#SHE CAN’T WRITE AND SHE HAS NOTHING TO SAY
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
yanderenightmare · 2 days ago
Text
Bakugou Katsuki
♡ TW: boyfriend Katsuki's strange guilty pleasure, harassment, nasty online comments, noncon ideations, online pervs
♡ FEM reader
Tumblr media
“I’m borrowing your laptop, Kats!” you call. 
He’s in the bath, so you’re not sure he heard you, but also, you don’t think it’s any big deal. You’ve been a couple for years now, and living together has only brought you closer. Besides, it’s not as if you’re going to snoop or anything—you’re just going to check something real quick while you charge yours.
You rethink it when you have to write in his password. Maybe it would be better to just wait for your own machine to get ready—it’s not as if you’re in a hurry or anything. But then again, at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to give it your best guess.
Right on the first try—your name and birthday. Though you appreciate the gesture, he really should see into getting something stronger than that. The information he is privy to through his work is quite sensitive, after all.
But anyway. Onto the task at hand. You click into the browser. It’s already got some tabs open. 
You don’t mean to let your eyes wander, but it just can’t be helped. Katsuki sits before this thing, sometimes for hours during the day. Of course, most of it is surely work-related, writing incident rapports and profiles and the like. But this page right here… you don’t know… something about it seems strange.
“Some type of forum…” you mutter to no one but yourself. Katsuki had never struck you as the type to neither read nor partake in other people’s banter. Again, you’d promised yourself you weren’t going to pry, but it only takes a few seconds to read the comments—it’s over before you can stop yourself.
I bet she’s a squealer, like a really cute squealer
I wanna tie her up in an abandoned building somewhere no one will hear her scream
Same, but not on the bed though, on the floor and take her like a bitch
I‘m sure dynamight fucks her every day, i know i would! 
Dynamight’s such a lucky guy I hate him
You blink reading through the comments—completely having forgotten what you were doing in the first place. Who are these people? What are these comments about? You keep scrolling, eyebrows knit, and then you see it—your name. 
She looks like the type of girl that lets her man fuck her anywhere he wants whenever he wants
I’d literally kill for an hour of having her alone. And I’d make good use of that hour. Make her dump that blond asshat to be with me.
If she were my girlfriend, I’d keep her leashed to the bed with a collar. Can’t have other guys looking at her when she’s mine.
I’d only feed her cum. Trust me, she wouldn’t go hungry.
You’re eyes are fully wide now. Are all these chats about you? What’s Katsuki doing in a place like this? Reading all these sick comments as if he isn’t your boyfriend.
“Hey!” A shout knocks you out of your trance—and startles you enough that it very nearly even knocked you off balance.
“What’re you doin’ on my computer?” he asks in accusation while taking hurried and thundering steps toward you—still wet from his shower, wearing nothing but a white towel around his lower half.
“Uh,” you struggle to find your voice, heart hammering in your chest, head spinning—feeling both caught red-handed and the exact opposite. “Uhm, nothing—I just—”
He rips the laptop off the desk, angry eyes staring at the screen—then quickly going round.
His face pales. You can practically see the goosebumps as they rise in a rush across his skin. 
He swallows thickly, jaw-locked—doesn’t even dare look at you as he asks the question, “Did you read?”
You almost consider saying no but decide against it. This wasn’t something you could just ignore. No, you needed an explanation. Who knows? It might be completely innocent.
“Some of it…” you confess.
He shudders, and then he places the laptop down again, slowly, soundless. He rests his hands on the table and leans his weight on them, head bowed, voice small.
“I just… I… It’s, well…” He scratches the back of his neck, looking for the words.
You’ve never seen him like this before. Katsuki is nervous. But you suppose it’s for good reason.
“It’s not what you think, okay?” he declares, finally looking at you. 
His face is something unfamiliar—riddled with this guilty anxiety you’ve never pictured before—frazzled. It’s completely odd.
“Okay,” you say calmly. You don’t know if you’re angry or not yet. You know you probably should be, but the look on the man’s face is making you feel sorry for him.
“I don’t agree with any of this,” he insists, gesturing to the laptop. 
“Well, yeah, I sure hope so,” you say, although the question still remains, “But why are you on there then?”
“It…” He’s blushing—profusely—bright vermillion-tipped ears and apple-red cheeks. He looks away again. “I don’t know…”
I don’t know is an excuse you’ve never heard come out of his mouth. In fact, excuse or not, it’s a phrase you didn’t think him capable of. But look at him now, using it the same childish way a kid would after being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“You better not lie to me, Katsuki Bakugou—or I know someone who’s sleeping on the couch,” you finally find your strict tone. He’s crazy if he thinks this is something you’ll just forget about.
He sighs and then he falls into his desk chair, back hunched, hiding his face, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you close, nuzzling his head against you, mumbling under his breath, “It’s sick, and it makes me sick…”
You wait, giving him the time to figure it out.
“But it…” he continues. You feel his hands tremble just a bit before he confesses, “It makes me feel good.”
You’re not sure you understand, and so you ask for clarification, “What makes you feel good?”
He sighs again, and this time, his voice comes out dark and lusty, leaving no room for confusion, “To know that I have something everybody else wants.”
Tumblr media
♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist ♡ ALL masterlists
1K notes · View notes
satellite-evans · 3 days ago
Text
Unfaithful
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader
Summary: Going trough a breakup hits harder whe you realize only your hearts gets broken.
Word count: 1.6k+
Warnings: angst, no happy ending. mention of age gap.
A/N:
I wrote something similar for Chris Evans a couple of years ago and wanted to write it now with Lewis bc I liked the concept xxx
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
Love. It’s a difficult word to understand, even harder to feel. Everyone has felt it at least once, but in different amounts. That’s why people sometimes compare it to chemistry. If you pour in too much, if the balance is even slightly off, it can become dangerous. It can destroy you.
And that’s exactly what happened with you and Lewis. You loved him too much. At least, that’s what your friends told you. They spoke in hushed voices, their pitying eyes following you across rooms, as if love had left you fragile. As if you might shatter if someone breathed too hard in your direction. You’d hear what your therapist had to say about it next week, but you weren’t looking forward to it.
What was she going to tell you anyway? That you had issues to work on, that it wasn’t your fault, and that healing takes time? Nothing you didn’t already know. Nothing you hadn’t told yourself a hundred times over in the dead of night while lying awake, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself not to check your phone. Because you knew there would be nothing from him.
But that didn’t stop you from wanting.
It hurt, like all endings do, but this was different. It hurt that it ended for you, but it also hurt that it never truly started for him. That realization struck you in the middle of the night sometimes, jolting you awake with a sharp pain in your chest. You would reach out for him instinctively, fingers fumbling against empty sheets, the cold linen burning against your skin like ice. The loneliness of your bed mocked you, whispering the truth you had refused to see for so long.
“You should’ve seen this coming, Y/N.”
How could you? He acted, he talked, he listened, and he loved like he was yours. In the 29 years of your life, you had never felt more alive than when you were with him. He made you want to do more, to be more. You remembered the way he used to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way his voice softened when he said your name, the way his hands always found yours in crowded places. He was your best boyfriend.
Until he decided he wasn’t.
And looking back, you wondered if he ever really was. If it had all been an illusion, a cruel trick you had played on yourself. You combed through every moment, every smile, every touch, every whispered “I love you,” dissecting it all with a surgeon’s precision, trying to find the exact moment it all went wrong.
Was it the first time he hesitated before saying “I love you” back? The time he forgot your anniversary? The night he turned away when you reached for him? Or had he been leaving you long before that, piece by piece, while you remained blissfully unaware, drowning in a love that only you were truly feeling?
In all honesty, you never thought that someone you loved so much could become the person you hated most. But then again, you can’t hate someone you never truly loved, can you?
“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” someone once told you. “People cross that line all the time. Sometimes, just one word can make you fall in love, and just one word can make you despise someone.”
In your case, it was two.
“I cheated.”
You remembered the way he said it—calm, almost indifferent, like he was commenting on the weather. Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.
The world had blurred around you in that moment. Your vision tunneled, sound faded, and for a few seconds, it was just you and those two words, echoing through your skull, carving themselves into your bones. You had expected guilt, regret, maybe even tears. But all you got was a hollow confession and a half-hearted apology that came too late to mean anything.
The worst part? You hadn’t even screamed. You hadn’t cried. You had just stood there, nodding, as if accepting the inevitable. As if you had known all along and had simply been waiting for confirmation.
But that was the thing about love—it made you blind. It made you believe in things that were never real.
And now, you were left with nothing but memories and an emptiness you didn’t know how to fill.
The words still echoed in your mind, playing on a cruel, endless loop. They replayed every time you closed your eyes, every time you saw a couple on the street, every time you passed a place where you had once been happy together. The thought of it made you want to pull your hair out. How had you been so blind? Had love really done this to you? Were you so deeply in love with him that you ignored all the red flags?
No. You weren’t doing this again. You weren’t blaming yourself for someone else’s choices. Lewis had painted all the red flags green with his charm and his words.
Until your tears washed the paint away and revealed the truth.
What hurt the most was that he didn’t care. He didn’t care that you stayed up talking to him for hours when you had early morning meetings. He didn’t care that you flew across the world just to surprise him at his race. He didn’t care that you were always the one encouraging him before every challenge. That realization cut the deepest. Not just that he had hurt you, but that he had never really cared if he did.
He. Simply. Didn’t. Care.
And now, you were left alone, with no one to talk to, no one to travel across time zones for, no one to encourage you.
“Why?”
It was just one word, but it held a thousand meanings.
Why did you cheat on me? Why did you make me believe I was yours? Why did you let me fall in love with you? Why me? Why did you hurt me?
It didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t worth your tears. He wasn’t worth your anger, your heartbreak, your sleepless nights.
Lewis didn’t deserve your love. Just like he didn’t deserve your pain.
Alcohol. That was his excuse.
"I—I swear, Y/N. I didn't mean to. I had too many drinks, and when I woke up, she was just… there."
Of course, he would blame it on everything but himself. Why would he take responsibility? Lewis Hamilton, the man adored by millions, was a selfish coward when it came to love.
At least he wasn’t a good liar. His stuttering, his clenched jaw, his hands running through his curls—all signs of guilt. He was suffering in front of you, and you should have enjoyed it.
But you didn’t.
Even now, even after everything, you felt sorry for him. Maybe it was because of your mother, who had always told you to see the good in people, to have empathy.
You wished she hadn’t. Especially now.
Deep down, you had known. Lewis had changed, right in front of your eyes. He went from the man who would rather stay in with you, watching movies on a rare free night, to someone who partied and came home at 3 a.m. You blamed it on stress, on pressure, on everything except the truth.
The truth was that it was all him.
“Whatever. I’m done listening to your excuses, done pretending everything is okay. You can’t even lie to me properly, Lewis. And maybe I should’ve known. You never cared about my feelings anyway.”
His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken. But his eyes—they told a story of regret. And you knew, if you stared too long, you’d start believing him again.
So you looked away.
“Please, Y/N. I don’t want to lose you.”
The urge to slap him, to scream, to break something, surged through you. But you held it back. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he still had that power over you.
Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to stand tall.
“And I don’t want to keep waiting, hoping that one day you’ll realize I’m what you want, Lewis. I’m done. I lost someone who never cared about me. But you? You lost someone who would’ve done anything for you.”
His eyes were glassy now, staring straight into yours.
“What are you saying?”
“I was the only one who actually fell in love. You just pretended.”
With that, you grabbed your keys and walked out of his apartment, slamming the door behind you—just like he had slammed shut the door to your heart.
Your first instinct was to drive away as far as possible and never look back. But for some reason, you couldn't. For some silly reason, you looked back to see that he would come after you, begging to stay, but he didn't. The street was empty and cold, just like him.
The moment your forehead touched the steering wheel, your eyes began to cry uncontrollably. Like a leaf in the cold night, your whole body started to shake, and the only thing you could do was cry even harder. It was a blessing you hadn't cried in front of him; you didn't want him to see you vulnerable and broken. Yet every fiber of your being had fought to hold those tears back, and now, they were no longer strong enough to keep them inside. In fact, you didn't want to be strong anymore. All you'd done in life was pretend everything was okay, acting as though words didn't hurt you. As though Lewis didn't hurt you.
You were done.
After drying your face with some tissues you found in your car, you took a deep breath, started the car and started driving.
You had no exact destination in where you wanted to go, you just kept driving. But one thing was clear:
You were never going back. Even if your heart ached, too.
140 notes · View notes
narrycherries · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
ivy: magnificently cursed
she can’t seem to ignore him and he’s rather observant of her..
(part 5)
masterlist / ivy series
word count: 11.4k
warnings/tags: harry x fem oc, angst, alcohol use, enemies to lovers
[a/n: hi before you again I just want to say I hope this isn’t repetitive, a good portion of the content of this series will happen at the same few locations, so just be patient with me lol, slow burn is coming to an end soon I promise! enjoy xx]
..Sometimes I just want to scream and scream until my lungs explode. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! He has been nothing but an ass to me, even when I try to thank him for helping me he acts like he hates me. What did I ever do to him? Am I losing my mind? Was there something that happened that I can't recall? And my stupid heart won’t stop gushing over him. What is wrong with me! Am I literally losing control of my mind? And to think that I went out of my way to be nice to him.. just to have it thrown back in my face? I’m willing to bet that nobody hates anyone as much as he hates me..
A frustrated huff flew past Ivy’s lips as she finished writing the final line of her diary entry for the day. She always tried her best to write her feelings and thoughts down so that her brain would be less congested. Today’s session lasted about twenty minutes as she quickly jotted down her conflicting thoughts regarding a certain person - a person she hadn’t seen in a couple of weeks who just so happened to take up every available space in her mind. She slammed the journal shut and shoved it back into the drawer, not wanting it to be left out in the open. She never thought Emma would go through her things, it was just a personal preference she had - keep it hidden.
Ivy quickly got dressed after checking the time. It was Friday evening and she had something big planned for the night. She wasn’t going out on a date or going to dinner with Emma, she was doing something for herself and by herself. She checked her reflection, smiling as she thought she looked rather happy - despite being so angry as she scribbled words into the diary just minutes ago. Before long, she was out of the house and in her car, headed for the destination she was excited to arrive at.
There was a bit of nervousness building in her stomach as she gripped the wheel and anticipated what was going to happen. She tried to remain calm and remind herself this wasn’t the first time she’s doing this. She had a little bit of experience with the process, and she already knew the end results were well worth the anxiety. The music softly buzzed in the car as she drove to the tattoo shop. She didn’t want to overwhelm her mind with loud noise, she had to save all her energy for sitting through the tattoo.
Emma was excited that she was getting a new one, but she was unable to accompany her tonight since she had made plans with Niall. Ivy wasn’t bothered by having to go alone, she actually preferred it that way. With her previous tattoos, she just sat in silence as the artist did their job with precision and focus. She thought that talking would be too distracting.
A bright smile grew on her lips as she walked up to the door of the shop, the bright green open sign nearly blinding her. The bell jingled above the door, making her glance up for just a second. Zayn had just walked into the lobby when she came in, so he greeted her with a quick hug.
“How’ve you been?” He hadn’t seen her since their trip ended.
“I’ve been pretty good. And you?” She asked as he sat down at the desk to verify her appointment details.
“Decent, decent. Been having a lot of practices this week for the show tomorrow, so m’a bit tired.”
She laughed gently. “Not too tired, I hope.”
“Oh, of course not! I could tattoo in my sleep. It’s everything else that I’m being lazy about this week.” He grinned back as he confirmed her appearance for the appointment in his computer system and stood back up, gesturing her to follow him to the back.
When they went through the main tattoo room, she noticed there was a man she didn’t see last time who was working on a client. He didn’t look up at them though, he seemed to be very preoccupied. The door to Zayn’s private room was already opened, so she trailed in behind him.
“Don’t mind the company. He owes me a favor so he’s doing the job I don’t like doing.” Zayn said with a chuckle as he shut the door behind them.
Ivy was about to open her mouth to speak when she looked to the corner of the room. In the chair she sat in when she was in Emma sat a person she knew all too well. Her chest started to feel tight all of a sudden, and it worsened when a set of eyes shot up to look at who came in.
Harry was surprised to see her standing there, but he didn’t express it on his face whatsoever. Ivy, on the other hand, made it clear that she was shocked to see him sitting there. He noticed the small part between her lips, almost as if her jaw went slack, and the look of utter fear in her eyes. A bit dramatic, if someone were to ask him.
