#(i know this only because of a quick google search i did just now

[knittingwithhighlighters]

NOT ANYMORE IT ISN'T

[geminiwritten]

all yours ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: after being best friends and chasing storms with tyler for years, one night changes everything... now you're staring at a pregnancy test with two pink lines—and just as you're working up the nerve to tell him, tyler announces to the world that he never wants to settle down or have kids

notes: i'm sorry? i want to say i have no words but apparently... i have nearly 15k of them right here!!! i don't know who this is for, i lowkey feel like it will flop because it's long and angsty, but please let me know what you think if you read this!!! i've been working on it on and off for a while, so i am very glad to finally get it posted!

warnings: swearing, angst (but happy ending), pregnancy, a lot of crying, very brief mention of abortion, very brief discussion about the possibility of losing the baby, talk about sex (18+ ONLY PLEASE), a bit of horniness, and just a lot of emotions!!! (please let me know if i missed anything)

disclaimer: i am not pregnant and have never been pregnant. all this information comes from quick google searches, and things i've read in books. so i'm very if it's wrong or dumb. please don't come for me!

word count: 14818

You’ve known Tyler Owens since you were ten. 

You’ve been chasing storms with him for nine years, and hopelessly in love with him for eight. 

You’ve laughed as he lost seven cowboy hats to tornados, and helped him replace six shattered windshields. 

You’ve loved him through five of his lousy girlfriends and four of your own doomed boyfriends. 

You’ve tried—and failed—to tell him how you feel three times. 

You’ve kissed him twice. 

And you’ve slept with him once. 

Once. Exactly three weeks ago. 

You were both drunk—though you were probably pretending to be more gone than you really were—and lonely. Sure, you’d kissed before that night—once, years ago, on a dare. But that night, the second kiss happened as you stepped out of the bar. It was misting lightly, streetlights casting a glow, and Tyler looked so damn good as he—drunkenly—told you that you looked beautiful. How were you supposed to resist that? 

Back at the motel, you tried to go your separate ways. You even made it to your room alone. You were just about to reach for your vibrator, hoping to ease the ache low in your belly, when there was a knock at the door. 

You knew who it was before you even opened it. 

Tyler. 

You let him in—because of course you did—and he was on you in seconds. There was no way you were going to push him off. You’ve been in love with him for the better part of a decade. 

It was hot and desperate. All teeth and tongue, and handprints seared into your skin—ones you know you’ll never forget the feeling of. You were both so fucking wrecked there was no stopping it. 

Not even when the condom obviously broke while he was putting it on. 

Not even when something deep in your chest told you this was a bad idea. 

But now? Three weeks later—you wish you’d had more restraint. 

Sure, it was awkward the next morning—after Tyler snuck out of your room at three a.m., thinking you hadn’t noticed. It stayed awkward for about a week, with neither of you daring to talk about it. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t bring it up. It was obviously just one night for him. Maybe he was just curious. You’ve been friends for so long. A lot of friends have slept together at least once… right? 

But even in that painfully awkward week of trying to relearn how to be friends, you couldn’t quite regret it. 

Because eventually, he cracked a joke. Then you said something sarcastic. And although there was still a hint of something more simmering under the surface, things almost felt normal again. 

Almost. 

It’s only now that you regret it—everything. 

Right now, as you stare at the two pink lines on the stick beside the sink, your vision blurred with tears, and your stomach roiling with nausea. 

The harsh crack of knuckles against the bathroom door startles you, sending your heart leaping into your throat. 

“You alright in there?” Lily calls through the wood. “It’s been like ten minutes—I’m getting worried. Do I need to break down the door?” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, willing your voice to come out steady. “Y-Yeah, I’m all good.” 

There’s a beat of silence before Lily speaks again, her voice lower this time. “Are you sure? You don’t sound good.” 

You shake your head and hastily wipe the wetness from your cheeks. Then you snap a photo of the pregnancy test before tossing it into the trash—this is just a gas station bathroom. No one’s tracing that stick back to you unless they run a DNA test, and that’s not likely. 

It’s not like you plan on going missing. Just… away. For a while. 

You splash your face with cool water and stare at your reflection in the mirror until you’re convinced you look close enough to normal. Then you square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and open the bathroom door. 

It’s only Lily waiting there—thank God—but she’s already watching you with sharp, perceptive eyes. 

“You good?” 

You nod once, forcing a smile. “Never better. Sorry. Lady stuff.” 

Technically not a lie. Still, you cringe at the way it comes out. You’re not someone who shies away from saying things plainly—especially not something as basic as a damn period. 

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t push. 

“Alright. Let’s get going. Tyler said we’re only twenty minutes out from a decent-sized town. Should be able to find good food and a motel where we don’t have to share rooms.” 

You nod again, not trusting yourself to laugh or offer a sarcastic remark. You just walk past her, the fake smile still fixed to your face, and head for the door. 

Twenty minutes later, you’re climbing out of the RV in a motel parking lot. Tyler’s truck is parked beside the reception office, his hat on the dashboard and Boone waiting in the front seat. Dani and Dexter walk ahead of you, muttering about something they saw pop up on the radar earlier, and Lily is rummaging around in the back seat of Tyler’s truck—her butt sticking out the passenger door—looking for the headphones she lost yesterday. 

Your heart aches at the thought of leaving, throbbing dully behind your sternum. You’re not sure if the nausea swirling in your gut is from the idea of walking away from your friends—your family—or because of your newly discovered… condition. Either way, you feel sick. And you need space. Time to think. To breathe. 

Once everyone has a room, you lug your few belongings up to the second floor and collapse onto the bed. You text Lily, telling her you feel sick sick—period pains—and that you’re going to skip dinner. You ask her to tell the others for you, because you can’t stomach lying to their faces. 

You spend the next few hours on your laptop, reading everything you can about pregnancy. You scroll through pages about what happens to your body, how your life is going to change. You read about complications, risks, even abortion. 

It’s strange, really. You’ve always been practical, logical. And this doesn’t seem like the practical choice. But you knew the second you saw those two lines that you were going to keep it. 

Call it maternal instinct. Or just plain insanity. Either way, your mind is made up. 

Now you just need a plan. 

Most people don’t announce their pregnancy until twelve weeks—you know that much—so you’re giving yourself twelve weeks to sort your shit out. 

First, you need to leave. You’ll make up some excuse about a sick family member and tell the crew your mom needs you immediately. Tyler will try to come with you—call it a detour or a bonus road trip—so you’ll have to convince him your mom only wants to see you. No one else. 

Then you’ll leave for... an indefinite stretch. You’re not going straight to your mom’s. You’ll hole up in a hotel halfway home, see a doctor, get the blood tests, the shots, the supplements—all the crap you’re supposed to do. 

Once your head is on straighter and you’ve got a handle on things, you’ll start looking for an apartment. Something short-term, just in case… well, in case you lose the baby. At least then you’ll have somewhere to crash and recover before deciding what comes next. It feels morbid, sure, but you’re not a total daydreamer. Life can be brutal, and you know better than to think you’ll be spared. 

But assuming things go well—assuming you hit that twelve-week mark after moving in—that’s when you’ll start telling people. You’ll tell your mom first, maybe find a therapist and tell them too. And then... Tyler. 

The moment his name crosses your mind, your body reacts. You jump up from the motel bed and stumble into the tiny bathroom, hunching over the toilet and gagging like you’re going to throw up. But nothing comes up—your stomach is empty. You know this isn’t the pregnancy making you sick. It’s the thought of telling him. 

It feels cruel, waiting three whole months before telling the father. But you can’t bring yourself to do it any sooner. You know this isn’t what Tyler wants. Especially not with you. What happened between you was a one-time thing—a fun night, a way to blow off steam. It wasn’t meant to change everything. 

So you’ll wait. Make sure it’s real. Make sure it’s sticking. Plain and simple. Harsh? Maybe. But you need time to figure yourself out before dropping a bomb on him. And by the time you do, it’ll be six months to impact. Give or take. 

You have no idea how he’ll react, but you know it won’t be like one of those social media videos where the dad cries and jumps for joy. No—this will be very different. Which is exactly why you’re not telling him for at least a month or two. You’ll figure out exactly how far along you are once you see a doctor. 

You take a deep breath and snap your laptop shut. Time to get some sleep. You’ve got a full day of driving tomorrow, and you’re going to need the energy. 

- 

“What?” Tyler drops his bacon back onto the plate, staring at you wide-eyed across the diner table. “If you’re going home, then we’re all-” 

“No, Tyler,” you interrupt, sighing as you stare down at the table. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “She said just me. I know you want to help, but I don’t know how long I’ll have to stay. I’ll call as soon as I get there and keep you updated. I just—she sounded really fragile, alright? I don’t want to overwhelm her.” 

It doesn’t feel like that much of a lie. You’re not talking about your mom—you’re talking about yourself. At least, that’s how you justify it to your guilty conscience. 

“You sure?” Lily asks, leaning forward beside Tyler. “We don’t have to go see her. We can just come to town, hang out nearby. We don’t mind staying a week or so.” 

You take a deep breath, eyes locked on your untouched plate of plain toast and fried eggs. “It might not be a week,” you say, bracing yourself. “It could be a couple of months.” 

“Months?” Dani echoes, her coffee cup clattering against the table. 

Tyler looks stunned, frozen in place. His expression is unreadable—shock, maybe disbelief, etched into every line of his face. His lips are slightly parted—lips you haven’t stopped thinking about, hot on your skin—and his brows pinch together. His cheeks are flushed, but not with embarrassment. He looks... unsure. Concerned. 

“What are we going to do without you for a couple months?” Lily asks, her eyes wide. 

You wave a hand, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’ll be fine. I’ll only be a phone call away. If I can come back earlier, I will. But right now, I really need to be there for... for my mom.” 

God, you’re a terrible liar this morning. 

“When do you need to leave?” Tyler asks, his voice low and flat. 

You swallow hard, still staring at your toast. “Today.” 

A wave of protests, questions, and complaints breaks out—everyone but Tyler. He stays silent, still watching you like he’s trying to piece something together. Like you’re a puzzle he didn’t realise needed solving. 

He looks at you like he sees straight through the lie. His green eyes don’t blink, and it makes your stomach churn. 

For the next half hour, you lie and deflect as best you can. You keep your head down, your answers short. No promises, no explanations. Breakfast turns into a full-blown protest, your friends more upset than you expected by your sudden departure. But no matter how hard they try, nothing could convince you to stay. 

You can’t. 

Back at the motel, you pack your things. You’d already asked Dexter to drive you to the nearest car rental place—he grumbled but agreed. Now comes the part you’re dreading. 

The goodbyes. 

To them, this is temporary—a month or two, maybe. But you know better. This is something else. Something longer. More permanent. 

Moisture stings your eyes as you zip your duffel shut. Your nose burns, and this time, you don’t stop the tears from falling. 

“Hey,” Tyler’s voice startles you, and you realize in your rush to get into the room, you hadn’t fully shut the door. 

You sniff and wipe your cheeks, keeping your back to him. “Hey.” You clear your throat. “What’s up?” 

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that?” 

You don’t respond. You just keep your head down and continue stuffing the last of your things into your backpack. 

He sighs as the door clicks shut behind him. A few steps bring him closer, and you can almost feel his warmth hovering just a few feet behind you. 

“Look,” he says gently, “I’m not going to press you about what’s really going on. But it’s obvious something’s got you rattled. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are. Whatever it is.” 

You close your eyes, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“I’m worried,” he continues. “This isn’t you. Cutting and running like this? I know you. I know your family. This is something else. And I’m really damn worried.” 

“It’s fine, Ty,” you say, your voice catching in your throat, the words barely a whisper. 

“No, it’s not.” He steps closer, and now his warmth is unmistakable—his presence pressing in, impossible to ignore. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I need you to promise me you’ll be okay. That you’ll come back.” 

You drop the sweater you’ve been folding and refolding, letting it fall from your hands. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping gently around your bicep, coaxing you to turn toward him. Then he lifts your chin with one curled finger, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

You can barely make out his face through the tears—hot and heavy, falling faster than you can blink them away. 

His voice cracks. “It’s not the same out there without you. You know that.” 

A sob breaks from your chest, and you fall forward. He catches you easily, arms strong and sure around your trembling frame. Pressed against him, for a moment it all feels like it might be okay. Like maybe this whole life-altering thing won’t change everything after all. Tyler makes you feel like you can handle anything. Like you’re more than human. Invincible, even. 

Maybe that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. 

But you can’t stay in his arms forever. You’re not even sure he’d be holding you if he knew the truth—if he knew you were the one holding the pin to the grenade that could blow his whole life to pieces. 

“You’re scaring the shit out of me, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair. 

You sniffle against his shirt, steadying your voice. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” 

He slowly lets you go, giving you space to stand on your own again. 

“I promise you’ll see me again,” you say, trying to sound certain. “I promise I’ll be back once everything’s... sorted.” 

His brows draw together like he wants to believe you but can’t quite manage it. Still, he nods, swallowing whatever emotion is caught in his throat. Then he pulls you into one last hug, holding you tighter than before, like he’s afraid to let go. 

You inhale deeply—maybe too deeply—committing his scent to memory, as if you hadn’t already. You memorise the way he holds you, the way your bodies fit together, and the quick, steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. 

You know you’ll see Tyler again. One way or another. 

But it won’t be the same. Nothing is the same anymore. 

- 

“You’re both doing really well,” the doctor says, eyes scanning the computer screen. “Your baby is perfectly healthy, and everything about you is exactly where it should be for fourteen weeks.” 

You nod and give her a tight-lipped smile, gripping the ultrasound picture like a lifeline. 

“And the bump isn’t... too big?” you ask, trying not to sound completely clueless. 

The doctor smiles warmly. “It’s perfect,” she assures you. “You’re showing a little more than some women might at this stage, but everyone’s different.” 

You nod again. “Okay, good.” 

“Any other concerns?” she asks after a moment. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Good.” She pushes up from her chair and heads for the door. “I’ll see you in four weeks.” 

You smile and nod once more. “Thanks, doctor.” 

“No worries. And—” she pauses, brows pulling together slightly. “You know you can bring the father to these appointments, right? Regardless of your relationship, he’s welcome. It might help ease some of the anxiety.” 

You blink quickly at the sudden sting in your eyes—fucking hormones—and offer a watery smile. “Thanks. I’ll... talk to him.” 

She gives you one last kind smile before shutting the door, leaving you alone in the pale-yellow hallway with nothing but spiralling thoughts. 

Okay, so you haven’t told Tyler... yet. But you plan to. As soon as you stop crying at everything and start acting like a functional adult. These hormones have wrecked you—just like the internet said they would. 

One minute, you’re sobbing over nothing. The next, you’re halfway to committing a felony. And then suddenly, you’re numb. Emotionally whiplashed. And the thought of telling Tyler—of seeing him again—drags every human emotion you have straight to the surface. 

You’ve talked to him a few times. The rest of the crew, too. You’ve spun some lies and danced around their questions. You spoke to your mom and made her promise to keep your secret—because you know Tyler’s tried calling her since you left. But you haven’t yet mustered the courage to tell anyone else. 

It’s been exactly eight weeks since you left. You're running on borrowed time. You know they’ll come looking soon, and you can’t let that happen. You need to go to them. To Tyler. You need to tell him the truth—your way—before it all blows up. 

But first... you need a really big bowl of croutons. Just croutons. And if you don’t get them soon, you’re going to kill someone. 

Pregnancy is wild. 

A few hours later, you’re back in your studio apartment, curled up on the lounge you bought last week, your laptop propped on your belly and a second bowl of croutons at your side. Your résumé is open, and you’re tweaking it for a few job applications—hoping to land something at a desk for at least a few months. You could use the extra money. 

On the small TV across the room—still sitting on the floor because you don’t have a table yet—YouTube is playing. More specifically, the live stream of a storm chaser you used to know. Someone who follows storms and interviews other chasers. Her name is Corey—you’ve met her a few times, but she’s never interviewed you. She’s always wanted Tyler, though. Everyone does. The man has... an effect on people. 

Today’s the day, apparently. She finally convinced him to do an interview. And to say you’re jealous of how close she’s standing to him would be a laughable understatement. 

Think pregnancy crying is bad? Try the horniness. 

Ugh. 

You can barely glance at a photo of Tyler without creaming your jeans. Just thinking about him twists your stomach into a knot—equal parts guilt and raw, desperate lust. You’ve thought about him way more than you should while touching yourself, and honestly? You don’t even care. 

You’re not sure if it’s because he’s the father of the baby growing inside you or just because you’ve been in love with him for years. Either way, everything is louder now. Sharper. Half the reason you haven’t seen him again is because you’re not entirely sure you could stop yourself from tearing him apart—devouring him the second he’s in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you sigh out loud, feeling that familiar ache low in your belly. 

You need to calm down. 

You shift your focus back to the Word doc on your laptop, trying to let Corey’s high-pitched voice blur into the background as she asks Tyler about the storm they just chased. It’s hard though—because then he speaks. And the second he does, his voice draws your attention like a magnet, sending shivers racing down your spine. 

You’d think after all these years of friendship, you’d be used to him by now. 

“So, Tyler,” Corey says, her bright blue eyes sparkling above a megawatt smile, “now that we’ve completely and totally hashed out that EF2, I think it’s time to move on to some live questions. Mind answering a few from the fans?” 

Tyler nods, the usual charming smirk tugging at his lips. “Bring it on.” 

“Amazing.” Corey flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and holds up her phone. “First question: which tornado wrangler would be most likely to survive a horror movie?” 

Tyler chuckles—low and rich, the kind of sound that somehow wraps around you even through the TV speakers. “Definitely Boone, but not because he’s outsmarted anyone. Just pure dumb luck.” 

Corey giggles, and the sound literally makes you gag. Because pregnancy nausea? Not just limited to tastes and smells. Nope—it’s upgraded to all five senses. 

“Okay, next up,” she says, eyes dropping to her phone screen. “What’s your go-to road trip snack?” 

Tyler starts rubbing his hands together as he answers, but you don’t register the words. You already know his favourite snacks. You’ve been buying them for him for years. Instead, you find yourself watching his hands—his long fingers, the way he laces them together in front of his body. Those fingers you know can find magic inside you. 

Your pulse thrums in your ears—and between your legs. Hot and heavy, making your breath catch in your throat. 

Corey’s pitchy laugh pulls you back. “Noted. I’ll be sure to bring sour worms to our next interview,” she says with a wink. 

Tyler laughs politely and pretends to adjust his belt—something you know he only does when he’s uncomfortable. 

Sucked in, Corey. He doesn’t like you. 

“Alright, I’ve got a slightly more serious one,” she says, tone shifting as she angles herself toward him. “This one’s come in from quite a few people, so I can’t not ask it.” 

Tyler’s brows furrow and he nods once. 

“Obviously, the Tornado Wranglers have welcomed two new members recently—Kate and Javi,” she says, referring to the two you met via video call a couple weeks ago. “But fans have also noticed the absence of one particular chaser. Your partner in crime…” she pauses for dramatic effect. “Will she be back?” 

Your heart crawls into your throat. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes—so routine by now, you don’t even bother blinking them back. 

Tyler shifts uncomfortably and glances at the ground. Then he mutters something the mic doesn’t quite catch. His shoulders go rigid, his jaw clenched as he struggles to find an answer. 

It makes your chest ache. 

“Well—uh,” he clears his throat, “we don’t usually get into personal stuff. We try to keep things focused on the storms. But, um...” His eyes are everywhere but the camera. “We all have personal lives, and sometimes things come up. Unexpected things. But in short… yes. She’ll be back. We’re not sure when, but she will be.” 

The confidence in his voice rips a sob from your chest. You push your laptop off your stomach and sit up, arms wrapping protectively around the little bump low in your belly. To say you feel guilty about this whole thing is a gross understatement. You feel wretched. Each day you wake up knowing you’ll find another excuse not to call Tyler, and each day you inch closer to hating yourself for it. 

You need to stop being such a coward and just do it. He has every right to know what’s going on—not just because he’s the father, but because he’s your best friend. These last two months have been the longest you’ve ever gone without seeing him since you joined the chasers nearly a decade ago. And the distance—physical and emotional—is chipping away at both of you. 

You swipe the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes and reach for your phone. Opening your chat with Tyler, you scroll through the brief exchange from a couple days ago about an EF3 they’d been chasing. You start typing a message—trying to ask when you can see him without sounding too obvious. 

But then Corey’s voice cuts through the room, snagging your attention again. “So, the fans want to know,” she says, “what’s next? What comes after storm chasing? Do you see yourself going back to school to become a qualified meteorologist—or maybe settling down? Starting a family?” 

Your breath catches in your throat. Your chest tightening until your lungs ache. 

Tyler scoffs. “There’s an after chasing?” he says, the words stabbing into you like pins into a voodoo doll. “Chasing is it for me. I’ve worked too hard to get here, doing what I love. Nothing’s going to stop me—at least not until I’m too old to drive my truck. And even then,” he laughs, “I’ll find someone else to drive me into the eye of the storm.” 

Corey giggles and tips her head, teasing. “So no dreams of settling down? No wife and kids someday?” 

Your heart slams against your ribs. Heat and nausea roll over you in waves. 

“No,” Tyler says. “I just don’t see that for myself. Nothing feels as important to me as this—the storms, the research. Especially now, with Kate—she’s incredible—and Javi on the team, we’re doing real work in the name of science. I never want to stop. A family just doesn’t fit into that. It’s not what I want.” 

The words hit like a gut punch, knocking the breath clean out of you. 

“That’s not to say I won’t have a wife one day,” he adds. “If I find someone who loves this as much as I do, then maybe. But kids? No. I know myself too well—I’d resent anyone who took me away from what I really love. Which is chasing.” 

You bolt from the couch and rush into the bathroom, dropping to your knees in front of the toilet just in time to hurl up an unsettling amount of croutons. Tears blur your vision, and all you can hear is the pounding of your own pulse in your ears—and Tyler’s voice echoing in your head. 

It’s not what I want. 

- 

Your hands shake as you slide the mouse across the screen, clicking the answer button on the Skype call request. When Lily’s grinning face pops up—just Lily—you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh my goodness, hi,” she says, leaning toward the camera. “You look... different. Like, good, but different. How do you look different from last week?” 

You let out a soft laugh and roll your eyes, one arm resting on the kitchen counter where the laptop is propped, the other hung protectively across your stomach below the counter. You’re perched on the single barstool you picked up from a second-hand store last weekend, specifically for your weekly video calls with Lily. The couch wasn’t cutting it anymore, and you can’t exactly lie on your belly on the bed these days. 

“Maybe I’ve been abducted by aliens and what you’re seeing now is just a bad clone,” you tease, deflecting. 

She snorts. “Well, that would make sense, since that’s the only thing I can think of that would keep the girl I know away from chasing. Like, seriously. It’s been three months. Please tell me you’re coming back soon.” 

You sigh, eyes darting to the notepad where you’ve scribbled your pre-planned excuses—not trusting yourself to think clearly on the fly. 

“I’m sorry, Lils. I thought I’d be back by now too, but with everything going on with the family—it’s just been so stressful. And... I went to the doctor the other day. They think I could have a stress-induced stomach ulcer. I’m on meds, and I feel okay, but it needs to be monitored.” 

