#about the two of them relearning to work together

[feathers-in-the-night]

I dont know if I've already talked about this but i remember when i was writing Broken Wings, I wanted it to be as dramatic as possible, I wanted them to be so at odds and for their situation to seem absolutely impossible, because in my mind, that would make their reunion so much sweeter, right? that would make them reuniting so much stronger, right? That would prove their soulmate status so much more, because they were able to overcome every obstacle.

Right?

And then at one point, a reviewer told me that they'd stopped rooting for the two of them to get back together, because I'd done too good of a job showcasing their incompatibility. And more people started expressing the same opinion.

I had made the ship unshippable.

That review really stuck with me. And it keeps haunting me as I write this new story. I regularly check back with it, making sure I'm not making the same mistake twice.

And then I reread Feathers and realized I actually hadn't made a very compelling case in that story either.

It made me realize that the foundation of their relationship was extremely flawed - the undeniable imbalance of power, given that Dick was her mentor and her leader. Essentially her boss. The fact that she started out not respecting him or his opinion at all, and he tries to force obedience from her, instead of earning respect.

The fact that Dick kissed her without her consent?

IM NOT SAYING that this wasn't the point at the time. Like I was definitely trying to write a messy couple. They were teenagers. They were stressed and trying to save the world from an alien invasion. They were all each other had for a while - Dick was there to help Morgan time and time again, and she was the only one that knew his secrets, who he could confide in, and who he didn't have to lie to at the time. She always found some way to lighten the mood for him, and he always supported her through every obstacle she faced.

They helped the other find something human in the alien invasion.

Like, it makes sense they fell for each other, right? They needed that, at the time. It was a messy but genuine road to a messy but genuine relationship - it was something necessary to survive the insane circumstances they were in, and the amount of pressure they were under.

But what happens when the alien invasion is over, and there's relative peace? When they aren't fighting for the fate of the world anymore, but are dealing with more mundane tasks, like school and work and small-scale missions?

When the closeness of the other person is no longer the only thing keeping them sane?

It was always inevitable, that they would break up. The very foundation of their relationship was built on something that wasn't meant to last. It was lifesupport - and at some point, lifesupport needs to be turned off, whether because the person is dead, or because they are recovered.

That's why Dick says "Thank you for being exactly what i needed." when she gets on that plane. What he needed.

So then, what is this sequel about?

It's about exploring the two of them trying to find each other in a new way. This is about the two of them going off on their own to fight find themselves, and when they're ready, to reunite. (Not that they know it yet).

This is me proving that they are compatible. They can be. Just not in the form that we left them in, in Feathers. And not in their Broken Wings versions.

This is about the two of them realizing that this is it for them. This is fate. They're fate. But not because of some cosmic power willing it, but because they decide it for themselves. They decide to cast away all the issues from their previous relationship, and rebuilt it on a much stronger foundation. Something healthy, something long-lasting.

I was 18-19 when I wrote Feathers. I had never been in a relationship. I was relying on tropes and dramatic moments, on the stuff I had seen in movies.

I'm 27 now. I'm married. I have a kid. I understand the everyday trappings of being in a relationship. The stuff that makes it work. How it actually feels be to heartbroken. To be in love. To long for someone out of reach. To find your home with a person. And as I write this story, I use the experience I now have. I'm still using the beloved tropes, I'm still using drama - they still fight, they still do wrong by each other, but they're getting better.

My mission statement is to write a story that makes people think "These two are soulmates" and not "These two aren't good for each other".

Because I want to leave them at a point where I can feel confident in saying they stay together.

[starry-bi-sky]

*points at bruce and danny in 'late at night when the nightingale sings'* THESE TWO MFERS MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEEE

no thoughts head empty just these two socially inept fools finding family in one another. like yes you go you funky little death omens stole that one from a comment on the fic, so if you see this you know who you are, discover that family isn't only tied in blood.

bUT onto less mushy stuff: these two being shenaniganizers; tomfools. Bruce realized that Danny didn't actually know he was Bruce Wayne and instead of going "oh actually im bruce wayne" he went; "hrm... how long can i keep this going until he realizes...."

like. i think they deserve to be the sillies. just utter goobers the both of them. like, danny makes the wittiest side comments, dry quips, under his breath towards Bruce while they're out in public (Danny covering his face with a face mask) and Bruce is trying not to laugh. Meanwhile if Bruce makes one sly comment about someone to Danny, Danny's gonna collapse with laughter.

Bruce plays straightman in most of their bits, he has the best fucking poker face. But also I firmly believe he does actually enjoy Danny's puns. Look me in the eyes- look me in the eyes. Try and tell me that a man that willingly agrees to call a car "the batmobile" even after his eight year old ward grows up (thus negating the need to go along with his antics) doesn't enjoy a good, well-placed pun. Look me in the eyes and try to tell me that. That's right you can't.