“Have a seat, I’ve got your design printed out in a few different sizes.” Zayn said as he went to the counter, collecting the papers he wanted to give her.
She sat down, swallowing harshly as she tried to ignore the fact Harry was in the room with her. She hadn’t seen him since Niall dropped her and Emma off back home after the trip. He didn’t talk to her, or to anyone, the entire ride home. The last thing he said to her wasn’t very pleasant, which seemed to be a trend for them, so she still had a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to tell him how rude and hateful he was, despite all the rather nice things he had done for her during that trip, but of course she was too afraid to even look at him let alone speak.
Zayn handed her the print outs and she looked over them quickly, picking the size she thought was appropriate. “What do you think?”
He nodded, glancing at the back of her arm. “I think that’s the best size, yeah.”
“Alright. We’ll do that one then.”
He took the paper back and turned away from her. “I’ll get the stencil ready and when I get back I’ll lay the chair down for you.”
“Okay.”
To her surprise, Zayn walked to the door and left the room. He went to the shared space where the other artists work to prepare the stencil. Knowing that she was alone in a room with Harry was making Ivy’s heart start to race and her stomach churn. She felt uncomfortable being this close to him, even if he was on the other side of the room. But thankfully, he was busy doing something and his eyes weren’t on her anymore.
She took the opportunity to look his way since he was distracted. Her brows furrowed slightly as she realized what he was doing. Zayn had given him the task of rearranging new designs and templates in the book his clients often flipped through. She had looked at it when she was here with Emma, so she knew it was already packed full. There were a few loose pages sitting on the floor, maybe those were ones they were replacing?
It took all her strength to tear her eyes from him. She didn’t want to get caught up in her thoughts again, she had already done that once today. Her journal received absolute hell about Harry. She wrote until her hand was sore. There was no point in reliving those thoughts right now.
Zayn was only gone for a few minutes. He told her to stand up so he could adjust the chair before applying the stencil to her skin. Ivy took a deep breath as she watched him lay the chair down. She’d have to lay on her stomach for this one, which was the most comfortable option.
“Alright, turn around.” He said, the stencil gripped in between his fingers. “You want it closer to your elbow, right?”
“Yeah.. keep it low.” She mumbled back, holding her hair over her shoulder so it wouldn’t be in his way.
Zayn placed the stencil on her arm and slowly peeled the paper back. He stared at it for a moment, pretty certain about the placement. But it wasn’t up to him, he had to get her approval.
“Check it for me.”
Ivy turned in the mirror, looking at her arm the best she could. She nodded lightly, pleased with where the stencil had been placed. Seeing the design on her skin, even though it wasn’t permanent yet, made her heart swell. It was a special thing she was getting inked into her skin, and it made all the anxiety worth it.
“It looks perfect.”
“Alright, get comfortable then.” He smiled before starting to prepare his materials.
Ivy laid down on the chair, careful not to disturb the stencil on the back of her arm. She gulped lightly and folded her other arm beneath her head for more cushion. Of course, because why would it work out in her favor, she was facing the corner where Harry was sitting. She kept her eyes closed for now, not wanting to see him at all.
It didn’t take Zayn long to set up, and before she knew it, he was telling her to take a deep breath. “Ready?”
“Mhm.”
The buzzing of the tattoo gun rang in her ear as Zayn pulled her skin taut and started inking the stencil. She sighed softly, the feeling of being tattooed wasn’t foreign to her but it had been a while since her last one. The flower design Zayn put together for her was just lineworm and very gentle shading. She didn’t want it too realistic or too bold.
After a couple of minutes, he decided to talk with her. He didn’t mind chatting with his clients, it made the time go by quicker for both parties. He was very precise and focused, but could easily multitask.
“So.. do these flowers have any significance to you?”
Although he talked with her and designed the tattoo, Ivy hadn’t told him why she wanted them. He didn’t feel the need to ask his clients for the purpose of their tattoos, he just drew up whatever they wanted and tried his best to perfect the designs.
Ivy chewed on her cheek for a moment before answering. “Yeah.. they’re my mom and brother’s birth month flowers. They, um, both passed.”
“Which is which?”
She hesitated at first, the fear of tears creeping into her eyes was taking over. She could easily break down at the mention of either of them, but especially her brother. Ivy opted to stay strong and smile to herself as she thought about them. They would live forever in her mind, the memories she made with each of them were on the top of her list of most important things. She loved and missed them dearly.
“My mom’s is the rose.. the daffodil is my brothers.” She told him in a gentle voice, not realizing she was speaking so softly.
Zayn wasn’t quite sure what to say, so he didn’t respond. He figured she wouldn’t want to discuss them anymore. His assumption was right. The room was silent for a few minutes, aside from the music playing at a low volume. She didn’t know the song that was currently on, though, but Zayn was humming along to it. The feeling of the needle stabbing into her skin was the only thing preventing her from falling asleep. She was tired after a long day working, she just wanted to get home and go to bed. A smile crept to her lips as she heard the start of the next song, one she was very familiar with. It was Joan Jett’s version of “Crimson & Clover,” one of her favorite songs ever and one of her top karaoke picks.
“Oh, I love this song.”
“You prefer this version I assume?” Zayn said with a light laugh.
“Yes, absolutely.”
Zayn pulled the gun away to wipe at her skin, clearing off some of the excess ink. “We used to play this one live.. haven’t done it in probably a year or so.”
“I suggest adding it back to the set.” Ivy tried not to laugh too loudly, she didn’t want to move her body in any way that would ruin Zayn’s lines.
“We have one more practice before the show, maybe we could squeeze it in.” He pushed the needle back into her skin, picking up where he left off. “Are you coming to the show tomorrow?”
“Yes, I am. I’m excited.. I haven’t been out since the trip.”
Zayn made a quick glance over his shoulder towards Harry, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. “Well, I hope your experience is much better than others were.”
Ivy hummed at his words. “Yeah, hope so.”
They went quiet again, the song filling the void. She started thinking about the show and what she was going to wear. The weather might not allow her to dress the way she would prefer, there was a cold spell coming in tonight that would stick around for a few days. Emma would probably get her to help pick out an outfit in the morning, so perhaps Ivy could make her do the same.
Her mind started wondering off to little random things, nothing particularly capturing her attention as she laid there. Zayn was focused on the tattoo and he didn’t want to risk messing up, so he stayed quiet. He’d answer if she wanted to ask him something, but she appeared to be fine with the silence.
Zayn finished the rose and wiped her skin clean, avoiding the stencil lines for the other flower. He was pleased with the work he did, so he moved on to the next one. Ivy sighed out as he mumbled a quick warning to her before starting again. It was fine for a couple of minutes, until she suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere around them. She heard footsteps, then could actually feel a presence come towards her. She opened her eyes and immediately felt her throat close up. The sight of Harry’s legs wasn’t something she thought she’d see this close. She had hoped that he would stay in the corner the entire time, but he didn’t.
“How’s it look?” Zayn asked him.
Harry was standing with his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes staring down at the spot Zayn was tattooing. The small flowers were positioned on the back of Ivy’s arm, just above her elbow. They weren’t very big at all and leaned more towards a delicate touch than a bold tattoo. If he hadn’t heard what she said about its significance, he would think that it was a weak tattoo - something girls got just to say they had a tattoo. But since he knew the reason, he was a bit more understanding. He wouldn’t say that to her, obviously, but he at least respected the decision.
“Looks nice. Pretty clean.” He mumbled back, his words low and deep.
“Did you get done with the book?”
Harry cleared his throat and took a step back, but his eyes remained on her skin. “Yeah.”
Zayn leaned back to get a better look at the lines as he took a quick break. “Are you riding with me tomorrow to the bar?”
Harry thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “No, I’ll just go with Cory and Michelle.”
Ivy felt a bit of relief knowing that he wasn’t going to be in Niall’s car. Unlike last time, Niall told her and Emma they could ride with him to the bar. He would have to be there a little early, but they were fine with waiting longer for the show to start. Niall promised Emma he wouldn’t drink tomorrow night, which allowed her to since he’d be driving them back.
“M’gonna head out.” Harry said through a sigh, walking towards the door.
Zayn gave him a quick goodbye and said he’d see him tomorrow afternoon when they meet up for one final quick practice and recap for their show. Ivy was confused as to why she felt sort of upset that Harry had left. She should be jumping with joy and celebrating, finally free of his overbearing presence. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the tattoo needle, she couldn’t distract herself enough. Harry had filled her mind up again..
—•—
Emma grinned when Ivy emptied the shot into her mouth. They had been at the bar for about half an hour, waiting on the show to begin. Niall had to leave them behind to go get things sorted with the owner and set up the stage. They decided it would be best to spend their time preparing for the night, and that meant throwing back shots and ordering a few drinks. Niall was their chauffeur for the night, they were going to cut loose.
“Niall’s not gonna know what to do with you tonight.” Ivy teased as Emma chugged the rest of the beer she had ordered.
“Too hot to handle.” Emma laughed back, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.
When Ivy picked up her cup from the bar, she grunted from the scratching of her denim jacket against her freshly inked tattoo. She thought the long sleeve shirt she had on would stop it, but she could feel the thick fabric anyway. Emma gave her a funny look and a shake of her head.
“I told you that would hurt tonight.”
She shrugged back, it wasn’t her first time dealing with a healing tattoo. “I’ll be alright. Just don’t grab on to me later.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
Ivy didn’t consider how painful it would be to have someone grab onto her arm until now, and the thought of it alone was making her cringe. Emma wouldn’t intentionally hurt her, but she might forget later when they’re dancing and both drunk out of their minds. It would be something to deal with then, and not fret over now.
“Niall told me they added a few songs to the set. Switched out some other ones.” Emma said after calling the bartender over to get another beer.
“Oh really? I’m excited for tonight. I might request something.” Ivy looked down at the ice swirling in her cup, the memory of the night she was harassed while eating the ice cubes flashed in her mind. She blinked it away, trying not to let anything ruin this night for her. “Are they going to the back room after like last time?”
“Yeah, as far as I know.” Emma said back, her hand now occupied with her knew drink. “I hope it goes well this time. I swear we say that every time we do something that involves Harry.” Her snicker didn’t make the topic easier to deal with though.
Ivy sucked on her cheek for a moment, all those harsh memories she shared with him circled her mind. It was like a revolving door they could never escape. It was constant and never ending. Torture would be the word she’d use for it, though that seemed a bit drastic. A huff pushed out of her nose, her eyes cutting back to Emma.
“He was at the shop yesterday when I got the tattoo.”
Emma lifted her brows. “Really? Did he say anything?”
She shook her head. “No, not to me. He said some stuff to Zayn.”
“I really, honestly don’t know why he.. he acts like he doesn’t like you.”
Ivy scoffed. “Acts? It’s definitely not an act. He.. he practically hates me. I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything to him.”
Emma gave her a frown, she didn’t really know what to say about it either. It made no sense that he was so hostile towards her. Was her vibe just something he couldn’t connect with? She must not be friendly in his eyes, or maybe she makes the group feel different and he didn’t like that. Nobody seemed to know the reason..
“He’s just a guy. Rude and.. selfish.” Emma took a drink of her beer. “But.. I was told something interesting.”
Ivy could tell by the way she cocked her brow and let her eyes fall from their locked stare that it was something she wanted to hear. The corner of Emma’s mouth lifted as she thought about it in her head, debating on telling Ivy the information. It wasn't anything crazy, but she thought it was interesting at least.
“What is it?” Ivy asked, nudging Emma’s knee with her own.
Emma twisted the bar stool a little, trying to be all nonchalant about it. “I’m not supposed to say.. but Niall doesn't have to know.”
The mention of Niall made Ivy even more curious. If Niall said this to her, then that means it probably relates to Harry in some way. Emma had no idea, at least to Ivy’s knowledge, that Ivy was so affected by Harry. She didn’t know that she’s spent hours and hours writing about him in her diary, thinking about him while pulling at her own hair and mumbling nonsense to herself, replaying their interactions in her mind imagining them playing out in different ways.. But clearly, Emma knew that telling her something about Harry would pique her interest.
“I’m not going to say anything.” Ivy mumbled back, but of course Emma knew that already.
“Basically.. Niall’s mentioned that Harry’s been different lately. Like at their place or during practice.. even when he’s working shifts at the store.”
Ivy leaned her arm on the bar, her eyes staring holes through Emma’s face. She didn’t say anything yet, just watched as her friend hesitated to finish the story. Emma threw her head back, staring at the ceiling so she wouldn’t have to look at Ivy.
“Niall said it’s like he’s constantly distracted.. and then he’ll get pissed off for no reason, like they could be in literal silence and Harry would get mad. He storms off to his room.. plays his guitar and slams the doors all night.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Hard to believe that’s not normal for him.”
“I don’t know.. I guess he’s got some stuff going on in his personal life. Maybe that’s why he’s so.. rude to you. Maybe he can’t handle a new person right now, or whatever.”
Emma didn’t appear to connect any dots between Harry and Ivy, which Ivy was thankful for. She didn’t want to admit how often she thought about Harry or how far her spirals would go. She didn’t want Emma to know any of that. It made sense that some other external factors could be contributing to Harry’s behavior. What if there really was something going on before Ivy came along, and her being around just didn’t mix well with Harry’s issues? Was it all too much for him? It made sense, yet at the same time it didn’t. How could her being around affect him that drastically?
She just shrugged her shoulders again. “Whatever it is.. he needs to get over it.”
Emma looked back to her. “Yeah. Ready for another shot?”
Just like last time, the girls made their way to the front of the crowd about ten minutes before the show was going to begin. Ivy was on her third drink, on top of a few shots they took, and it was already going straight to her head. She hoped that sipping slowly on this one would do her some good and make her feel better, not crash her out too soon.
“Shouldn’t be much longer.” Emma said as she checked her phone for the time.
Ivy felt a jolt of energy shoot through her. She was excited to dance and sing, let go of all the worries she faced throughout the week and just have fun. Although she had all intentions of enjoying herself tonight, she knew there was a big possibility that Harry could interfere with that. Even if he didn’t do anything to her directly, his presence alone could jeopardize her sanity. Obviously, she couldn’t escape him - in a few short minutes, he’ll be standing on the stage in front of her singing for the next two hours. She was confident in the idea of being able to ignore him. She’s been partially successful at it before.
There were the diary entries to take into consideration - she had spent so many hours pouring out her thoughts and feelings about him. Maybe releasing all of it from her mind would make it easier to ignore him. There was life before he came around, she sometimes forgets that she hadn’t known him forever. She was perfectly capable of controlling her thoughts before he waltzed his way into her mind. Perhaps she was just aiming for something unachievable.. she’d never be able to just forget him, even if she never saw him again.
Ivy’s distraction was pushed to the side when the band finally walked onto the stage. People were cheering loud, ready for the night’s entertainment. Emma squealed, throwing her hand up to wave at Niall. He was chuckling at her, amused to see how excited she was to see him. Ivy’s eyes roamed over the others. Zayn was taking his seat at the drum set while Cory and Michelle quickly discussed something about one of the new songs they were going to play. Of course she couldn’t look at everyone and avoid Harry. Her brows dropped low as she realized he looked different tonight.
That long, perfectly sculpted hair was still flowing onto his shoulders. His tight black tshirt exposed his muscled arms, tattoos inked deep into his tanned skin. His dark jeans were the same as she’s seen him in before. Tonight, he made a decision that was shocking to his band mates, and even more of a surprise to Ivy.
Niall and Cory began the first song, simultaneously singing the opening lyrics to “You Give Love A Bad Name.” Harry’s fingers began playing the guitar he had strapped around his body, his eyes glancing down at the strings to make sure he was on the right track. It sounded perfect, though. She remembered them talking about Harry playing live at dinner weeks ago, but she didn’t think she would witness it solely based on how they reacted to the idea. If he were so insecure about it, what changed his mind? She was genuinely impressed. He was still positioned at the front, the microphone resting in a stand angled towards him. He was singing as confidently as the first time she saw them perform.
It didn’t take very long for Emma to grab Ivy’s hand and pull her closer, the two of them dancing together like it was their last night. As much as she wanted to watch Harry play the guitar, Ivy had no choice but to focus on Emma. She wasn’t going to be rude to her friend for the sake of looking at a person she didn’t even like. She could tell when Niall would play the same chords as him, but he did cut back some and let Harry take over. She wondered if Niall did that to ensure the song wasn’t thrown off track or if that was just how they preferred to do it.