Until you give birth to it… 

Lily’s brow creases. “What? Seriously?” 

You nod slowly, avoiding her big brown eyes on the screen. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not too serious—it’s manageable. I just need to, uh... stay here and keep things steady for a while.” 

“Can we visit, then?” she asks. “Everyone misses you so much.” 

“And I miss you guys too,” you say quickly. “But don’t come all this way for me. Keep chasing—it’s the season. Besides, it’s kind of boring over here. I’m just resting and helping out with family stuff. If you could actually help, I’d say get over here, but there’s really nothing to do except mope around.” 

She nods slowly, still looking a little unconvinced, but mostly reassured. 

“Besides, I need you to keep sending me updates so I can live vicariously,” you add, trying to lift the mood. “How was yesterday’s chase?” 

Her face lights up, and she launches into a detailed rundown of what they got up to. You try to stay focused, to really listen, but she keeps mentioning Kate’s name beside Tyler’s, and your thoughts start spiralling. 

You’ve met Kate and Javi—the new wranglers—a couple of times now via video call. They seem lovely and super smart. You hadn’t thought much of it. Until last night. 

You’d stupidly decided to watch one of Boone’s Instagram live videos—one where he and Tyler recapped the day over beers in a motel parking lot. You thought it might help ease the ache in your chest from missing them, but instead it twisted something sharp and jealous low in your gut. 

Kate had been there too, sitting beside Tyler, who wore a dopey grin and kept glancing at her like she was magnetic. They were clearly comfortable with each other—she even rested her hand on his knee once or twice as she answered some of Boone’s questions about the science side of things. Tyler didn’t adjust his belt. He didn’t shift awkwardly or look away. 

He looked at her like she belonged there. 

The jealousy that coursed through you had been instant and overwhelming. You’ve dealt with your fair share of Tyler’s girlfriends and hookups, but you’ve never seen him look at someone like that. Never once worried that maybe he’d find someone who didn’t just make him forget you—but replace you entirely. 

It’s your biggest insecurity, one you hate even admitting to yourself... Tyler doesn’t need you as much as you need him. 

“But anyway,” Lily says, her voice dragging you back to reality, “we were thinking of taking a break for a week or so. Maybe head somewhere quiet, less full of chasers. I think Tyler needs it—he’s been super stressed lately.” 

“At least he has Kate,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I—I mean, she sounds really great and helpful. Just what Tyler needs.” 

Lily’s eyes narrow. “Yeah... she’s cool, but...” She tips her head and sighs. “You know he misses you like crazy? I’m pretty sure he’s not sleeping, and he’s always talking about coming to find you. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to keep him at bay.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to sound casual while swallowing down another wave of emotion. “I’m sure Tyler’s doing just fine. He always said I was a liability, so technically he should be way less stressed without me around.” 

She gives you a flat, unimpressed look. “You better be joking, because I’ve never seen Tyler this wound up before.” 

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest—small and fragile, but impossible to ignore. Maybe... just maybe... this whole fucked-up situation is still salvageable. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lily says before you can respond. 

You watch as she shuffles off the motel bed she’d been lying on and disappears out of frame. Your pulse quickens at the sound of a deep, muffled voice and approaching footsteps. For a split second, you consider ending the call—blaming it on bad reception or something—but it’s already too late. 

The video shakes as Lily picks up her laptop and spins it toward Tyler. “Look who it is!” she announces. 

He looks pale, the lines in his face more defined than you remember, but his eyes still sparkle the same. “Hey,” he says, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “You look... different.” 

You blink quickly to stop the moisture welling in your eyes—internally cursing the hormones, even though you know they’re not the only ones to blame. 

You haven’t actually spoken to Tyler in almost two weeks. You mostly text, dodge his calls with excuses, and only agree to video chats with Lily or Dani. Tyler knows you too well—and you’re starting to look different. He’ll know something is off. 

“She’s sick,” Lily says before you can answer. 

“Sick?” Tyler repeats, his smile fading. “Sick how?” 

You shake your head, swallowing hard against the emotion rising in your throat. “I’m fine, really. Might be a stomach ulcer, but it’s mild and I’m already on meds. I just need a bit of rest.” 

“We can come visit,” Tyler offers quickly, his green eyes full of concern that makes your stomach turn. “We were planning to take some time off soon, and we could-” 

“No,” you cut in, your voice cracking. “Seriously, don’t. I’m okay. And there’s still stuff going on with the family. I just told Lily—if there were anything you could do, I’d say come help. But there’s not.” 

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, then hesitates. His eyes flick across the screen, studying your face, your posture, the way you’re nervously chewing your lip. He’s probably already clocked that the background behind you isn’t your mom’s house. 

“Don’t worry, Tyler,” Lily says with a smile, trying to ease the tension. “She’ll be back soon. She can’t stay away much longer—the chase is calling.” She looks at you with a playful grin. “Or we’ll come kidnap you.” 

You let out a shaky laugh. “I know you will.” 

“How’s your mom?” Tyler asks suddenly, leaning closer to the camera. 

Yeah. He’s definitely trying to figure out where you are. He’s been in every room of your mom’s place—he knows this background doesn’t match. 

“She’s alright,” you say, shifting closer to the laptop to fill more of the frame. “Still a little fragile, so it’s good I’m here. But she’s doing well.” 

He opens his mouth again, eyes narrowing slightly—keen and searching. 

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “I should go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

Lily nods, oblivious to Tyler’s suspicion. “Love you,” she says. 

“Love you too, Lils,” you reply, before your gaze flicks toward Tyler’s frowning face. “You too, Ty. Stay safe out there.” 

Then you move the mouse and hit the red button, sighing out a breath of relief as the call drops. 

- 

The next four weeks are brutal—worse than the twelve before them combined. You’re creeping up on the six-month mark, which means the third trimester isn’t far off. Your belly has officially popped—there’s no hiding it now unless you borrow your mom’s retro maternity parka—and you’re out of breath more often than not. All you want to do is sleep, eat, and cry over the fact that your closest grocery store just stopped stocking your favourite juice flavour. 

But that’s not the hardest part. 

The hardest part is Tyler—he’s relentless, and you’re pretty sure he’s rallying the rest of the crew too. The messages haven’t let up, and now he’s started calling at random times during the day. He asks about your mom, your family, your ‘stomach ulcer’. And everyone else is pestering you to come back to chasing, even just for a week, because they miss you like hell. 

You feel like a total piece of shit. 

You’re running out of excuses, and you’ve deflected for as long as you can. You’ve tried over and over to come up with a version of the truth that doesn’t make you sound like the villain. But no matter how you spin it, you’re still the asshole who kept a massive secret from the people who are practically your family. They’re going to find out soon—you’re already on borrowed time—and you know you have to tell them before Tyler shows up pounding on your mom’s front door. 

The only thing you’re still absolutely certain about is this: you’re not telling Tyler he’s the father. 

On the surface, it makes you look like a terrible person, but every time you imagine telling him... you hear his words again. And you know you just can’t. 

It’s not what he wants. It would ruin everything. He’d resent you. 

You can’t do that to him. You don’t expect anything from him, and you’re more than ready to do this on your own. In fact, at this point, you’d prefer it. You made the decision to keep the baby—this is on you. All Tyler did was break a condom and fuck you more thoroughly than anyone else ever has. He didn’t sign up for consequences. And for him... there doesn’t have to be any. 

So you’ll tell them it was a one-night stand—technically true. That the father travels for work, and you gave him an out—also true. 

Now you just have to hope the baby doesn’t come out looking like a carbon copy of Tyler Owens. 

Not that you’re even sure the crew will be around to see much of the baby. You’re doing this solo for a reason—you don’t want to weigh anyone down. No matter how they react when you tell them, you’re not letting them give up chasing. That’s their life, and this choice? This was yours. 

So, yeah, you’re going to tell them. But after that... you have no clue. You might never see them again, now that you’re settling down. Or maybe they’ll pop in once or twice a year. You don’t know. 

The only thing you’re sure of right now is that you’re having this baby—and surprisingly, that’s more than enough. 

“She’s perfect,” the doctor says, handing you the sonogram. “What made you want to find out the sex?” 

You stare down at the little black and white image. Twenty-two weeks exactly. You’re more than halfway there. 

“I don’t know,” you reply. “Thought maybe I should get to know my new roommate a little better.” 

The doctor laughs softly but doesn’t press further. She types something into the computer, then jots a note on a scrap piece of paper—her recommendation for the heartburn you mentioned earlier. After a few more routine questions, she offers a kind smile and a dismissive nod. You thank her and step out. 

Her office is just around the block from your apartment, so you chose to walk today. The sun is warm, the sky is blue, and—for the first time in a while—you’re feeling a little less weighed down. 

You’ve also decided that today’s the day you’ll message Tyler to ask where they are and see if you can meet up soon. You’ve practiced your story in the mirror more times than you can count, and you’ve run it past both your mom and your therapist—the latter was less thrilled about the lying, but you’re ignoring that part. All that’s left now is to show up and break the news gently. Although, your belly will probably do that for you the moment they see you. 

Strangely, you feel at peace today—despite the whirlwind of the past few weeks. You woke up clear-headed, even a little hopeful. Like if you can grow an entire human, you can handle anything. 

You try not to overanalyse the sudden shift—your moods have been a rollercoaster lately—and you’re especially trying not to compare it to the weather before a storm. But that’s exactly what it feels like. 

Everything is calm. Still. The sun is out, and there’s no wind. But you know better than to trust this kind of stillness. 

It’s the calm before the storm. 

You shake your head and take a deep breath, refocusing on your route from the doctor’s office to the grocery store. It’s still early—barely nine a.m.—and you’ve got a craving for the sugary cereal you ran out of days ago. 

The sun is warm enough that you have to shrug off your sweater the moment you step inside the store. It’s blissfully quiet—no crowded aisles, no screaming kids, and no one crashing their cart like it’s a demolition derby. 

You sling your sweater over one shoulder and head toward the breakfast aisle, one hand resting on your belly as the baby wriggles—still too small for proper kicks, but very much there. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you scan the shelves, eyes flitting across the bright, colourful cereal boxes. 

You really should start thinking of names. You haven’t even made a list. 

You grab the box you came for and continue toward the end of the aisle, already thinking about swinging past the bakery section. But just as you round the corner, a voice stops you in your tracks. 

“Holy shit.” 

You know that voice. You know it too well. 

You almost don’t want to look—but your head turns before you can stop it. And sure enough, there’s Tyler, looking downright sinful in a tight white T-shirt and faded Wrangler jeans. He’s wearing a cap, backwards, and it’s making your hormones riot. You could devour him right here in the middle of the store. But not only would that be wildly inappropriate... you’re pretty sure he’s gone into shock. 

He looks pale—too pale. Frozen. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out. He looks like a fish out of water. And judging by the expression on his face, he probably feels like one too. 

“Oh my God,” you say, instinctively shifting the cereal box in front of your belly. “Tyler.” 

You want to launch yourself at him, to throw your arms around his neck. You want to hug him, kiss him, get lost in him the way you’ve been craving for months. But the way he’s staring... you’re not even sure he recognises you. 

“W-What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice shaky and weirdly high-pitched. “Are the others here too?” 

Panic overtakes you now, shoving the longing and hormones down into your gut and replacing them with a fresh wave of anxiety. 

“I—uh,” he clears his throat, blinking hard. “We were just... just passing through.” 

You can feel your heartbeat thumping in your throat. 

Tyler shifts on his feet and clears his throat again. “We got in late last night. I was going to—uh, call you. See where you were, but...” His eyes drop to the cereal box in your hands, like he can see right through it. 

“Wow,” you say, because it’s the only word your brain can summon. “That’s... great. I’d love to see them. Are they-” 

“They’re back at the motel,” he cuts in. 

Slowly, his expression twists—shock giving way to confusion, then something sharper. Anger, maybe. 

There’s a long pause, thick and heavy, before you clear your throat. “Well, maybe we could all catch up? I’m not doing anything this after-” 

“No,” he says, cutting you off again. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. “I mean, yes. They want to see you. But I think I’d like to catch up now.” His tone is harder now, his expression unreadable. “Do you want to grab a coffee—” he hesitates, “or... tea?” 

You rock back on your heels like a kid caught doing something they shouldn’t. “Tea still has caffeine in it,” you mumble. 

He doesn’t even flinch—just pins you with a look. There’s no room to argue. 

“But I could definitely go for a smoothie!” you say too brightly. “There’s a café around the corner, and my apartment’s just the next block over. If you don’t mind... can we go back there? I’ve got ultrasound jelly in my underwear and I really need to pee.” 

His brows draw together. There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—hurt. “You have an apartment?” 

You didn’t expect that to hit hardest, but you see why. As far as Tyler was concerned, you were coming back. You’d only ever been on a break. But hearing you have an apartment here... it tells him something else entirely. 

That you’re not coming back. 

You nod, tears starting to sting at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah... I do.” 

The walk out of the store and around the corner is one of the most painful things you’ve ever endured. You’re already planning to compare it to childbirth when the time comes—but honestly, you’re pretty sure this will still win. 

Tyler’s movements are stiff and deliberate. He keeps a cautious distance, like you’re contagious, and it takes everything in you not to cry right there on the sidewalk. 

Neither of you speaks. You just lead the way, and he follows. At the café, you order a smoothie—nothing else. You feel so nauseous, you're worried you might throw up your baby. Tyler orders a coffee, then steps back to type something on his phone. For a moment, panic grips you—is he telling the others? But no. Tyler’s not like that. He’s probably just letting them know that he got caught up. 

Once your drinks are ready, you head down the street toward your apartment. You don’t bother making conversation, you don’t even point out the ridiculous-looking dog in the window across the street. You just let yourself into the lobby and ride up to the fourth floor. 

Down the hall, you unlock your door and step inside, holding it open for him. 

The look on his face as he enters your space is what finally breaks you. The tears spill over before you can stop them. He looks wrong here—too big for the tiny apartment you’ve made your own. And he looks like you’ve just ripped his heart out and stomped on it. 

You make a beeline for the kitchen, dropping your untouched smoothie on the counter and diving for the tissue box. A sniffle escapes as you swipe at your eyes and nose, followed by a soft, rattling sob. 

“Hey,” Tyler says gently, suddenly at your side, a hand landing on your back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.” 

Of course he’s not. He’s too good. Too decent to treat you the way you probably should be treated—without kindness. 

You clear your throat and look up at him, close enough now that you can smell the familiar scent of his cologne. “You should be,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks. “It’d be easier if you were mad at me.” 

He lets out a humourless chuckle. “I mean, I’m not exactly happy. But why would I be mad?” 

You feel small. Pathetic. Like if the floor cracked open right now, you’d gladly let it swallow you whole. But it doesn’t. 

You force down another sob, blinking hard as you reach for your smoothie and carry it into the living room. You flop down into your favourite corner of the couch and nod for him to follow. 

Then you clear your throat, summoning every ounce of confidence you have left. 

“Okay,” you say. “Here’s the story.” 

You don’t say the truth or what really happened. Because that’s not what you’re about to give him. 

You’ve got a story. And that’s what you’re sticking to. 

“A few weeks after I got back, I went out with some old friends,” you begin, technically not lying. “It was supposed to be a way to blow off some steam after everything with my family... and I missed you guys so much, I thought it would take my mind off things. But I got a little too drunk, and I ended up going home with some guy my friend knew.” There's the lie. “It was stupid and reckless, but... that’s what happened.” 

He winces at your words, his expression unreadable. It looks like hurt, but why would he be hurt by that? Maybe it’s just disappointment. 

You clear your throat and continue, slipping into the rhythm of the story you’ve practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror. “About three weeks later, I found out. I contacted the guy, but he travels for work, so... I gave him an out. I made the decision to keep it, told him I didn’t expect anything from him. So... here we are.” 

The silence hangs thick and heavy between you, suffocating you as you try to breathe through the storm of emotions clawing at your chest. 

“I was going to tell you,” you add, your voice steadier than you feel. “I just couldn’t find the right time. It all felt so messy and rushed, and time kept slipping by. You guys were so busy, and with Kate and Javi... I didn’t want to ruin the high you were on.” 

He doesn’t react at first. Just stares at you—his eyes flicking between your face and your belly. 

Then it hits him. A thousand emotions all at once. Confusion. Hurt. A flicker of anger. Sadness. And finally, he lands back on hurt. 

“You’re going to do it alone?” he asks, tension threading through his words. 

You nod once, steady. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t doubt that. You’ll be amazing. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone.” 

Your heart squeezes. Would he still be saying that if he knew who the guy really was? 

“I won’t be alone,” you say, resting a hand on your stomach. 

His eyes fall to your hand and linger there. You think his bottom lip might wobble, just for a second. But then he looks back up, brow creased. 

“You know we’re all here for you,” he says, voice strained. “We’re not going to let you do this on your own. I know you’re strong, but-” 

“It’s not your problem, Ty,” you cut in quickly, desperate to stop him before the tears start again. “It’s not anyone’s burden but mine—not that it’s a burden. But I was scared to tell you for a reason. I didn’t want you to freak out. I made this choice knowing it would change my life, and mine alone. I know I have support if I need it, but wait for me to ask. Not that I could ask any of you to stop your lives—stop doing what you love. I’d never do that. I’d never ask for more than you’re willing to give. So please believe me when I say... I’m happy about the choice I made. I’m excited to do this by myself. You need to live your life, Ty. Chase those storms. Chase your dreams. I’m good. I’ll be fine.” 

His expression is unreadable—somewhere between pain and disbelief. He just stares at you, silent, like he doesn’t recognize what he’s looking at. Not scared. Just... bewildered. 

The silence stretches, the only sound your uneven, too-loud breathing. 

Then, finally, he whispers, “But it’s not the same without you.” 

You roll your eyes, trying to keep it light. “Don’t be silly, Tyler. You’ve got Kate and Javi now. You probably didn’t even notice I was gone.” You pause. “And Kate seems great. I’m happy for you.” 

No, you’re not. But you’re getting better at lying. 

His gaze snaps from your belly back to your face, eyebrows drawn tight. “Happy for me?” 

You nod, forcing a smile. “Anyway, I really need a shower. That ultrasound goo gets everywhere. Want to catch up later? With the crew?” 

You need him gone. Now. Before you fall apart. 

“I—uh...” He glances around the room, like he’s trying to find an excuse to stay. “Yeah. They’ll want to see you.” 

You nod and head to the kitchen for your bag. “Could you do me a favour?” The guilt is immediate and sharp. How dare you ask anything of him right now? 

He nods. 

“Could you... tell them? Warn them?” You can’t meet his eyes, so you focus on the tear in the knee of his jeans as he approaches. 

“You want me to tell them?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “It’s just... been a lot. And the way you reacted—I don’t think I can take five more of those. If you could just warn them before we meet up... it would help.” 

Straight to hell. That’s where you’re headed. You’ve spent months trying not to burden him—and now this? 

He swallows hard and nods, eyes drifting to something on the counter. “Yeah... okay. I can do that.” 

You exhale, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Thanks, Ty.” 

He picks up the sonogram. “Is this the one from today?” 

“Oh.” As if she knows her dad is seeing her for the first time, your little girl wriggles. “Y-Yeah. That’s today.” 

His mouth twitches into a watery smile. “Can I take a photo? Then I can show the crew.” 

You nod, speechless, watching the way he looks at the picture. If he doesn’t leave soon, you’re going to cry and throw up all over him. 

He snaps the photo and tucks his phone away, gently placing the sonogram back on the counter. 

“You said you weren’t busy this afternoon?” he asks. 

You nod, throat tight. 

“Good. I’m sure they’ll want to see you soon. Maybe dinner? I’ll text you after I talk to them. I bet you know all the good places around here.” 

He’s speaking too fast, his eyes everywhere but your face. He wants out just as badly as you want him out. 

You walk him to the door, trying to smile. It’s pitiful. It feels like everything around you has stopped moving. His eyes are wide, glassy, full of something unfamiliar. But then again, do you even know him anymore? Four months is a long time. 

Before you can say goodbye, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. Holds you like he means it. Like it’s the only thing keeping him together. 

Tears stream down your face, your shoulders shaking. The baby kicks—harder than ever—and you want to blame the pressure of Tyler’s hug. But then you wonder... does she know it’s him? 

The thoughts keep coming, hot and heavy, as your tears soak into the shoulder of his white shirt. 

After what feels like both forever and not long enough, he pulls away. His eyes rimmed with red. 

“I’ll text you,” he says hoarsely, then turns and walks down the hall. 

You shut the door—and collapse to the floor. You stay there for almost an hour. Crying. Thinking. And for the first time, wishing you’d just told him the truth from the start. Back at the gas station. Would it really have been that bad? 

You’re not so sure anymore. Because this? This doesn’t feel like the right thing. 

- Tyler - 

Tyler doesn’t remember how he got back to his truck in the grocery store parking lot. All he knows is that he’s in it now—but he doesn’t have the courage to drive. He doesn’t trust himself. His hands won’t stop shaking, his eyes are burning with tears, and his throat aches. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you: your soft smile, your wide, tearful eyes, and that intrinsic glow—granted by your pregnancy, despite how clearly distressed you’d been. 

He can’t believe you’re pregnant. 

He tried so hard to be understanding, to not blow through you with every emotion that crashed down the moment he saw you. But it was so hard. He wanted to be angry that you didn’t tell him—but he knew he had no right. He didn’t have the right to be upset at all. You were clearly stressed about him finding out—about the crew finding out. 

But why? 

That’s what he can’t figure out. 

Sure, it might not have been planned. It’s going to turn your life upside down. But why wouldn’t you want your friends to know? He knows you’ve rationalised it—told yourself you didn’t want to burden them. But he also knows that you know better than that. Your friends wouldn’t feel burdened. They’d just want to be there for you. 

He just wants to be there for you. 

And as complicated as this whole thing is, it’s confusion that lingers the loudest. He’s confused about how he should feel, and confused about what he does feel. He thought he knew you—but right now, he’s not so sure. You’re still familiar... but different. 

The sharp chime of Tyler’s phone cuts through the silence of the truck cabin. He glances at where he tossed it on the passenger seat, just able to make out the text from Boone: ‘You good?’ 

No. 

He exhales slowly and turns the key, the truck rumbling to life around him. Then he grabs the phone and fires off a quick reply: ‘Be back in 10. Get everyone together for breakfast.’ 

Then he pulls out of the grocery store parking lot and starts rehearsing how he’s going to break the news to the crew. 

An hour later, in a quiet café on the other side of town with two small tables pulled together, Dani leans toward Tyler and blurts, “She’s what?!” 

Dexter chokes on his coffee, spluttering into his napkin, while Lily’s jaw drops mid-chew, revealing a messy mouthful of pancake. 

“She’s pregnant?” Boone asks, his voice calmer than Dani’s, though his eyes are still wide as saucers. 

Kate and Javi exchange a quick, uncertain glance, both clearly unsure how to react to the news that’s left half the crew reeling over their breakfast. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t say anything,” Dani says, her voice tight with offense. 

Lily finally swallows. “So that’s why she’s been avoiding us?” 

Dexter tips his head, eyes narrowing on Tyler. “How far along is she?” 