He's gonna spit out a well-placed pun in the driest, most boring Batman Voice Ever one day while he's getting ready for patrol, and Danny's gonna fucking die of laughter. He's gonna lose his mind. Bruce is going to have a half-dead sickly teenager laughing his lungs out in the chair. That's a new core memory right there, every time Danny thinks about that he's gonna start giggling.

just!!! these two making each other laugh! That's so important to me. So so much. I nEED Danny to get Bruce to smile and laugh and I need Bruce to make Danny do the same. Danny's all snark and sass and Bruce is all deadpan and dry quips. Do you all see my vision.

[geminiwritten]

all yours ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

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

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

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

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

word count: 14818

You’ve known Tyler Owens since you were ten. 

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

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

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

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

You’ve kissed him twice. 

And you’ve slept with him once. 

Once. Exactly three weeks ago. 

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

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

You knew who it was before you even opened it. 

Tyler. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You good?” 

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

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

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t push. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you just need a plan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you’re a terrible liar this morning. 

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t. 

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

The goodbyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

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

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

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

You nod again. “Okay, good.” 

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

“I don’t think so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pregnancy is wild. 

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

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

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

Think pregnancy crying is bad? Try the horniness. 

Ugh. 

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

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

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

You need to calm down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tyler’s brows furrow and he nods once. 

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

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

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

It makes your chest ache. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not what I want. 

- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until you give birth to it… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at her like she belonged there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- 

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

But that’s not the hardest part. 

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

You feel like a total piece of shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the calm before the storm. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit.” 

You know that voice. You know it too well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can feel your heartbeat thumping in your throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That you’re not coming back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you say. “Here’s the story.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. 

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

“You want me to tell them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, throat tight. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Tyler - 

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

He can’t believe you’re pregnant. 

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

But why? 

That’s what he can’t figure out. 

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

He just wants to be there for you. 

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

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

No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tyler frowns. “What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until you left. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not his. 

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

He wants it to be his. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lily nods, satisfied. 

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

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

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

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

“It’s on the sonogram, stupid.” 

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

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

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

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

That leaves three weeks. 

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

Somewhere in those three weeks… you got pregnant. 

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

Holy shit. 

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

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

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

Kate blinks. “Where?” 

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

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

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

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

The truth. 

- You - 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did he drive here? Or run? 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

This can’t be good. 

“When are you due?” he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you, he scoffs. “Todd.” 

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

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

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

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

“What did he say when you told him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And here he is, acting like he cares. 

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

Then his voice slices clean through the silence. 

“Why didn’t you use birth control?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard. 

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

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

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

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

“You can still walk away,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

Then he moves. 

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

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

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

It feels like the truth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes shimmer. “She?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

END.

[xxmochadoodlesxx]

JASON IS A LOVEY DOVEY TEENAGE-CRINGEY KINDA LOVER DO NOT TEST MEEEEEE

So am I 100% meant to be in bed or studying for an exam but procrastinating on tumblr to avoid my problems? Yes. Absolutely. But I must SPEAK OUT THIS INJUSTICE TOWARDS JASON PETER TODD! I'm SICK, SICCCCKKKKKK of HC's where Jason is some nonchalant, cool boy who pretends his partner isn't even real until he needs sexual favours or "When they are in danger and he regrets everything!!!" STOP IT! YOU SLANDER MY SON!!! Here's an EXACT and (in my professional hopeless romance genre objectively correct) Headcanoned timeline of how Jason fares as a partner: - Starting point/he just caught the feels: Okay THIS is the only time he can be nonchalant. No matter how hard he falls, that boy is traumatised and has never seen a healthy love between two people. Of course he's kinda standoffish and cold, like coaxing a mistreated cat out of the hiding spot. HOWEVER, he isn't a POS- just kinda awkward. You/Oc need to do the reaching out first. - Something changes/OMG this is real love: YES, there are TWO phases to the crush. One when he can acknowledge it as just attraction and one where he skydives into his feelings and realises this is SOMETHING MUCH REALER THAN FLIRTY BANTER! This is where I pose, "He crushes like a teen girl" HC. Giggles like a maniac at every text, kinda dazes off a little too much when he catches a song, smell or food that reminds him of said crush- if he journals which I think he does, there's entries about you/Oc. A LOT OF ENTRIES. - First dates: He's a Jane Austen/classical romance reader, he's pulling a Romeo and mentally already jumping hoops on how you were destined to be together and stars smiled upon such pure love, blah blah blah. However he is still semi-closed off. Fear is a natural killjoy/heartbreaker, however AGAIN he is NAWT a POS to his date, it's just a little awkward and he looks like he's held at gunpoint whenever you ask about HIS wants and needs. (Let the man grow some self confidence gradually) -Dating/It's offical: In the sense that his partner loves him, truly and honestly, Robin/Red Hood/Outlaw/Jason Todd ect? THAT MAN IS NEVER LEAVINGGGGG!!!! Frankly having something THAT GOOD in his pretty shitty life would somewhat drive him crazy protective and clingy. Yes, he's basically moved in by now and sleeps beside you in bed, like you guys are some married couple. Hell, you wanna push it? Probably has the ring picked out and only by the power of common sense is making him wait for a good amount of time to pass before proposing. He is a darling and almost never lost the romantic in him. Flowers from the first date up until he has to pluck them from the side of the road before crashing through a window into your home, because "What's a concussion and possible internal bleeding to getting my love flowers to match their beauty?". Also fuck off if you believe he doesn't spend 99.9% of his time at 'home' crushing his partner as they hold his mass of a 6 foot build as he rambles about anything and everything. From what books he's reading to "Did you know I saw a pigeon lay eggs on patrol?" Again, married couple behaviour. Has to relearn the concept of personal space because he loves so deeply and whole it works akin to an antidepressant, except it's not because his love is so much more than that. He needs to be weened off you/oc before going on far away missions otherwise his poor team (and enemies) has to deal with his withdrawal from his partner. HE IS CLINGY, PROTECTIVE AND A LITTLE CHILDISH- I LOVE HIM RAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