The song changed, and Emma took a quick rest to guzzle a bit of her drink. Ivy let out a laugh as she spilled some, it trickled down her chin and onto her outfit. She groaned, wiping at her face.
“Slow down!” Ivy yelled over the music, making Emma grin back.
They picked up the dancing after her short break. Like she had hoped, it wasn’t that hard for Ivy to forget Harry was so close to her. Maybe it was because this was a different situation. She wasn’t trapped in a car next to him or standing beside him in a crowd, he was doing a job and he was focused entirely on that. She didn’t care what the reason was, she was simply glad she was able to be carefree.
Twenty minutes passed by before Emma decided she’d get another drink. She asked Ivy if she wanted anything, but she declined. They also made a promise that she’d be safe and come straight back, since Ivy’s incident at that other club still lurked fresh in their minds. This place was different, though. Emma was very familiar with the layout and it was nowhere near the size of the other one. Ivy stayed put, right in front of Niall where Emma wanted to be so she could see him.
Niall actually took notice of Emma leaving, but he wasn’t too worried about her. He knew she was comfortable with some of the workers and if she needed anything she’d be able to get help quickly. The strobing lights made it hard for him to see her in the crowd, but there was not any concern.
Ivy kept dancing by herself, but not as passionately. She was swaying from side to side, her head matching her body’s movements. She sipped her drink and sang along to the music, her eyes settled on Niall and Michelle, since they were on the side of the stage they were in front of. She did start to wonder where Emma was after a couple of minutes, but she tried to stay calm. She knew it could take a bit longer to get a drink sometimes, and the walk from the bar might be a harder squeeze. People were less likely to let her just slip through if she were trying to get to the front.
Thankfully, she didn’t come into any trouble. Emma returned with a drink in her hand and a grin on her lips. They were playing one of her favorite songs they do live and she got back just in time. Ivy knew the dancing would immediately start back, Emma couldn’t resist the song. And just like that, they spent another fifteen minutes belting out song lyrics and dancing around like teenage girls.
Eventually, due to their instinct to jump around instead of dance most of the time, they managed to shift from their original spot. They ended up directly in the middle, Harry standing right in front of them. Emma was still able to see Niall, so she didn’t care that much. Ivy, on the other hand, cared more than she wanted to admit. Being that close to him, so perfectly aligned, was making her heart start to skip beats every few seconds. She stared up at him as he sang, his hand gripping the microphone stand as he took a break from playing the guitar. He hadn’t touched it during this song, so maybe he didn’t like playing this one, or perhaps he was resting his hands. His eyes were settled on something random out in the crowd, not towards her. It was a relief.
The song came to an end and she took a minute to take some deep breaths, trying to recover quickly. Her eyes curiously shifted up to Harry just as he wrapped his hand around the neck of the guitar. Ivy absentmindedly chewed on her cheek as she stared up at him like he was an angel, something so magnificent and beautiful.
“Ivy!” Emma suddenly screamed her name as loud as she could.
Her jaw went slack as she heard the beginning of a song she adored more than anything else in the world. Emma had no idea this song was going to be added, Niall didn’t tell her what they put on the set. She was just as excited. Ivy thought back to just yesterday at the tattoo shop, and how this song came up in conversation with Zayn. Was it just a coincidence that “Crimson and Clover” was being played tonight? Surely Zayn would have mentioned it if they had been practicing it, right? She didn’t care to know the answer right now, the urge to dance and sing to one of her favorite songs was stronger than her desire to know.
“Over and over!” She sang at the top of her lungs, her hand gripping Emma’s as they moved their hips to the beat, singing like nobody else was in the room.
Unknownst to Ivy, she had an admirer of her own tonight. She was too busy focused on Emma to notice that Harry had laid his eyes on her. He could hardly hold back an amused smile as he sang, watching her soak up every single word of the song. He thought it was entertaining how she so easily and so comfortably expressed herself. She didn’t care who was watching, or who was singing, she loved the song and she was going to enjoy every second of it.
Unfortunately, it was a short song. And when the final chords were being played, she let Emma go and turned back towards the stage. Harry’s eyes were still locked on her and she immediately felt her stomach seize up. Was it purposeful or did his eyes happen to land on her? She didn’t know and honestly she didn’t have time to think about it. She was slowly starting to drift deep in her thoughts. She noticed every detail about him all of a sudden, as if she had never seen him before. From the sweat beads on his forehead to the delicate way his fingers strummed the strings on his guitar, hitting every chord perfectly.
He stepped back from the microphone stand, pulling his gaze away from her. She felt her throat dry up when he turned away. Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart flutter and she hated that it had to end so quickly. She kept her eyes on him though as he moved on the stage. He placed his guitar on a stand and grabbed a stool.
Cory leaned into the microphone placed in front of him and let everyone know what was going on. “Slowing it down for you for a bit.”
Just like last time she saw them perform, they all took a quick minute long break. Harry snatched a bottle of water off the floor at the back of the stage then walked back to his microphone stand where the stool was waiting for him. She held her breath as she watched him take a seat, then remove the cap of the bottle. He pressed his lips and tilted his head back, water spilling into his mouth. She couldn't help but notice how pink his lips looked. Was it the lighting or were they swollen from all the singing and the constant hitting against the microphone? She didn’t know why, but they looked better than they ever had.
A small gasp left her mouth as Harry’s eyes dropped down to look at her. This time she knew it was on purpose. The way he looked directly at her, nothing else distracted him. They shared a stare for a long minute, neither of them wanting to break it. Even when he took another drink of his water, he kept his eyes frozen on her. Water dripped out the corner of his mouth, and he just wiped it away with the back of his hand. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her to stop being so dumb and giddy about him, but her heart was somewhere else. She didn’t want to look away, didn’t want it to ever end.
“I’m going to the bathroom!” Emma called out, interrupting the moment she wasn’t even sure was real.
She looked over at her and smiled. “Alright.”
Ivy wholeheartedly expected to not see his intense stare when she tilted her head back, and she was surprised to meet his eyes again. He had no intention of looking away from her yet, even when Niall started the next song. Harry gripped the microphone and pulled the stand closer to him. To Ivy’s dismay, it was another one of her favorite songs. She knew for a fact she never said anything about this song to Zayn at the shop the other day, or in any other setting that Harry had shared with her. “Something In The Way” was the same song that made her extremely dizzy and out of it the last time she attended their show. It was a regular song on the set, unfortunately for her, but it felt different this time.
Harry’s eyes were fixated on her, and magically this made it easier for her to listen to the song. Usually, when it played on the radio or she put it on herself, she cried and thought about how much her brother loved the song. Right now, she was just enjoying the way it sounded being sung in Harry’s voice. Every instrument on the stage was being perfectly executed - every note, every chord, every single thing was perfect. They did the song a great justice. She was mentally hitting herself for running out of the crowd to seek refuge in the restroom the last time they played this song. They really did it so perfectly..
A tingle ripped down her spine as she flicked her eyes away from his. She wasn’t confident enough to keep the contact locked anymore. It was starting to be too overwhelming for her. Harry didn’t let up, though, he kept his eyes trained on her. Ivy wasn’t sure why he was so focused on her, but it was making her stomach ache. She reached up and gently started to rub her fingers over the small pendant of her necklace, her eyes slowly lifting up to look at him.
For the rest of the song, and into the start of the next one, Harry stared down at her. He was intrigued by her change of behavior. Sure, they were now playing slower songs instead of the more upbeat ones, but he could tell she was feeling a different way than before. She was reclusive, her eyes nervously darting away from him every couple moments just to sneak their way back. He found it rather interesting how she could go from having so much energy to appearing to be so shy.
Ivy was deep in her thoughts as she stood quietly by herself, Harry’s attention causing chaos in her head. She fought between being infatuated with him and wanting to scream at him. She tried to bring those rude comments to the forefront of her mind, but the memory of his hand catching her on the sidewalk and his arm protecting her from that stranger shoved their way through. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all..
A frown shaped to her lips when he suddenly looked away from her, his eyes scoping out the crowd now. She immediately started to wonder if she had did something wrong. Was he even looking at her that long or did she imagine it? No, there was no way she could make up the intense feelings she had experienced. It was real, no doubt in her mind. She didn’t ponder it long, though, as she realized Emma was next to her again. Did he look away because he didn’t want to be caught staring at her?
“Sorry, took longer than I thought. There was a line.” She said loudly, leaning into Ivy’s shoulder.
She turned slightly to face her, presenting a fake smile. “You’re fine.”
“Did I miss anything?” She asked, her eyes peering up at the stage.
Ivy pushed out a breathy laugh. “No, nothing.”
The rest of the show was just as enjoyable as the first half, and even though Ivy didn't get much of Harry’s attention, he spared her a few quick looks every now and then. She was confused about the sudden interest he showed in her, or at least the curiosity. She didn’t want to refer to it as interest, in case it wasn’t that in any way at all. Presuming would only hurt her if she ended up being wrong.
Once the band had ended their show, they were gathering their things on the stage. Harry adjusted the microphone stand down to its default height before taking the guitar off his body. He had grabbed it and kept playing after the slower portion of the show was over. Emma was talking to Niall as he kneeled down on the stage, leaning close so he could hear her over the noise. The regular music had already started to play through the speakers in the ceiling. Ivy waited patiently for her, just standing nearby. She didn’t want to be too close in case Niall was trying to have a private conversation.
Something caught her attention all of a sudden. Harry gripped the neck of the guitar with one hand, the other pushing through his hair. When he took the first step to leave the stage, something fell onto the ground. It was his guitar pick, the light just so happened to hit it right so that Ivy was able to make out what it was. She furrowed her brows and stood on her tiptoes to look onto the stage. She saw the thick piece of green plastic sitting there. Harry had used it for some of the songs, but she did notice he didn’t have it in his fingers the entire show.
She glanced over at Niall and Emma, neither of them were paying her any attention. She used her heels as an advantage to push herself up more, reaching onto the stage to grab the pick. It was almost too far away, she barely was able to get a hold of it. When she brought it in front of her, grunting as she fell flat on her heels, she noticed that it had a darker green marbling look to it. She flipped it over, the opposite side was sporting two letters in black permanent marker ink. HS.
Not long after they started packing away the stage equipment, Ivy and Emma went back through the door with the curtain of stringed beads, going straight to the back table that was reserved for the band. Michelle, Zayn, and Cory were the firsts to join them. Ivy greeted everyone with a bright smile and a quick hug, congratulating them on a great show. She asked Zayn why Alyssa didn’t make it and he told her that their child wasn’t feeling the best, plus he added that she wasn’t a big fan of the bar scene.
“I saw you rocking out. Glad you enjoyed it.” Cory said to Ivy as he sat down next to her.
She smiled back. “You guys were great.”
She was slightly uncomfortable with how close he chose to sit next to her, so she casually slid over towards Michelle, acting as if she was going to start talking to her. She was distracted, though, so Ivy just swallowed gently and tried to ignore it. Maybe Cory meant nothing by it, most likely he didn’t, and she was just being cautious. The last time a man approached her, things did not end very well. She knew Cory wouldn’t do something like that, but there was still that underlying fear of it happening again.
They waited for a few minutes, everyone was talking amongst themselves. Ivy kept to herself, though. She looked inside her small purse, the guitar pick she rescued from the stage was sitting at the bottom. Her cheek got caught between her teeth as a thought crept into her mind. She wanted to return it to him. She wondered where he was and if he would join them. He liked to go off on his own, she had noticed that before, so she feared she might not get the chance to give it back to him tonight. If he did come to where they all were, would she get the opportunity to be alone with him? She didn’t feel as though she would muster up enough courage to give it to him in front of everyone. What if they thought it was weird?
The thoughts vanished from her mind as she suddenly heard his voice. She looked up, smiling gently as she saw that he and Niall had arrived with a round of drinks. She pushed down the lump that appeared in her throat, the thought of the first time she met everyone returned to her mind. Emma had offered her drink up that night because one wasn’t ordered for her.. She didn’t belong then, did she belong now?
“The owners got us two rounds tonight.” Niall said as he handed a cup of beer to Emma, then one to Michelle.
Harry had the other tray in his hand and he actually gave them out instead of placing it on the table. He gave one to Zayn, then to Cory. Ivy felt a ton of bricks land on her shoulders - there were two cups left on the tray. To her utter surprise, Harry grabbed one of them and extended his hand out to her. His eyes weren’t on her, though. She took the cup and mumbled a ‘thank you’ that he didn’t catch. Nobody else seemed to care about the gesture the way she did, no reactions happened. She thought she was just being silly, just a bit dramatic..
“Move over.” Harry said to Cory, expecting him to move to the right.
However, Cory didn’t do that. He slid to the left, opening up a spot right next to Ivy. It made her lips roll into her mouth, would he actually sit down next to her? She nearly froze as Harry sat down. He didn’t care where he sat, he just wanted to finally get off his feet for a while.
“Any drinking contests tonight?” Michelle teased with a laugh, scooting closer to be next to Ivy.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Harry was looking her way. She nervously laughed and shook her head. “No, not tonight.”
“Oh, come on. Just one?”
“No, no.. I drank too much the last time I was out.. I don’t want to overdo it.” She explained, trying to keep a smile on her face.
“Alright, fine. Next time.. I’m challenging you.” Michelle gave her a quick wink and a nudge of her knee.
Despite not feeling tired, Ivy was mentally drained. Her emotions had swirled so quickly earlier that her brain was exhausted. She couldn’t decide whether she was angry at Harry, embarrassed by everything that’s happened, or glad that he was giving her some sort of attention. She might ever know the meaning behind his stares tonight, but at least she knew they weren’t angry glares like she was used to.
She leaned her back against the comfortable material of the benched seating. She wished she was in her bed, but she wanted to stick it out and have fun the rest of the night. It was hard to keep track of everyone’s conversations, so she just listened to Michelle’s voice since she was closest. She didn’t participate in anything either. Nobody bothered her for a while, she figured they either didn’t want to intrude or didn’t notice her behavior. She wasn’t aware, but there was at least one person in the group that noticed.
Harry couldn’t help himself, she was too close to him. He gave her a quick glance every now and then, wondering if she was feeling sick or if she was sleepy. She had been active most of the night, jumping and dancing around having a good time - now, it was much different. He didn’t speak to her, though.
After a while, Niall and Emma left to go dance. Zayn said something about going to the bar, so Cory offered to join him. Ivy was perfectly content with where she was, sitting in between Harry and Michelle. A few minutes ticked by before Michelle stood up to stretch. She looked down at Ivy and smiled.
“Do you need to go to the restroom?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”
“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the small crowd, leaving Harry alone with Ivy.
It was obviously noticed by both of them. Harry tensed up, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the purple light in the center of the table. The glow shined beautiful on his skin, Ivy thought it was ethereal. She wondered what he was in such deep thought about, if anything at all - with the way he was staring at the light, not even blinking as the seconds went by.
She looked around the space, ensuring herself that everyone was gone. Now was her chance to speak to him. If she didn’t do it now, she wouldn’t do it at all and she would have a heap of regret. Quietly, she reached into her purse and took out the pick. She sucked in a deep breath and turned her head towards him.
“Harry.” She said his name carefully, almost too afraid to say it too loud, but she wanted him to hear her over the music.
He thought he was hearing things at first, but when he shifted his head and caught her eyes, he knew she had said his name. He lifted his brows, silently asking her what she wanted. He was surprised she had said anything to him, but he wasn’t disappointed.
“Um.. you dropped this earlier.” She moved her hand so he could see it.
“What?” His brows furrowed, his eyes cutting down to her hand. “Oh. You didn’t have to save it. They’re pretty cheap.” His tone was normal, but there was no laugh or smile laced in his words.
Ivy felt a twist in her stomach as she dropped it in his opened palm. He decided he had to get away from her, so he stood up and adjusted his shirt, about to walk away. Her soft voice caught his attention, any ounce of courage she had moments ago was gone.
“I just thought you’d.. you’d need it.”
When he looked down at her, she had already dropped her head and nervously folded her hands on her lap. He pushed out a sigh and licked his lips, knowing that he needed to be more polite to the girl. It wasn’t like she said anything outlandish. She was being kind to him.. something he wasn’t familiar with reciprocating to her.
“Ivy.”
The sound of his voice speaking her name had the same effect now as it did weeks ago. Her heart started to flutter uncontrollably and her stomach swormed with something much larger than butterflies. She lifted her head, her eyes finding his already staring down at her.