Tyler shrugs, his stomach twisting with nausea—though he’s not entirely sure why. It’s not like this is his big news. “She said she met the guy a few weeks after getting home. So... she’s probably around four months.” 

“Four months,” Dani echoes. “And she didn’t tell any of us?” 

Kate’s quiet laugh draws every eye to her. She quickly slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbles, wide-eyed. “I just—” She glances at Tyler, then looks around the table. “I mean, can you blame her? Look at how you’re all reacting.” 

Tyler frowns. “What do you mean?” 

Kate sighs and leans back in her chair. “No offense, but you’re all acting like this is about you. If this wasn’t planned—and it doesn’t sound like it was—then she’s probably just scared. Of course she was nervous to tell you guys. She probably knew how you’d react.” 

The group goes quiet then, effectively chastised. And Kate isn’t wrong—Tyler knows that. As someone less emotionally entangled in your situation than the rest of the crew, she can probably see it more clearly. Understand why you did what you did. 

But that doesn’t make Tyler feel any less conflicted. He still feels off. His palms are damp and his stomach won't stop twisting itself into nauseating knots. His heart is beating too fast, sitting high in his throat. And he can’t stop seeing your face—those tearful eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips the moment you saw him again. 

For a fleeting moment, he’d been taken back to that night. The night where everything else blurred except for you. Your flushed face, kiss-bruised mouth, lips parted for him, breathless beneath him. The way you’d whispered his name like a secret, the sounds he drew from you with his hands and mouth, the feel of your skin against his. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about that night… a lot. At first, he tried not to. He couldn’t believe the lines he’d crossed, waking up with you in his arms at three a.m., your bare body pressed to his. He wasn’t even that drunk—just drunk on you. And God, he wanted nothing more than to pull you closer and fall back asleep. But panic had crept in. He had to get out. Had to breathe. 

The next day was awkward—mostly because he couldn’t stop seeing you the way he’d seen you the night before. He wanted to talk, to say something. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk burning down years of friendship for one selfish desire. So after about a week, he cracked a joke. You shot back with something sarcastic, and things felt… almost normal again. 

Until you left. 

And when you did, you took a piece of him with you. A big piece. One he doesn’t know how to get back—or if he even wants it back. 

“Hey.” Kate nudges her knee against Tyler’s. “You good?” 

The rest of the group has slipped into quiet conversation, murmuring among themselves about you and the baby. 

Tyler nods once, eyes fixed on nothing in particular as he fishes his phone from his back pocket. He opens it, pulls up the sonogram picture, and slides it across the table. 

“She had an ultrasound today,” he says, the words tasting like lead on his tongue. 

Lily’s eyes light up as she snatches the phone, gazing at the black-and-white photo. Dani leans over one shoulder, Dexter over the other, and it’s not hard to catch the soft smiles spreading across their faces. 

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to be upset,” Kate says, her voice lowered just for him. “I just think... maybe consider how she’s feeling before you take too much of that out on her.” 

Tyler sighs and scrubs both hands over his face. “I tried to be calm. But it was so fucking hard. She kept crying.” 

Kate exhales a half-laugh. “Yeah, she’s pregnant. Whatever you think you’re feeling, multiply it by a thousand. That’s probably where she’s at.” 

The memory of your tear-streaked face hits him square in the chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He’d felt so useless, even as he held you close. All he wants is to make things better. To go back, find you sooner, and give you everything you’ve needed but never asked for. 

“I just want to help,” Tyler mutters, his voice rough. “She said she’s happy to do it on her own, but... I want to be there.” 

“Then be there,” Kate says, brows furrowed like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “You don’t have to overstep or force your way back in. Just be her friend. Isn’t that what you’ve always been? Just because she thinks things have to change doesn’t mean they do. Show her that.” 

Tyler’s eyes flick to Dani, who now has his phone and is zooming in on the sonogram with an awed expression. 

“But things have changed,” he says, turning back to Kate. 

On her other side, Javi has his phone in front of his nose, but Tyler can tell from his posture that he’s still listening. 

“For her, yeah,” Kate replies. “Her whole world’s flipped. But for you? Not really. So be something that hasn’t changed. Something stable. Something she can still count on.” 

Tyler’s brows draw together, eyes starting to burn again from the now-familiar sting of tears. He knows Kate’s smart—but wise too? Suddenly, he feels like a kid who threw a tantrum he didn’t fully understand. 

“I mean,” Javi chimes in, the straw of his milkshake still at the corner of his mouth, “it’s not like you’re the father.” 

The words hit Tyler harder than they should. They sink into his skin and burn as they draw blood, the pain spreading through his chest. His skin prickles, heat rushes to his face, and his head goes a little light—like the floor’s been yanked out from under him. 

He’s not just angry that you didn’t tell him. Not just upset that you left, that you ran away from the crew with a half-assed excuse. He’s confused, yes—but underneath it all, he’s heartbroken. 

Because it’s not just about you being pregnant. It’s not about the distance, or how much everything suddenly feels so different. It’s the fact that you’re pregnant with someone else’s baby. 

Not his. 

And for the first time, the weight of it truly hits him— 

He wants it to be his. 

“Ouch!” Javi hisses as Kate smacks him on the back of the head. “What was that for?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Not reading the room.” 

“Shit,” Javi mutters, leaning forward past Kate to see Tyler—a very shocked-looking Tyler. “Sorry, man.” 

Tyler tries to shake his head, but it’s slow, almost robotic. “It’s fine,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. 

Kate rests a hand on his knee and leans toward him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

He opens his mouth, but hesitates. He was going to say yes—but that would be a lie. He’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay since you left. 

Kate’s brows draw together, her head tilting slightly. “You’re not, like... just realizing you’re totally in love with her, are you?” 

Tyler’s green gaze snaps to her face, a jolt of electricity running down his spine at hearing those words said out loud. 

“Oh, Tyler...” she sighs, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Wake up.” 

He���s always known he loves you—of course he does. But in love with you? Maybe it should’ve been obvious. He hasn’t felt fully human without you by his side. There’s been a gaping hole in his chest since the day you left—because you took his heart with you. 

It always has been yours. He just never really thought about it that hard. He’s just always known, deep down, from the very beginning, that he belongs to you. 

And he’s always thought of you as his. Never questioned it, even through your crappy boyfriends and his meaningless hookups. Some part of him was sure you’d always come back. That at the end of the day—after the storm—you’d be his again. 

But now? Now some other guy has a claim on you. And he knows it’s selfish. He knows it’s primal. But God, he fucking hates it. 

After breakfast, the crew heads back to the motel. They try to work—and try even harder to pull Tyler out of whatever existential wormhole he’s fallen into—but it’s not easy. He spends most of the day staring into space, half-listening (at best) to anyone who speaks. Eventually, they give up and leave him to it. 

Lily ends up messaging you about dinner, since Tyler’s too dazed to even type a text. You agree to meet at a restaurant downtown, halfway between your place and the crew’s motel. 

“Okay, pal,” Kate sighs as she drops into the lawn chair beside Tyler’s. “You’re starting to worry us.” 

Lily drops into the chair on his other side, braced like she might have to chase him if he bolts. 

“Are you going to be alright tonight?” Kate asks gently. 

Tyler nods—slow, uncertain. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because you’ve been a damn zombie all day,” Lily snaps. “You think acting like this is going to make her feel loved and supported?” 

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, her tone sharp. “The answer is no. So get your shit together.” 

Tyler turns to Kate, frowning. “Why is she being mean to me?” 

Kate rolls her eyes for what feels like the thousandth time today. “Because you’re being a child. So what, you’re in love with your best friend who’s now pregnant with some random guy’s baby? Suck it up. Start acting normal—or you’ll just make her feel worse.” 

Tyler lets out a long, dramatic sigh and tips his head back. “I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can,” Lily says. “Come on—practice talking about baby stuff with us.” 

Kate perks up. “Good idea. Ask us about being pregnant.” 

Tyler slowly lowers his head and gives Kate a flat stare. “This is dumb. I’m not going to make things awkward. I’ll be fine.” 

“Then why have you walked away from every conversation about babies today?” Lily fires back. 

“Just try,” Kate pleads. “Let’s just talk about her, okay? And no deflecting.” 

Tyler groans but doesn’t argue, silently accepting the assignment. 

Kate folds her hands in her lap and leans in like an interviewer. “So, you said she’s got an apartment here—did you see the nursery?” 

“No,” Tyler replies, nausea twisting in his gut. Just thinking about that visit makes him uneasy. “Wasn’t exactly a show-and-tell kind of vibe.” 

Kate sighs. “I get that. But just work with us.” 

“I’ve got one,” Lily chimes in. “Did she say she’s having any weird cravings?” 

Tyler shakes his head. “No.” Then, at her expectant look, he adds, “But she was buying some sugary cereal when I ran into her. I think she told the cashier it was the baby’s favourite breakfast.” 

Lily nods, satisfied. 

Kate clears her throat. “Did she say how far along she is?” 

“Not exactly,” Tyler says. “But from what she did say, I’m guessing around eighteen weeks.” He did the math—counting from the day you left the crew, assuming you met ‘the guy’ maybe three or four weeks later. 

“Nuh-uh,” Lily says, brows pinched as she shakes her head. “She’s twenty-two weeks.” 

Tyler’s heart skips. “What? How do you know?” 

“It’s on the sonogram, stupid.” 

His pulse kicks up, head spinning, hands suddenly numb as he fumbles for his phone. He yanks it from his back pocket and pulls up the image, squinting at the screen. 

Lily sighs and takes it from him, zooming in on the small print in the corner. “See? Twenty-two weeks.” 

Kate says something, but Tyler doesn’t hear her. All he hears is the blood pounding in his ears. Loud. Fast. Deafening. 

Twenty-two weeks. That’s five and a half months. You’ve only been gone four months and three weeks. 

That leaves three weeks. 

Three weeks you were still with the crew. Still with him. 

Somewhere in those three weeks… you got pregnant. 

The world tilts. He blinks, once—twice—but everything stays blurry. The thought barrels through him like a freight train. It doesn’t make sense—shouldn’t make sense—but it does. The timeline. The things you said. The look on your face when you saw him. His stomach drops as the pieces slam into place, sharp and undeniable. 

Holy shit. 

“Tyler,” Kate says, her hand closing over his shoulder. 

Lily frowns again. “You’re supposed to be acting normal, dude. You can’t keep freezing like that.” 

“I have to go,” he mutters, shooting to his feet. 

Kate blinks. “Where?” 

“I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant.” He’s gone before they can respond, feet already pounding the pavement. 

He throws himself into the truck and jams the key in the ignition, peeling out of the motel lot fast enough to make the tires squeal. 

His grip tightens on the steering wheel as the truck barrels down the street, heart pounding like a war drum. The shock is still there, curling cold and sharp in his chest, but the panic has started to harden. Settle. Sharpen. He’s not going to lose it. Not now. If this really adds up—if the impossible is true—then he needs answers. Not anger. He sucks in a breath through his nose, jaw locked tight. 

He’s not going there to yell. He��s going there to hear it. To look you in the eye and make you say it— 

The truth. 

- You - 

You stand in front of your closet with your hands on your hips, trying to figure out what still fits and also looks decent enough for a nice restaurant. You picked a nice place on purpose—you haven’t been out in months. Literally. Most of your friends have been too busy chasing tornadoes while you’ve been stuck in this town, growing a baby. And while you’re not angry about the choices you’ve made, you’re more than a little excited to be getting out for the first time in what feels like forever. 

You’re feeling a lot better than you did a few hours ago. After a solid hour of crying on the floor, you dragged yourself into the shower and stayed there until your fingers pruned. Then you wrapped yourself in two towels, curled up on your bed, and passed out. When you woke up, your phone was full of messages—hearts, check-ins, a few sweet “can’t wait to see you” texts—and you decided that maybe you’d been overreacting. 

Sure, seeing Tyler had been the emotional peak of the last five and a half months, but that’s over now. And yeah, things might still be awkward. A little tense. But the secret’s out, and your story had him convinced—hook, line, and sinker. He was just emotional because he missed you. Because you’re best friends, and this is the longest you’ve ever gone without each other. 

You’d thought about telling him the truth earlier, while curled up on the floor. But once the initial wreckage settled, you remembered why you hadn’t. Just to be sure, you went back and rewatched Corey’s YouTube interview. It still stung—maybe even more than the first time—but it did what it was supposed to: reminded you to stay strong. Because when it comes to Tyler Owens, strength is not your strong suit. 

A knock echoes through the apartment and jolts you into motion. You yank a pair of thick black leggings from the drawer and wrestle into them while shuffling toward your bedroom door, grabbing an oversized knit sweater on the way. 

“Coming!” you call, your voice muffled as you pull the sweater over your head. 

Random visitors aren’t exactly uncommon. Your neighbour Marge likes to accuse you of stealing her newspapers, and you’ve definitely forgotten about more than a few online orders until the delivery driver comes knocking 

You reach the door and tug the sweater down over your bump before pulling it open. 

“Tyler,” you breathe, startled, taking an automatic step back. “You’re—uh—you’re like an hour early.” 

Lily had mentioned he’d be picking you up—something about saving you the cab fare. You hadn’t objected, for obvious reasons, but you’d hoped for at least enough time to do your hair and makeup. 

Still, he looks infuriatingly good. He’s swapped his white tee for a red plaid flannel, the top few buttons undone down to his sternum. His hair’s a tousled mess, like he’s been running his hands through it all day, and he’s holding his cowboy hat in one hand. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “Figured we could catch up some more.” 

Did he drive here? Or run? 

“Um, okay. Sure,” you say, stepping back further. 

He nods as he walks in, kicking off his boots by the door before heading toward the lounge. But he doesn’t sit—he just stands there, stiff and distant, eyes scanning the room like he’s searching for something specific. 

“I was just getting ready,” you say, slipping into the kitchen. “Mind if I do the quick version before we... catch up?” 

He shakes his head and sets his hat on the coffee table, still glancing around like he’s casing the place. 

“Want a drink?” you ask, watching him carefully. 

“I’m good,” he says. 

“Okay,” you mutter, and retreat toward your room. So much for taking your time and enjoying getting ready. 

Maybe he’s just trying to be nice after this morning. Or maybe the others sent him here to smooth things over before they all see you for the first time in over four months—baby bump and all. 

“How far along did you say you were?” Tyler calls, poking his head into your room. 

You jump, dropping the sock you were trying to pull on. “Oh... um, about four-ish months.” 

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t press, just leans in the doorway, quietly taking in the space. 

This can’t be good. 

“When are you due?” he asks. 

“Five-ish months,” you shoot back with a smirk. 

His lip twitches, almost smiling—and it still gets you. That little flicker of him is enough to stir your heart. 

Then he asks, “What did you say the dad’s name was again?” 

You freeze mid-step toward the ensuite. “I didn’t.” 

“Oh...” His nod is slow, satisfied, like he was waiting for that. 

“It’s Todd,” you blurt, turning quickly and disappearing into the bathroom. 

Behind you, he scoffs. “Todd.” 

Yeah, this isn’t good. Tyler’s onto something. What, you don’t know. But you can feel it—he’s circling like a shark, toying with you before he bites. 

“So, when exactly did you find out you were pregnant?” he asks, stepping into view in the mirror behind you. 

The hairs on your neck rise. “About three weeks after I slept with him.” 

His eyes lock on yours in the mirror, steady and sharp as you try to run a comb through your damp hair. 

“What did he say when you told him?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unaffected. “Not much. He was shocked. Asked if I was keeping it, and I said yes. Told him it was fine if he wanted out. He took it.” 

Tyler shifts, raising one arm to lean against the doorframe. He’s filling the small bathroom doorway with his body—and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad his shoulders are, how strong his arms are, remembering the way he’d thrown you around that night... 

The memory slams into you, heat creeping between your thighs. You shift, pressing your legs together. 

He notices. That tiny smirk returning as he leans in a little more, boxing you in. 

“Bit strange, don’t you think?” he says, voice low. “Knowing you’re having a kid and not wanting anything to do with it. Sounds like a dirtbag move.” 

Anger slices through your chest. “Yeah, well. Some people just don’t see themselves settling down.” 

The words are out before you realise—they're his words, from the interview. 

His eyes narrow. “Who said anything about settling down? Kids don’t ruin lives.” 

You scoff, avoiding his gaze. “No, they just stop you from pursuing your dreams.” 

Another quote. Damn that interview. Damn you for watching it again. But the way he’s interrogating you is pissing you off. What right does he have? He’s the one who told the world he’d resent anyone who gave him a kid. 

And here he is, acting like he cares. 

A heavy breath hangs in the air as you trade your hairbrush for a makeup brush, leaning closer to the mirror. Tyler’s eyes stay locked on you—intense, unwavering, a little too focused. 

Then his voice slices clean through the silence. 

“Why didn’t you use birth control?” 

White-hot fury flares up your spine, lighting your cheeks on fire as you spin to face him. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t recoil. He just stands there with that same infuriating glint in his eye—smug, steady, unreadable. His posture is so relaxed it makes your skin crawl, like he didn’t just drop a live grenade into the middle of your lie. 

“You know I’m not on birth control,” you snap, your voice low and trembling with rage. “And the condom. Fucking. Broke.” 

The second it’s out of your mouth, you want to drag it back in. You could’ve said anything else—something careless, something wild, something stupid. But instead, you gave him truth wrapped in a lie—and now the whole thing is starting to crack. 

“That so?” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Crazy how that happened... twice in a row.” 

Your jaw clenches. “Clearly I need to buy a new box of condoms.” 

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh and leans in closer, eyes glittering. “That was my condom that broke.” 

Your breath comes faster now, chest tight, nerves sparking under your skin like live wires. You can’t even remember the lie you rehearsed. Your heart’s thundering, the baby is moving restlessly in your belly—like she feels your panic. Like she knows. 

“Maybe you and Todd use the same damn brand,” you mutter, spinning back toward the vanity and gripping the edge like it might hold you steady. 

“You just said you need to buy a new box,” he presses, relentless. “Does Todd leave his condoms here?” 

You grit your teeth, drop your chin, and breathe in through your nose. “Jesus, Tyler. I’m sorry I don’t remember every single detail.” 

You hear him shift. Feel the heat of him behind you. Too close. 

“You wanna know what I think?” he asks, voice low and dangerous. 

You turn, slowly, heart in your throat. He’s so close now your belly nearly brushes his belt and you have to press against the vanity for space. 

You meet his eyes. “What do you think, Tyler?” 

He tilts his head, just slightly. “I think you remember the night you got pregnant like it just happened. I think it’s carved into your brain. And I think you’re tripping over your story right now because you can’t forget what it felt like. Because it was so damn good, you don’t want to forget it.” 

Panic coils in your chest like a gathering storm—rising fast, twisting tight, pushing a tangled mess of guilt and frustration up your throat. Your breath catches on it, your lungs stuck somewhere between inhale and breakdown. And then it spills over. Tears blur your vision before you can even try to blink them back, heavy and hot as they streak down your cheeks—weighted with remorse and something close to desperation. 

Tyler is frozen in place, wide-eyed and still, his lips parted like he’s trying to speak but the words won’t come. You can see the regret flicker there—he hadn’t meant to be cruel, not like that. But it doesn’t matter. Whatever version of the truth he’s starting to piece together... he’s probably right. 

And still, you can’t say it. Not yet. 

Instead, you swipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater and slip past him, your shoulder brushing his arm as you squeeze out of the bathroom. You cross the room on shaky legs and drop onto the bed, curling in on yourself as a raw sob breaks free and rattles from your chest. You bury your face in your hands, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. 

Tyler doesn’t move at first. The silence stretches and settles around you, thick and stifling. But then comes the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his feet as he steps closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like he’s approaching a wounded animal. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low and rough, like he’s choking on his own emotion. “That was too harsh.” 

You don’t look up. Not yet. You can’t. 

“I didn’t mean to come at you like that,” he continues, voice gentler now. “I got caught up—and I guess I’ve been walking around with all this shit in my chest. Then I saw you again, and it just... it all hit me. I’ve been pretending I’m fine, like it didn’t gut me when you left. But it did. You took more of me with you than I ever realised.” 

Your fingers shift, just enough to peek through them—and there he is, kneeling beside the bed, one hand resting near your thigh but not quite touching. His eyes search yours, glassy with emotion he’s clearly trying to hold back. 

“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I did before all of this—before you left, before... the baby. I’ve always loved you. That night wasn’t a mistake. And honestly? I wasn’t even that drunk. I just—needed you. I still do. I need you more than anything.” 

You swallow hard. 

“But not more than you need the chase,” you mutter, tears spilling again. “Right? Because that’s it for you. That’s the dream, and you’ve worked too damn hard to give it up.” 

He blinks. Confused. Then his brows furrow as recognition dawns. You can see it hit him—he remembers. 

You let out a shaky breath and slide your hand over his. “I don’t want you to resent me, Ty. I don’t want you to give up what you love. You’ve got an out.” 

His eyes widen, locking onto yours like he’s just now realising what you’re trying to say. 

“You can still walk away,” you whisper. 

He stares at you, frozen—like your words knocked the air clean out of his lungs. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out. His brows knit tighter, his hand shifting beneath yours. 

Then, after a beat, he whispers, “Are you serious?” 

You don’t answer. You can’t. You just look at him, eyes brimming, heart thundering in your chest like it’s trying to burst out and reach for him itself. 

His throat works around a swallow. Then he says it—low and broken and burning. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” His voice cracks. “I fucking love you. More than anything. More than storms and chasing and everything I’ve ever been stupid enough to think mattered more. That interview... it was bullshit. I wasn’t thinking—I wasn’t thinking about you. Because with you, I want all of it.” 

Then he moves. 

There’s no breath between the words and the moment he surges forward—like he’s been holding himself back for years and finally snapped. His mouth crashes into yours, hot and searing, all teeth and desperation and need. One hand tangles in your hair, the other pulls you toward him with a grip that says he’s never letting go again. 

It steals your breath. Steals your thoughts. Your hands fist in his shirt as you kiss him back just as fiercely, matching the fire with one that’s been simmering in your chest since the day you left. 

There’s nothing soft about it. It’s raw and reckless and messy, and it tastes like every unsaid word, every sleepless night, every broken piece finally slamming back into place. 

It feels like the truth. 

Between frantic kisses, you whisper against his lips, “I love you.” 

You feel his mouth curve into a smile before he murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” 

The kisses slow, soften—his tongue sweeping against yours with aching intention, like he’s trying to memorise every inch of you, every breath. The hand tangled in your hair slides down to cradle your neck, while the other one drifts to your waist, settling gently against the curve of your swollen belly. 

Then the baby kicks—hard. Harder than she ever has. You both jolt. 

“Shit,” you whisper, hands flying to your stomach. “Sorry.” 

Tyler stares, completely still. He looks unfairly beautiful like this—flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, wide, glassy eyes locked on your belly. He looks like he’s just witnessed something holy. Something impossible. 

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, eyes flicking up to yours. 

You shrug, brushing your damp cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater. “She doesn’t usually kick that hard. I guess she’s getting stronger.” 

His eyes shimmer. “She?” 

You nod, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “Yeah. We’re having a baby girl.” 

His bottom lip trembles, a small, stunned smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We?” 

