of you. Your brows furrow and lips form a pout.

Tyler sighs, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you, guiding you out of the bar. “‘M not interested in Bailey, sweetheart. I like you.”

“You can’t say things like that.” You insist as the cool night air hits your body. One of your friend’s cars is in front of you, backseat door open and engine running.

“Like what?” Tyler asks, carefully turning you to face him. Concern is written on his face while he hands rest on your hips. A thumb rubs back and forth on the skin where your shirt has ridden up.

“Like sweetheart, especially after you’ve spent your night flirting with another girl.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” Tyler insists, “I wouldn’t do that to y-” He cuts himself off, “I wasn’t flirting with her.” He insists quietly, cheeks going pink.

You scoff, pushing off of him and into the backseat. “Could’ve fooled me.” You call as you buckle in your seatbelt. Tyler sighs dejectedly as he closes the door behind you. With only Lily in the backseat with you, the world suddenly feels a lot less steady in the dark car. You don’t realize you’re crying until you’re on some unlit back road towards the hotel, sniffling softly as tears fall down your face.

Lily says your name once, then twice until you look at her. You’re sure you’re eyes are red and puffy. Concern is written on her face. “Are you okay?”

You nod, wiping furiously at your cheeks. “M’fine.” You blubber, crossing your arms as another cascade of tears leak down.

Tyler says your name from up front this time. “We’re almost back, okay?”

“Okay.” You sob, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. You run to escape from the team’s prying eyes in the lobby, not catching Tyler’s gaze as he assures them; “I’ll check in on her.” as you rush past the closed pool, desperately searching your pocket for the room key. Only when the green light flashes and you shut the door behind you do you allow yourself to gasp for air.

30 minutes later, you’re wrapped in a soft blanket, watching a rerun of an HGTV episode, putting sour candy after candy on your tongue. You can’t bear to look Tyler in the eyes, can't bear to face Lily and Kate’s comforting text messages inquiring about your well being.

A knock interrupts your sulking. Expecting it to be someone from the team you ignore it, not wanting to face the music. But it comes again, louder this time, and you mute the TV.

Creeping up slowly, you reach for your phone and the nearest potential weapon- your textbook on Differential Equations in Chemistry from a summer class you’re taking. Your name is called from outside the door before you can stand on your tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Even though you recognize the voice, you check anyways. Standing sheepishly with his hands in his pockets is Tyler.

“Can we talk?” Tyler asks, raising his hand to knock again, “I know you’re mad, darlin’, but I-”

You open the door before he can finish speaking, taking a moment to bask in his startled gaze. You look him up and down. He’s changed his clothes since the bar, sporting a backwards cap and too-small gray t-shirt he’s had since you were freshmen in college. You try to ignore the way his biceps bulge and strain against the sleeves when he adjusts the stupidly attractive hat.

“I’m not mad.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest, hoping he doesn’t realize its his shirt that you donned. Based on the way his gaze flicks down to where your breasts are pushed up against the logo and quirks his eyebrow ever so slightly, you know he does.

“Had me fooled, then.” He stares you down, waiting for a response. You stare back, a silent battle between the two of you on who will fold first. Begrudgingly, you concede, stepping aside for him to pass and enter the tiny room. You think he’s going to comment on the mess you’ve made; in your frustration after the chase, you left your clothes in a heap on the floor next to your damp towels from the shower and the candy bag on the unmade bed.

“You’re a bad liar.” Tyler teases lightly with his usual lopsided grin on his face.

To anyone else, he looks relaxed and nonchalant. You know him better. Based on the way his thumb is fiddling with his belt loop, you know he’s walking on eggshells around you. You shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling your shirt down to cover more of your bare thighs.

His sullen face, half shadowed by the lamp in the corner, follows the movement. His throat bobs as he steps towards you.

“I’m sorry.” Tyler confesses, stepping towards you.

You look up at him, quirking an eyebrow.

“I shouldn’t have danced with her.”

You raise an eyebrow, waving a dramatic hand for him to continue.

“And I shouldn't have said what I did to you.” He steps again, falling to his knees. Carefully spreading your thighs, he looks up at you and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee.

“And?” You ask as he traces from your knee to the edge of the shirt leaving goosebumps in its wake, never once breaking eye contact with you.

“Jesus woman, you’re the smartest, prettiest girl I’ve ever met and I will never doubt you again. We men are nothing compared to you.” Tyler recites, causing your smile to finally break away. You laugh, cupping his cheek as he grins too, green eyes following your movement.

“Good.” You lean down, pressing your forehead to his. Tyler closes the distance quickly, pressing a tiny kiss to your lips, unable to resist.