“Yeah?”
He just stared at her for a long moment, debating on how far to take his response. He wasn’t sure what she wanted or how she would take what he said to her. There had to be some resentment she had towards him, it would be impossible to not feel that way. He had done so much to her that was hateful and mean, how could she appreciate any ounce of kindness he gave to her? He stopped overthinking it and just spoke.
“Thanks anyway.”
Once Michelle came back from the restroom, she rejoined Ivy and they started talking about random things. It felt nice to have someone to talk to in the midst of all the intense feelings she was having. It was like she was able to shut it all off and focus on something else for once. Michelle never let the conversations die down, there was always something to talk about with her.
Nobody returned to the table while they were chatting, everyone was enjoying their night in their own ways. Ivy did take a second to wonder where Emma was, but she remembered Niall was with her so the concern wasn’t necessary. She wanted to think about Harry, but she kept her attention on Michelle instead. It was a relief to have a good distraction.
When Michelle started talking about her music preferences and favorite songs, Ivy couldn’t help but to think about the song they performed tonight. She wondered if it was a mutual decision or if someone, Harry or Zayn specifically, decided to play the song. Once Michelle finished her sentence, she decided to bring it up. She felt comfortable changing the topic.
“Hey, random question.” Ivy started with a laugh. “Do you guys switch the set up a lot or is it the same for a while?”
“I think we’re far past random.” Michelle grinned back. “Well, we usually keep it the same for a few months, depends on how many shows we do. We changed a few songs, but at the last minute Harry wanted to add one.”
Ivy raised her brows. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah.. like he told us this morning. Luckily we all knew the song already.” She rolled her eyes playfully before sipping her beer.
“Which song was it?” Ivy already felt as though she knew the answer, but she wanted it to be confirmed.
“Crimson and Clover.” Michelle said, adjusting her position on the bench.
Ivy’s heart picked up it’s speed for a few seconds, of course that was the answer she was waiting on. She knew there had to be a reason he added the song and she hoped that it was because of her. Before she had time to fully process the information, Michelle checked her phone and let out a sigh.
“Emma wants us to come dance with her. Niall’s tiring out.”
Ivy looked down at her phone as it vibrated, the same text Michelle got popped onto her screen. “She’s desperate.”
They both laughed and stood up at the same time. Michelle finished off her beer and discarded the cup on the table, Ivy had some left so she just brought it along with her. They slipped into the crowd, thankful that it wasn’t as big as the one in the main part of the building. Michelle spotted Emma and they quickly headed towards her.
“You’re free, Niall.” Michelle said as they approached them.
Niall let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank god.”
Emma gave him a playful shove and told him to go away. Ivy wasn’t particularly thrilled to start dancing again, so she opted for gentle swaying and soft singing, instead of the usual performances she gave. Michelle was more active and hyper, though, so she was able to keep up with Emma.
The girls enjoyed themselves for a short while, the music choices were nice for the most part. Ivy was doing fine until she felt someone’s eyes on her. She thought maybe she was imagining things and was just being paranoid, but after a few more minutes of the intense feeling, she decided to look around. At first, she didn’t see anybody giving her any sort of attention. She started to believe she was losing her mind. That is, until she landed her wandering eyes on a familiar face.
Not far from them was Harry and Cory, and those green eyes she had come to admire so much were staring right at her. Cory was talking and Harry seemed to be listening, or at least pretending to. She felt as though he was back at playing that game of his, making her feel intimidated and nervous. She got the idea to play along with him. Her thick lips shaped to a smile and he knew it was aimed for him and him only. He shook his head lightly and moved his eyes off of her. A proud feeling grew inside of her, she smirked to herself. She was just as good at playing his stupid game.
She was somewhat glad to know that Harry was close by. As much as she hated what happened to her at that club, she was thankful that he was there. If she hadn't found him, there would be no telling what could’ve happened to her. Everything was going well, even though Harry wasn’t looking her way anymore. She thought nothing else of it and just enjoyed the song that was currently on. Emma was forcing her to dance a little more than she wanted, but she couldn’t help but cave in and laugh. Michelle was glad to see she was more energetic now.
Ivy thought that maybe this night would actually be one hundred percent drama free. She didn’t consider the quick conversation she had with Harry as anything bad or hurtful, it was in fact rather calm and normal. But as always, there was something thrown in to ruin the night.
A guy was walking near them when he suddenly got caught up on his own feet and stumbled, his body shooting forward. The girls let out a combined shriek as beer splashed all over them, more so on Ivy than on Michelle. Emma wasn’t close enough for the spill to hit her. Ivy gasped as she touched her shirt the second the liquid soaked through to her skin. Michelle’s mouth was hung open, her hands in the air as she looked down at her legs - that’s where the liquid landed on her.
Harry looked over towards them as soon as they screamed, it was very audible even over the music, he didn’t catch the entire interaction. All he saw was a guy holding an empty plastic cup and the two of them standing there dripping with beer. He could see the stains on their clothes, and a few strands of Ivy’s long hair that soaked up some of the beer.
“Oh my god!” The guy immediately apologized to them, sincerity in his voice. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s alright.” Michelle said with a nervous laugh, she was shocked that this happened so quickly.
“Is there anything I can do for you? I’m so sorry.”
Ivy was about to say something when a tall, broad figure appeared next to her. Harry pushed his way between the girls and the stranger, accidentally pushing Ivy backwards. She didn’t lose her footing though. She shot her eyes to Michelle, who was instantly worried.
“The fuck is your problem?” Harry yelled out, his height towering over the man’s.
Cory quickly ran up to them, too, his brows furrowed as he looked over their beer soiled clothes. He was going to ask what happened, but Harry’s loud voice was taking over.
“I said, what’s your fucking problem?”
“I-I didn’t-“ The poor guy was nervous and stammering, Harry’s demeanor was extremely intimidating.
Michelle grabbed Harry’s shoulder and tried to pull him back, but he didn’t move. “Harry, stop!”
“Are you fucking stupid, huh? What the fuck are you doing?” He kept on, yelling in the guy’s face like he had committed a heinous crime.
“He didn’t do it on purpose, Harry!” Emma tried her best to intervene, but she was slightly afraid of what could happen.
The loud screaming had caused quite the commotion, and everyone turned towards them to watch what was unfolding. Niall quickly made his way to where the crowd seemed to gather, he just had a feeling something was going on. He made it back to them just in time to see Harry push his hand into the guy’s chest, sending him back a couple of steps.
“Harry!” Cory called out his name, but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to listen to anyone.
Niall ran up to them, grabbing onto Emma’s elbow to pull her away. He asked her what happened and she quickly told him. He sighed and tried to walk in front of the guy, but Harry didn’t allow it. He shoved Niall back, not wanting him to get involved.
“Let it go, Harry.” He still tried his best to end it.
“This motherfucker threw fucking beer on them.” Harry shouted, his eyes locked on the stranger’s instead of on Niall. He wasn’t upset with his friends for trying to stop him, he was furious about the spilled beer that he believed was purposeful.
Ivy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind him. Cory gave her a shake of his head and tried to stop her, but she ignored him. She gasped as Harry pushed him again, shouting the same question over and over.
“He didn’t throw it on us!” She raised her voice, her small hand reaching up to touch Harry’s bicep in an attempt to get her attention.
He felt her touch and immediately looked over, not expecting to see her standing so close. Anger was swept over his face, and it was more terrifying than she thought it would be. He looked like he was about to rip someone’s head off their shoulders. Her hand started to shake so much that it fell from his arm. She stepped back, fear consuming her.
“I fucking watched him do it!” Harry yelled back at her, his words harsh and cold.
She didn’t like the way he screamed so easily towards her, how his anger was taking over him entirely. She licked her lips and tried to keep her composure. Harry’s eyes were glued to her now, he wasn’t even concerned with the guy still gripping the empty cup.
“He tripped, Harry. He didn’t do it on purpose.” Michelle cut in quickly, trying to de-escalate the situation.
Harry shot his eyes back to the guy as he tried to apologize again. He interrupted him with a threatening yell. Everyone in the room had their eyes on them, and the embarrassment was building among the small group. Ivy felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.
“Stop it, Harry. You’re the one acting stupid. Calm down, please!” She pleaded with him, trying her absolute best to end this.
Harry turned towards her, making her jump back. Cory grabbed her elbow and forced her back a few more steps, afraid that something might happen. Harry wouldn’t purposely hurt her, but he didn’t want her to get too close in case someone else got hurt. She shook off Cory’s hand, not wanting to be touched.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” He spat out, not even considering how mean his voice sounded. Right now all he wanted to do was pound his fists into that guy’s face.
His attention wasn’t on her very long. He returned to the stranger, who Niall was apologizing to. Things were getting heated again as the man tried to explain what had happened, despite everyone else already doing that. Harry wasn’t having any of it. He demanded that the man apologize to the girls before he kicked his ass. It was all very dramatic and intense.
Cory gestured for Michelle to get closer to him and she quickly did. He went to grab Ivy’s arm again, this time more forcibly. He pulled her back towards him, but she didn’t like the way he took control over her. No matter what kind of situation she was in, she didn’t want to be grabbed that way.
“Stop it, Cory!” She let her frustration over Harry’s actions come out, her voice louder than usual.
He let her go, but not before Harry could whip his body around to them, the sound of her voice distracting him from the guy. Niall took the opportunity to guide the man away from them so he could apologize again. Harry had seen Cory’s hand on Ivy’s arm and he felt an immense amount of jealousy and anger, more than he had ever before. It reminded him of the night at the restaurant when Cory so confidently spoke to Ivy and tried to get to know her. It made his skin crawl.
“Don’t fucking touch her.” He screamed out, his face flushed bright red and his eyes full of anger.
Cory was confused more than anything. “Woah, relax!”
“What did you do to her?” He asked, trying to close the space between them but Ivy got in the way.
She slid in front of him, her hand hitting against his abdomen accidentally, but she didn’t move it. Her hand flattened against his body. “Harry, stop, please.”
“Why are you freaking out?” Michelle was starting to get scared, she wasn’t sure why Harry was suddenly turning on everyone.
He looked down at Ivy, ignoring everyone else around him. “What did he do to you?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Then why did you tell him to stop?”
“He just.. tried to pull me out of the way.” Ivy explained, hoping it worked this time. While she wasn’t pleased with how Cory touched her, she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It wasn’t worth it.
“I don’t believe that.”
“You’re scaring me.” She blurted out, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned her head, not wanting to see his anger ridden features. He looked like he could tear a building out of the ground.
Harry backed up, his eyes trained on her. She felt his presence shifting, her eyes open to see where he was going. She felt a lump forming in her throat as he shoved his hand through his hair and tugged at his roots. She feared he’d explode if someone said one more word to him.
“I have to get out of here.”
That was the last thing he said before he stormed out of the building, leaving everyone more confused than anything. Ivy was speechless. She didn’t know what to think or how to feel. She had never seen someone so angry before. Even when that guy was following her and Harry got involved, he didn’t act that way. Tonight he was outraged. She actually feared him. Maybe he wasn’t worth all the hassle. He seemed to be more of a problem than she first imagined. Now matter how nice his eyes made her feel earlier.. she didn’t want to see them ever again.
—•—
That next morning was more awkward than anything. Niall had stayed over with Emma and together they prepared breakfast. Ivy was confused when she woke up to the smell of food cooking, and when she strolled into the kitchen in her pajamas, she saw them finishing up. They both greeted her with warm smiles.
“What are you guys doing?” She said through a gentle laugh, looking around at the mess that was made in the kitchen.
“Just making an apology meal for you.” Niall said with a smile, although it wasn’t very funny.
“An apology meal?” She furrowed her brows. “For what?”
He sighed. “For Harry’s behavior, of course.. isn’t that always the case?”
Ivy lifted her brows at his reply, not sure what to say in response. Everyone was very on edge after Harry disappeared last night, and they all left a short time afterwards. When she got home she took a shower immediately, the smell of beer had seeped into her skin and clothes.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Emma grunted. “Yes we do.”
“It was all a misunderstanding.” She mumbled back, taking a seat at the table.
“And it shouldn’t have been.” Niall said. “He embarrasses me every time we go out with you and it drives me crazy.”
“It’s not your fault, though. I.. I understand he was.. drunk and not willing to listen. It’s fine.”
Emma shook her head. “It’s not fine. And we have to make it up to you, again.”
“Maybe one day.. I won’t have to give you so many apologies.” Niall didn’t sound hopeful about that.
“That would be nice.” She tried to have a little humor, not wanting to focus entirely on the situation.
“I just can’t believe he acted that way.” Emma frowned. “Over a spilled drink?”
Once everything was finished cooking, they each got what they wanted and sat down at the table. Ivy stayed quiet as they ate, hoping that no more talk about last night’s events would come up. Niall and Emma were embarrassed and she understood why, she just didn’t want them to focus on it forever. The situation was over, there was no need in pouring fuel into the fire. The person that owed her the biggest apology would never give her one anyway.
[a/n: ok ok ok im super excited for part 6!!! it’s definitely a big turning point for them (an unexpected event forces them to spend time together) it’s going to be worth the wait! hope u enjoy this, reblog like all that nice stuff! see u soon]
taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown n @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @sassamanda77 @lizsogolden @prettygurl-2009 @sincerely-yours-marsbar @boopookie @mypolicemanharryyy @angelbunny222 2 @mads3502 @harrysredroom @inlikea-coolway @matildasatellite @imaginexxharry
63 notes · View notes
lambilegs · 1 day ago
Note
was reading your modern!lee hcs and omg lee x reader meeting on tinder or some dating app is such a fun idea
Tumblr media
MODERN!LEE MEETING YOU ON A DATING APP
contains: sfw!!, fluff, just crush stuff nothing major middle picture is from: the guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all by sumiko arai divider by: @enchanthings note to anon: so so so sorry for how long it took to answer this!! thank you so much for the request, this was so fun and so funny to write hehe
Tumblr media
you can’t even lie — you one thousand percent swiped right just for her looks LMAOOOO like it’s not your fault even, her profile just has so little to go off of. it’s essentially just a lot of candid pictures her friends have selected for her, with some plain bio that just says what her job is and that she’s looking for something serious (yes, she cringed when adding that second part, and yes, her friends forced her to)
but still she gets bare swipes on her profile, since, well, she’s hot and people find her even hotter when they realize through her bio that she’s a special agent
and, lee? well, she kinda doesn’t swipe much at all, considering she’s very analytical and scrutinizing with everyone’s profile, overthinking about what their bios and fun facts indicate about them, and if they’re compatible with her
eventually, her friends have to snatch the phone and much to her horror, swipe on a bunch of people without pause, their cackles practically evil as she wordlessly watches
you end up being one of the victims of this swiping rampage, which leaves you eagerly texting her a greeting, biting your thumb when you see she reads your message
except... one hour passes. and then another. and then another. and she simply doesn’t reply, leaving you on read for two days before replying back
you’re expecting an apology, something to explain her lack of reply, but all you get is a “hi,” causing you to scoff in annoyance
you try your best to fish it out of her, replying, “hi!! I wondered where you went haha”
when she immediately replies, “what do you mean?” you text, “oh well it said you read my message two days ago”
after the speech bubble pops up then disappears a few times, you laugh out loud at her reply: “oh. I didn’t know you could see that.”
listen, I love her — but like, c’mon, we all know you’re CARRYINGGGG the first conversation. it’s filled to the brim with dry, short, one-worded responses from her, and at one point, you’re pushed to ask, “sooo why did you swipe on me?” since a part of you is wondering if she’s even interested
you nearly delete the conversation when she replies, “I didn’t. my friends did.”
the only redeeming factor is the text she sends a few minutes afterwards, saying, “but, you’re nice, though. they only swiped for me because they said I was overthinking it.”
and that naturally leads you two into a conversation about how much she’s hated dating apps so far LMFAO so you both wind up complaining together, which proves to be a great ice breaker
she has some texting habits that still get you on edge, though, like randomly dropping off the face of the earth for hours to days, and giving you blunt and short responses. even her use of periods sometimes has you biting your lip in nervousness LMAO
but, you can tell she’s trying harder, asking you questions like what you liked about your hometown, or what do you like about your favourite movie genre. you like that about her — her questions aren’t the generic “wyd?” she asks questions that actually allow you to reveal things about yourself, intimate things that really make you feel like you’re sharing these hidden parts of yourself
you eventually adjust to her texting style, slowly figuring out she’s not completely aware of how dry it comes off, and just doesn’t bother with any texting etiquette most people rely on in order to soften their words, like emojis or exclamation points
but, three weeks into texting, when she leaves for an entire two days after you and her had a conversation about your past experiences with romance, you finally crack and ask her, “why do you keep randomly leaving for so long?”
as you had partially expected, she replies with, “I just leave whenever I feel socially drained or get busy. I get caught up with work and won’t reply to messages during that time.”
when you reply neutrally, not exactly sure what’s the fair thing to say, she asks, “does it bother you?” it makes you smile a bit, to know she’s so in tune with your texting style she knows when you’re feeling off. that’s another thing you’ve grown to like about her — she’s perceptive as hell, remembering every little thing you’ve exposed about yourself and able to wind the map of yourself maybe even better than yourself. like, when you mention having high expectations for romance, she muses, “must be the early 2000s romance films,” as though she’s already confident in her ability to read you. and maybe she should be
when you admit you feel a bit hurt when she leaves abruptly without warning, especially if it’s right after you opened up to her, she replies, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”
and she doesn’t. it shocks you, really. just how utterly and completely decent she is, how sure she is of ensuring her promise to you doesn’t go broken. she’ll now send you texts like, “work is getting busy, I’ll be back in a few days.” or if she needs to abruptly leave after a certain tender conversation, she’ll always let you know when she’ll be back to continue it. the entire thing makes your heart swell
when you first send her a voice message, it’s to explain a long ass story about a friendship breakup you had. a part of you is scared to, fearing that she’ll find your voice unattractive and maybe like you less. but, you know it’s a necessary step, and she’s bound to hear your voice anyways once you guys meet
so, shakily, heart throbbing, you send her an audio with a trembling voice and lots of — way too many — giggles
when she says nothing about your voice, only remarking on your story, you groan in frustration, nearly screaming in your pillow. you really can’t play any coy, indirect games with her, can you? and so, you send her another message, hoping it doesn’t come off as too serious when you say, “sooo kicking your feet over my voice?”