A shaky laugh bubbles up as fresh tears spill down your cheeks. “Yes, Tyler. She’s yours.” 

His tears fall freely now, trailing down his flushed cheeks, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He just looks at you like you’ve hung the moon—just for him. 

“I’m yours too,” you whisper, voice trembling. “We’re all yours.” 

Then he’s kissing you again—wet and messy and full of everything you’ve both been carrying for months. You’re crying, he’s crying, but neither of you care. You just hold on—breathing hard, laughing softly—lips meeting again and again as you both sink into the familiar shape of each other… into home. 

END.

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 6 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel and Y/n are idiots in obsession and perfectly matched in lust.

Warnings: Azriel & specs, Azriel's chest, delusional Azriel, smut towards the end, minors please stay away.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel was always an early riser. He would wake up at five in the morning religiously. The only exceptions were when he’d visit his mother or his two moronic friends. 

Today, however, was an exception because he had woken up at. . . what time was it? 

He felt quite refreshed but in many other ways than what sleep could do to him. 

He blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. 

Why was it still dark? Had he slept through the entire day? 

Azriel took his phone from the nightstand and checked. Midnight had just passed. 

He kept his phone back and turned to the side and saw a silhouette under the light of the moon. A woman. 

Azriel took his phone back and switched on the flashlight. It was a woman. Her back, to be more specific, but a woman nonetheless. 

He quickly sat up straight. 

He had to bleach himself. 

Out of what insanity or desperation had he invited a woman into this apartment? 

This apartment that he’d purchased solely for attaining his goal of making Y/n his?

He had to buy a new apartment now. 

Or a new building.

Wait. 

He had to go purify himself first. 

And then he could only hope and beg and pray that Y/n would still accept his adulterous self. 

Y/n, I have committed an unforgivable sin. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. 

Now, what did people do to cleanse their sins?

Repentance. But before he could do a Google search on how to regain his virginity, the woman beside him stirred. 

Azriel didn’t even want to know who it was. Knowing would make it even more real. 

He had to go to a temple, shave his head, and become a monk for a while before he became chaste enough for Y/n. 

What if Y/n saw this woman leave his apartment? She’d instantly reject him as a potential husband. The horror of it made it increasingly difficult for him to breathe.

How did people repent for infidelity? He had to know immediately. He had to make Y/n his and be hers in this lifetime. 

Maybe he should just go over to her apartment and beg for forgiveness already. Azriel could already see himself kneeling and apologising and begging Y/n to marry him.

He took a quick look behind him to see the woman’s face. 

Y/n. 

Y/n?

This beautiful goddess with the lovely figure was Y/n?

Was she real? Or just a figment of the uncountable number of fantasies and dreams he’d had of his woman? He calmed down a little. 

Azriel hesitantly poked her cheek. Fuck, she was so adorable. 

And then he pinched his cheek and pulled it until he felt the pain. 

Oh. She was real. 

Y/n was real. 

He nearly melted into the bed, now watching her carefully. 

Thank fuck he hadn’t cheated on her lest his conscious haunt him forever and beyond. 

Memories of the previous night flashes before him. Kissing her. Undressing her. Devouring her on the dining table. 

Fuck, fuck, that pretty mouth had been so good for him, taking his cock so well. And he’d tasted her again and then, he’d found himself inside her. 

How was it that he’d lost himself to this world again and again, only to find himself with Y/n? Was this what home meant? 

Her hair spread behind her in soft dark waves. Such lovely hair. So easy to grab and pull so that he could manoeuvre her body. 

Azriel dared to move closer to this ethereal being. And as if she’d sensed him, she snuggled closer to him, as if she was seeking him out. 

He checked whether they were wrapped properly in the blankets and watched her. Her legs were pushing and poking his own, trying to be sandwiched between them. 

His hand on her back felt like a dream. Such supple skin.

She was so beautiful, he had to tell his mother of his intention to marry her. 

He felt his brain become mushy as he watched her. 

His perfect Y/n. 

Such brilliance. 

Such a blessing. 

His phone began vibrating and Azriel suddenly felt murderous. 

Who the fuck thought they would interrupt his time with his woman and get away with it?

It was Rhysand. 

Of course, it was Rhysand. 

The asshole had no consideration about the time difference ever since he was hell bent on acquiring Hewn Inc. 

Azriel’s Umbra Industries and Rhys’s Velaris Corp. were all set to acquire Hewn Inc. and they were mapping out all their plans for its future. 

The acquisition was on its way with their lawyers working on it but when Rhys had an idea (which was usually a brilliant one), he also made it a point to be a menace. 

He cancelled the call and texted him. His arm was already missing Y/n’s skin from when it was draped over her. 

Why did he have to hold a device when Y/n was sleeping next to him? This was utterly ridiculous.

Rhysand’s reply was interesting enough that he left the bed, took out his laptop, and returned. Now, he was absolutely determined to get this done before he could return to holding Y/n. 

And if the sun rose before he could get in a good amount of cuddling time, he’d definitely thrash Rhys.

****

Y/n had woken up feeling rather refreshed. Her body turned and stretched on the bed itself before she properly opened her eyes and. . . where was she?

This wasn’t her fluffy furry blanket on her. The windows bringing the moonlight were on the wrong side of the room. There was another source of light in the room coming from the other side of the bed.

She turned around and saw a toned body lit up by the screen of a laptop. 

That body, inked in swirls and patterns unknown, belonged to Azriel. 

She looked up at that face and found him wearing glasses. 

So, overall, logically speaking, her neighbour, this man, had nice abs, tattoos, tanned skin, a perfect face, curly dark hair, and glasses.

Y/n buried her face under the sheets quickly, knowing that the movement would definitely catch his attention. 

Because she couldn’t look at him for too long. 

She’d faint. 

Of course, she’d faint. 

Why was this man so ridiculously, otherworldly, erotically, fictionally hot?

This should be illegal.

But when she realised that he hadn’t initiated a talk with her, she shyly took a peek. Only to see Azriel’s face close to hers. 

Y/n squealed as she hid under the blankets again. 

He was still wearing glasses. So unfair. 

“Y/n?” What was with that bedroom voice? 

Was this man determined to not let her breathe in peace? 

Could he take a break from being so hot?

“Sweetheart?” Somebody, have some mercy already. Lord or Lady or Satan, somebody better help her soon else she’d die of bliss and fuck off to the afterlife. 

Nesta. 

Nesta. 

The only one who could help Y/n right now was Nesta. That woman could manipulate men whereas Y/n was definitely the opposite if anyone could see her right now. 

And what the fuck was that world-rocking, toe-curling, mindblowing sex?

Did anybody warn her that her endlessly handsome neighbour, with a build as if the devil had personally sculpted him, was going to be some kind of a sex god? 

The man had literally picked her up like she’d weighed nothing and thrown her on the bed. 

He’d thrown her. 

The goddess of dark romance and smut had finally, finally, answered her prayers and blessed her. 

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank–

“Y/n?” While she was busy with her gratitude, Azriel had pulled off the blankets from her. 

She looked up at him, embarrassed at her own behaviour. “Hi?” 

“Hello.” And he wrapped the blanket over her excluding her head. He was now laying sideways, resting his head on his hand with the elbow propped up. “Why were you hiding?”

“Nothing.” And she moved to turn her body but Azriel grabbed her waist, pulled her closer, and secured her. 

“Nothing?” Why was his delicious chest in front of her? She shut her eyes tightly to control herself. Do not lick. No matter what happens, do not lick his chest. 

Y/n felt him closer as he laid down properly, his arm now extended and placed beneath her head. The other hand played with her love handles, gently pinching and poking them. 

“Sweetheart?” His voice was sincere and affectionate and Y/n couldn’t help but look at him. Under the moonlight, Azriel looked like he adored her the most in the world. “There’s my girl.” 

The hand on her waist trailed up to her side, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast before the hand came to cradle her head. Azriel leaned in and kissed her forehead softly. 

Once again, Y/n felt a veil fall on her. She didn’t understand what it was except that she felt immensely comforted. “Az?” 

“Hm?” He stroked her hair. 

“Mhm.” Y/n snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. “You’re so warm.” Yes. Focus on the warmth and fluffy things. Cleanse thyself from filth. 

“You like that?” Y/n had read this line in a smutty romance. Jesus had probably abandoned her after seeing her reading list. 

“Mhm.” She snuggled deeper against him. A few minutes of contented silence passed before Y/n realised why she’d woken up. “Az?”

“Hm?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh?” Y/n could hear the filth in his tone and she pinched his arm. 

“For food.” She added, hoping to heavens because she definitely needed more energy before even kissing him. 

Azriel kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw, and descended to her neck. “Sure I can’t convince you otherwise?” 

“I really don’t have the energy. And I didn’t have anything after lunch.” At that Azriel stopped his attempts at seduction.

“What do you want to eat?” He sounded quite serious. 

“Do you have some snacks?”

“You’re a healthy eater, sweetheart. Will snacks be enough?” It wouldn’t. He knew her eating habits by now. 

“Cooking sounds tiresome.” She caressed his cheek. Gods, this man was so warm, she’d keep him as a personal heater. 

“Then let me take you somewhere.” 

“To that place you said earlier?” He did mention that right after they’d started kissing against her front door. 

“You paid attention to that?” The hand that snaked around her waist did not have any innocent intentions.

“Food, Az. Or I might faint.” Y/n desperately wanted to ride this man while he wore specs. Gods, that was a wonderful fantasy. 

“When we return, I’m having you all to myself.” Azriel grumbled, not liking the idea of being away from their cuddling session. 

Who was she to say anything when she was least interested in leaving bed where he was keeping her warm?

Once they’d somehow escaped the temptation of a warm bed, Azriel told her to dress warm and borrow his clothes as needed. 

He grabbed his keys and they were in the car, en route to some place her hot neighbour did not divulge. 

They reached a quaint fast food outlet from where they had burgers and fries and finally moved. 

****

“Tell me we’re going home.” Home? Gods, he loved hearing her say that. Home. What a beautiful place to be. But he was already home since she was next to him. 

“Not yet. I wanted to show you something.”

“Those mouthwatering burgers weren’t it?”

“I planned to bring you there anyway but this is something else.” They were headed towards the outskirts of the city. At some point, Y/n had fallen asleep. 

Such an adorable woman. He really needed to marry her. 

They’d reached their destination soon. He stepped out of the car, opened the door to the passenger seat, and gently shook her to wake her up. 

“Y/n? Sweetheart?” And she mumbled something incoherent and weakly pushed his arm away. He tried again and again and again before she finally woke up. 

“Az?” It was the softest he’d ever heard her. Now, how difficult was it to get a marriage certificate? It was certainly not difficult but Y/n and his mother would team up to kill him if he tried that. 

“We‘re here.” And it was a viewpoint in the outskirts of the city from where the city and the stars were an incredible sight. He watched Y/n as she admired them, awe on her features. 

“They’re so pretty.” She sighed, her head against his arm. “When did you find this place?”

“I went on a midnight drive a couple of days ago. Thought you’d like it.” 

“I do like it.” She affirmed. Azriel noted that. He needed to tell his PA to search for properties in the area. They leaned against the bonnet of the car for all of five minutes maybe before Y/n yawned loudly. 

“Let’s go back.” 

“But we came all the way here.” She protested sleepily. 

“And you’re sleepy. We need to rest. We’ll come back another night.” 

“Promise?” She was so fucking adorable.

“Promise.” He pinched her cheek. 

Azriel helped her settle in the passenger seat before entering the car himself. Y/n had once again fallen asleep on the way home. 

He had to wake her again since it would’ve been difficult to carry her and punch in the security code for the building and then open his door. 

During the elevator ride up, she stretched her arms like a cat waking up from sleep. By the time they reached their floor, Y/n was more awake than she was downstairs. 

They made it to the bedroom and Azriel knew they would undress. He knew they would go to bed. And yet, as she removed his jacket, he was consumed with need. 

If he removed his pants right now, he’d lose restraint and definitely beg for another round. He watched as she gathered her hair and secured it with a hair clip, claw, whatever that was. 

And she then removed the shirt he’d lent her for the night. It was one of his favourites but it looked so much better on her. Y/n gracefully removed it, giving him a spectacular view of her back and neck. 

The purple blots on her neck felt like his personal branding on her. Pride bloomed as he noted those hickeys. Those hands deftly unclasped her bra and she turned to keep the clothes on the chair. 

And Azriel, being the man that he was, was a goner as soon as he caught sight of those plentiful breasts. He was hard. And with good reason. 

And then, Y/n saw him staring shamelessly at her. She raised a brow. “What?” 

The plan was to reach the bed. 

The plan was to cuddle and sleep. 

The plan was no more. 

The new plan was to get her naked and fuck her silly. “Don’t seduce me if you’re not going to do anything about it, Y/n.” 

How stupid did he sound? She was undressing. Just as he knew she would. She wasn’t even fully naked and he was already aroused. The bulge on his pants was enough proof of his lust and shamelessness. 

Y/n was tired. Or was she? Since she’d been stretching in the elevator. But her gaze right now. As she watched him and her own eyes mirrored his desire. “Or what?” 

It was a challenge. 

Maybe his woman was not so sleepy after all. 

Her nipples were already hard and ready for his mouth and Azriel was looking nowhere else.

He marched over, a hand rising to her throat and the other playing with her breast, fingers pinching her nipple. “How about we see if you keep behaving like a brat once I’ve edged you for some time?” 

“Or shall I go to bed and you can take care of that in the bathroom?” She touched his hand on her throat and brought it to her cheek and leaned into his touch. 

Oh fuck. 

That confidence of hers did things to his belly, all of which shot straight to his cock. 

“And you’ll just sleep?”

“Maybe I’ll take care of myself here while you’ll be occupied with your cock.” 

“Really?.” Azriel lifted her and carried her to bed. He removed her jeans swiftly and sat right next to her. “Should I come on your tits?” Azriel kissed her, moving so that he was hovering over her. He moved to suck on her nipple and remained there for a while. 

“Or on your belly?” He kissed right above the pelvic bone. Her hands scratching his neck and back was a wonderful sensation. With that much, he was ready to fuck her. 

Azriel moved to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. “Or inside that pretty pussy?”

“Are you going to wear all that to bed?” She lazily asked, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. His clothes were cold against her topless body. 

“No. I think I like being naked around you.” He responded with a playful smile. 

“Then, strip.” It was at this moment that Azriel once again realised that he was entirely fucked. 

He thought he was wholly hers from the moment he saw her but there were more parts of him. Parts that submitted to her when they kissed. 

When he ate her out. 

When she touched his cock for the first time. 

When he thrusted into that warm cunt. 

Every single time, a new part of him he didn’t know about became hers. “You’re making this hard for me.” 

“Your cock is hard for me?” She coyly rephrased and shot back, a sultry smile gracing her lips.

**** 

The way she wanted this man to rail her hard—it was honestly not funny. At this point, Nesta would be more proud of her sexual enthusiasm than Azriel.

“Yes, it is. And what a fucking temptation you are.” He grabbed her throat and kissed her. It was heavenly—the feel of his mouth pressing wet kisses to her neck.

She caught hold of his hair and let her nails through the scalp as Azriel brought some relief to her nipples with his mouth. 

For all her hunger, Azriel gave and gave and Y/n really wanted more and more. She sighed. “Az.”

“I know.” He growled. Frustration didn’t even begin to cover this. 

Azriel brought her leg above his and slowly thrusted into her, eliciting a moan. Her body curved, neck exposed for his mouth. 

“Now, sleep.” Wait. What?

He pressed a wet kiss to her throat. 

“Can’t sleep.” It felt so warm. And now that his cock was inside her, she couldn’t help her need. 

“It’s the only relief.” He kissed her shoulder.

“It’s not.” She whimpered. It was torture not to be fucked by that perfect cock. “Please.” 

“Like that?” Azriel thrusted once. 

“Oh yes.” And he thrusted again. The slow thrusts began, pace never faltering. Y/n was feeling more and more and she wanted to take more. 

“Dirty girl. I thought you were tired.” Azriel was now setting a slow, steady pace. 

“I thought that too.” She sighed. “Az!” She nearly shrieked his name when he sped up for a few seconds. “Wait.” 

Azriel paused, examining her face. “What happened?”

Y/n bent her leg and pushed herself up so she was now straddling Azriel. 

“Fuck me.” He sighed, hands coming to her hips.

Y/n felt her sensuality bloom. It felt good to know her effect on him. To know she had control. She rose and descended on his cock twice. “Like this?”

She then rotated her hips and rose and descended. “Or like this?” 

Azriel’s eyes were shut tightly, grip on her hips tightening. “Fuck.” 

This was liberating. To be sexually empowered. Especially when Azriel made his pleasure known, thereby making her feel like she was good. She felt wonderful. And she felt beautiful and sensual and so many things.

“Or like this?” And she willed herself to clench on his cock. 

Azriel opened his eyes instantly and moaned—moaned. 

Pride zapped her in the chest. To know that she could pleasure her man and find pleasure in it was such an empowering feeling.

And when she loosened her hold on him, he pulled her by the hand and let her fall on his chest. “My dirty girl.” 

Azriel bit her ear and Y/n felt him move his legs. His thighs moved and her face was suddenly pushed closer to his. “Az?”

“Prepare yourself.” That was the only warning she received before Azriel thrusted into her like that. He was now rigorously thrusting inside. 

Y/n then realised that he’d planted his feet on the bed for this position. She lifted her neck, floating high above the clouds in pleasure, waiting to fall and shatter. 

She couldn’t control her sounds. Whether it was a man or sigh or a groan, neither of them cared. She loved that both her and Azriel made their pleasure known and loud. 

Her head fell against his shoulder, incoherent cries leaving her as she tried to beg Azriel. She didn’t even know if she wanted him to stop or continue. 

Everything felt too good. The feel of his skin against hers. The sweat. The sounds. The hurried kisses. The grip on her hips. Being on top. And most of all—his cock. 

The harsh slapping of wet skin against skin contributed to her pleasure, reminding her again and again exactly what was happening. With a lewd moan, she found her pleasure.  

Azriel continued his unrelenting thrusts, his grip tightening as he came. He began stroking her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. “My perfect girl.” 

They laid there in silence before Y/n began shivering. She was on top of him with no blanket covering her and the cold was getting to her. Goosebumps rose and she shivered before Azriel came out of his post-orgasm haze and realised what was happening. 

He immediately pulled the blanket over them, ensuring she was covered and she snuggled against him like a cat. 

Gods, she’d keep this man. 

Not just because she had real feelings for him or because the sex was fucking fantastic but because he was a great source of warmth. 

The warmth was a cosy feeling but his body in general was quite like a pavement. So once she gained her strength, Y/n moved to the side, choosing to settle there, curled against Azriel. He turned and caged her in his arms.

“What are you doing to me?” Azriel whispered against her ear. 

Y/n looked him in the eye and replied. “Probably whatever it is that you’re doing to me.”

****

Taglist:

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Baking

Hardersson x Toddler!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You make farm cookies

"No! No! Wait-"

You giggle, smashing your hand into the bowl of baking ingredients.

The flour puffs up into a cloud of white at the impact and the eggs squelch under your hand.

You laugh hysterically, a wide smile splitting your face open.

Magda had only turned around for a second to grab your sippy cup but you'd already taken control of the bowl, rubbing your hand all over the ingredients, delighting in the way that it felt under your little fingers.

Magda sighs, grabbing some kitchen towel and wiping the muck off your hand.

Only to forget that you have another hand to do the exact same with.

"No-"

You don't listen, slamming your second hand into the mixture and more vigorously moving it around.

"Why don't you listen to me?" Magda laments as she plucks you from your kitchen stool and makes her way towards the sink. She tickles your tummy. "What is it about me, huh? You listen to Momma."

"Momma!" You cheer, head whipping around to look at the door like Pernille's about to walk through it.

"She's at a match right now, princesse," Magda reminds you," Which is why we're here making her cookies to come home to. Remember? Cookies for Momma?"

"Cookie!" You repeat as Magda washes your hands clean of any remaining mixture.

"Yes, that's right. Chocolate chip cookies for Momma." She snags your sippy cup, pressing it to your lips until you take it yourself and start drinking.

"Cookie," You say, nodding and Magda returns you to your stool.

She hands you a spoon.

"And now we mix," She says.

You slam the spoon into the bowl and hit it aggressively against the sides.

"Gently," Magda reminds you, standing behind your stool and wrapping her hand around yours to guide your movements," We're making these with love, remember?"

"Love! Love for Momma!"

"That's right! Love for Momma."

Getting you to be gentle is easy enough with Magda helping you and you seem delighted by the cookie cutters Magda has bought for just this moment.

"And this is a duck!" She explains to you, holding the cutter up for you to see," And what do ducks say? Do you know?"

You do know.

Momma read you a duck book yesterday.

"Quack! Duck say quack! Quack! Quack!"

"Very good," Magda praises you warmly," Now, do we want to give Momma a duck cookie?"

You cut out a duck cookie.

"And this one is a sheep. What do sheep say?"

"Sheep go baa! Baa! Baa!"

Cutting out all the cookies takes a while because this pack of cutters contain almost every farm animal Magda can think of and she's adamant about you learning what each one is and how they sound.

You both got a little stuck on what the alpaca sounds like so a quick Google search later, you were both grunting and humming and growling at each other while Magda put the cookies in the oven.

Pernille returns home on a high, two goals and an assist and a win for Wolfsburg.

"Something smells nice!" She calls as she enters the house, hanging up her coat and placing her shoes so they're lined up between Magda's and yours.

You come skidding towards her, a little slippy in your elephant socks on the wooden floor.

"Momma!" You cheer, hugging her legs tightly and kissing every inch of her you can manage.

"My Princesse," Pernille coos, raising you up into her arms," Did you have fun today?"

Usually, Pernille would take you to the game to watch but you had been a little bit tired when you woke up this morning so Magda had offered to forego the game entirely to watch you.

"Cookies!" You answer, smacking big wet kisses on Pernille's cheek," Cookies for Momma! With love!"

"You made cookies for me?" Pernille asks," With love?"

You nod.

"Made with lots of love," Magda says, coming into view with a plate of warm cookies," Princesse did all the work herself."

"All the work?"

"Well, I helped a little."

"Is a duck cookie!" You say, plucking it from the plate," Duck goes quack! Quack! Quack!"

"Oh, wow," Pernille says," You're right! Ducks do go quack!"

"Duck, quack! Sheep, baa! Cow, moo!"

"Did you make farmyard cookies?" Pernille asks and you nod.

"Like farms! We go to farm?"

Pernille grins. "Well, let me eat up all these delicious cookies you made for me and then we'll have a look at going to a farm together."

[haechanhues]

Felt Cute, Might Realise I Fucked Up Later

pairing : husband!wonwoo x gender-neutral!reader

genre : established relationship. very lighthearted angst. crack. wonwoo is clumsy (protecc)

warnings : wonwoo is a loser but we love the kind he is. a bit suggestive at one part but otherwise quite clean. not proofread nor edited. gender neutral but i apologise if there's anything referring gender or such.

summary : working man comes home to work on his relationship.