“She wasn’t interesting either.” Tyler admits, trailing lazy kisses up and down your legs. You hum in response, carding your hand through his sandy locks. “Too sulky.” He quotes, not stopping his movements as he gets closer to those pitiful excuse for sleep shorts you like to wear. He presses his hand against your stomach, pushing gently until you fall backwards onto the bed.

“Oh?” You ask, voice choked.

“Mmm. I like you so much more. But don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna fix this.”

“Fix it?”

“Can’t have my girl mad at me.”

My girl.

If he didn’t have your head spinning, you’d jerk up and demand exactly what that meant.

But Tyler does, as always, as he pushes the shirt up to expose a bit of your stomach.

Tyler rises slightly, kissing at the waistband.

“Not mad anymore.” You sigh, fisting a hand in his hair. “Was a bit disappointed, maybe.”

You feel him smile against you stomach, knowing better. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Didn’t get dinner before we left.” Tyler mumbles, more to himself as he hooks his fingers in the shorts.

“You must be hungry.” You muse breathlessly, lifting your hips to help him.

Tyler’s eyes darken, pupils blown as he leans forward to kiss your bare, soaking core.

“Starving.” He agrees, eyes only on you. Then he leans forward, pressing his tongue flat and licking a fat stripe up your pussy.

The action has you crying out desperately, tightening your grip on his hair as his fingers tease at your weeping hole.

“Can’t believe I’m so lucky.” Tyler murmurs, watching carefully as he inserts one finger. You clench around him, moaning desperately “got you, pretty baby, waiting for me, in my shirt, no panties. Don’t deserve her.”

“No.” You gasp as he presses another finger. “Maybe not after today.”

“Absolutely not.” Tyler agrees, curling his fingers experimentally. “Gotta make it up to her.”

Tyler repeats the motion a couple times watching intently until you keen forward. He surges towards you, wrapping his lips around your clit, tonguing at the little bud with his usual fervor.

You moan loudly, pulling his head closer to you as you throw your head backwards on the messy bed, arching your back as you pull him closer, closer, closer.

“That’s my girl.” Tyler grunts into your core, “Is my pussy gonna come for me?”

You cry out head wobbling in a desperate ‘yes.’

“That’s right. My girl, my pussy. My sweet cunt. Who makes you feel this good?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as he repeats his motions, holding you just on the edge of coming. His arm brands across your hips, holding you in place and preventing you from squirming to get the friction you need to push you over the edge.

Tyler pulls his fingers halfway from your soaking cunt, inhaling sharply as you clench, desperately trying to pull him back in.

“Baby,” He reminds gently, toying at your clit with his thumb, “who makes you feel this good?”

Your body jolts at the featherlight touch, “You, Tyler!” You cry out, and he nods.

“That’s my girl.” He wraps his mouth around you again, working you closer to your high as your thighs shake and breaths come quicker. Flames lick at your skin, threatening to consume you whole. The icy cold room cannot compare to Tyler’s mouth, not when he’s working you just like this. When it hits, your orgasm surrounds you like a supernova, heat covering your skin despite the overworked air conditioner blowing cool air towards your bare body. Starbursts of white bloom behind your eyelids as you thrash, desperately grinding into Tyler’s face to ride out your high.

Tyler lets you use him, grinding your pussy into his face and drinking up your orgasm, working you until you carefully pull him away, muttering “sensitive.” His chin is shiny, slick with your release and the smile he sports can only be described as smug. Tyler wraps an arm around your center, sighing as you pull him on top of you.

You’re dimly aware of the TV casting a blue glow over the two of you as you reach for his belt, undoing it carefully.

“I really am sorry.” Tyler catches your hand, emerald eyes boring into yours. Sadness is reserved in them, touch tentative as he raises your wrist to his mouth and presses a kiss to the soft skin there. The action is so endearing you nearly want to cry.

“I know.” You pull your hand from his, running a thumb over his mouth and pulling his lip down. His tongue darts out, touching your fingertip ever so slightly. You continue your movement until you brush the scruff of his chin. You lean up to kiss him chastely. “So am I.”

Looking down at you, he’s a work of art. Face flushed and damp strands of hair hanging over his forehead, likely from a shower. That hat he was wearing is somewhere on the bedsheets of this shitty motel room. He smells strongly of cedar and pine, shrouding you in the world’s most comforting blanket. Tyler lets his body sink lower to cover you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. You comb your fingers through his hair, ignoring the way the cool metal of his belt buckle is digging into your thigh. Wet kisses are being placed along your skin in between murmurs and praise you can’t quite make out.