“kicking your feet?”
shit. of course she doesn’t know the reference
“like,” you text with a grumble, “do you like my voice?”
a bubble pops. then, it vanishes. then, it pops again. and, then: “I do. it’s nice.”
you know it’s barely anything, but still, you beam at your phone like an idiot. and, then, you release a nearly earth-shattering scream when you see an audio message back from her
you pray you like her voice, sucking in a deep breath when you hit play
and immediately, your eyes shut. god. what a goddamn pretty voice she has. it’s light, so airy you feel like it could be carried in the wind, drifting and drifting. and it has this pleasant little edge to it, rough but velvety in its occasional husk. god, you could get drunk off it
one day, when out with friends, you get drunk, high, or maybe just a bolt of courage form their insistence that this lee girl definitely has a thing for you. but, all you know is something triggers a bolt of courage to zap through you, and before you know it, you’re texting her, sloppily texting in the midst of the bumping crowd, “hiiioii I miss you”
she reads it, then to your intense nervousness, doesn’t reply till twenty minutes later, simply saying, “I miss you too”
you pout, replying, “do you really? you took so long to reply”
she immediately responds then, writing out, “I just didn’t know what to say”
“because you didn’t miss me?”
“no. I do miss you. I just am not used to all of this”
your eyebrows furrow. you type out, “all of what?”
“having someone I want to talk to everyday.”
the confession has you holding your breath, the rest of the room becoming drained out white noise as your gaze lingers upon those words, a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach. you bite your lip, texting back, “I feel the same way”
she excuses herself, then, saying she needs to get back to work. but, that doesn’t dissuade you from believing the earnestness of her words. you know she wouldn’t lie just to tell you what you want to hear. no, she truly meant it. and that has you buzzing with a thrill all night
the next morning, after sleeping in an egregious amount after the late night out, the memories of what occurred slowly settle back into your consciousness and you cringe, feeling embarrassed for how exposing you were in your need for her. when you pick up your phone and see she’s messaged you two hours ago, you wince slightly before opening it. but, what meets your eyes has you jolting up in bed with a sharp gasp, mouth dropping
“when can we meet?”
25 notes · View notes
ruershrimo · 2 days ago
Text
take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 9: you'll hate me
Tumblr media
ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | m.list
Tumblr media
chapter synopsis:
“You’ll hate me once you see what happened.”
“No, Megumi, I won’t,” you reassure him, “And anyway, things are different now, too.”
---
You could never hate him. After years of waiting to see Tsumiki again, you can finally do so now. Yet still, there's a sombreness in the air, and Megumi won't let you place a finger on it just yet.
Tumblr media
word count: ~3k; tws: none for now ^-^
Tumblr media
short a/n: hi everyone! I'm so sorry this took so so long, I really missed you all a lot. basically, school and life got a bit busy, but I'm happy to say I'm back now :). I've written an update here where I just talked about some matters regarding the series and my writing. you can read it if you'd like, because personally I think it's quite important for you to do so if you read this fic :)
Tumblr media
28-6-2018 
“Morning. Did you sleep well?” 
Megumi moves the blanket away from him, blinking sleep out of his eyes still. You hoist yourself up until your back is against the headboard. 
“The blanket wasn’t here before I fell asleep, I think,” he voices out, nearly inaudible, drenched in the aftermath of a deep slumber, “Did you—” 
You nod your head.  
“...thanks.” 
At this moment, it’s as if nothing exists. Just you and him and the sky at blue hour, on his bed doing something that people who are just friends shouldn’t do. The urge to trace over his face— over his shut eyelids and sharp nose and thin lips— clings to you like a second nature, one which you never thought you had. There’s hair on his head like a nest you’re itching to touch, spiky and jet black like blades of grass. 
You’ve seen this kind of movie before, felt these feelings with your best friend, no less— and now they’ll eat you up from the inside like bacteria on a rotting fruit. Because feeling like this means feeling everything else assault you all at once: you don’t know if you'd like to bury your face into something and scream, or cry from the fact that it may be unrequited, or jump around in joy for everything good Megumi has done for you. 
But forget the sorcerers, forget the healing, forget the cursed techniques and the need to be useful and needed for one second, forget your parents, forget Tsumiki, even— and you can’t believe you thought that. What can they offer which you can’t find next to him, right now, on a warm twilight with cold blankets and pillows? 
There are so many things you have wanted. But right now, just this is enough. 
“Sometimes I regret talking about how I feel, being emotional and things like that— to the point that if I feel things strongly, these days I try not to show them. It’s… the vulnerability, I guess. Letting your walls down. I know it sounds super cliche, and I know that about 80% of the time I probably fail at this, and that it’s not always good being like that—” stirring him further into consciousness, “—but I think you’re the same, just in a different way. You don’t like talking about your feelings. Still, I have to say, I really enjoy this, these things we do.” 
His gaze stays locked on yours, and silence fills the air again; nothing but steady breathing. You wonder, if there’s anything he thinks about when he’s alone on mornings like these, whether he thinks about you. 
“So do I.” 
Tumblr media
The girls’ and boys’ bathrooms are right next to each other. So at 4 in the morning, when everyone else is still asleep and the sun is yet to rise, you bump into Megumi after brushing your teeth. 
“Not going to shower?” he asks. 
“The sound will travel and it may wake the others up. What about you?” 
“I don’t shower in the mornings, only at night.” 
“Oh, right.” 
He pauses for a while, makes a little sound to fill in the gaps of his hesitation. You wait for him patiently. “Tsumiki… I can let you know about what happened to her. The truth is, she—” 
“Take your time,” you interrupt him. You aren’t stupid; something bad must have happened to her for him to be like this. Any slither of hope you have left that she’s all fine and good was used to play dumb and deny yourself the truth. 
“...let me take you there. To where she is.” 
For more than half your life, Tsumiki’s been a constant. As you moved around and floated between friend groups, you felt lonely in every waking moment; only wishing for the days when you had Tsumiki and Megumi again. That was the impact they had on you. So after such a long wait, your heart leapt with joy at the thought of seeing her again. 
“Okay.” 
Tumblr media
“Actually, do they not have a curfew? It’s only 5 am,” you say as the two of you are on the sidewalk, next to each other; not with either of you in front of the other. You pull the strap of your bag up every time it slips down. 
“They do, but it’s only until 4 in the morning. It’s not as if it’ll be easy for sorcerers to obey a curfew anyway, so the teachers don’t really check if everyone is observing everything,” he explains, “Hey, I can hold your bag for you, you know—” 
“I’ll be fine.” 
“It looks heavy. It’ll hurt, and I don’t mind carrying it for you for a while. How many things are in there, actually—?” 
“... I do try to pack minimalistically. I don’t have many things in it. I don’t know why it does this.” 
“Let me hold it.” 
“...okay. Thank you. But next time, you don’t have to.” 
“I really don’t mind. It’s uh… like what you said. We take care of each other.” 
“I’m surprised you still remember that,” you note, chuckling, “In that case I should try to take care of you more.” 
“...you’re already doing more than enough.” 
“Hope I’m not being too much, then,” you joke, and your voice sounds a little too fond as you hear it exit your mouth, “I’ll start doubling down from now on.” 
A small part of you wants to indulge yourself; to imagine him doing this for you always. To feel the extent of the things he can do for you, and to want to do the same. 
You hand him the bag. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. 
You have a problem here. You’re in deep, aren’t you? 
The two of you had decided not to phone up anyone who could drive you there, nor were you able to take public transport from the school’s campus to your destination. In truth, you had no idea why it seemed that he and you were being secretive about it, but since you weren’t sure if whatever happened to Tsumiki was something Megumi wanted others to know yet, you obliged him. 
“Where are we headed to, actually?” 
“...the hospital.” 
“...what?” 
“...you’ll see. I’ll be able to explain once we get there.” 
It’s as if the expression on his face is written in a language you can’t understand. 
It only spurs your worry— what happened to Tsumiki? You’d wanted so badly to see her again and speak to her ever since she stopped all contact with you. The whole time you’d thought she was just busy, or that she would speak to you again soon, as if she were some constant who you couldn’t imagine being absent from your life due to sickness or injury. It hadn’t even occurred to you, that after you checked in on her and hadn’t even seen that she’d read those messages. To you she was a constant, and she’d always come back. You couldn’t imagine a life without her doing so. 
First your mother, and now Tsumiki. 
“The whole time I thought she just decided to… stop talking to me for a while.” 
“If anything was done to her, she would have told you, provided that she could. You weren’t an afterthought to her. She loved you. I… it was my fault, that after everything happened, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I’m sorry.” 
She loved you?
“I still don’t know what happened. I mean, don’t blame yourself—” 
A car passes by and the two of you cross the road. His hand hovers near your back at the end of it, when the pedestrian traffic light goes red and the cars move rapidly behind you. You pretend his actions aren’t blowing up fireworks inside you. 
“No, you called me, right? You even tried to reach me, and… after all I did and how I acted… it wasn’t the right thing to do. But I chose not to call you.” 
You remember when you did, remember how it stung. 
He’s not the only one keeping secrets. You’ve got the letter and the years of yearning you want to let him know about. Yet it would feel like betrayal to yourself, even with the guilt you have from always keeping them. You’re not sure if that guilt is for him or you. 
“But you apologised for all of that, and, well— I think I’m mostly fine with it now. It was just… circumstance, I guess. Especially because it was Tsumiki. Not sure what happened to her, but I mean… if it was just what was happening at that time, even if it may frustrate me, I just have to accept it,”  you explain yourself, speaking from your chest. 
“You’ll hate me once you see what happened.” 
“No, Megumi, I won’t,” you reassure him, “And anyway,  things are different now, too.” You’ve got more control over your technique, fine-tuned it with practice and determination. You may still be weak at times: you may struggle to heal severe injuries or may get a nosebleed when you’ve pushed yourself too far and tried to heal bruises on four hours of sleep, but you’ve improved.
“No— I’ve hidden it for so long, I don’t know—” 
“I mean, look, we all have our secrets. Sometimes we have them even if we don’t want or have to. You don’t have to be privy to all of myself, especially what I try to keep hidden, but if both of us ever want to… we can always take one step at a time, and I think we’re doing that quite well, in my opinion. Besides, you’re here now. And now that we’re both on campus it’s going to be even harder to get away from me.” 
He stops in his tracks all of a sudden. You do, too. The words come floundering out of his mouth. “[Name]... I don’t know the… ‘right’ way to say this, but I don’t want to get away from you.”
“Oh.” 
“Yeah, I never did.” 
“Huh.” 
He hums.
“…me neither,” you coax out of yourself. 
“...there’s a floral shop nearby. I usually get her some flowers.”  
It’s time to get your mother some flowers, too. 
The florist there greets the two of you with a wistful smile, and says that she hasn’t seen Megumi in a while. Megumi introduces you as a childhood friend. 
“What do you usually get?” you ask. 
“Lilies, usually. Carnations and daisies, sometimes, too.” 
You’ve only bought flowers to pay respects to the deceased, at least when it was you buying them and not Yuuji. You’d never met your grandfather, but back when your parents still called you their little girl, your father would bring you to the temple where his ashes were kept every year. You’d see that photo of his face, smiling in black and white, next to your grandmother on their wedding day, and you’d notice how your father prayed before it. He’d replace the flowers— carnations, lilies, daisies, and tell you all the anecdotes he had with his father growing up. You’d gaze at the chrysanthemums and carnations with their honey-hued petals, at the lilies and daisies in their clear glass vases, and you’d think of how pretty they were. You think your grandfather would have liked them, his smile a spitting image of your father’s and a spitting image of yours. 
“Those are her favourite, right?” 
“Yeah.” 
“They suit her. It’s a perfect match, because— well, to me, I always thought of parts of her as different things. Her kindness and the joy she shared with other people were cherries. Her hair was brown, so I’d think of chestnuts and that reminded me of Christmas with her, or mont blanc desserts. And her smile was like a flower to me, a bouquet of lilies. At first I only thought that it was because she was pretty and one of the sweetest people I knew, but now it’s more than that— wait, sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No, no— it’s okay,” he replies, almost immediately. 
“I’m just excited, is all.” 
He sighs, though you don’t know why. “Then you’ll want to scream at me,” he begins, “…I’m sorry. You’re excited and I just… I’m sorry. You’ll understand when we’re there.” 
You want to hold him. Tell him that it’s okay. Tell him that no matter what, you could never hate him. That you’d never had the power to, ever since you met him on that spring day. 
He chooses one bouquet on display, then heads over to the cashier. You don’t think you’ll be able to hold him at all, today. Or he won’t let you, his walls barring you from him, even when you thought many of them were already gone. You’d been so stupid, thinking the two of you were getting closer, but there was still so much more you had to learn about him now. There was still so much more you had to wait for, until he was willing to take them down. 
“Have you known her for a long time?” you ask, exiting the shop. He bought two— one from him and one from you. 
“Ever since Tsumiki got admitted.” 
“I can pay you back for the bouquets, by the way,” you suggest. 
“It’s fine.” 
“Gojo’s money?” 
“Gojo’s money.” 
You snicker. 
Tumblr media
To be honest,  it’s a little difficult walking with him now. The two of you are devoid of any communication whatsoever, a silence calm in the night and early morning yet thickly unbearable once the sun has risen. Before this, you’d been timidly tiptoeing between small talk and deep conversations. Yet now, with the mood of Tsumiki’s incident looming over the air like a ghostly whisper, there’s nothing to talk about, really, as much as you’d like for there to be. 
You’d once heard that people who fell in love were able to talk each others’ ears off for hours on end. You could do that with Yuuji. But Megumi has always been different— in your life, at least. He’s not as boisterous, and not as agreeable with most people despite his politeness, but it’s always been a pleasure being silent with him. Sitting in silence. Lying on the bed together. There’s no spark before you, just the tranquility of an ocean at midnight. In the darkness, with shadows. 
He’s special. Now you can see that, now more clearly than ever before. 
And even now— even when things are awkward and jittery, you find you don’t mind this that much at all.  You don’t think you mind anything if you’re doing it with him. 
So there are no words between you, and you glance at his face, at the frown that contorts his face so softly and gently. 
If you held hands now, it would be pleasant. 
If you held hands now, your hands would inch closer to his as shyly as the first hints of spring arrive after winter. Your wrist would reach his, fingers aching for others to interlock with. Then they would slowly graze his palm like a lost man navigating through the wilderness, until you slid your fingers up his arm again. You would keep them on his wrist, at the outline of his veins, and perhaps if you pressed on it hard enough and used the same mental imaging you do for your cursed technique, you would be able to watch as blood flowed through his arteries and veins. You’ve held his wrist before anyway, grabbed it and pulled him along while his hand would slacken a little. At that time you did it almost abrasively. 