1:00pm / 13:00

On an early finish kind of work day Wonwoo is ecstatic

He comes home and he feels the sun beaming on him in a way he feels like he's heaven's favourite

He's all smiles

He checks all the rooms, calling your name excitedly, already making plans for what the two of you can do now that you're both free

Only

You're not there

There's no note - but why would there be?

But that's not what drags his smile into down to his chin

It's the plant

It's alive

Meaning : not dead

Meaning : too alive

That's when he knows he fucked up

5:00pm / 17:00

When he finishes work, he takes a deep breath

He stops by the flower shop

Picking out all the flowers that look pretty

Wonwoo cursing himself because he doesn't remember your favourite flowers

Wants to kick himself to the curb

(Even though you don't think you even have a favourite)

(Flowers are just pretty, that's all)

He asks for the meanings of the flowers because he's come to discover from a quick search on Google that even flowers have meanings

But it seems the pollen is making his allergies act up

He wasn't even aware there was allergies to be careful of

Has he seriously not gotten you flowers ever?

The florist withholds the comments she wants to make in order to tease him

But she appreciates that a man is making an effort in his relationship

He pays for them with his eyes a little bloodshot and discharge begging to come out

He takes a sniff

Hoping that the bouquet he got for you is the exception to the rule

But

At yet another sneeze he holds the flower bouquet away from his face

Shit

He's practically crying as he opens the door to your shared apartment, getting ahold of himself enough to surprise you with them with a massive smile on his face

The grin he receives is worth it

You take the bouquet, brushing your hand with his and he feels a little in love with you all over again

Twiddling fingers kind of love

Then he ruins it by sneezing

And sneezing

And sneezing until he needs a whole pile of tissues in every room and the poor bouquet in the balcony nobody uses instead of the kitchen where he intended

And when you make the decision to just throw them out, finding that it isn't worth it

You kiss him

But it feels like a mother kissing a sulking child when you do it

7:00pm / 19:00

At dinner he tries not to let the awkwardness get to him

He's really enjoying this meal you made

He also feels like he's falling for you all over again

A roast dinner is like a new haven for him

It's so fucking good

The only thing is he tried to help you

And he's really not good at it

He almost seasoned the vegetables with sugar instead of salt

He almost dropped the lamb when it came out of the oven

He made messy cuts all throughout the meat so badly it's not instagram worthy in the slightest

No angles

Absolutely none

He's unsure why you're keeping quiet

He saw the look of complete distaste and embarrassment on your face as he did all these things within the comforts of your own home

God forbid he do that in public

What if you never say yes to a date outside ever again?

That scratches out every plan he ever made in order for your forgiveness

He's not even sure what he did either

It's just

The plant is still alive

Too alive

11:00pm / 23:00

He's confident

He knows he can make you happy with a couple of his body parts

But ever since the plant

He's starting to doubt himself

Is his dick big?

Is it too small?

Just 'average' size

Have you compared it to your exes before?

Or worse HIS FRIENDS?

What if you're put off but you refuse to say something

"Wonwoo, are you finished in the bathroom?"

Please don't be angry

He comes out of the bathroom with his glasses all fogged up and he's surprised you're not put off

You smile and take off his glasses

And by the end of the night and the early morning

You're not the only one that was focused on

In fact

Your body parts and your words made him very happy too

All he can do is hope you had a good time also

2:00am / 2:00

Wonwoo winces as he comes home

Really

It had been a long day at work and he couldn't escape it

But he really fucked up

Because he sees the cake

Already cut

Unevenly

As if to spite him

'Oh i am so dead'

He thinks

All the presents that most likely surrounded you when so many people were over all out of the wrapping

You on the bed turned over

Oh he's so fucked

'Congratulations!'

After he promised you he'd be home as well

5:00am / 5:00

He really can't sleep

He really can't

He's got half a mind to come to your bedside with his tail tucked in between his legs

Pouting because he keeps fucking up no matter what he does

But he swears an oath not to get grumpy at you tomorrow

You didn't do anything wrong

(Not like HE did)

He just gets grumpy in the mornings when he hasn't slept

And that's exactly what he's afraid of when he sees the time

And sees that he's got exactly 1 hour and 14 minutes worth of good sleep before he has to get ready for work

Fuck

But he's got ideas now and no matter how he looks at it

They all look plausible

7:00am / 7:00

You're awoken to the feeling of Wonwoo pawing at your shoulder

Like a child

You wake up

A total dream

Crust in your eyes

Morning breath

Croaky ass voice

"What?"

Ooh that didn't sound nice either

+ Cranky attitude

"Oh shit, sorry sorry."

Wonwoo has his phone in his hand and cursing to the moon and back

Shit

How could he forget you're not a morning person?

"Go to sleep, I'm sorry, love you."

And you forgive him quickly and quietly

Flopping back onto the bed sheets

10:00am / 10:00

Now that it's a suitable hour

You're awake (he made sure)

You weren't tired (he made sure)

You were in a good mood (he hoped so)

He's at home again

With flowers

In his business attire

He went to work 2 hours ago and told his boss that he needs to make up for being a shit husband

His boss luckily understood

Well

Most of it

Wonwoo was stuttering the whole time

But he trusts Wonwoo - he's a very good employee, good at his job.

Amazing at it in fact.

You just hate how you never see him

"I've realised I fucked up. I'm at work all the time. I'm sorry. If I made you feel like you mattered second to me. You don't. I'm just sorry."

"How have you realised that?"

"The plant."

"The plant?"

"It's alive."

You start giggling

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Honey, I'm bored but not that bored. My friend comes around to water it for me, she's appalled by the state of the plants in here."

....

"Oh."

"But I'm glad you're realising something."

author's note : loser wonwoo my fave genre.

[georgiapeach30513]

I Can See You

Summary:  Steve was new to this modern world.  And trying to figure out the technology and all he wanted was home.  Looking up 1940s women, he wasn’t prepared for what he sees.  You. Feeding into his every fantasy, and then some. It becomes an obsession a need to see you everyday. To have you everyday. To keep you. Every. Day. In his bed. Just where you belong

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Cam Girl!Reader

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, online sex work, cam girl, masturbation, toy play, butt plug, squirting, licking, kidnapping, obsession, dark, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2K 

Steve Rogers Masterlist

“You should date,” Steve turns to look towards Natasha, glowering at her.  “What?  Dating is normal.  What do you have against dating?”

“Dating is different now than it was when…never mind you wouldn’t understand,” he goes to stand, but Natasha pulls at his arm, “What?”

“I get it.  The women now aren’t like the women in the 1940s, but is that a bad thing?  Look, Google is your friend.  I’m sure there’s someone out there who believes in your weird standards for women.  Guess what, Steve?  Some even wear the clothes, too.  Google is your friend.”

Google is your friend.  A sentiment that was running through Steve’s mind the rest of the day.  Google is a friend.  Was a friend?  How could a search engine be a friend?  How could he find anything that was remotely close to the 1940s in modern times.  How could he ever find someone that held his values, and how would he know?

Settling in at home, his eyes scan over the stupid phone.  Who needed a phone that could do anything more than call people.  But there was a Google on there.  Women of today weren’t hideous creatures, but there was something in the ones that he had met.  They weren’t…exactly what he was looking for.  Too eager and leaving nothing to the imagination.

Google is your friend, but it was just a stupid machine.  Nothing ever made sense in this time.  People had taken something simple and made it nonsensically more difficult.  And for what reason?  But there the phone sits, and if Google was a friend, how could it help Steve?

What could a machine possibly do for Steve? How could it help his need to get out some frustrations? Things weren’t the same, and they definitely didn’t look the same. But he was told Google had archived photos. And videos…

Reaching quickly to the phone, but only because he was bored, and everyone needed to get off from time to time. His fingers search for the buttons he’s looking for before he hits search. Anticipating it would take much longer than the instant gratification of women upon women, and then a short clip.  Legs that were covered in hosiery, and a quick squat of the woman.  Her skirt flares up, exposing her bum to Steve.

He watches that clip way too many times before clicking on it.  Taking him straight to your website.  Pictures of you dressed in the most beautiful 1940s frocks, and posing with the prettiest smile and brightest red lips.  Unfairly there are some photos with strategically placed blocks over your body.  A button demands him to click it, and there’s even more photos.

Still these photos are annoyingly blocked out, but adding a credit card he would have access to remove them.  Steve sets his phone down, taking a deep breath.  His cock was pressing hard against his pants at just the tease of your body.  He knew what he was going to get.  You.  Every part of you.  Playing into his every fantasy while you whimpered his name.

Standing up, he awkwardly paces his living room.  He wants to see it all.  It was like you catered to just him.  What could thirty dollars a month hurt.  He would get to wake up to see you.  Go to bed stroking his cock.  It wouldn’t hurt.  It wouldn't be a distraction.  This is what he needed.

He doesn’t hesitate to put in his credit card information, and he hears the sound of your voice, “Welcome, Soldier,” why did that sound so sexy?  Not even knowing what some of the buttons mean, he just wants to look at you.  You are a dirty girl.  Showing every part of yourself, and watching you ride a red dildo while your tits bounce around has him quaking where he sits.

A ping in the corner of his phone makes him lose focus, ‘Thanks for the payment.  What would you like me to call you?’

He couldn’t let people know that America’s golden boy was watching fetish porn, and a very specific fetish of a 1940s housewife.  ‘Captain.’

‘Hey, Captain, are you new around here?’

‘Yes.  Brand new.’

‘Aww, for new subscribers I always give them a private video.  What would you like to see, Captain?  Whatever it is you want.  For your eyes only.’

‘How often do I get private videos?’

‘First one is free.’

‘I want one every morning and evening.’

‘Oh, Captain, you are a naughty boy,’ Steve’s cock trembles at your words.  He just wishes he could hear your voice.  ‘I tell you what Captain, let me do the first one, and you can decide after if you want to continue our private little conversations.  How does that sound, big boy?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘Are you hard right now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to see my pussy?  I can show you what toys I have.’

‘Okay,’ he takes a deep breath as his chat turns into a live video feed, and there your pretty face was.  Giving him a quick wave before turning the camera to your treasure trove of toys.

“Which will it be, Captain?  Can I turn your mic on so I can hear you?  I get off to men with pretty sounds?” Responding with a yes, you turn on his mic, letting him look at every toy.  They were all shapes, but one particularly caught his eyes.  

“That one,” it wasn’t a genius to figure out which one he was talking about.  The red white and blue one.  With a name like Captain, he seemed to have a bit of a Captain America kink.

“I have something else that matches,” you sweetly tell him.  Moving over to something Steve had early heard about.  A pretty little butt plug with his shield on the end.  “You want to see me stuffed fully, Captain?”

“I would like that,” his voice cracks, and you realize just how innocent he is to this brand of porn.

“Is it because you like sharing your dames?” Steve groans out yes as you position the phone on a tripod.  “Who would you share me with?”

“A friend.  He…he’d get your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You ask as you stuff the plug into your ass.  You were sure he’d love seeing you ready for him.  Coming back into frame, you place the dildo on the floor, and turn to look at him.  “What would you like your doll to do, Captain?” Finger in your mouth, you playfully tease him.  

He would love to take his time and watch you more carefully, but his cock is angry and in desperate need of release.  “I want to see…see you…I want,” the sweet boy was struggling with what he wanted to view.  Stuttering, and unable to vocalize exactly what it was he needed.

“You want me to slowly,” you undo each button carefully.  Steve didn’t want slow.  Steve wanted to fuck you.  This would work for now.  But…

“No.  Not slow.  Put…I want to see the shield.”

“Of course you do, Captain,” it was like the angels parted the clouds, and there was heaven right in your tits.  Taking off your bra, you give your nipples a little pinch before walking over to the toy.  

“Don’t wait,” he mutters as you move to your knees.  He tries to pretend it's his cock you’re grabbing as you sink over the cock.  It wasn’t the perfect view, but he sees that red, white, and blue cock split you open.  A little glimpse of that shield in your ass.  

Hands in front of you, you lean forward, and there it was.  That shield in your ass.  “Fuck yourself.  And turn back to look at me,” peeking over your shoulder you give him a sly grin.  Moving over the toy.

“I hear you, Captain.  How good does my pussy feel?”

“So good,” he grunts out, pumping his fist around his cock.  Why had he neglected to do this for so long.  “My pussy.”

“Yes, Captain.  This pussy is all yours.”

“Mine.”

“It’s so warm, and wet, and…how tight is your pussy?”

It’d be tighter once he had someone to stuff your ass.  Get to watch you come over two cocks, while you beg for him to pet you.  “Oh, Captain, you feel so good.”

He’d feel better if that was his actual cock.  “Captain, you’re so deep.”

That cock was nothing to Steve’s size.  He would make you have tears in your eyes as you took every bit of his length and girth.  “Captain, I love the way you feel when you’re in my stomach. You’re so deep,” you give a smirk to the camera as your juices spill onto the floor.

“Oops,” giggling.  The giggles.  The mess.  “I made such a mess for you, Captain.  You got me so wet.”

“Yeah.  Go harder.  Make your Captain proud,” your ass cheeks recoil as you bounce fast.  Stretched out so pretty, and still spurting your mess into the floor.  He’d have to spank you for being such a sloppy little slut.  Make you watch Bucky’s tongue lap up all your mess.  

Your cream coats that dildo, and he knows you are capable of so much more.  “Captain!”

“Don’t you dare stop,” he growls, choking on his cock.  He was almost there.  Could practically feel your walls clench around him.

“Captain!”

“I know.  Be a good girl, and come,” you scream out as euphoria shoots down to your nether regions.  Wishing that he could choke you in that moment.  There weren't too many things you hadn’t experienced in this line of work.  But there was this demanding quality to this Captain.  

“Now, be good for Captain, and clean up your mess.  With your tongue,” you want to scream.  That is the hottest shit you have ever heard.  Demanding that you clean up your own mess.  “I’d have someone help you.”

“You want someone to come play with me?”

“Yeah, but they’ll leave.  You have to let your Captain take care of you.”

“And Captain always takes the best care with his pussy, too.”

“Mine,” he lets the word roll off his tongue, while you licks up your arousal.  His.  All.  His.

——

Opening up your apartment door, you stand at the entrance for far too long.  There were roses on the table.  A dozen roses from the looks of it.  Steve was becoming steadily more needy.  Wanting to monopolize your time so you couldn’t find new clients.  It was fine at first, until he became too obsessive.

Playful possession had turned into something he in fact demanded.  You look down the hallway of your complex, unsure if you wanted to go in.  This was a job that was for extra money, and Steve had made it clear he demanded you and wanted you when he wanted it.  And now the roses.

Of course those roses could be from anyone, but you knew they weren’t. They were in your fucking apartment.  They were only from one person.  Him.  Captain.  The hall was too quiet.  Just as quiet as your home.  It was like you were the only one in the room.  In the building.

“Steve?” You ask, taking a step back into the hall.  An unfamiliar smell is surrounding you.  Clean.  Fresh.  It was him.  

“Steve?” You tremble.  Ready to bolt.  Anywhere but here.  You had to cut him off.  The money wasn’t even that good.  He had lost his mind.

“Steve?” Yelping when arms wrap around your waist, but his hand covers your mouth gently.  Pressing his nose to your neck, he inhales deeply.  

“Honey, I’m home.  And I expect you to say my name properly.  I can’t have you available to any other men.  Your site has been taken down.  Your apartment will be swept.  All those toys trashed, because you have the real Captain now.  It’ll be like you never existed.  Your new life starts today.  And I’ll make sure you are the perfect housewife for me.  Bear my children, and live to serve me.  Now, be a good girl, and thank your Captain for rescuing you.”

His hand is now wet from the tears that spill onto him, and you try and shake your head no.  “Say, thank you, my Captain.”

“Thank you, my Captain,” you sound like a scared mouse.  And he knows it.  With one  maniacal chuckle he starts dragging you down the hallway.  No one will ever remember you.  No one will ever rescue you.  You are now his.  And he has no intention of letting you go.

Now…thank him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​ @harrysthiccthighss​

[nerdykorgi]

QUICK YAP SESH: Location of Gravesfield from The Owl House

so uhm, while I am finishing the rest other art things I did decide at like 3 am to find the supposed "actual" location of Gravesfield. At least, what town would most likely be Gravesfield if it were real.

I used a lot of info from the wiki and that cool official Gravesfield Website Mock-Up that John Bailey Owen posted. (this thing in case no one knows what im talking about)

Anyways to get started, here's this poorly done thing i made in google draw lol, hopefully you can actually read some of it oof. Its color coded to the info below:

Firstly, I do find it interesting how Conneticut was actually the FIRST colony with a relatively large witch panic in the American colonies, happening 40 years before the infamous Salem Witch Trials.

To start off I think the most poorly backed-up possibility is Hamden.

The reason im suggesting Hamden is because it is Dana's hometown and she said she has taken a lot of major inspiration from it. Like churches and graveyards.

However, the reason I'm not drawn to it is because not only was it founded 1786, way over a decade Gravesfield was said to be founded, I also couldn't find too much about Hamden having Witch trials, but if they did it definitely wasn't as big as Wethersfield's or Hartford.

Now I'm basically stuck between Litchfield and Wethersfield.

Litchfield:

Litchfield I was drawn to because of its name really. It means Field of Corpses and that's basically the same thing as Gravesfield lol. On top of that, it also holds the county seat of Litchfield County, something Gravesfield supposedly is as well. (In modern day context of course.)

Also Gravesfield was said to be along Conneticut Route 109, putting right along either Washington pr Litchfield (which J. B. Owen said was probably false on the Washington part but at the same time he uses an image of Washington's river as stated below)

The thing is though, like Hamden it wasnt founded until the 18th century, and there was no witch trial things that i could find. :/

Which then led me to Wethersfield:

Now Wethersfield is WAY more appropriate in both time, setting, and history. Wethersfield was one of the first colonies to be pop-up around the correct time for the Wittebane brothers to arrive in Connecticut. Wethersfield was founded in 1633-34 and Gravesfield in 1635 (Mind the brothers were said to arrive in 1613 I think it was, either this was a continuity error or they were among the very first settlers in Gravesfield.)

Random but it was also called Watertowne before it was changed to Wethersfield.

Anyways, In the Mock-up website we can see at the top, a banner picture of a winding river. Now i did google search this image and it is actually Washington Ct, womp womp, but I think it could actually be pointing to another more prominent river in Connecticut and that's the actual Connecticut River, which Wethersfield is conveniently placed right next to.

Now lets look at a map of Wethersfield:

river, check check, and HOLY SHIT THAT COULD BE THE FLOODED GRAVEYARD LOL (where i circled) Sadly, Its not actually, but it shows how similiar the geography possibly is.

I think last and most importantly however is the fact that Wethersfield is known to have some of the earliest of the witch trials in Connecticut at the time. (There were 9 documented accusations and only 3 executions, one of which was a woman who openly admitted to using to witch craft, Mary Johnson, and a married couple name Joan and John Carrington.) This goes very well with the whole Witch Hunting thing.

Lastly I think the cherry on top would be that they both just look incredibly similar lol:

Also fun fact, If the Wittebane brothers did actually arrive in 1613~ they would have been among the Dutch settlers rather than the British, whom were the ones to found Wethersfield. Take that information how you will but I am certainly going to make some kind of headcannon out of it lol

Anyways more art soon once i actually finish it, but please, Let me know your guy's thoughts :D !

[killerplink]

Dick Grayson loves to fuck you until you cry. I'm not talking watery eyes or a tear or two. I'm talking fully sobbing, fully babbling, fully whimpering, fully and completely wrecked off his dick. Loves the salty tears, the snot and drool loves each broken moan, and especially loves fucking you through it. And then, when it's all done, he loves holding you and petting your hair and soothing a hand down your back while you cry and babble. It's nothing in particular, you're just a crybaby crying about how much you love him, how good it felt, and just crying because it's what you do during sex. It freaked him ALLLL the way out the first time, killed the mood and everything, he thought he'd hurt you. It had never happened to you before because you'd never orgasmed so hard during sex with other guys, so you were equally confused but only mildly concerned. A quick Google search said it was kinda common and it's just due to all the feel good hormones being released and the body not knowing what else to do but to cry about it. And alas, the Dick Grayson: Crybaby Whisperer was born. Now he gages how good the sex was by how hard you're sobbing and shaking in his arms. If the pillow isn't totally soaked through, he hasn't don't his job right lol.

OMG YES!!! 😭 this is so him, and you're so right for this. like, the first time it happened? he was SPIRALING ✋🏻fully sitting there, wide eyed, holding you like "did I—are you hurt? did I do something??" and you're just a sniffling puddle trying to go "no, it was s'good, I love you so much" between hiccups and he's like 🧍🏻‍♂️ buffering...

but now? now this man is cockily measuring success by how hard you're crying 😭 smug as hell afterwards while rubbing your back like "aww, baby. that good, huh?" kissing your temple like that's my girl while you're still recovering and leaking tears onto the pillow 😩

"Dick Grayson: Crybaby Whisperer" is the perfect job title for him. he takes it so seriously too 😭 has tissues, water, and a freshly laundered cuddle blanket ready like he's running a luxury crying spa after blowing your back out lmao 😭

[respectthepetty]

Why I react when GMMTV acquires more BL Boys like Pokemon

TLWR: GMMTV is bigger than we think

For the people in the room who don't understand why some of us (aka ME) get concerned every time a new artist is announced at GMMTV, let me explain myself (and capitalism) to you.

I'm talking to you.

Yes, you. No, don't roll your eyes. *gently holds your face in my hands* Look at my face. I'm serious. Look me in my eyes. I understand that you think I'm overacting and being ridiculous, but I want you to know why I keep harping on this. And I'll try to make it quick. I promise.

Remember this scene from Jack & Joker when the rich people were playing a version of Monopoly? And Jack asked if they were "just playing with people's lives"?

That's capitalism.

So what does that have to do with a Thai talent agency?

Well, it's becoming a monopoly. Amazon and Google are considered monopolies. Legally. They have been sued for it. You might think that there is no way a Thai company worth millions is on the same level as two American companies that are worth trillions (yes, trillions), but Amazon and Google didn't start that way.

And neither did The ONE Enterprise which is the parent company of GMMTV, One31, Change2561, and a subsidiary of GMM Grammy (which at one point Nadao Bangkok was under it), plus countless other companies like Parbdee Tawesuk, Atime Media, and Exact.

Google started off as a search engine. Now we have Chromebooks, Google phones, Google software, Google maps, Google shopping, Gmail, and so much more like it owning YouTube. But there are still other companies that have search engines, so no big deal! We can just use those. But the reason Google was sued as a monopoly by the Department of Justice (and won) was because Google makes it very hard to use those other search engines since everything else it owns only allows us to use Google products. Therefore, there is no competition simply because Google has enough power to control what we, as the consumer, see.

But this didn't start overnight.

A lot of other companies who produce Thai QLs exist, just like all those other search engines still exist, but The ONE Enterprise produces the most QLs through its various branch companies. But not only do those companies produce them, they contract other smaller companies like Studio Commuan, Dee Hup House, Trasher Bangkok, Hard Feeling Film, and many more, which is normal, but that means at any given time, at least ~65-75% of the QLs from Thailand are from one company. But, but, but, The ONE Enterprise's channels also sells slots to other companies, so their QLs can be watched on GMM and other channels. And, remember, this enterprise has only existed in this form since 2022.