This doesn’t feel like friends.

You want to say as much and the sentiment is mirrored in his eyes when he opens them, hovering above you on his forearms.

But you don’t, instead whispering “can I?” as you trail your touch from his pecs to his abs, lifting his shirt and running your fingers along that light trail of hair just above his belt.

Tyler nods. “Please, sweetheart.”

You peel your shirts from your bodies first, taking a moment to marvel at his chest as you always do, grazing your teeth across his nipple just to make him shiver. His jeans come next and you take your time unfastening them. He ungracefully kicks them off, boxers following seconds later. Tyler lowers himself fully on top of you again, careful not to let his weight crush you.

Not that you would mind if he did.

The kisses he offers are far from filthy, instead tender and gentle, as if you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful. You can faintly taste yourself on his lips, a blush rising in your cheeks at the thought. He cups your face delicately, calloused hands rough against your soft skin.

When you reach down to grasp him, he hisses, pressing his face into your neck .

”Shit, sweetheart.” Tyler gasps out as you trace your fingers gently over a thick vein,. “‘M not gonna last long.”

“I don’t need you to.” You mutter into his collarbone, sinking your teeth into his smooth skin and brushing a thumb over his swollen tip. Precum smears with your thumb’s movement and he groans again, hiding his face lower in your chest and messily kissing the tops of your breasts.

You continue moving your hand, drinking in his gasps and moans with pride. Finally, you guide him to your dripping heat. You gasp and he moans long and pretty when you drag his tip through your heat. The first press of his

The stretch is something you’ll never get used to, nails digging into your shoulders as Tyler drags his lips over your cheek. “So good.” He gasps and you nod fervently, catching you lips against his. You dig your nails into his shoulders, rolling your hips once. Tyler takes his cue, pulling out slowly, watching your needy cunt grip his thick cock. When he bottoms out again, it punches a high pitched breath from your lungs. He maintains the slow, bruising pace, arms bracketing your head as he pounds your poor pussy. Every thrust hits deeper, fat tip bullying that spongy spot you can never quite reach on your own.

Every nerve on your body is alight, hot and burning. All you can possibly conjure from your fucked-out mind is his name. Clearly, Tyler isn’t not far off from your state with the way your name falls from his lips like a prayer.

You clench around him, lips catching in a messy kiss that can hardly be counted as such. Panting against each other’s mouths like you’ve just ran a mile. To call it a kiss would be an insult to the romantics attached to the word. It’s messy, dirty, and downright nasty. It’s hot.

Tyler shifts, angle changing ever-so-slightly, but the movement causes his pelvis to brush against your neglected clit.

“There?” Tyler asks as you cry out. He trails his hand down to where your bodies meet, watching the way your cunt grips his cock, wet from every thrust into your tight pussy. His fingers circle your clit and you gasp sharply, nodding eagerly and throwing your head back. “‘S fuckin’ hot.”

“Good girl,” Tyler murmurs, “This little cunt is gon’ come for me again, ain’t it? Can feel the way you’re gripping me. ‘S like heaven.”

The world around you grows dull. The roof could rip off of this dingy place, rain pouring on your skin, but all you could know is the way Tyler feels against you. The way his voice coaxes you closer to your high. The way his breath fans your cheek when you come, thrusts slowing as you ride out your orgasm, clenching around him. Your senses dull as all you can feel is the way his body presses to you. When you open your eyes again, Tyler is still sheathed inside of you, pressing butterfly kisses across your cheeks. You meet his concerned gaze, and something akin to a challenge seeds itself in your brain.

With one movement, you’re pushing him off and out of you, flipping him onto his back and straddling his thighs. Tyler’s gaze is wide as he watches you, those emerald eyes nearly black from arousal and astonishment.

His hands find themselves gripping your thighs as you rub your pulsing pussy up his length. Tyler groans again. “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.”

You lean down, pressing his tip into your cunt again as you whisper into his ear. “But what a way to go, huh cowboy?”

Tyler thrusts up into you, fully inside you once again. A smirk toys at your lips as you swivel your hips around him. His gaze makes you feel powerful as you begin to ride him. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, alternating between shallow thrusts to meet your body and letting you fully take control, as if overcome by the picture in front of him.

Your eyes catch on something near your knee and the corner of your lip quirks up as you reach for it. Tyler’s hat, the one abandoned however long ago is resting backwards on your head. The too-big accessory falling over your face with every bounce.

“Fuck.” Tyler huffs, gripping your ass so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises. “You really are my girl, ain’t ya?”