Maybe he would flinch. And maybe you would pull your hand back. 
But then before you realise it he would be tugging on your fingers again, palm against yours, finger to finger. You can even feel it as you think of it now— you would nearly melt in the grooves of his palm, the texture of his skin, and your hand would dance around his a bit until both of your hands wrapped around each other, a snug fit.
“[Name].” 
Your breath seems to fall short as you’re pulled from your fantasies. “What?” you ask, your face hot like a pan sizzling with melted butter. 
“Are you okay? It’s time to cross the road.” 
“Yeah. Just… it’s just… Tsumiki.” 
His hand is on your wrist. 
“Okay.” 
And if your hand slides down to his palm, and you squeeze his hand before he squeezes yours back despite not looking at you at that moment, well— 
You’ve done this before, and several times. But yo know why it’s different now. 
Tumblr media
The sun has risen. There’s a certain pallor on Tsumiki’s face that you’ve never seen before. Under the early morning light it’s as if sunlight is seeping through her like light refracted in water. Her face is torn between peace and a grimace, as if she’s suspended precariously between a dream and a nightmare. A glaring red mark burns into her forehead like carved wood in patterns completely alien to you. There’s no lively ponytail bursting from her head, only the sordid scene of strands of chestnut hair gone flattened and lifeless, her once bright pink lips turned desiccated and pale; the sight of her grinning face from before only slipping through your fingers like powdery heaps of dust. She’s drawn out on the mattress resembling a fawn carcass in a documentary: too young and innocent to be like this, shallowly breathing in the torpid air. Comatose. The sight juts through your heart. 
This is different from grief. It feels like suffocation, like heaviness in the air. Your breaths are shallow as you take the clear glass vase, fill it with water and replace the previous lilies with new ones. There is no grief because nothing has been lost, only suspended. Locked in a standstill, for a little while. 
“We think it was a curse,” Megumi chokes. 
“How can you cure her?” 
“There’s no known cure since it was made from cursed energy. All we can do is wait for her to wake up.” 
“How long…?” 
“Since junior high. A while after you left.” Megumi confesses, “I’m sorry if you’re angry that I should’ve told you sooner,” his voice is strained and soft, a little bit from cutting himself off, “I’m sorry.” 
How many times had you thought of seeing her? How many times had you wondered why he’d never call and let you know how she was? Would she survive this, or would you have to wait a hundred times more just to see her again?
He knew all of this. He could have told you. 
Don’t be unreasonable, you think. Just focus on what you can do next. 
“It’s not your fault,” you sigh, “It’s just that after everything…” 
“I’m sorry,” he says. 
“I just wish I could’ve known. Then this whole time that I spent waiting—” 
“I know,” he goes, begging you to be angry. To hate him, as if anything he’s done to you could be the cause of something so great. 
You can cure people. You were placed on this world, born with powers to make or break life’s structures and processes, to cure people. With powers like that you’ve been hunted, sought after, protected— and yet now, when you need to heal this wound of hers, there’s nothing you can do. 
It makes you feel so useless it shakes you to the core. 
“I don’t know if I can do anything,” you start, half-resolute and half-doubtful. But despite your doubt you know that this is what it’s all about; what you’ve pledged yourself to do— to try your best and be useful. Like walking on a tightrope: you’ll have to march forward in the face of all of this and just force yourself not to look down, because this is all it’s ever been. Maybe, you think for a second, everything in your life has led to this moment. “But can I try?” 
“…of course. If anyone could do it, it would be you,” he remarks, voice softening with each syllable. 
“…thanks.” 
He’s very… tender today. Vulnerable. You suppose it’s because of Tsumiki and refrain from commenting on it.
You focus all your energy into her forehead and her brain, trying your best to somehow work against an obscure charm with an even more abstruse molecular structure. 
You can feel it— the strain on your consciousness, how it hurts to even think at some point, but ignore it all and try your best to help her. 
Be useful. If you don’t make it work now, her health is going to be up in the air for longer. If you don’t make it work now, you won’t know if you’ll be able to speak to her again, to thank her for everything— for teaching you to be kind and loving, for caring for you and appreciating parts of you when you’d never felt it before, for her cherry hair tie and her bright smile and her endless wisdom and— 
[Name]? 
If you don’t make it work now, how many more months will she have to spend without smiling through life and sharing her love with others? 
You want to scream at Megumi sometimes, actually. 
[Name]!
If you don’t make it work now, how much time of her life would be wasted in the end, when she had so much potential to change the world and shine her light on others? 
…he could have just told you from the start! 
You have to focus. If he told you this at the start, would that have changed anything? 
Be useful. 
[Name]! 
You have to make it work. You have to bring Tsumiki back. 
Tumblr media
taglist:
@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored
(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)
Tumblr media
38 notes · View notes
aiura-stan · 2 days ago
Text
Yes yes yes to most of this!! Love this post. I have a few minor points of disagreement here, not much though
-Yes! soulmates are not guaranteed to meet in Saiki k.
-YES! it IS optional which is cool as hell because setup for characters who have free will is the bread and butter of good and interesting fiction imo. Polyamory is totally possible here, and so is choosing to be single. This is my Favorite part of extrapolated info about the concept in the Saikiverse. Soulmates was a fun one for Saiki k to subvert since there is so much implied noncon in the concept (what a weird sentence, but yeah.) It’s the whole predestination thing
-YEAH. I think making it so that people don’t instantly fall in love at first sight is also more realistic. And it doesn’t mean that people in the saikiverse can’t have strong connections! Just that it will take a while like irl
-Essentially, yes. It’s just another measure of compatibility between people, nothing all that special.
-he probably could have, for sure. and of course he didn’t, because he quickly understood the nature of soulmates.
-Hairo’s sexuality is joked about, and I think it would be quite cool if he was intended to be gay. however despite it being a gag manga I sadly don’t think that was Asou’s intention, imo. His whole thing is a sort of genuine holier than thou for not being attracted to Teruhashi.
He could also be gay on top of that, which would be really interesting. I mean… it is an odd authorial choice to make Hairo the character who is ‘above romance’ but I guess it makes more sense if it’s subverting a trope of the same being done with female characters. Because that is pretty cliche. And another cliche is to have the male sports protagonist drooling over women on the sidelines. (if we are talking about canon, that is)
-(about married people being attracted to Teruhashi) That’s a really interesting discrepancy. Maybe Saiki doesn’t Want to think that his dad could be attracted to Teruhashi lmao. Couldn’t blame him for that one
-(about Teruhashi causing love at first sight) I mean… I feel like it’s a little bit more like Saiki’s hypnosis than real love? It’s infatuation, imo. Men stammer and have difficulty expressing themselves, but it’s hard to say that they love Teruhashi instantly, since they don’t know her. They are definitely instantly loyal to her, which is much more useful and probably preferable, in Teruhashi’s eyes. Maybe I’m just nitpicking language though
-hard agree on the critical thinking skills dropping, which is Hilarious especially when Rifuta comes into play and straight up forgets about her plots against Teruhashi because she’s so pretty LMAO. She’s stubborn and fights it for waaaay longer than any of the boys would, but she’s only human…
-He is a little swayed by her physical beauty, yes. Be it his powers or his personality, he never gets much past that, and he’s definitely not affected by her powers of infatuation. Kusuo is definitely curious, but he isn’t going to start considering Teruhashi’s feelings now out of superficial emotions, because he has a deeper understanding of who she really is after hearing her thoughts for so long, for better or for worse, it would color even their post power removal relationship
-hahahaha. Yeah, 100%. Bizzare and creepy implication of the divine being swayed by Teruhashi’s powers. I’m chalking this one up to comedy writing that was not considered outside of its comedy context, so there are really no “serious “ reasons for it to be a thing. I prefer to think of it as… she just has allllll the luck. And God listens to her prayers not because she is beautiful, but because she does a lot of good in the world, even if her prayers are extremely selfish. It’s kind of an interesting way of conceiving of a relationship between god and a person; definitely not a christian one. But maybe it makes more sense in context of shinto beliefs/religions. (I don’t really know enough about it to say.)
Dubcon terusai for the win (laughing) ((apologies)) (((yes, excellent point that it’s all to do with subverting tropes still)))
I'm not a fan of soulmates in romantic fiction because it's basically arranged marriage with extra supernatural noncon/dubcon elements.
However, in the Saiki universe, the soulmate connection seems to lack pretty much all of those problematic elements.
We have to do a little extrapolating from what we see in canon since this aspect of Aiura's powers is not covered in detail, but:
Soulmates do not seem to be guaranteed to ever meet, considering the fact that Aiura specifically looked up her soulmate and that one guy who was linked to someone in a remote African village that would almost certainly never cross paths with him.
Being with your soulmate is completely optional, otherwise Aiura wouldn't bother providing relationship scoring and just tell each person to go find their soulmate. This allows for a lot of narrative opportunities to explore why someone would consciously choose to not be with their soulmate, and also opens up the door for polyamory.
Soulmates do not instantly fall in love, and are not forced to stay in love by any supernatural powers. Aiura didn't think anything of Saiki until he flawlessly saved Yumehara's life like 10x in a row, and Saiki certainly didn't fall for Aiura right away either. They fought over their values strongly enough that it would've been a breakup if they'd ever been together.
Soulmate status just seems to indicate particularly good chemistry, and like the rest of Aiura's powers, is purely informational and not determinative. Presumably soulmates have the highest possible compatibility scores, and it's kinda cool that it seems guaranteed there's at least 1 person out there who will jive with you, but also plenty of other people you can connect with to various degrees.
With Saiki and Aiura specifically, it's shown that Saiki can change the future Aiura sees as soon as he hears about it. It may even be possible for him to change the soulmate determination, and he certainly could've used Time Leap to fool Aiura into thinking someone else was her soulmate if he was really opposed to the concept. She had scryed it recently, so the butterfly effect shouldn't be a challenge.
But they do work so smoothly together with their powers complementing each other, and Saiki is kind of a lonely romantic tsundere at heart, so it makes sense that he would let the soulmate thing play out and yet test the connection by pushing Aiura away as much as possible.
Actually, considering that Saiki can't control people's actions directly (and that he sucks at trying to control people indirectly), the strongest noncon/dubcon force in the Saikiverse shockingly appears to be Teruhashi's beauty.
The only male character that doesn't seem at all affected by Teruhashi's powers is Hairo, most likely because of his heavily implied homosexuality. Women attracted to other women are also impacted by her power, as seen with Aiura.
While Saiki says that married people aren't affected by Teruhashi, Kuniharu does actually show several signs of being affected by Teruhashi, and so does Kumagoro.
All affected people instantly fall in love with her on sight, no exceptions.
Critical thinking ability appears to drop precipitously when it comes to her, with her fans accepting that she had a secret child with Saiki despite being in school with her every day and that she can just choose not to poop for a week. More effective mind control than anything Saiki can do tbh.
The instant Saiki loses some of his powers, he starts being affected by Teruhashi's beauty.
The narrative supports Saiki's theory that Teruhashi is literally favored by God and can affect reality just by hoping for something. The implication that God is (physically??) attracted to Teruhashi and does whatever she wants is.... yikes on several levels. If she asks for someone to love her, do they get a choice in the matter??
Anyways, there are way more elements of noncon/dubcon with Teruhashi ships than there are with actual canon soulmate mechanics in the Saikiverse and that's just such a wild choice by the author lol.
Truly subverting tropes!
102 notes · View notes
rosenbraut · 5 months ago
Text
Being called intellectually inferior to my face
Tumblr media
6 notes · View notes
a-friendly-dumpster-fire · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
have a sloppy sketch because i cannot find words to explain the emotional role reversal between breath of the wild and tears of the kingdom. something about losing yourself in the pursuit of finding yourself. forgetting the more you try to remember, losing more in order to gain more, sacrificing the very thing you fought to protect and that thing being memory etc etc . you know
128 notes · View notes
maddymoreau · 1 year ago
Text
Thinking about the notes Mr. House wrote at the bottom of his unfinished obituary 😂😭
Tumblr media
“/// Will revise and finish this up later. Have set the age at death to update automatically. Obit makes salient points but “pearls before swine,” of course. Let’s hope the ingrates never have cause to read it. Who knows how many of them are even literate!”
18 notes · View notes
automatic-midnight · 9 months ago
Text
My biased, really unpopular take is that I think rit/su/maya is an objectively boring ship.
#just to be clear I don’t hate it there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the ship it’s just such a nothing burger to me#like ok yes without a doubt Maya has a crush on Ritusko absolutely this is backed up by canon material#but from Ritsukos side the most the viewer comes away with is that Ritsuko holds mayas skills in decently high regard#a few moments of friendly chit chat and that’s it#it would be one thing if we actually saw Ritsukos more personal opinions on Maya but we never see that so fandom has to fill in the blanks#and now barring that all aside it’s just a ship dynamic even when fleshed out in fanon that im not intrigued by#in a show where the characters are so messy and terrible the ship feels so out of place#ohhhh Maya could fix Ritsuko NO she could not#the only way I could find the ship interesting is if you get weird with it#like focus on the inherent power imbalance of a boss and an employee how would they deal with that?#how would things change as the show progresses and Maya realizes Rituskos blurred morals#how would the ship work with Gendo in the picture? how would Maya actually help ritusko overcome her issues and deep rooted problems#and even with all that being said it’s just not interesting to me#Maya doesn’t have enough going as a character for me to care to ship her with Ritsuko#this is partly why I like misaritsu so much#you know so much about their individual characters and their dynamics that it’s easy to expand it further into hypothesizing#their relationship in a romantic light#evangelion#like misato and Ritsuko are individually super well written fleshed our characters and on top of that put in moments like the elevator scene#or Ritsukos flashback to talking about when Misato hooked up with Kaji for a week#or just every time Ritsuko looks at Misato if you really want to reach#there so many moments of good characterization between them that it’s so easy to ship them#the point I’ll give to ritsu/Maya is that the one sided crush is 100% intentional and implied in canon#Misato and Ritsukos relationship (as far as I’m aware) was never intended to be romantic or queer coded or anything like that#i’m not delusional#I don’t think anno or sadamoto was writing subtextual nuclear toxic yuri when they were thinking about Misato and ritsukos relationship#no one was in the writing room saying “oh boy I can’t wait to write subtext about how comphet Ritsuko is in unrequited love with Misato”#I’m not that far gone but purely from a potential ship perspective misaritsu has so much more going for it#asu/rei too that’s another super interesting f/f ship that people ignore#asurei isn’t my do or die ship but that’s a ship that’s genuinely super interesting to think about as a potential romantic relationship
3 notes · View notes
rosicheeks · 10 months ago
Text
🤦🏽‍♀️🙃
5 notes · View notes
mostly-imagines · 10 months ago
Note
Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??
meet the family
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason has a girlfriend???
warnings: none
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.
Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.
It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.
“There’s a girl here!”
Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.
Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.
“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.
Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”
“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.
“Yeah.”
“Yes.”
“Obviously.”
Cassandra nods fervently.
“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”
Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”
“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.
Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.
“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”
“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.
“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.
Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.
Knock knock knock knock knock…
Knock knock.
It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.
Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”
He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”
Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.
“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”
“No.”
Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”
Jason shuts the door.
A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.
“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.
“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.
And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.
Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.
“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”
His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”
Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”
He stares at her.
“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.
“Stephanie.”
“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”
“Bye.” He closes the door.
He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.
Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.
Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.
Jason shuts the door in his face.
Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.
It’s Cass.
She stares at him.
He stares at her.
“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.
Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”
She smiles and turns back down the hall.
Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.
“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.
“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”
He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”
“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”
“I’m starting to regret it now.”
“Come on. Please?” You plead.
He picks his head up to look at you.
“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.
“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.
He sighs.
Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.
You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.
“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”
“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”
Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.
You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.
Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.
Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”
“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.
There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.
“Hold on—”
“—my god, she’s so pretty!”
“Oh wow—”
“Wait, what?”
”—You’re real?”
“—didn’t place that bet.”
Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”
“I’m—”
But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.
“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.
“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.
Cass waves and signs something to you.
“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.
Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.
Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”
Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”
Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”
“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.
You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.
Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”
“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.
“No wait!”
You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.
You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”
Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”
You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”
He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.
You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”
“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”
He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.
He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.
The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.
You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.
“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.
You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.
He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.
As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.