So in two years, that enterprise has gone from being behind maybe less than half of the QLs to having a hand in at around two-thirds of them if not more, which doesn't include the fact that the actors in those QLs also have concerts, music contracts, and so much more.

Also, the companies with the largest profits in Thailand are from the finance (banking), real estates (hotel), tech, and medical sectors. Yet GMM Grammy is the ONLY entertainment company in the top 250 from Thailand. That doesn't include the other parts of the conglomerate.

I know I'm throwing a lot around and it seems disconnected because I'm trying to not make this too long, but know this, if The ONE Enterprise already has a hand in, at the lowest estimate, 60% of all QLs made in Thailand and continues to acquire more actors like Studio Wabi Sabi's fleet when it restructred, the 40% that is left for everyone else will continue to shrink. Domundi/Mandee has about 25 actors. GMMTV alone has about 150. Smaller companies can get more actors just like GMMTV can, but with what money when they have to pay to air their shows on The ONE Enterprise's channels while The ONE Enterprise's shows get moved behind paywalls internationally which gives it even more money? And with what crew when The ONE Enterprise has the smaller houses on contract plus its own fleet of talent? And with what incentives can these other companies give actors when they don't have the capability of giving them a record deal, a hosting job, a reality show, merch options, and so much more that The ONE Enterprise can because IT. OWNS. EVERYTHING?

And most importantly, what is allowed to be created when these smaller companies have to abide by one company's rules so their shows can air?

Good for these actors going where the money is, but it's worrisome that The ONE Enterprise is *the* place where most of the money is, and it's only existed in this form for two years.

Money is power. QLs are Thailand's soft power, which can and does influence policies, laws, and society which means people's lives. So, once again, if one company has the most QLs, the most actors, and the most money, it has the most power.

And one entity having the most power in any sector is never a good thing.

[notfreetoday]

WOWOW on Demand Sign Up Tutorial

Hello, I am back (?)

Quick tutorial in case anyone wants to sign up (and later cancel) for a WOWOW on Demand account in order to watch Justice in the Dark when it airs at midnight JST on the 7th of March (aka Thursday night going into Friday morning).

Under the cut to reduce spam!

Before you start, please know that whilst you will sign up on the website, you will only be able to watch the shows using the phone app itself, because the website blocks VPNs.

You will need:

The ability to install the WOWOW on demand apk on your android phone (for iPhone users, it's available on the Jp app store, but I can't help beyond that)

A VPN (I used surfshark)

Access to a JP phone number (I used the number given on my forwarding service)

A credit card

2530 JPY per month (JITD is expected to end sometime in June 2025)

STEP 1: Set your VPN to Japan, go to the WOWOW website as shown, and click on the blue tab circled in orange

STEP 2: This just informs you that the service costs 2530 JPY/mth. Click the blue tab again.

STEP 3: Key in your email and click the button to receive a 4-digit OTP (it will be the first and only string of 4 digits you see in the mail). Major email domains should work.

STEP 4: You should receive the OTP within 3-5mins. If you don't receive the email, check your junk folder etc I lost patience after 2 mins and clicked the button 😅

STEP 5: This is all pretty self-explanatory. Don't ask me to translate the T&C/privacy agreement because I didn't read it either 😬

Congratulations! You have successfully created a WOWOW Online account (this is the normal account which lets you watch free videos/livestreams for eg, Spirealm Ep 1 is free to watch for now).

Next, you want to create a WOWOW on Demand account, which is the service that will give you access to JITD, the rest of Spirealm episodes, and if you are in Japan with a BS Cable subscription, the ability to watch and record WOWOW shows on your TV.

STEP 6: FINALLY we get to the most important bit, so of course I forgot to screencap it. For your Surname and First name, you will need to type it in Japanese text, so go ahead and google translate your name. For the phone number, I used the number from my Jp forwarding service (tenso), but I did try again by changing a few numbers, and it actually went through to step 4 so... if you don't have a forwarding service, you could try random numbers following the 03-1234-5678 format? Don't quote me on that.

Click the blue button at the bottom (which I accidentally cropped out) to move on.

STEP 7: A confirmation window will pop up, keep clicking the blue button...

STEP 8: Almost there. Ignore all the blue buttons and choose the credit card payment option.

STEP 9: Scroll down and key in your credit card details (doesn't have to be Japanese), agree to the service agreement and then hit the blue button again. You will not be charged yet.

STEP 10: Confirm you really do want to spend 2530 JPY x per mth (which for JITD would be 3 months = 7590 JPY = USD$50) and click the blue button again. Your CC will be charged here.

Congrats! You're done (and broke)! Now, using your log in details, log on to the app and search 光淵 or こうえん (you will need to use your VPN on your phone too)

HOW TO CANCEL WOWOW

You will be able to watch shows for one month from that date your subscription was charged. Ie, if charged on the 3rd of July, and you cancelled on the 31st of July, you would be able to access WOWOW on demand till the 2nd of August (1 month from the 3rd of July). Hence, please remember to cancel a few days before your subscription is charged, just in case the application takes a few days to be processed.

STEP 1: Log in and go to My WOWOW

STEP 2: You'll be brought to your profile page, choose the 2nd option from the left (right next to the word TOP)

STEP 3: Look for the 解約 button

STEP 4: Look for the same word, and confirm cancellation

That's it! (When july comes, if there are extra steps required, I'll post a follow up 😅

Happy watching everyone!

[a-polite-melody]

“Omg the transandrobros trying to make autoandrophilia (AAP) a thing are so transmisogynistic. They see the transmisogynistic theory of autogynephilia (AGP) and say ‘how can I make this about me?’ There’s nothing here to reclaim for you, you’re just stealing valour from transmisogyny.”

Way to just make a bunch of assumptions.

There absolutely is a concept that’s been weaponized against gay transmascs from medical bs around transition (it was basically impossible for lesbian transfems, as well as gay transmascs, to transition in the US at least until the 1980s; look up Lou Sullivan for more on that) to social media callouts, dogpiles, and doxxings. It is a concept that doesn’t have a formalized name like AGP (though a quick google search shows that prominent people who speak about AGP have been using AAP in conjunction with AGP since 2009) but is a concept which is similar to that of AGP and used in some similar ways against transmascs as AGP is against transfems.

One place you can very easily find this attitude (to go back to the stuff about social media, though there are implications beyond the scope of just social media here) is baked into the transmed “criticism” of gay/mlm transmascs/AFAB nonbinary people which featured (unfortunately) pretty prominently in the tumblr trans world for a long time, and while it may not be nearly as prominent now, it’s still around and easy to find if you look specifically for transmed stuff. Hell, it moved out of transmed spaces and became a tumblr-wide phenomenon of harassing (and worse) the “fujoshis”—these gross women who were so fetishistic of gay men and into gay fanfic and bl manga they deluded themselves into thinking they’re the gay boys in their favourite anime—in the name of protecting the trans community and the gay community from these infiltrators and walking conversion therapy fakebois.

I denied that I was transmasc for so long because I was worried that this “phenomenon of delusional women tricking themselves into thinking they’re men to absolve themselves the guilt of being fetishistic creeps toward gay men, reinforced by encouraging each other into the delusions” was an actual, real thing I needed to worry about, and that I might have been falling into this trap.

I worried, because the world was telling me that this (though not called the phrase) AAP phenomenon existed at the same time as when I had to actually like… actually fully delve into learning about the LGBTQ+ community after realizing I was bi to even know that being trans in a way that was something other than MTF even existed. It made more sense to me that I, while actively trying not to, was actually internally fetishizing gay men and falling into delusions than it did for me to be transmasc, because being transmasc seemed like hardly even a thing while the problem of these “fujoshis” seemed like something huge.

But yes. Absolutely nothing to reclaim here. Only wanting to steal valour from trans women and be big huge transmisogynists by making trans women’s problems into our own, not talking about any actual problems transmascs actually have because we don’t have those kinds of problems because some dumbass on the internet says so. (/this whole paragraph is sarcasm)

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 7

I know I said that Nanny would be out this week, but I just finished this and am really wanting to get it out as soon as possible and that includes the epilogue.

But if I time it right, this series and Hellfire will end the same week and I'll be able to return to some kind of normal schedule instead of pumping these out on a fucking grinder.

That said, I probably won't do a Christmas story with the way things are right now. But we'll see the closer we get to the holiday.

In this we get the proper Jack the Ripper tour and the author has opinions, okay! Steve draws attention to himself at the Paris Opera house. Murray is a bit too knowing. And of course as @val-from-lawrence guessed, visited the Catacombs!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

They had done the Tower of London and St. Paul’s Cathedral during the day and got ready for the Bauman Experience as Murray called it. They all had a flashlight and went to go meet him where they had the night before.

They caught him dealing with some obnoxious tourists.

“Oh thank god!” the Karen cried. “An American. Could you please explain to this woman that we only have dollars to pay with. She has to take it!”

Murray blinked at her for a moment. “Well that is quite the cock up, you absolute muppet. Are you dead from the neck up? British pound sterling is the brass here, you silly cow!”

The woman’s head reared back in shock, clutching her chest. “I beg your pardon!”

“To make it perfectly clear,” Murray said leaning forward into her space. “You fucked up, you moron. Are you really that stupid? Dollars aren’t the currency here, the British pound is. Just like you can’t use the pound anywhere but here, you can’t use the dollar anywhere but America so why don’t you go to an ATM or bank and get it exchanged. Or and here’s the really neat part about living in the age of technology, use or credit or debit card and your bank does the conversion for you.”

When she started sputtering angrily, Murray waved her off. “Now, shoo! I’ve got actual paying customers waiting for me.”

Murray turned to the four of them with a smiled. “Well, hello! Welcome. Now that things are dark and therefore sufficiently spooky, let’s take you on a proper tour of Jack’s slaying grounds.”

He went through the different murders until he got to the double murders of Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Miss Stride is usually considered his third victim and that he was interrupted, moving on to Miss Eddowes. But I think Stride was a copycat. The person only knew the bodies were mutilated, but not how. So for me, I don’t count her in the confirmed kills.”

Robin nodded sagely. “I don’t either. There was far too little evidence to prove he had been frightened off, because otherwise Eddowes would have been more brutal than it was. He would have been angry he couldn’t finish with Stride. You would have expected her to look like what Mary Kelly’s body looked like, not cool and calm.”

Murray smiled up at her. He turned to Eddie. “I really like her. She’s clever.”

Robin blushed and ducked her head.

A short time later, just as they were wrapping up the Kelly murder, Murray stopped. He looked at a pair of older teenagers and then back at the group.

Chrissy picked up on it first. “You thinking what, I’m thinking, Mur?”

Murray turned to her and cocked his head to the side, considering. He nodded and Chrissy pursed her lips.

Steve caught on just as quick. “Eds, baby. I think those boys may have guessed who you are, love.”

Robin and Eddie shared a concerned glance.

“Fuck,” Eddie huffed. “I liked this jacket.”

Robin grabbed it from him and gave him her jacket. “Mine doesn’t look as fancy,” she explained pulling his jacket on. “Just like Boston, peeps!”

Murray tilted his head to the side and did a quick Google search. “Or... if you’d like, my car is literally around the corner.”

The four of them stopped swapping clothes and looked up at him.

“That’s easier,” Steve said. “Who’s all for easier?”

The other three raised their hands and they followed Murray to his car. Robin sat up front while Steve and Chrissy covered Eddie between them.

“Drop me off at the hotel,” Steve said, tapping on Murray’s shoulder. “I’ll check us out and then meet you at Shakespeare’s Head.”

Murray looked behind him and grinned. “Smart thinking.”

~

Eddie had changed into a trucker hat and a puffy hunting vest over sturdy blue jeans and thick work boots.

“Kids and their cameras these day,” Murray huffed, sliding a pint of beer over at Steve as he sat down between Robin and Chrissy. “So what’s the story with loverboy here?” he asked Eddie, cocking his head to indicate Steve.

“He’s not out,” Eddie said dryly. “His parents are complete assholes who could and would make things very difficult for him if he was.”

“Nothing says asshole parents,” Murray said with a nod, “quite like those that have the money to make you miserable.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve got that right. But I’m more than equipped to make it work.” He half shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for almost a year.”

Murray’s went wide and he gave an opened mouthed smile. “Have you really? I would have never guessed. Good job! ”

“How did you spot the kids, by the way?” Robin asked around her fruity cocktail.

“Oh,” Murray said, ducking his head a bit. “You’re walking around a small group of people at night in a bad area of London. Whitechapel isn’t as bad as it was in Jackie’s time, but it’s still not a good neighborhood. You have to keep an eye out for people, but especially older teens wishing to knock you over for a bit of loose change.”

Steve cleared his throat and ducked his head. “I am about to ask the most bougie question imaginable. And you can tell me to go to hell if I’m out of line here.”

Murray’s eyebrows went up and he leaned back in his chair. “Wha’cha got, kid?”

Steve licked his lower lip as he tried to word this in a way that wasn’t instantly offensive. “How entrenched are you in this job?”

“Not very,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m just moving through the world enjoying myself and taking jobs that would be fun. I’ve got more than enough money. Why?”

“We were talking in our group chat,” Chrissy explained taking over from a very embarrassed Steve, “and we thought we’d offer you a job as main look out and part time driver for when we’re in Europe. You really saved Eddie today and we could really use someone like you with us.”

Murray glared at her. “You sure I wouldn’t cramp your little foursome you’ve got going on here’s style?” He made a little circling motion with his hand to indicate all of them.

Robin shook her head. “It’ll make it harder for people to recognize a quartet if it suddenly became a quintet. Plus, we’d pay for your room and board. None of us are skint, believe you me.”

“We’ll be staying in haunted hotels, motels, and bed and breakfasts,” Eddie added. “But we won’t force you to join us. We can put you up in a nice place nearby and we join back up whenever we go out.”

Murray eyed them suspiciously until Steve slid over an envelope. He picked it up and pulled out a check. His eyes went wide. “That’s quite the pretty penny.”

“That’s half,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms and throwing herself against the back of the chair. “You’ll get the other half once we leave Europe for Asia.”

“All that for a month’s worth of driving you four around and making sure fans and paparazzi don’t find Eddie here?” Murray asked. “Have you gone crazy?”

Eddie shook his head. “We just want a romantic tour of the spooky places of Europe. I hate the thought Steve getting caught up in something just because I’m recognized everywhere I go and he isn’t.”

Murray licked his lips slowly as his eyes narrowed. “That’s not how that’s usually said.”

Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean? How is what said?”

Robin put her hand on his elbow as he bristled slightly at his tone.

“Usually people will say ‘famous and they’re not’,” Murray said thoughtfully, “he said ‘recognized’. Meaning Stevie here is famous too, but not in a way people would recognize him on the street. What is a famous painter or some shit?”

She cocked her to the side and said dryly, “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Murray laughed. Just full on cackled. “Have I mentioned how much I like her? Because I really like her.”

Eddie leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. “So what do you say, Murray?” he asked tilting his head to the side. “You want to work for me again?”

Murray slipped the check into his coat pocket and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

~

Their first stop on the Continent was Paris and the catacombs. Eddie was still trying to figure out how Robin did that one. It had been closed to the public for years.

Robin just smirked and said, “Well we aren’t the public.”

Steve was also sure they didn’t open it up to anyone who opened their wallet, either, but wisely stayed silent. Plus he was having fun watching Chrissy and Robin run circles around Murray in terms of sheer knowledge.

“Um...Stevie?” Eddie murmured so the trio couldn’t hear him. “Can I hold your hand? It’s getting a little creepy in here.”

Steve held out his hand, the one that had the little guitar on the inner wrist. Eddie looked down at the offered hand with a fond smile. He took the offered hand and their tattoos matched up. Eddie felt braver with every step knowing that Steve would always be there to hold his hand through the darkness.

Chrissy looked back at them and grinned at their clasped hands. She sped up her walk just a little, forcing Murray and Robin to speed up to match her pace, leaving the two love birds the privacy they so richly deserved.

Once they were out in the sunlight and among the city once again, Eddie refused to let go of Steve’s hand.

Steve looked at their joined hands and then back at Eddie. Eddie gave him his brightest smile and Steve was smitten. Even more so than before. He just loved him so much.

They toured the Paris Opera house and Eddie pulled out a cape and mask.

“Sing for me my angel of music!” he said to Chrissy.

She burst out laughing. “My name may be Christine, but I really don’t think they’d want me shattering the glass.”

Eddie turned to Robin who waved her arms in front of her. “No way! I sing like a frog in heat!”

“No.” Was all Murray said.

Steve raised an eyebrow and Eddie grinned.

“Sing!” Eddie crowed.

Steve took a deep breath and belted out that high note, held it perfectly and then took a bow.

Murray blinked and slow smile spread over his features. “You’re in one of those bands with the masks aren’t you? Like Sleep Token or The Fallen, huh? That’s Eddie here said recognized and not famous. Good on you.”

They all shared looks of concern.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Murray huffed, holding up his hands in surrender. “And I’m certainly not even going to try and guess which band it is.” He pulled out his phone and messed around on it for a while.

During which they all watched with ever increasing dread. The silence seemed to stretch out on and on.

Then Chrissy’s phone pinged. Everyone jumped as she scrambled for her phone. She opened it up and blinked a moment.

“You signed a blanket statement NDA?” she asked handing her phone to Robin. “Why?”

Murray licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did it suck when Corroded Coffin pulled out of my management causing a shit ton of other people pulling out, too? Sure. But that’s the nature of the business. One that I had been in for over twenty years. I took it as a sign from the universe to retire and enjoy my life. Unlike the CC boys pulling out on Nancy Wheeler because she about to do some pretty shady shit. And I say that having been part of a business that used to be built on shady ass shit.”

Chrissy coughed and looked away to hide her smile.

“I’m guessing Steve’s band is why Corroded Coffin went nuclear on her in the first place?”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then nodded. “She was an ex-girlfriend and she tried to hold that over my head to get me to work with her.”

Murray let out a long and low whistle. “Shady doesn’t even begin to cover that shit. The void would be fucking closer. Shit.”

Robin handed back Chrissy her phone. “How did you get an NDA that fast anyway?”

“Oh that?” Murray asked with a huff of laughter. “I have a bunch of basic contracts and shit in my Google docs. Things can move fast in this business and it’s a good idea to keep a few on hand. Back in the old days we kept them in our briefcases that we carted around. This is sooo much easier.”

“Smart.”

Murray grinned back at her. He turned to Steve. “Come on, show us what that classical vocal training can really do.”

Steve blushed and began warming up his vocals as Robin grinned.

“You may think you’ve heard Steve sing,” she crowed, “but you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Then Steve really opened up and began to sing. There was a deepness to his voice that didn’t have anything to do with his range. He was clearly a tenor, but the rich quality to his voice just elevated it somehow.

“Rigoletto,” Murray said nodding appreciatively. “Well done.” He clapped slowly, but it wasn’t mocking. “Your parents must have been livid when you didn’t go into opera.”

Steve snorted. “About as angry as when they found out I was bisexual. They know what I am but if I go public with it...”

“They’ll make your life a nightmare?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I feel for you, kid.”

He looked around and grimaced. “I thick it’s time we make like Opera Ghost and scram. That performance of Steve’s here, is getting more attention than I thought it would.”

They looked around and sure enough there were people pointing at Steve.

“I’m not sure what the Venn diagram of opera and metal fans,” Chrissy said, “but I’m betting it’s not two separate circles.”

“Yeaahhh,” Eddie said with a wince.

He grabbed Steve’s hand and they ran for the doors. Murray and the girls hot on their heels.

~

Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[merrybloomwrites]

I Feel the Earth Move

Summary: Y/N experiences her first earthquake and her long distance boyfriend, Spencer, needs to know she's alright.

Word Count: 665

AN: I put a post out the other day that showed there's interest in Spencer stories. And then I felt an earthquake for the first time and got inspired to write this. Just a little story to get into the swing of writing for Spencer.

CW: earthquake

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One of the first things you had talked to Spencer about when you started dating was your shared experiences with hurricanes. Bit of a random topic, but with him being from Florida and you being from New Jersey, it was something you had in common. He then told you about the couple of earthquakes he’d experienced since moving out to Los Angeles. A tiny part of you was slightly jealous, but mostly you were happy you live in a place where the ground stays still at all times.

You’ve been dating Spencer for ten months now, but unfortunately, you’ve been long distance the whole time. Being on opposite coasts with a three-hour time difference makes things more complicated, but you’re looking forward to the near future when you finally get to move out to California. You work as a teacher and just need to finish the current school year and then you’re on your way to Los Angeles. You even have a new job and apartment lined up. Spencer sends texts nearly every day counting down until you’ll finally live in the same city.

It's early April, and your school is on Spring Break. You spent the week catching up on things you had been putting off, like doctor’s appointments and deep cleaning your closets. But now it’s Friday, and your to-do list is done. You’re having a lazy morning at home, sitting and watching some new Smosh videos that you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet.

Suddenly you hear the hallway door rattling. For a second you think it must be the wind, but then the floor starts to shake. Next thing you know everything is rattling. It only lasts a few seconds and leaves you just standing in the middle of your living room, wondering what the hell just happened.

You think that it might’ve been an earthquake, but that would be ridiculous. Because that doesn’t happen where you live.

But then your mom texts the family group chat asking if everyone felt that. Your brother, sister, and dad all text back saying they had. You do a quick google search and within minutes you find the confirmation that it was in fact an earthquake, so you share the link with your family.

The first person you want to tell is Spencer, but it’s not even 8 in the morning in California. You know he doesn’t need to be at work until later in the day and is likely still sleeping. You’ll wait a bit before texting him, so you don’t wake him up.

 Twenty minutes later your phone starts ringing, and you’re surprised to see Spencer’s name pop up.

“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” You say as a greeting.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the earthquake?”

“I was going to, I just wanted to wait a little while, so I wouldn’t wake you. How did you find out about it?”

“Like, eight different people from work texted me to ask if you lived where the earthquake happened. Y/N, you’re like, a mile from the epicenter. I needed to check that you’re alright.”

You’re overwhelmed with emotion at this, hearing how much he cares, and how worried he was about you.

“I’m okay Spencer, I promise. It wasn’t that bad. Honestly I was more confused than scared,” you reply.

“Well then we need to work on your survival instincts before you come to California,” he says, causing you both to laugh.

“Thank you for checking in on me,” you say.

“I’ll always make sure you’re safe,” he replies. Your heart melts again, and you can’t believe that he’s real. And that he’s really yours.

“I love you,” you say, unable to express your feelings at this moment in any other way.

“I love you too,” he replies, voice full of sincerity.

“Only 86 more days,” you state, giving him the countdown today.

“I can’t wait, baby.”

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AN: Thanks for reading! This is was just a little warm up to writing for Spencer. Please send me any requests you have for him! Also, please lmk if you'd like to be added to a taglist for all my Spencer stories!

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: satoru gojo x f!reader, bridgerton!au, reader and gojo are acquaintances, brief mention of satoru's mom passing when he was young. also please don't come at me if I got the garter belt/stocking thing wrong (I did a quick google search) so may not be historically accurate. (this could be a part two to this story that is also bridgerton gojo based).