You nod, a wolfish grin spreading on his face at “Atta girl. Prove it.”

So you do, fully intending to ride him within an inch of his life. His hips meet yours with every thrust, the sound of skin hitting skin not deterring either of you. Neither does the noises spilling from your mouths. Each sound of his is music to your ears, pride surging in your chest at the knowledge that you pull those sounds from him. They may not know now, but if anyone walks by your room, there is no doubt that they would understand exactly what is going on behind that closed door.

Still, your movements never cease as flames paint your skin, too lost in pleasure to even think about the exhausted ache blooming in your thighs. A particularly hard trust has your head tipping back with a guttural moan. Two orgasms in has left you sensitive and leaking, but Tyler doesn’t hesitate, reaching up to cup your breasts and thumbing over a nipple. Your hand reaches down to rub at your swollen and forgotten clit, easing the ache from the lack of simulation.

He looks at you in awe, as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky, painting every constellation with your hands. As he can’t believe you’re real. There’s no way. He can’t look at you like that. Like there’s something more, like you’re something special, not without promising you something.

This doesn’t feel like just friends.

You don’t have time to focus on the intruding thoughts, shaking them away as you brace your hands on his chest and riding him faster, harder. Desperate to feel him, make him feel as good as he’s made you feel. Desperate to be closer.

Tyler yanks you down to meet his lips, tugging your hair and taking control as he sets a fast pace, chasing his own high.

“Can I-?”

“Inside me, Owens.” You order, biting at his eat and tugging slightly at his blonde strands.

Tyler has a habit of clutching you tightly when he comes, bodies pressed so tightly together that nothing could possibly separate you. Ribbons of white coat your walls as he comes with a shout, thrusting sloppily as he rides out his own high. When he finally comes to a stop, you clench around him teasingly, knowing he’s still sensitive from his orgasm. A curse spills from his lips as he slips from your weeping cunt. You don’t know how long you stay there, curling on top of him with his hat still atop your head. Tyler brushes his fingers over your back, tracing invisible pictures as the air conditioner whirs in the background. Your own fingers draw up and down his collarbone. There’s a scar on his bicep from some brush with debris after a storm. A soft kiss to the skin there has a shaky breath tearing from his lungs. Somewhere in there, you doze off, only stirring when Tyler carefully moves you off of him and tucking you into a pillow. Your eyelids flutter open, a sinking feeling settling as your stomach as Tyler leans over you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’ll be right back.”

You know he means it, returning in his plaid boxers with a wet washcloth to clean the remains of your sex from your inner thighs. You catch the scent of your lavender lotion being rubbed onto your legs, stifling a soft sigh into your pillow. A kiss followed tap to your hip has you sitting up, silently taking the t-shirt he offers you- his shirt. The same one he wore into your room. It’s silent as he feeds the fabric over your head and through your arms. Your eyes meet his, and he looks suddenly shy and sheepish, as if this isn’t a dance you’ve danced a million times.

This time is different, you both know that.

“Can I stay?” Is what he asks, looking for permission before settling into his routine. You know he’ll lay on his back before turning on his side and tucking you into him.

Still, its a question this time, waiting for your answer. Tyler is ready to go and pretend this never happened if you would just say the words.

As if you ever would.

You shake your head, patting the spot next to you. “Yeah.” You swallow as you slide your legs under the covers. “You should stay.”

You can’t remember the last time Tyler looked so relieved.

When you wake up to a warm body pressed against yours, it takes a moment for last night’s memories to trickle in. Your body aches deliciously, brain somehow clear despite the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed the night before. Tyler breathes quietly behind you, clutching your waist as if you’ll slip away like sand if he loosens his grip. His exhales tickle your ear and you squirm backwards into his grasp, desperate to be closer closer closer.

“Mornin’.” Tyler murmurs in that deep voice of his. “You sleep okay?”

Your eyes close again, finding his hand and intertwining your fingers. “Mhmm. You?”

Tyler hums in agreement, turning you gently to face him. His arm is tucked under his head, bicep flexing deliciously as he studies you. A question is written on his face, searching for something in your eyes, maybe regret.

He must not find it though, because he quietly clears his throat. “So about last night…”

You shake your head cutting him off in a feeble attempt to restrain your smile, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle as he mirrors your expression. There isn’t anything more that needs to be said, any questions answered simply by meeting the other’s gaze. Without words, it suddenly all makes sense.

You aren’t sure who moves first, lurching into each other with such vigor that your noses collide before your lips meet and your bodies tangle into the messy sheets as one.

This is most definitely not just friends. But you were never that in the first place, were you?

Seems you both knew that.

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