“Bruce.”
Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.
“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”
Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.
Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.
Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.
“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.
He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”
Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.
“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.
He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.
“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.
You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”
He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.
“Jason.”
Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.
“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.
“Yes.”
He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”
Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”
Bruce nods. “Good.”
He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.
Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.
He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…
Oh god, you went back to the living room.
As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.
“—long have you been together, anyways?”
“Well—”
Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”
“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.
Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”
Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”
A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.
“What?”
Tumblr media
10K notes · View notes
a-very-fond-farewell · 11 months ago
Text
I’m back at it again folks. (*inhales k/im g/o-eun content like kirby*) I’m fine. time to write 😔🏳️‍🌈💅🏻
#sneaky niki#lamb loose liveblogging#it’s women loving hours in the club and I can’t get over how pretty and charming she is#I can’t watch the big scary movie she’s in now bc:#I’m a scaredy cat (*dpr song playing in the background*) + it’s not available where I live#but believe me I am /this close/ to make a ‘do it for her’ poster with her face on it#anyway#topic of the day is (*checks notes*) divorce#listen I’m no expert on relationships and I can honestly say that HDS’s wife should demand one#will she get it? would she even want to get a divorce? that’s beside the point#but I want to truly honor Hye Young’s character and put myself in her shoes as I write this part of her story#bc what /i/ think she should do has nothing to do with what /she/ wants to do#also marriage and companionship and relationship are very complex IRL??#ik we’re all on board on this nemesis-living-together-while-giving-one-another-blue-balls train of a fic#believe me I get it. but I feel so much for Hye Young. her husband turned into a horrible person. 3 years have gone by. poor woman#so. since these are the vibes for today. I plan to take a small break from ch16 (that detestable chapter >:0 bad chapter! headache-inducing#)#and focus a little bit on Hye Young for the time being.#she will make an appearance later on (possibly after ch 20)#but today feels like a good day to listen to her#nobody listened to her in the show. now it’s my turn to let her talk#ok so. confusing omens aside.#have a very good day folks :)
1 note · View note
lucyddreamingg · 1 year ago
Text
i really dislike sh*r*n *lds and her poetry
1 note · View note
sceletaflores · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…
pair: joel miller x fem!reader
wc: 8.6k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!
joel found a lodge house…
Tumblr media
You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.
He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.
Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.
You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.
You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.
And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.
It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.
What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.
But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.
So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.
Tumblr media
You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.
You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.
Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.
You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.
In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.
You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.
All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.
After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.
It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.
It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.
A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.
You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.
Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.
It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.
You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.
The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.
You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.
Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.
There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.
You learned how to be ruthless because of it.
How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.
The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss. 
And then you found yourself with Joel.
You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.
A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.
But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.
He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.
As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around. 
You didn’t know what to do with that.
It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.
Tumblr media
Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.
He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.
It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.
The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.
You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.
Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.
The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.
The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.
Joel. Of course.
He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.  
“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.
You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.
“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”
Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”
Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.
“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.
Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway. 
You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.
Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”
With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.
You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”
Tumblr media
Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.
You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.
You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.
You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.
Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.
You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.
Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual. 
But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.
You’re on your feet in an instant.
“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”
“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”
“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”
He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant. 
His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own. 
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”
"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.
“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”
"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.
"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."
Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.
You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.
The smell of blood hits you immediately.
The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.
Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.
Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.
“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”
He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.
It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.
“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.
A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.
“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.
You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.
You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.
You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.
You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”
Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”
“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”
He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.
You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.
“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.
Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.
You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly. 
For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.
Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.
You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.
Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.
But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.
You’re staring, and you know it.
The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.
You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.
Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”
You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.
“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.
Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”
The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.
His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.
He’s too damn proud for that.
You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.
“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.
You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”
“Who taught you?”
The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.
You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”
You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.
Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.
You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.
“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”
Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side. 
“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned. 
You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”
You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.
“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.
You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”
“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”
You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”
Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.
“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”
Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.
You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.
“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”
Joel’s breathing is heavier now,  his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.
“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”
“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”
He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”
“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.
The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.
You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.
Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.
“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.
“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”
“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”
You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.” 
“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”
That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.
Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”
It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.
You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you. 
It never was.
“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”
Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.
“I want you to prove it.”
The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. 
You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.
But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing. 
It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.
He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.
His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.
You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.
The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.
Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.
You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.
“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”
You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.
You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.
This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 
Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.
He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.
The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin. 
Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.
“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.
You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.
“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”
He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”
You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 
His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back. 
“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.
Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”
You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.
You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.
“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”
Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.
“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”
“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”
Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”
You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”
His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.
“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest. 
“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”
Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.
“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”
You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”
“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”
You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.
“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”
Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind. 
The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.
Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.
“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”
Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.
But you don’t hesitate.
You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch. 
“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”
"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”
Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.
He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”
His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.
“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.
You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need. 
You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.
Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency. 
As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.
“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.
Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours. 
The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.
“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.
Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.
“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.
"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.
He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”
You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”
Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.
“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”
Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.
Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.
“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.
He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”
The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.
“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”
“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”
“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”
Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. 
The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness. 
Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.
Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk. 
“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”
“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”
He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.
Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.
The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.
Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.
His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth. 
The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.
“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”
As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.
Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you. 
The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."
You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 
Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.
"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."
"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.
Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.
Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.
“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”
His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.
Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.
You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"
He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."
With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. 
You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.
Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.
His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.
He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.
For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts. 
Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.
Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.
“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.
“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”
Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.
“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.
The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.
Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.
A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.
“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”
You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.
All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.
“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits. 
Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.
Tumblr media
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
briefinquiries · 6 months ago
Text
Tyler Owens x Reader: Where You Belong
Prompt: you're caught in the middle of a tornado, tyler's there in the aftermath.
Word count: 6k
Warnings: angst, blood mention
A/N: surprise surprise, & not what i usually write, but twisters has recently been consuming my entire life. so here's an angsty lil imagine of hurt reader being comforted by the wrangler himself.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You made it about fifteen minutes down the road before you realized that you’d forgotten your phone… Again. 
After patting down your pockets and digging through your tote bag the best you could without crashing the car– you straightened yourself in the driver’s seat and sighed defeatedly. 
Stupid, you thought. Although you weren’t really that surprised by your mistake. You’d never been particularly attached to your phone, and this certainly wasn’t the first time you’d left it behind. 
But you’d been trying to be more mindful about remembering it. And just like that, Tyler’s voice popped into your head– no doubt scolding you for your carelessness. ‘What if something happened and I had to get a hold of ya?’ 
Thanks to another wild storm system brewing all over the midwest, Tyler was out chasing again today. And although you’d checked in on him earlier in the day, you knew there was always the possibility that things changed. Storms shifted– gained power, sometimes his team (although rarely) got things wrong. A pang of guilt spread through your chest at the thought– what if something happened to him out there and he needed to reach you? 
You could turn back and get your phone, of course. But you were already so close to town. And all you needed was a bottle of shampoo and a birthday cake for Tyler. You could be in and out of Lawton in less than half an hour if you were quick– home before he even knew you’d left your phone behind again.
What could really go wrong?
“Talk to me, Dani– what do you see?” Tyler asked into the walkie. They’d been tracking a handful of storms for the past few hours– Tyler watching the clouds, and Dani studying the radar. Right now, there were two that had peaked his interest– One was formulating south, the other to the northeast. 
“The storm south has higher wind speeds, but I think it’ll fade if it shifts. The other one has a weaker wind shear, but higher pressure. Either one has the chance to form or go, so I say trust your gut,” they answered.  
Tyler shifted his grip on the steering wheel, studying the dark, circling motion in the distance. 
“What’re you thinkin’, T?” Boone asked, camera trained on Tyler. 
He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip– trying to focus.
“Less moisture, less potential for an updraft, but way higher winds if we go south. Northeast though… she’s already got the motion and momentum, she just needs the winds to shift...” 
Boone stayed quiet– he knew that when Tyler talked out loud, it was generally rhetorical. 
Tyler took his eyes off the sky to study the world around him for a moment. 
“No pressure, T,” Dani said through the walkie. 
“Yeah,” Lilly chimed in. “We just spent all damn day chasing these things–”
“South,” he said suddenly. “I say let’s chase south.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was standing in the middle of a wheat field with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 
The storm had fizzled with the shifting winds, leaving them with nothing but a few scattered showers that mixed in with the sweat already pooling on his skin. 
“S’alright, T,” Boone said encouragingly with a shrug. He clapped him on the back. “We can’t catch ‘em all.”
Tyler sighed before joining Dani where they sat on the edge of the truck, scanning for other potential storms in the area. 
“What’s that there?” Tyler asked, pointing to what appeared to be a storm system heading west. 
Dani frowned. “What the hell… I think that’s the storm from earlier– the one moving northeast.”
“So it shifted?” 
“Shifted?” Boone said, lowering his camera for a moment to glance towards Tyler. “Where to? Can we make it in time?”
Tyler frowned, studying the movement. 
“That’s strange,” Dani mumbled under their breath. With a few clicks, they expanded the screen, showing a wider radius.
“What’s strange?” Boone asked.
Ignoring him, Tyler scanned the system, trying to trace the path without actually calculating it. “You don’t think–” 
Dani glanced his way. “Holy shit–”
“Hello?” Boone said. “Y’all gonna share with the rest of the class?” 
“I think she’s headin’ for Lawton,” Dani finally whispered. 
And although he’d been thinking it, all the color drained from his face when it was actually spoken out loud.
“Lawton?” Dexter asked, voice laced with concern. 
“Oh shit-” Lilly whispered.  
Lawton was the closest city to where the two of you lived– if it hit there, thousands of people could be in danger. And if it shifted again, even the slightest bit– it could head right for your small town instead.  
Despite the humidity, everything inside of Tyler went cold as he imagined you at home– puttering around the garden, blissfully unaware of what might be coming. 
“Will you uh, pass me– pass me my phone, Boone?” Tyler stammered, standing up from the truck bed. 
Boone reached into the backpack scattered near his feet and handed over Tyler’s cell phone, placing it in his outstretched hand. Tyler muttered a quick thank you before walking a few strides away as he pulled up your contact information.  
The call rang five times before making it to voicemail– your sweet voice asking him to leave a message and you’d get back to him. 
“Hey, baby– it’s me. Call me back as soon as you can. Alright, love ya.”
He clicked the phone off before immediately trying again. 
“C’mon,” he muttered as the line continued to ring. “C’mon, baby, c’mon,” he hummed nervously, kicking the grass with his boots when he heard your voicemail. “Hey– me again. Listen, I’m not trying to scare ya, but there might be a storm comin’ and I just wanna make sure you’re safe. Give me a call please.”
He paced back towards the group, sending you a quick text just for good measure as he did. 
“Alright, what’s the plan here?” Dexter asked. 
But Tyler wasn’t paying much attention as he obsessively dialed you for a third time. 
“What’s wrong, T?” Boone wondered. 
Without looking up from his phone, Tyler exhaled a frustrated breath. “She’s never got her damn phone on her– that’s what’s wrong.” The second he heard your voicemail for a fourth time, he chucked his phone towards his bag. “Damnit!” 
Boone swallowed thickly. “I’m sure she’s fine–”
Tyler hung his head. After a moment, he nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that would remain the case if he didn’t get in touch with you fast. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to breathe– 
You were fine, he told himself. You were home, you’d hear the alerts if they were necessary, you knew to get into the basement. 
Tyler took a long, steadying breath. “Dani, what’s the speed of this thing?” 
“Uh, it’s moving– thirty-five miles per hour directly west. I think she’s gaining speed, though.”
“Alright, she’s fast,” Tyler remarked. “We have to be faster. Let’s head home, ladies and gents, we can take cover at my place once I know everyone’s safe.”
“You got it, T,” Lilly said. 
“Stay safe everyone,” Dani replied as they all dispersed to their respective vehicles. 
Tyler and Boone climbed back into the truck, tires screeching as they sped west towards Lawton, and home towards you. 
You were inside the bakery on Lowell Street– Tyler’s favorite place for any and all pastries, when you heard the thunder. 
Although thunder in Oklahoma wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, it was enough to make you turn your attention outside, just to see what kind of storm you might be up against on the drive home. 
“It’s gettin’ dark out there,” Gloria, the owner, said. She glanced at you over the counter and blew a strand of graying hair out of her face. 
You nodded in agreement, jumping slightly when another crack of thunder rang through the air. “Sounds like it’s getting closer,” you noticed. 
“I still can’t believe that boyfriend of yours goes out of his way to chase these storms. And his friends, too.”
You scoffed. “Yeah, me either. Bunch of adrenaline junkies.”
“Not me,” Gloria smirked. “We get enough chaos in this life, I don’t need to be chasin’ it.”
You returned her smile, recognizing that you might have more in common with the sixty-something year old baker in town than you did your own boyfriend. But you supposed that your differences were what drew you to Tyler. He was brave and thrilling and so alive. Although what he did scared the absolute shit out of you, there was nothing better than watching him exude excitement and just pure joy after he got home from a particularly powerful storm. 
“Was he and his crew trackin’ anything out here?” Gloria asked, using the tube of blue icing to write the birthday message you’d requested on top of Tyler’s cake. 
“Not here,” you replied. “He was south of OKC last I checked in.”
Which, you realized, had been far longer than you anticipated thanks to not having your phone. You mentally kicked yourself again for leaving it behind. If you’d brought it with you, you could have just given him a call now. Because unless he was smack dab in the middle of a goddamn tornado, he always answered your calls. Just a few reassurances from him could’ve calmed your fears about the storm brewing outside– told you that it was just a thunderstorm passing through. 
Not every thunderstorm means a tornado, he had said, you didn’t even know how many times by now. And each time allowed you to relax a little. Because unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t enjoy weather in quite the same way. In fact, after an EF4 had ripped through your home when you were just a child, you did your best to stay as far from tornadoes as Oklahoma allowed. 
“I’m sure it’s just thunder,” you began. 
But before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sudden pitter patter of hail beginning outside. Gloria lowered the icing tube while you took another step closer to the window to peer out. 
Dark, gloomy clouds swirled through the sky. 
That was when you heard the sirens. Loud and clear, they echoed through your ears in a terrifying, grim warning. 
As the storm tracked faster and faster the closer they got, Tyler’s first stop was your shared home just outside of Lawton. 
He didn’t even bother turning the truck off before he was hurling himself across the lawn, towards the front door. But before he even looked inside, his stomach dropped when he noticed your SUV wasn’t parked in its typical spot. 
Regardless, he practically ripped open the front door before running into the house, calling your name loudly into each room he searched, hoping that maybe you’d lent your car to your mom again– or magically parked it in the garage that was stuffed full of his gear. 
But it was no use– you weren’t there. 
He knew that for good as soon as he flung open the door to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly– and your phone sitting on the nightstand table, plugged in and clearly far away from you. 
“Damnit!” he yelled, kicking the door frame frustratedly. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Frustration and anger brewed inside of him, but he knew that underneath all of that was fear– for you and your safety. All he wanted was to have you in his sights again– although preferably wrapped up in his embrace, the only spot he could ensure you were safe... Where you belonged.
Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Tyler made his way across the room and picked your phone up from the nightstand. Your background– a picture of you and him taken during your trip to Texas last year, lit up the screen. Accompanying it were the slew of notifications you’d missed– the first was the severe weather alert, the next few were all the missed calls from him. But at the very bottom of your screen was a reminder notification– one that allowed him to finally exhale the breath he’d been holding since he burst into the house. 
Get Tyler a bday cake. 
Sliding your phone into his back pocket, he raced back down the stairs to find Boone standing on the front lawn. 
“She’s in town,” he said, rushing towards his truck. 
Boone followed close behind. “How do you know?”
“If nothing else,” Tyler said, climbing into his truck, “she follows her schedule.”
“Gloria, you gotta listen to me–” you pleaded, hurrying around the counter to grab her hand. “If the sirens are goin’ off, it means we don’t have much time. Does the bakery have a basement, or– or a shelter?”
Gloria’s watery eyes met yours. Your heart sank the moment she shook her head dreadfully. 
“Okay,” you said shakily, trying not to panic. What would Tyler do? You looked around the bakery– with its old walls and sagging roof, you knew it wasn’t safe to stay here. 
“Gloria, we gotta go,” you said urgently. “We gotta find somewhere safe to be.”
With that, you tugged her towards the exit. 
As soon as you were outside, you felt the fierce wind whip your face, along with a few staggering pieces of hail. There was debris– leaves and sticks flying around in every which way, making it hard to see past what was right in front of you. 