“my lord,"

"please," he says, "gojo is fine."

"mr. gojo," you say, because frankly gojo feels too personal though it had been the last name his friends, such as lord nanami, have refered to him by. he stands at a respectable distance from you, watching over as you sit on a stone bench around the garden of lord kusakabe's home. your family visit had served to wish him congratulations after recuperating from a terrible cold this past winter. now, lord kusakabe stands as he used to, laughs as he holds a cigar between his lips as guests enjoy tea and play outdoor games.

though a lady like you, having a wardrobe malfunction, thinks it's best to hide behind a maze as you fail to adjust the garter belt that pulls up your warm stockings that keep the cold air from entering your skin. lord gojo stands at a respectable distance, towards your right as he attempts to look over your shoulder. your cling onto your left garter, saving any decency you can maintain.

you had met gojo through the first spring dance of the season, right after you had danced with higuruma. taken aback by his intial comments on how lord higuruma was a terrible choice for a satoru, and by your naivety by speaking your mind (respectably, of course) in front of someone so.... well of. regarded as royalty by even the queen herself. lord gojo did not hold your behavior against you, and to that you were partially thankful of. your honor must remain impeccable as your mother's. everyone has a standard to uphold, no?

what set you apart, nearly three weeks into the season from most, was lady whistledown's kind and praiseful remarks during the ball. it would be later made aware that perhaps you could be the diamond of the season. who knew as meeting the queen was only a week away.

so you had to keep your reputation as clean as possible.

"my lady, are you alright?" your jaw tightened at his words. you guessed perhaps your body tightened as well since the man approaches you carefully, slowly. waiting to see if you put a stop to him.

"yes, quite alright thank you." you laugh nervously, "just... a bit worn out from today's activities." he noticies you hold your leg.

"is your... leg alright?" he asks. you don't know how you do it, but when he suggests to get help, you stop him. it would be far worse for him to get help from others while you're here, with an intimate wardrobe malfunction.

"no! just... leave me be," he eyes you.

"I can assure you, leaving a lady in distress goes against my honor code. tell me, is there anything I can do?"

you hesitantly bite your bottom lip.

"it's... it's a wardrobe, malfunction, my lord." your eyes don't meet his as your cheeks burn under the sun. he looks at your figure, not sensing anything wrong at first glance.

"underneath."

"oh," he remains quiet for several seconds. "may I... may I know what it is?"

"my garter belt."

"what do you need to do?"

"I need to hook the end of the belt to the opening of the stocking, but..." you sigh, "it won't work."

"may I have a glance?" he asks, and you guess he senses the panic in your eyes and silence as he holds his hands up. "I promise I won't do anything, in fact, I'm sure your family might suspect your absence relatively soon if you don't return." but that isn't what worries you.

"I can't have a man that isn't my husband to do something like that," you try your best to not snap, "if anyone were to see or hear about this, my reputation would be ruined."

"not with me it won't." he says, "if you allow me to help, neither one would speak of this, and we can return back to the estate as if nothing happened. I don't wish to ruin the life of someone so...."

"so....?"

"someone honorary," he swallows, "respectable. most women your age enjoy ruining other people's lives, spreading misinformation to cause harm, and do anything as selfish as one can imagine."

"how would you know that?" you question almost bluntly, "you... you don't know me."

"I'm afraid you yourself aren't quite aware of the impression you have made on others, miss." he says as he slowly approaches, getting as far as to his knees to assist. "now please, allow me to assist you."

your lungs paused for what felt like an eternity. you didn't know what was more intimate, either his soft spoken words or his delicate fingers on your belt, causing your heart to beat loudly it would possibly errupt from your chest.

"how do you know how to do this?" you find yourself whispering. the lord looks up at you for what you can finally see up close are mesmerizing blue eyes, bluer than anything you've seen or dreamed of before he says.

"I used to watch my mother dress herself when I was a boy," he clarifies, "she passed before I turned 7."

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (The Dark Moons of Slough)

My fourth longform highlights post and I think I'm getting better at this commentary thing

Starting off with yet another example of Luke and Sam being on the exact same wavelength. Luke hears the title, gets onstage, within a second starts cackling like a witch, and Sam joins in with zero hesitation. I love their dynamic so much, they bounce off each other so well

Luke's insistence on having 3 witches like it's Hocus Pocus or something-

AJ's voice dying while he tries to do a witch voice lmao

Synchronized improv must be insane to attempt, the fact their little chant made any sense at all is astonishing tbh

And yes, the witches' spell building up the scene just for it to create soup to win a food festival is pretty funny

Have any of the fanartists drawn the witches with their big ball of floating soup? Because I just really wanna see that visualized

"We do not speak of the Great Wizard, Ascaroth!" Only a matter of time before someone fucks up that name

"We don't do it anymore, we just call him.. That PrickTM"

I wasn't 100% sure but yeah, The Big Book of Soups does in fact exist. And now I want it, purely as an inside joke

Before a quick google search, I did not know who Jamie Oliver was, so the whole first run through this play I had no idea what the naked chef jokes were referencing, I just appreciated them without context. Just like I did for the entirety of The Prime Minister's First Day (because American)

Sam taking any opportunity to moan #1 (probably not actually the first time, but I'm gonna start a tally istg)

I like when someone tries to set up a plot point and we as the audience get to watch it either slowly fade away or burn up on impact. "Maybe we should sabotage That PrickTM" by Sam is an example of the latter

The bottled soup bit where Sam's confused (because apparently it's a Spain thing) and Luke also being confused (because I'm certain he completely blanked on the fact bottled soup is not normal to see in the UK)

Another thing they do a lot is when two characters are bickering and quickly descend into unintelligible noises and a third person typically has to calm them down

AJ deciding to randomly sing That PrickTM's name (yes I'll be doing that the entire post), and Sam just has to explain it away by saying it's his ringtone

Hugh Fernly Whittingstone/Stall might be the fastest name fuck-up they've ever had. But I think the subtitles are the only ones that noticed, so it barely counts

Might need to start a tally for AJ entering the scene as a random animal as well

This time, only to get brutally murdered and eaten. The most fucked up thing I've laughed at in a while, that was an insane move on Sam's part

No, I will not be trusting that process Sam

No wonder the witches call him That PrickTM

"It's me, Jamie Oliver" AJ acting like this is new, previously secret information

"I know it's dark magic, Jamie. How else would someone like you become a famous chef?" Okay I didn't learn that much about him, do people not like Jamie Oliver?

Live reaction while making this post: "Hey Jemima, good to see you again :) Last time we would've seen you was.. wait IS THIS THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF JEMIMA?!"

Jemima origins

"What happened last time with the witches was a one-off thing" As this series goes, we'll soon learn how much AJ loves using the phrase 'one-off thing', I can think of 2 examples off the top of my head but y'all are just gonna have to wait and see

Yeah Jemima, she's always had the snort, don't be a dick about it

"What if the witches enter again?" Very curious what happened with the witches the last time, because they seem relatively harmless this year

Sam entering with his perfect comedic timing as a 'young boy'

"From the valleys" deserves to be in one of those sfth vocal stim compilations

AJ's internal monologue "Okay I need to differentiate this character somehow but we don't have props today. This character is obviously evil, he provides dogs to be cooked for God's sake.. Oh I know!" *wraps himself in curtain* "A CLOAK!"

"Why are you dressed like Emperor Palpatine?" Hold on, I need to google something... Yeah, that's funny.

Unexpected Calm app shoutout

AJ searching desperately through his mind catalogue for the word 'update'

They're doing a bunch of what I'd assume is difficult shit, now Sam's out here improvising soup recipes (that double as classic witch spells that make you speak in tongues)

I'm with Luke, what is so funny about 75 years of soup tasting?

Why do I love the way Sam says 'the valleys' so much, it's so funny to me and I will repeat it every goddamn time

"Memories flooding back of childhood" "It's like Ratatouille" I guess I gotta rewatch Ratatouille

Love their universal sing of flashback being repeating the last phrase over and over while they spin around awkwardly

"I have to go find my mother" He abandons the scene and the play ends, roll credits

When one of them yells with such a random aggression "The competition, don't ruin THE COMPETITION!"

"Then I will find mama" "Yes, you'll deal with that later.." AJ's character are very good at not caring at all recently

"I was hold back" Please AJ, grammatically continue

"This soup is called leek leek leek" Leek³ you might say

Luke laughing in the middle of his character's second memory-related breakdown as he realizes how dumb this is

"Which of you is my real mama??" I think Past Hugh just drugged himself

Forgot to mention Witch #1 as Luke's first gremlin mode character in my sfth recurring roles post

Luke: "I'm a 16 year old!" Still Luke: "Do all of you just announce your ages?" Luke just setting himself up like that

".... Leek" "We've got a theme going" Okay but the real question is, are all of them from The Valleys?

"You took my mother from me" Oh did Jamie Oliver kill Hugh's m- "We've been on many, many long evenings" Oh Jamie Oliver FUCKED Hugh's mom

Wizard Duel (featuring Sam with special effects) goes hard

"16 raw eggs!" I don't think that's a spell, I think you're just pelting him with raw eggs

Wait a second, is this whole duel just a food fight where they magically summon all of their ammo-

"What score do I get?" "... 9.8, that was fucking good" Bro went on one hell of a trip

"Ah yes of course, Akaram" Hey now, we all know the Great Wizard's name is That PrickTM

"Get it right, you racist" Aside from the fact I have no idea who this would be racist towards, it's giving the same vibes as the one Book Game where Tom calls the Chinese book Japanese and Sam ofc takes the fuck-up as a chance to call him a bigot

*Me, watching this play for like a 4th time* "... Wait.. Something's off here.... WHERE THE FUCK IS TOM?"

I know where Luke is most of the time when he's gone, but where's Tom at? Same question for Sam during Burglary and Bobsleds

"Stiff like the naked chef's erection inside your mother?" ".. How public was the dream I just had?" That moment you relive your traumatic backstory via magic/drug/leek soup and it turns out they were broadcasted to the rest of the crowd as well, so now the whole city knows Jamie Oliver fucked your mom

I literally just rewatched this a few days ago and I've already forgotten what That PrickTM's soup did

Jamie Oliver: *gets possessed* That PrickTM: "Ainsley Harriott has joined us as well" Well off I go to google another English chef

Turns out the captions spelled his name wrong

Luke having to play his own character's mother is very in character of him actually

"By the power of the Great British Bake Off" fucking GOT ME-

"Mother, you're alive!" "Just about" wtf does that mean??

Final Thoughts: Oh the power you hold when you're the first one onstage.. Who knew Luke's witch cackle could bring us a story of leek soup, missing mothers, and an evil English chef

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Love Match

Note: this fic is a bit of a birthday present to my dearest @neonhairspray. Thank you for helping me with further inspiration for this fic during our unhinged convos. I wrote this because of our conversations and want to dedicate it to you, so I hope you like it and you may notice I added some stuff for you in here!

extra note: again, we're talking FOOTBALL football, not American football ;) I edited this while watching a match, any mistakes left will be corrected over time.

Warnings: 18+! fluff/smut/mainly just very suggestive.

pairing: FootballPlayer!Sihtric x Maid!Reader (f)

summary: You accidentally fell in love with a famous football player. 

wordcount: 8,3k

Masterlist

You were never into football. It was a sport you just never cared for, because what was the bloody point of watching people run after a ball for an hour and half? It bored you greatly and, beside all that, you believed that football players were ridiculously overpaid for the bare minimum they did of playing a match every few weeks, and most of them were overly dramatic on the field too. You also thought that most footballers weren't that smart either, but in truth, what did you know? Not much, because you just weren't impressed with the whole football world. Therefore you also weren't phased when you got to work for Sihtric Kjartansson, a talented football player and a huge name in the business. You had vaguely heard of him before but you didn't care about his profession, you were only interested in the paycheck that came with being his maid, which was a royal one.

A quick google search would tell anyone that Sihtric had started out playing for the local Dunholm team as a young boy, but he outgrew the club quickly and eventually travelled all over the world to play football. He stuck around in Denmark for years, but he recently moved back to England after purchasing a massive mansion in the fanciest part of London, as he transferred back to England and was also selected to play for England's national team as the World Cup was approaching. He was one of the most interesting centre-forward players right now, and the insane amount of money he was paid to transfer back to England was sickening.

Despite your lack of interest in this job, you couldn't deny that the famous footballer was handsome. Incredibly handsome, actually. His long dark hair was always braided during a match, but tied into a nonchalant bun during training, and his well kept facial hair was always on point, highlighting his sharp and godly facial features. And the glimpses you had caught of his body weren't a punishment either, his football shirt hugging his biceps tightly while his football grip socks accentuated his calf muscles, and his thighs looked more than firm enough to make you feel good when grinding those alone. 

Sihtric had the looks but he clearly wasn't the brightest at times as you became aware he was often impulsive and reckless on the field, staining his kits with his own blood after he had injured himself in various ways, by colliding into others or by simply tripping over the ball in the heat of the moment, which only seemed to confirm your thoughts about football players not being very bright.

However, you weren't completely right about everything you always suspected about footballers, because you found out the first few weeks of your new job that Sihtric wasn't doing just the bare minimum. On the contrary, as he worked hard and was incredibly focused on his career, you were actually shocked by the amount of training he did. And you were also shocked by the amount of football kits you had to wash for him every week, with the smell of his football socks after every training and friendly match being almost lethal. But doing his laundry was a part of your job, just like keeping his entire house clean and getting groceries for him, to make sure his fridge was always stacked with the nutritious foods he needed to stay in the perfect shape he was in.

Because he had such a busy schedule you had only seen him a handful of times in passing, so you didn't know much about him, but he seemed kind and generous. Every now and then he'd leave a thank you note on the kitchen counter for you, a small way of showing his appreciation for all the work you did for him so he could dedicate every waking second to football. And it became evident one morning that despite the fact you were working for Sihtric for a few months already, you both weren't up to date with each other's schedule. You thought he was out training, as usual, thus you being the only person in his home, while Sihtric was apparently completely oblivious to the hours you worked, so he thought he was alone too.

And therefore Sihtric didn't think twice when he hopped out of the shower, not covering himself with anything except for his long black football socks because he hated the feeling of his bare feet touching the floor, and so he went downstairs to quench his thirst before getting fully dressed in his football kit and leave for training. You had been downstairs in the laundry room on the other side of his mansion, so you hadn't heard the water run while he took a shower and you also hadn't heard him come down the stairs as you were busy loading the laundry basket with his clean clothes for you to fold, which you always did in the kitchen you had cleaned prior to that.

And when you quietly made your way to the kitchen, laundry basket in hand, you froze upon the sudden sight of Sihtric standing in front of the refrigerator, his back turned to you as he drank some sparkling water straight out of a bottle while being completely naked, apart from a pair of socks. His long hair slicked back as it was still wet from his shower, and your jaw dropped as your eyes wandered over his muscular back, trailing over his broad shoulders and toned biceps, then down to his perfectly shaped waist. You then gaped at his muscular thighs and lowered your gaze down his long and toned legs, finding his socks highlighting the muscles they covered from view. And then your eyes went back up again, only to land on his firm and deliciously shaped buttocks, which were perfect, just like the rest of his body.

You gasped lightly and seemed to lose all control over your own muscles, dropping the laundry basket which landed with a dull thump on the tiles while you had to grab onto the cabinet right next to you as your knees weakened, all which in return startled Sihtric. He jumped in response to your sudden presence and turned around, completely exposing himself before he dropped the water bottle to cover up his goods with his tattooed hands, while the water oozed out of the bottle and soaked his socks slowly.

'Oh my god!' you yelled and averted your eyes as fast as you could, but not before you had already gotten a good look at his full frontal side, which wasn't any less impressive than his back, 'I'm so sorry!'

'No,' Sihtric said, panicked as he searched for something to cover himself with, 'I'm sorry,' his eyes darted all over the kitchen as he blushed, but that small kitchen towel he saw wouldn't even cover his thighs, and he knew it, 'I- I didn't know you were here.'

'I am always here,' you argued with flushed cheeks, still shocked as you knelt down to gather the laundry back in the basket, desperately trying to not look up again, 'I thought you weren't home!'

You realised Sihtric was still frantically looking for a way to cover himself with not just his hands, and you quickly threw him one of his clean football shorts. Sihtric hid behind the kitchen island and pulled up the shorts, while you feigned great interest in sorting out his clothes on that same kitchen island before folding them. Sihtric cleared his throat awkwardly before he cleaned up the mess he had made by dropping his drink, insisting he'd clean it up and not you, and he left the room without saying another word, leaving you to your work before he left for his.

Sihtric messed up his entire training as he was stuck in his head about the embarrassing encounter he had with you earlier that day. He missed every shot to score and, as a centre-forward, it was not making him look good. Pyrlig, his coach, had tried to snap Sihtric out of the weird state he was in several times, but to no avail. The coach hoped it was just a temporary state of nerves before the Euro Cup started, but in truth it had nothing to do with football. 

Sihtric just couldn't forget about what had happened that morning, and not just because he was ashamed he had fully exposed himself like that to you. He wasn't ashamed of his body at all, but he did not want you to feel awkward around him because you had seen all of him without asking for it. But the main problem for Sihtric was actually the fact that this was the first time he had gotten a good look at you, as you had only met in quick passing before while he was always in a rush, and the reason why he had been so desperate to cover himself up was because he felt a certain… excitement. And he found himself thinking of you for the rest of the day while he had to awkwardly readjust his shorts a few times.

When he came home late in the afternoon after his training, he was surprised to see you were still around. He considered avoiding you but then took a deep breath and greeted you as you locked eyes in the living room in passing, after you had just vacuumed the place. Your shift was basically over and so you tidied up the last things before going home, but Sihtric came up to you before you could grab your coat.

'Hey, so,' he said as he looked away from you, looking everywhere but into your eyes, 'I'm really sorry about what happened this morning. I never wanted to, you know, just expose myself to you like that. I would have never walked around naked if I knew you were here. I'm sorry-' he rambled on and became inaudible while he nervously raked his hands through his loose hair.

'Sihtric,' you said with a shy chuckle, 'it's okay. I know it was an accident, don't worry about it.'

'Yeah, well,' he mumbled and shrugged, 'but, eh, I was wondering if maybe, you know, we could… we could maybe go for dinner or something. I have the evening off, so, I don't know,' he began to mumble too quietly again for you to understand him.

'Dinner?' you frowned, 'tonight?'

'Yeah?'

'What, like a… uh, a date or something?' you asked carefully.

'I guess you could call it that,' Sihtric said with a shy and cautious smile, 'I mean, we barely know each other while you're in my house every day and- oh, fuck,' he suddenly groaned and buried his face in his hands, 'fuck, I'm sorry. You're probably married or something-'

'No,' you interrupted, a little quicker than anticipated and you tried to keep your cool, 'I mean, no, I am single. I just, eh, I'm just surprised is all. But, yeah, sure,' you smiled, 'but I really want to go home and change my clothes.'

'Sure, no problem,' the footballer said while he fought a huge smile, 'just give me your address and I can pick you up later.'

You slightly panicked a few hours later when you had decided to take a look at Sihtric's social media. He had millions of followers on every platform he had, and you suddenly felt ridiculous for accepting to go out with him. You weren't looking for a fancy life, you liked the humble and good life which you had created for yourself and you had no interest in changing that or somehow becoming the centre of attention when you were seen with a famous football player by your side.

You sighed and checked yourself out in the mirror a few more times. You were dressed in a figure hugging dress and some comfortable but classy shoes underneath, with a matching purse in hand. You felt silly for being nervous. You didn't care about Sihtric's fame and money, but you lied when you tried to convince yourself that you also didn't care about his looks. Because you did. You were attracted to him and you hated yourself for it, because falling for a footballer when you don't care about the sport is such a cliché. And you hated yourself even more when your doorbell rang and your heart skipped a beat before you jumped up, because you knew it was Sihtric.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you opened the door. Sihtric was dressed in black jeans with matching Oxford shoes and black socks. He wore a tight fitting black long sleeve with a turtleneck, and on top a grey blazer that was tailored to him. The tattoo on the side of his head visible as his hair was tied back into a messy but sexy bun, and around his neck hung a bronze Mjölnir pendant, which matched with the several bronze rings around his tattooed fingers. He looked simply dashing.

And Sihtric was in his turn speechless as well, seeing you all dressed up but not overdoing it. Your natural beauty made his heart skip a few beats while his mismatched eyes darted all over your figure, and he checked out your bare legs a little longer than he should have, already imagining what it would be like to kiss those up while he had you at his mercy.

After you both managed to compose yourself and indulged in some small talk, he walked you to his fancy car; a ridiculously expensive black lamborghini. You were almost terrified to move as you sat in the vehicle, afraid you'd somehow damage the pristine condition of its dark interior. And as if Sihtric didn't quite daze you enough yet, his warm amber-like scent gave you a rush of butterflies and you couldn't stop staring at his hands as he drove the fast car so smoothly and with care, never being reckless or showing off the speed it could get to. 

But despite his calm nature, you felt like you could only breathe again once Sihtric opened the car door for you and helped you out, his warm hand holding yours as he closed the door behind you and walked you to the restaurant he had picked. The place was fancy and expensive, but luckily not over the top or making you feel underdressed, and when you sat down at the table and Sihtric finally found the courage to compliment your outfit, your nerves slowly began to disappear.

That night you learned that Sihtric was kind and funny, and he was not quite as dumb as you thought he was. He was actually very smart, his problem was just that he was impulsive on the football field which often made headlines and portrayed him as a good player but also as a hotheaded player, which was the ultimate combination to be a fan favourite. But you were glad to see nothing of that hotheadedness during your pleasant dinner, as he was nothing but sweet and gentle. 

You also felt Sihtric was flirting with you every now and then, for there was a mischievous spark in his piercing eyes when he gazed at you with his half smile as you spoke. You were enamoured by him, and you had no idea he was just as smitten with you. But then he had no idea about your interest in him either, as you both downplayed your emotions throughout the evening. And when Sihtric brought you home afterwards, he walked you to your door and departed with a firm hug and another apology for earlier that day. And you hated how you found yourself in bed later that night, scrolling through his tag on instagram to look at photos and videos of him until you dozed off.

The following weeks after your sudden dinner date were surprisingly normal. Sihtric trained daily while you did your own job, and you smiled every time you arrived at his place and found he had written you an appreciative note for you before leaving the house. You rarely saw each other, which wasn't uncommon but you now thought was unfortunate because you wouldn't mind seeing him some more. And because you barely saw him, your next conversation with him a few weeks later came as a total surprise when you helped him pack his bags one evening, a few days before he was to travel to Germany for the World Cup. Sihtric looked stressed, and you asked him if he was okay, to which he nodded and then out of nowhere blurted out the question if you wanted to accompany him to Berlin.

'What?' you asked for a fifth time.

'There won't be much work to do here as I won't be home for weeks,' Sihtric shrugged while he leaned back against his ensuite bathroom door, completely dressed this time after a shower, 'and I also thought it's a way for me to thank you for taking care of my house and also for taking care of me in a way, I suppose.'

'Taking care of your place is my job, Sihtric,' you chuckled, still not sure of how to respond to his invitation.

'I know,' he shrugged, 'but still, you know? I'd like it if you would accompany me, but it's okay if you don't want to.'