Although you were trying to be vigilant, you didn’t even see the scrap of metal fly by your face.  “Shit!” you exclaimed, feeling it graze your cheek. Ripped skin was quickly followed by the feeling of warm blood trickling across your skin. 
“Are you alright?” Gloria asked, grabbing your arm. 
You used your free hand to press against your cheek before nodding. “We gotta get out of here,” you said. 
But just as you turned to try and gauge your surroundings, hoping to come up with a shred of a plan, you froze at what was looming in the distance. 
Winds whipped rapidly, the sky boomed, and a dark, wide funnel had formed– it’s tip already touching down on the ground. And it was coming straight for you. 
“Gloria, we gotta go–” you cried. “Now!” 
Tyler drove as fast as he could– foot nearly pressed down on the ground. He drove like his life depended on it. Because yours did– 
The truth was– he’d never given much thought to losing you. He was generally too preoccupied with wondering what you’d do if you lost him. He was the one putting himself in danger all the time, he was the one forcing his way in the middle of these storms. 
He didn’t know what he’d do without you– except be a shell of who he was now. 
“Holy shit–” he heard Boone say from the passenger seat. 
Tyler refocused his attention ahead, his eyes widening the second he saw what Boone was fixated on. 
It was hard to miss the giant, fucking tornado barreling right for Lawton’s array of buildings. 
“We’re too late–” Tyler croaked. “We’re too fucking late–”
“She’s smart,” Boone assured Tyler. “She knows where to go and what to do.”
Tyler’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drove faster. 
In retrospect, the laundromat probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. But there were few windows and the back room was lined with secure piping, all which jetted deeply into the ground, creating a solid anchoring point. 
There were a few other people huddled in the same room, already low on the ground and clutching onto one another. 
“Hold on to that!” you cried, practically pushing Gloria towards the corner of the room. She wound her frail arms around the piping before crouching down. You were right beside her, arms locked tightly on the piping as you felt the building start to shake. 
The storm outside was deafening. Winds whistled and boomed. You were pretty sure the woman beside you was screaming– but you couldn’t hear her above the noise of everything else. You tried to be brave– the way you knew Tyler would be if he were here. 
Once, about three years ago, an EF3 hit his parent’s ranch while the two of you were staying there for a long weekend. You remembered the way he stayed so calm, so collected through it all. After ushering everyone into the storm shelter, he wrapped his strong arms around you, anchoring you to him. The ranch didn’t shake like this though… And even though you’d been scared that night, it paled in comparison to what you felt now. 
This building was weak– the structure was unsound. You had no idea how close the tornado actually was, but you knew this thing wasn’t going to stay put. It was just a matter of if the pipes went deep enough into the ground and if you could hold on to them. Because you didn’t have Tyler holding on for you this time. 
You hoped he was somewhere safe– maybe tracking the storm that was about to kill you from a reasonable distance. 
“Everything’s going to be okay,” you told Gloria, sweaty palms making your grip slip. “Just hold on–” 
The building began to shake harder– the very foundation rocking beneath you. Shortly after, pieces of the roof began tearing off, exposing the thunderous storm raging above. 
“I don’t–” Gloria cried. “I don’t think I can hold on!”
You tried loosening your own grip– hoping you could wrap your arms around her like Tyler had done for you before, or do something to help. But then you heard another ear splitting roar, and suddenly, the entire roof was being ripped off from the building. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough– 
“Hold on!” you screamed, tucking your head into your elbow and squeezing your eyes shut. “Just a little longer!” 
But as the words left your lips, even you didn’t believe them. 
By the time they finally reached town, the tornado had already moved on. 
Part of the reason why Tyler loved tornados so much was their power and speed. In his eyes– it was nothing short of an act of God to see what damage a simple funnel of wind could do in just a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. 
Until he was faced with the inevitable tragedy of it all. 
Because it was one thing to see trees uprooted, or tractors rolled over. It was another to see an entire town had succumbed to a pile of debris– vehicles thrown this way and that– metal and siding and bricks scattered over every inch of the flat land– To know that people, his friends, his neighbors, you could be buried underneath piles of rubble– bodies broken and bleeding and hurt if they were lucky enough to be alive at all.
Tyler brought his truck to a screeching halt, not even hesitating before he was ripping off his seatbelt and hurling himself out of his seat. The second his boots hit the mud, he screamed your name as loud as he could. 
Eyes whipping around, he tried to process the scene before him. But it was hard to gauge where anything used to be– there was practically nothing left. 
“Tyler!” he heard someone scream in the distance. Head whipping to the side, he saw Lilly, waving her arms frantically. 
For a moment, Tyler let himself get his hopes up. He raced across the distance between them as fast as he could, despite all the obstacles in his way. But when he finally reached her, he was devastated to see that you weren’t there at all. Instead, Lilly was staring at a vehicle, flipped over and crunched like it’d been hit head-on by an 18-wheeler. 
And although it was damaged beyond repair, Tyler recognized it as yours immediately. 
He felt his chest tighten. “Christ–” he stammered, unable to fight back the tears burning behind his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair before hunching over, hoping the motion would allow him to finally catch his breath.
“Oh God,” he panted. “God, no– please, no–”
“She might not have been in it,” Lilly said quickly. 
But Tyler barely heard her. He was too fixated on the pounding in his ears–  
A wave of hopelessness washed over him, flooding his insides. He was too late– he couldn’t save you– he was too fucking late. 
“We’re gonna find her, T,” Boone’s voice was suddenly peaking through the fog. 
“Yeah, we won’t stop until we do,” Dani added. 
Tyler forced himself to take a few, steadying breaths. When he could, he straightened his back and glanced around. 
His whole team hadn’t given up on you. 
Neither could he. 
When you finally gained the courage to open your eyes, you were met by a fierce brightness. You coughed– lungs heaving as you struggled to breathe. 
“Gloria?” you tried to speak. “Are you okay?” 
You were met by an eerie silence– the calm after the storm. Blinking harshly a few times, you tried to gather up enough strength to sit up. But as soon as you did, you had a chance to look around… And boy, do you wish you hadn’t. 
There was nothing left– the entire town was gone… destroyed, buried in rubble and debris. 
“Gloria?” you called, groaning as you pushed the thick layer of roofing off from your legs. You grimaced once you saw the deep gash down the side of your thigh, oozing blood. 
Breath shuddering, you continued to scan the area– trying to wrack your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do next. The second you moved to turn your head, you winced, vision blurring. Slowly, you grazed along your forehead with your fingertips. When you pulled them away, you grimaced to see them coated in crimson liquid. 
You stared at it for far too long– unsure what else to do. You were hurt– probably worse than it felt, too if adrenaline had anything to say about it. You didn’t know if you could walk on your leg, or if you’d pass out the second you tried to stand up. 
You felt hopeless– completely and utterly alone. 
Until you faintly heard the sound of your name being called in the distance. 
It was enough to make you snap out of your trance, head whipping around to see Boone throwing aside a piece of siding. He called out a second time before turning and locking eyes with you from across the way. 
“Boone,” you said under your breath, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real. Because if Boone was here– calling out for you, that meant Tyler couldn’t be far behind. 
Boone yelled your name again before turning. “I found her!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Over here!” 
You fought back the guilt you felt for still not finding Gloria and moved to stand on shaky legs. 
“I’ll come back for you,” you promised her. 
Wobbly and weak, you limped towards him, trying your best not to fall in the cracks and crevices beneath the debris. You looked down, intending to watch your step, but instead you caught a glimpse of your leg and all the blood now coating your entire thigh and calf. Just the sight of it made you lose your balance. 
“Shit,” you gasped, as you landed harshly on the ground. You looked back up and saw Boone heading your way– only fifty yards or so from you. But then– right behind Boone, was a sight that made everything else melt away. 
“Tyler,” you exhaled, like it was a prayer tumbling from your lips. 
His long legs moved fast– practically running despite everything in his way. 
He’d make it to you– he’d get you. But if you got up and kept moving… he’d get there sooner. So, with whatever you had left inside of you, you pushed yourself up. Ignoring the pounding in your head and the throbbing in your leg, you limped forward. 
“Tyler,” you said again– not loud enough for anyone else to hear. It was like you just needed a reminder that really was right there. “Tyler–” this time, when his name tumbled from your lips, it came out as a sob– every emotion inside of you bubbling to the surface of your skin. Tears slipped down your cheeks, your vision blurred. 
He was so close now– you could hear the rubble shift as he stepped on it. 
He called your name… and God, if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. 
“Tyler–” you cried again, throat choked from dust and tears. 
And then, just like that, his body was colliding with yours. Arms winding tightly around your shoulders, a familiar scent enveloping you, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, anchoring you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, face buried in his button down shirt. 
“Oh, God,” he whispered above you, lips grazing the side of your head. “I got you,” he said. 
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out– only a guttural, uncontrollable sob that made him hold you tighter. 
“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered into your hair. 
“Tyler–” was all you managed to choke out. 
His thumb trailed up and down your hair, matted with mud and your own blood. “I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.” 
He held you tight, steadying your shaky frame. It was like he was the one thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Which was why your body almost recoiled when he finally pulled away. You needed him wrapped around you like that forever. 
You tried to resist, to pull him back, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. All you could do was stand there weakly while his wild, concerned eyes scanned the length of you. 
“I’m fine–” you tried to say. 
But he shook his head instantly. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt, we gotta get you out of here. Get an ambulance!” he yelled to Boone, who was lingering nearby, looking like he didn’t quite know how to help. Boone nodded instantly before hurrying off. 
“Tyler–” 
“Okay, I see the leg– what else?” he asked. “What else hurts?”
“My head,” you whimpered. “And my ribs–” you admitted, although you hadn’t quite managed to look at those yet. “But Tyler–” 
Before you could finish, Tyler’s hand gripped the hem of your tank top, pulling it up slightly. You winced as the fabric brushed over your ribs. But when Tyler pressed a hand on the bare skin, you almost screamed out in pain. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I gotta look though, baby. I gotta check it.”
You nodded, fingers squeezing the fabric of his shirt as he did. The pain was excruciating– enough to make your already-dizzy head start to spin. 
“I think they’re broken– at least a couple. Can’t say for certain.”
“Tyler,” you tried to repeat, tears still streaming steadily down your face. 
“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he said once he saw the shift on your face. 
“It’s Gloria,” you finally spit out. “She’s out here somewhere, Tyler. We have to find her–”
Tyler’s gaze softened at your words. He pulled his eyes away from you long enough to quickly scan the scene. 
“Did you see her? Or know where she went?”
You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No–” you cried. “No, I don’t know where she went. Tyler, I have to find her–”
“Easy,” he soothed, winding an arm around your middle so that he could brace the majority of your weight. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We gotta get you checked out.”
“I can’t leave her–” you protested. 
“Listen to me,” he said, voice gentle but stern. “You bleeding out on a pile of rubble isn’t going to help her, okay? Let me get you somewhere safe, Boone and Dexter can search for Gloria, alright?” 
After a moment, you nodded solemnly. “You promise?”
“I promise, baby. Now c’mon.”
Before you could protest, you felt Tyler’s arm swoop around the backs of your legs, while the other supported your back. In an instant, your feet are lifted off from the ground. You didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay your head against his chest. 
“There we go,” he soothed. “I got you.”
His thumb trailed along your back gently as he began navigating the pile of rubble around you. 
You felt safe nestled against him– and for the first time since you’d emerged from the rubble, you felt safe enough to allow your eyes to fall shut. 
“Hey, stay awake now, okay? We’re just a short walk to the ambulances– keep lookin’ at me.”
You tried– honestly you did. You opened them up, despite everything inside of you that screamed to close them. And then you fought like hell to keep them trained on Tyler– to study the lining of his jaw and the tan shade of his skin. But Tyler’s embrace was so warm, and his voice was just so soft. And you were so, so tired. There was nothing you could do when they fell shut again. 
Tyler pleaded for you, but unconsciousness got there first. 
… 
Even after the doctors assured him you’d be okay– that it was just exhaustion and blood loss from the trauma you’d endured keeping you out for so long, he couldn’t settle down. 
You looked so goddamn frail– so broken in that hospital bed. He couldn’t stand it. 
It was nearly ten at night before the rest of his team packed up to head back home, making him promise to call them as soon as you woke up. 
“We can stay if you want,” Lilly offered. There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone. She was being genuine. Which was how Tyler knew he must have been an absolute mess. 
“That’s alright,” he croaked, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. Even he could hear the pain in his voice. 
Boone clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Love you, man.”
“Call us if you need anything,” Dani said. 
Tyler nodded, promised he would. But the only thing he needed was for you to wake up. 
His watch read midnight when you finally stirred. 
Tyler was sitting in a chair, pulled all the way up to your bedside, and was clutching your hand with both of his. He had his forehead resting against the hospital bed, but the second he felt movement, he shot up quickly, all the exhaustion fading instantly. 
Your face contorted into a frown as you squeezed your eyes shut once, twice, three times before they fluttered open. 
Scooting forward in his chair, he studied you as you glanced around– clearly trying to take in your surroundings and place where you were. The second you started to shift– like you were sitting up in bed in a panic, he squeezed your hand. 
“Hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”
Your head turned towards him, confusion and fear plastered all over your cut up, bruised face. Just the sight made his chest ache. 
“You’re safe.”
You fell back against the pillow and nodded slowly. 
“Tyler–” you began shakily, he could already hear the sob lodged in your throat. “I– I’m…”
“You’re okay, baby,” he assured you. 
“No– I’m- I’m so sorry–”
He froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey, what’s this? Stop- you got nothing to be sorry for, baby.” 
“I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t hear the alert until it was too late. It was stupid– I just–” your face crumpled as you struggled to find words. “You always tell me not to forget it and I forgot it.”
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I just– I wanted to get you a birthday cake– I should have gotten it sooner, but I forgot– and…” your voice continued to crack and break with each breath you took. “I know you don’t love birthdays, but I love your birthday–” Tyler leaned forward in his seat, releasing your hand so that he could cup your cheek. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before his fingers traced your jawline delicately. 
“I think your cake got destroyed.”
He couldn’t help the soft smirk that spread across his face. “I’d say that’s probably a fair assumption.”
“I’m sorry–”
“Hey,” he soothed. “Fuck birthday cakes– I didn’t want one anyway. I was thinkin’ we could get a nice pie this year. What do ya think? Blueberry? Peach cobbler?”
“But Gloria made it–” 
Suddenly, your face fell and you were back to sitting up eagerly. “Oh my God, Tyler. Gloria– she–”
“She’s safe,” Tyler interjected quickly. “Thanks to you. Boone found her not far from where you wound up, clutching to some pipes. She had a few scratches, but that was it. She said the pipes were your idea.”
A rush of pride flowed through him as he beamed at you. His girl– getting people to safety in the middle of a tornado, despite how scared you must have been. 
Your watery eyes met his, lip quivering as you tried to speak. “Tyler– I didn’t think…” he could hear the tears in your throat before you even let them out. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. God, I don’t know how we made it.”
Your voice broke on the last word, a sob escaping your lips as you doubled over. Instantly, Tyler was out of his chair and sliding into the tiny, hospital bed beside you carefully avoiding your cracked ribs and stitched up thigh. 
Without even hesitating, you curled into his side, fingers grasping as his shirt like your life depended on it. 
“Shh,” he soothed, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “You did make it. You and Gloria both. You made it because you thought on your feet– I’m so proud of you,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 
He had no idea if you believed him or not– no idea if his words were sinking in at all. You clutched his shirt and cried against his chest– frame shaking with each breath you took. Tyler felt so helpless in that moment. All he could do was whisper reassuring comments and words of affirmation in your ear and hold you tightly against him. 
After a while, your breathing started to return to normal. Your grip on his shirt loosened as you let out a sigh. “You came to get me,” you said quietly, voice sounding so tired– like it was moments away from drifting off. 
Tyler pressed his lips to your hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll always come to get you,” he promised. 
You nodded. “I know.” 
Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm a few more times soothingly. “The laundry mat was a good idea– especially with the pipes,” he murmured into your hair. 
With what little energy you had left, you pulled away from him to glance up. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Does that mean I can be a tornado wrangler now?” 
He smirked playfully. “That depends, do you want to be?”
You bit your lip, like you were really thinking about it. After a moment, you scrunched your nose up. “And face one of those things nearly everyday? Not a chance.”
Tyler smiled, pulling you gently against his chest– right where you belonged. “There’s my girl,” he said lovingly. 
4K notes · View notes