'I'm just not sure of what I'm supposed to do there, I'm really not into football, I hate it,' you confessed, revealing your zero interest in his line of work.

'Oh,' Sihtric said with a grimace, slightly offended, 'I… I didn't know that.'

'No offence to you,' you blushed, feeling stupid for being so blunt.

'It's okay,' he smiled and brushed his hand through his loose hair while he looked at you, 'but, yeah, if you'd join me you would be able to see all the games, if you'd want to, and also do some sightseeing in the city.'

'Alone?'

'Well, I have some days off too.'

'But not many.'

Sihtric had no response to that as he knew you were right. You had already figured out how busy his regular training schedule was, and you couldn't even imagine his schedule during the World Cup. You noticed Sihtric's hopeful look after inviting you slowly began to turn into a saddened one, and it broke your heart. You had no idea that he invited you because he just couldn't stop thinking about you after that dinner, but also because he had felt at ease with you that evening, and that was a feeling he hadn't felt in forever. 

His team mates would all bring their partner on this trip, if they had one, and Sihtric knew how lonely it could be at night and during his days off, as his friends all went to spend time with their loved ones while he had no one to keep his mind from spiralling. He knew that the quiet evenings after a match always became deafening to him, as he'd keep replaying every mistake he made in his head. It made him a wreck, and he thought that maybe you would be able to keep him from feeling low.

'I mean… I'm not saying no,' you said as you looked at him, 'but I also don't want to be stuck in a boring hotel room on my own all the time.'

'But I'll be with you every night and every morning,' Sihtric said, and then made a disapproving face at his own words, 'that sounded weird. But you know what I mean, right?'

'I do,' you sighed softly, 'I think I'm just afraid I'll feel out of place. I'm just your maid and not even into football.'

'I know. But just think about it,' Sihtric said with a sweet smile, trying to keep his hope alive.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, because he clearly knew the effect his smile had on anyone, and he then winked before taking off his shirt as he planned on going to bed. And you couldn't help but take another look at his perfectly polished torso again before you left his room and went home.

You pondered about his offer and, after your friends had encouraged you to take this chance and see something of the world too, you decided to accept the once in a lifetime opportunity. Sihtric was ecstatic but played it cool on the outside, and he immediately made all the arrangements for you to be his companion during the most important trip of his life. You packed your bags with disbelief one day before the trip, and it only hit you once you sat in the plane with Sihtric's team and their partners that you realised what life you had just stepped into.

You felt out of place, as expected, as you weren't dating Sihtric or even really considered yourself friends with him, he was your boss in a way and you knew that everyone present knew that too. It made you a little embarrassed, but regardless of everyone being aware of who you were, you felt moved by how welcoming his friends were and no one ever asked any questions about your relationship with Sihtric. He had invited you because he wanted to have you around, and that was the only thing that mattered. You grew fond of Osferth, the goalkeeper, who was surprisingly still single and rather shy, and you also got along with Finan and Uhtred, who were both centre-midfield players, and their wives were a joy to chat to during the flight from London to Berlin. Sihtric's teammates and friends gave you some more insight about him, from stories that praised him to his most embarrassing moments, and you loved to hear every word while Sihtric occasionally glanced at you with a light blush on his cheeks as he had to endure the stories about his life.

You always smiled at him in return, and you thought about how good he looked again as he sat across from you in the private plane, dressed in black sweatpants with England's national team logo on it, combined with a matching hoodie. His hair was tied back again, but you knew his locks would be braided before his first match only a few days later. 

Once you landed in Berlin you automatically stayed close by Sihtric's side, as you were overwhelmed with all the new impressions of being in a different country you had never been to before, and by the fancy lifestyle that came with travelling with a team. It seemed that Sihtric sensed your anxiety at the airport and he instinctively took your hand, reassuring you that he wasn't just going to wander off and leave you on your own. 

You were brought to the hotel and you couldn't believe your eyes when you arrived at the place, it was so fancy and so expensive, everything felt surreal and you had to remind yourself to enjoy it. The hotel room you were staying at with Sihtric was huge and incredibly tidy. There was a huge bed in front of the enormous window, which overlooked the entire capital city, and in the middle of the suite was a jacuzzi. There was also a huge tv, a fancy sofa, a dining area and a luxurious bathroom. The place was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you were simply speechless.

You took it easy during the first day while Sihtric had some interviews scheduled, and you'd meet up later to have dinner and spend the rest of the evening together, as he had promised. Sihtric was sweet to check in with you whenever he had a moment, texting you if you needed anything and if you were okay. The entire day was quite overwhelming and you decided to go to bed rather early after dinner, and Sihtric said he would join you as he had another busy day tomorrow. And it was then that he realised there was only one bed. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, so he insisted on sleeping on the sofa while you took the huge bed, which you did without arguing, even though you had no problem with sharing a bed if he had asked.

The following days were more or less the same. Sihtric was busy during the day so you just relaxed in the hotel while he often checked up on you, and in the evening you dined together and talked about your day. Sihtric really did his best to make your stay comfortable, and he truly spoiled you whenever he could by bringing you delicious local snacks and little presents such as flowers and an occasional small stuffed animal. You weren't sure what you were to him, but you couldn't deny that you loved how important and cared for Sihtric made you feel, despite being one of the busiest men on the planet right now. And you never got the feeling that you had to give him anything in return, as there was still a comfortable distance between you two that Sihtric also allowed to be there, by continuing to sleep on the couch and not making any advances, even if he was longing for you.

But that comfortable distance changed suddenly after you both decided to get into the jacuzzi after dinner one evening. And despite the fact you were both in swimwear, there was a clear shift in energy that night. It was the night before England's first match, and you noticed that Sihtric wasn't as lively as usual and he seemed to be brooding.

'Are you okay?' you asked after a long silence while Sihtric stared out of the window, sitting back in the warm water across from you.

'Hm?' he seemed to snap out of his distant gaze and looked at you, 'yeah, I'm fine,' he said with a forced smile.

'Are you sure?'

You couldn't help but admire his beauty as he looked out the window again. The jacuzzi was lit up with a pleasant purple colour as the water bubbled gently, while the rest of the room was dimly lit, the lights highlighting Sihtric's sharp features and his impressive body. His hair had been braided earlier that day, and it was a look that had taken your breath away instantly. You stared at Sihtric, waiting for another response from him, but it seemed he hadn't heard you.

'Sihtric?' you carefully asked for his attention again, 'are you sure you're okay? You're so… quiet.'

'Just nervous,' he eventually murmured and looked at you, 'I guess I'm just nervous.'

'Well, that's understandable.'

'No,' Sihtric shook his head, 'I'm never nervous before a match. I don't understand it.'

'But it's an important moment in your career,' you reminded him as you mindlessly moved closer, 'I think it would be strange if you weren't nervous.'

'Maybe,' he said, almost sadly, and he looked down into the water, his shoulder faintly touching yours, 'I guess I'm just afraid I'm going to fuck it up.'

'You won't,' you said and took his hand underwater, 'you shouldn't think like that.'

Sihtric hummed softly and shrugged, then sighed and allowed his head to fall back, clearly stressed while his eyes were shut and his neck tattoo completely exposed to you.

'Hey,' you whispered and took his face, 'you'll be great, Sihtric,' you smiled as he looked at you again, 'I know you'll give it your all. Everyone knows you will give it your all. Don't doubt yourself. You were selected for a reason.'

'I guess,' he mumbled and lightly trailed his fingers over your arms.

And then without thinking you wrapped your arms around him and he immediately did the same, locking into a sudden and tight embrace while being completely silent, the only sound heard being the comforting buzzing of the jacuzzi. You held each other for minutes, your face buried in his neck while he rested his chin upon your shoulder.

'Thank you,' he whispered after a while as he still held you.

'For what?' you chuckled and pulled away to look at him.

'Consoling me,' Sihtric smiled faintly and looked away again, 'I never had anyone around who did that before other important matches.'

'Well,' you smiled and took his face again, 'I'm here now.'

Sihtric chuckled and couldn't help but gaze at you, now that you were so close to him in such an intimate setting, and he then suddenly leaned in to kiss your lips. You froze for a moment before he broke the kiss abruptly, and you stared at each other with big eyes while both being breathless.

You then pulled him closer and kissed him in return, to which he wrapped his strong arms around you again and kissed you back eagerly. Gently at first, but the kiss deepened quickly and before you knew it you straddled his lap while his tongue was in your mouth and his hands grabbed you wherever he could. You moaned against his lips while his ragged breaths filled your lungs, and he hooked his arms under your knees to pick you up effortlessly and carry you out of the warm water, towards the sofa.

'No,' you giggled as Sihtric sat down with you in his lap, both soaking the entire sofa with your wet clothing, 'we'll ruin the sofa like this.'

'I don't care,' Sihtric hummed and kissed you again, 'I'll pay for it,' he murmured and then softly bit your lower lip before kissing you deeply again, his hands in your hair while you felt his arousal press up against your clothed folds.

He grabbed your hips, guiding you to grind down on him while you made out passionately, and it didn't take long before you both became a desperately moaning mess for each other, wanting more.

'No,' Sihtric suddenly breathed against your lips before he kissed you again and again, 'no, no,' he murmured, which confused you.

'What?' you pulled away, thinking you were doing something he did not want, but Sihtric was quick to pull your lips back onto his again.

'I can't be doing this,' he whispered out of breath in between kisses, 'I can't,' he moaned heavily when he pushed you to grind down on him once again, torturing himself as he wanted you so desperately but couldn't allow himself to have you just yet. 'I can't have sex before a game day,' he sighed and dropped his head, leaning his forehead onto your shoulder, 'I'm sorry.'

'Oh,' you gasped softly, 'I… it's okay. I didn't know that, I'm sorry too.'

'Don't be,' Sihtric whispered, 'it's my fault. I shouldn't have allowed myself to kiss you like that.'

He shook his head, saddened, and you moved to sit next to him. You both stared out of the massive window, overlooking Berlin at night time while you tried to get a grip on yourself again. A few minutes later you excused yourself to the bathroom, getting out of your swimwear and slipping into some comfy sleeping clothes before you snuck into the large bed. Sihtric changed his clothes not much later and you enjoyed the sight of him walking out of the bathroom in just his tight fitting boxers, the thin fabric hugging his perfectly shaped booty of which you couldn't keep your eyes off, and they only got pulled away from his backside when you realised he was putting towels on the sofa so he could sleep on it.

'What are you doing?' you asked as you sat up in bed.

'I have to go to sleep,' Sihtric chuckled a little confused, 'it'll be a long day tomorrow-'

'I know,' you interrupted, 'that's why I don't want you to sleep on the sofa. Take the bed,' you said as you attempted to move out, 'I'll take the-'

'No,' Sihtric said sternly, 'I won't let you sleep on the sofa.'

'And I won't let you sleep on the sofa either,' you said with your hands on your hips, showing him you were serious too, 'you need a good rest before tomorrow. I insist you are taking the bed.'

'And I insist you are not taking the sofa.'

'I don't mind sharing the bed, Sihtric,' you rolled your eyes, 'I never had a problem with that, you just went for the sofa so I figured it was a gentleman's gesture. But if you wanted to sleep in the bed too, I wouldn't have refused. We're both adults,' you scoffed and got back under the sheets again, 'so get that nice ass of yours in bed.'

'Nice ass?' Sihtric mumbled as he grabbed his pillows and joined you in bed, 'you think I have a nice ass?' he asked after a while as you laid in the dark.

'Sihtric,' you sighed, 'the entire world thinks you have a nice ass.'

Sihtric laughed softly at that and moved to lay on his side, facing you as the moon faintly illuminated your face, and he gently cupped your cheek in the darkened room.

'I'm sorry that I kissed you,' he whispered, 'I should've known better, but I couldn't help myself. I just can't be intimate before a match, even if I wanted to. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.'

'It's okay. I feel bad too… I guess it was just a mistake.'

'No,' Sihtric said softly, 'it was not a mistake. The timing is just not right, but it was no mistake on my end.'

'Oh,' you breathed as you mindlessly moved your hand up the side of his body and to his neck.

'Maybe,' Sihtric began, 'we could, you know… just kiss a little?'

'Just a little,' you chuckled shyly.

'Only a little,' he whispered, and you heard the smile in his soft voice before he planted his lips onto yours again. 

You kissed with a little more self control this time, until you felt his hand move down to your thigh, and he suddenly trailed his fingers across your panties, to which you broke the kiss.

'What are you doing?'

'You… you don't want me to?' he whispered.

'No, I mean, I do, but… I don't understand,' you said with a soft chuckle.

'Just because I can't have pleasure doesn't mean I can't give you any.'

You smiled and kissed him again, you weren't saying no to that and you allowed his hand to explore your skin further and let him pull down your underwear. You felt his warm fingertips slide teasingly over your wet folds, and you gasped mid-kiss when he slid two digits inside you with ease. He kissed you again, loving the way you moaned against his lips while he pleased you with his hands and felt your walls clench around his fingers.

'Making such pretty sounds for me,' he hummed softly, 'but I'm sure you can sound even prettier for me,' he whispered and pulled away from you, only to disappear under the warm sheets.

You felt his hands grab your ankles, and then your legs were suddenly resting upon his back while you felt his mouth leaving wet kisses on your thighs before you felt his hot breath against your sweet spot. You gasped loudly when he gently kissed your pussy, before he delved his tongue between your folds while he held your hips tightly, and you accidentally scratched up his back and neck in pleasure as you couldn't grab onto his hair, because you could not ruin the footballer's braids the night before an important match.

The next morning you woke up with Sihtric's arms around you, moments before his alarm blared as it was time for him to wake up. It was way too early for you to get up yet, so you turned around in bed a few more times while Sihtric was going for his morning jog. You met him a few hours later for breakfast and he told you what his day would look like. He also invited you to watch the game in the stadium, but you still didn't feel quite comfortable enough to go there, so you declined and said you'd watch it in your room, which he completely understood. You were both a little unsure where you and him stood now after last night's adventure, and neither of you dared to kiss each other again, so you just gave him a few encouraging words instead and a firm hug before he left.

You hated how nervous you were for him. And you hated football, so how could you possibly care about it now? But you cared about Sihtric though, and you wanted him to win. So with a nauseating feeling you paced around the room until the match started early in the evening. You bit your nails off while watching, and you actually stopped breathing for a second when there was a close up of Sihtric on your tv screen where you noticed a red mark in his neck; a scratch which you had left on him the night before as he had gone down on you until you had moaned his name over and over again.

You blushed at the memory and couldn't help but smile every time you saw Sihtric on screen, looking so good with his braided hair and that black and white football kit on. You cheered embarrassingly loudly when Sihtric scored the first goal of the evening, just before the second half, and you held your breath when he was suddenly down on the field after he had taken a tumble. A player from the opposite team had deliberately pushed him over while trying to take the ball, and you watched the guy receive a yellow card for his vile actions. You felt relieved when Sihtric got up again and was able to continue the game, but it was nerve wracking regardless. Sihtric eventually received a yellow card himself after he tackled someone, and if looks could kill, Sihtric would've killed that referee right on the spot. Sihtric made many more attempts to score another goal in the second half, but the opposing team was too strong to let the ball pass, yet too weak to make a goal of their own. And so the game concluded with England's first win, and you jumped up on the sofa as you cheered.

You didn't understand why you were so happy about that damn game, but when Sihtric returned to the hotel room a few hours later he was more than thrilled to have you run up to him and jump into his arms.

'Congratulations,' you smiled down at him as he held you, leaning your forehead against his, 'I told you you'd do great.'

'Thank you,' he smiled shyly while looking up at you, desperately wanting to kiss you but not being entirely sure if he should or could, so instead he just walked you over to the sofa and sat you down.

Sihtric had already showered and changed into his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie before leaving the stadium, and despite the fact he looked tired from the match, he still looked as handsome as ever and you couldn't keep your eyes off him. Luckily for you, he couldn't tear his own eyes away from you either while you discussed the game until the early hours. Again you shared the bed with him, quietly laying next to each other with the lights still on until you both couldn't contain your desire for each other anymore, and your lips crashed together into a passionate kiss, just like the night before. But this time Sihtric had no reason to hold back, no matter how tired he was, and he kissed you deeply. You felt his hands all over your body as he undressed you before he moved up from the bed and took your hands, pulling you up towards him as he stood next to the bed. He took off his sweater and took your hands again, sliding them up his perfect body so you felt every single muscle underneath your palms, almost making you forget how to breathe.

You then curled your fingers around the elastic band of his sweatpants and you slid them down, revealing his trapped arousal as it was desperate to be freed from his tight boxers, but first you cupped his big and hard cock, teasing him while you pulled him in by his necklace to kiss his lips. Sihtric took your face, his hands trembling from all of the adrenaline in his body after winning the game and having been desperate to fuck you stupid for days already. He groaned while you taunted him with your hands, and he pushed you down on the bed before taking off his underwear and sneaking under the covers with you. You made out again, and it was as desperate as it was passionate, and you dishevelled his braids with your fingers while you got lost in each other's touch before you finally experienced the bliss of feeling him deep inside you.

You made love for hours, Sihtric desperately fighting his urge to make you both finish quickly, as he wanted to savour the feeling of being inside you and being intimate with someone who genuinely cared about him. And when you both finally came, just when dawn arrived, you fell asleep in each other's arms and slept almost through the entire day.

You woke up late in the afternoon and ordered some room service, not wanting to spend your day being around other people, just each other. You made out whenever you could in your hotel room; while taking a shower together, while watching some tv and even while trying to get dressed once the sun had set so you could explore Berlin at night together, as Sihtric had another day off tomorrow. 

You explored the darkened streets hand in hand, stopping every few steps to kiss each other's lips or nuzzle each other's noses, like a teenage couple disgustingly in love, which made your sightseeing trip last ridiculously long. You kissed underneath the Brandenburger Tor and at the East Side Gallery, as well as in front of the Berlin cathedral and at the museum island, where you even snapped a few cute selfies together for private use only.

'I think I'm falling for you,' you smiled against his lips, while being surrounded by the impressive museum buildings at night.

'I already fell for you,' Sihtric smiled and kissed you softly, 'and I've been down here for a while already, waiting for you. And I'll catch you, don't worry,' he whispered, his lips brushing faintly against yours.

His words reassured you, no matter how crazy this entire trip had been so far. And once back in the hotel again, long after midnight, you once again had passionate sex for a good hour, and you fell asleep all cuddled up.

The next day it seemed that life started to go back to normal again, whatever normal was at that point. Sihtric had training to attend to and a bunch of press to do with his team, while you allowed yourself to be lazy in the jacuzzi until it was time to grab dinner with the handsome footballer in the evening. Everything seemed perfect, and Sihtric gradually became affectionate in public with you, which you enjoyed more than you thought. But his mood changed again upon entering the hotel room after dinner, as he had another match again tomorrow.

Sihtric seemed to shut down again while you laid in bed, and you took him in your arms without saying a single word because you already knew he felt stressed, as all eyes would be on him again tomorrow. It was only when you saw the tears in his eyes that you became worried, but Sihtric said he was fine and that those tears weren't tears of sadness. He reassured you he was okay, and he kissed you lovingly before saying good night and switching off the lights.

Sihtric held you tightly in the dark as he wanted to tell you how he felt, but he couldn't find the right words. All he knew was that he felt complete, for once in his life, because he was now experiencing something he never had before yet always longed for; someone waiting for him to celebrate a win with, someone to console him after a loss, and someone to encourage him when he felt uncertain about himself. He finally had someone to come back to and feel safe and loved with after the whirlwind of a match day, someone who made him forget about his worries and allowed him to relax again. But most importantly, he finally had someone who made him happy, and it was overwhelming to him.

The second match was just as stressful as the first one had been for you, but you watched it regardless in your hotel room and were screaming your lungs out when England won the game again. The following weeks continued to go as the previous one. You and Sihtric grew closer together while keeping your relationship private as much as possible, and you encouraged him before every match day. England continued to be undefeated and eventually found their place at the World Cup final. Sihtric was more stressed than ever but having you by his side soothed him, and he kept saying you were his lucky charm.

You decided to watch the final match in the stadium, with the other wives and girlfriends, and Sihtric was over the moon when he walked out on the field and saw you there, wearing one of his own football shirts with his name and number on it. He blew you a kiss before the game started, and you almost scared yourself with how passionate you had gotten about the sport. You loved the feeling you got when Sihtric scored a goal, causing the entire crowd of England supporters to go mental. Your seat vibrated each time the crowd celebrated, as thousands of fans jumped up and down while cheering on the man you had fallen in love with, and you also became more vocal during the match too, shouting and cheering along with everyone else. And when the whistle sounded after ninety minutes, signalling that the match was over and England had won with an amazing 4 - 0, you screamed just as loud as every other England supporter in the stadium while you watched Sihtric run around the field with his hands up, celebrating their victory with his team and their coach.

Uhtred and Finan were fast to depart their team and ran to the side of the field where you were at, as their partners were seated next to you, and the girls jumped down to celebrate with their man while a low fence separated them. You smiled as you watched them and then you suddenly saw Sihtric run over to your side too. His eyes were locked with yours while he closed in on the fence, and he gestured you to come down too, which you did. You shyly approached him, but he made you forget about everyone around you when he pulled you in his arms, as far as the fence would allow it, and then placed his hand on the back of your neck to pull you in for a steamy kiss. You were too shocked to pull away, but at this point you could also care less about who saw it, because you were in love with him and you didn't want to hide it anymore. And clearly, neither did Sihtric.

You left the stadium before the team did, and Sihtric rushed back to the hotel as fast as he could, after having showered and changed outfits at the stadium and giving some interviews. Sihtric jogged up to the elevator and impatiently pressed for the doors to close and take him up to the right floor. His shoulders collided with the elevator doors as they opened and he made haste to get out, and he chuckled to himself while he grabbed the key out of his pocket, wasting no time to enter the room he knew you were in. And he was pleasantly surprised to find you waiting for him, sitting on the bed while wearing nothing but his football shirt. He gave you a sly smile and kicked the door shut behind him, then stalked over to you while taking off his shirt and pulling out his hair tie, letting his long, wavy and damp hair fall down before he climbed in bed and pinned you down.

'Congratulations,' you whispered as you looked up at him, your hands trailing over his chest, 'I'm proud of you, baby.'

'I couldn't have done it without you, darling,' Sihtric whispered and smiled.

And he then kissed you with that same passion as he had done every other night, and he fucked you three more times before you had to take the flight back home to London the next day. He took you everywhere he could; on the sofa, on the bed, on the table, in the jacuzzi, on the floor and even on the balcony.

And on your plane trip back home, you sat cuddled up against him instead of across from him, as you had done the first day of your trip, and you couldn't imagine being without him anymore.

'Are you my girl now?' Sihtric asked, shortly before the plane landed.

'Do you want me to be?' you asked with a cheeky smile.

'Hm,' he hummed, 'no… I want you to be my wife, actually.'

'Okay,' you chuckled, 'but I'm also still your maid, right?'

'No, darling,' Sihtric smiled and took your face, 'if you're mine, I promise that you'll never have to work another day in your life again. I got you,' he whispered and kissed your lips, 'just like you had my back these past weeks.'

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