[sweetcalebb]

Computer Science Major Zayne

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚ headcanons ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

zayne, who codes better than he talks, but god—absolutely meltsss for you in soft, subtle ways.

INSPIRED BY @xyzvoid

tysm for letting me use ur concept!! ur gamer!caleb also gave me this idea for CS!zayne <3

—

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne will make apps for you. he'll sit in his dorm, hoodie rolled up to his sleeves, brows pinched together in annoyance because he can't find what's wrong with his code. he should be doing his assignments, but how he can't forget that offhand comment you made about how messy your notes are. two days later, you get a link from him. it's your own custom-made app that color-codes and sorts them for you.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne will let you study with him while he works on his code. he normally doesn't let anyone see him like this—because honesty? he looks a little wrecked; the complete opposite of him in public, typing like he's trying to punish the computer for his mistakes. and when you tease him, saying he looks like he's fighting with his laptop he lets out a low, "i am." but there's a subtle smile playing on his lips.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne's never been one for affection, but for you, he'll make an exception. like sometimes, when he's in the middle of debugging, or writing some paper on the program he's using, he'll pull you into his lap, rest his chin on your shoulder, and murmur, "don't move. you're warm.”

⋆⁺₊❅。 to everyone else, zayne is an intimidating, composed computer science prodigy. to you? he's just a sweet, awkward, nerdy boy (still scary smart). because when he's alone with you, he's grumbling under his breath, glaring at his computer screen like it's personally offended him because he can't crack an assignment. and when he's done, he'll crawl into your arms. won't say a word, just lay there.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne's screen saver is a candid picture of you taking a nap on his shoulder. you hate it, but he loves it. it's his absolute favorite and he refuses to change it. sometimes, it'll distract him. he knows he should be doing work, but instead he'll sit there like a love-sick fool, eyes roving over the picture like he hasn't seen it a hundred times.

⋆⁺₊❅。 he doesn't care how much work he has left to do. he'll always find time to help you with yours. doesn't matter what class is it either. chemistry? he's patiently walking you through the formulas even though he just relearned the material last night. anatomy? he's skimming your textbooks and then letting you practice on him—turning into your own personal life-size diagram.

⋆⁺₊❅。 just like he isn't one for physical affection, he also isn't one for loud, sappy 'i love you's. no, he builds you a game. a whole game. based on some throwaway comment, like, 'i wish i was a bird'. days later, he's built you a short five-minute game where you play as a bird and at the end there's some sweet little note. it's short, but it's there.

⋆⁺₊❅。 he doesn't say anything, but he's positive he works better with you around. even when you're a little too distracting for your own good, how could he not work better when after every section of his code he finishes, he's pulling you in a slow, lazy kiss, then pulling back like nothing and working again?

⋆⁺₊❅。 sometimes, when you're feeling a little playful, you'll sneak up behind him while he works. you'll trail your lips up his neck, across his jaw, and then finish on that spot behind his ear he loves so much. he’ll mutter a rough, “don’t distract me." it has no real bite though, because before you can even apologize, he's turning around and slipping his hands underneath your shirt, pulling it up, then kissing up your stomach. soft, reverent open mouthed kisses.

⋆⁺₊❅。when zayne's finished with an especially grueling assignment, you'll offer to help him.. unwind. he'll say something short and quiet, like, "no, you don't have to." but he doesn't stop you, just watches with lidded eyes as you kneel down between his legs, tug his jeans down with his boxers and take him into your mouth. his breath hitches. "f-fuh—" he bites his lip to stops himself (bc for some reason he doesn't like cussing in front of you). he breathes out, "you really don't—nngh-" but he can't help it anymore. his hand is hovering over your head, hips twitching. "please don't stop."

[sagaduwyrm]

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

[sqgeism]

Amphoreus men with reader who has insomnia? Maybe they have perpetual eye bags and can fall asleep literally anywhere but in bed

Hope you're doing well

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 he'd stay and treat his lady | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌     —      ; give everything to his new baby !  sleep is hard, or at least it has been on specifically your bed, as of recently. despite concerns raised by your boyfriend, he finds it a little funny. considering the fact that you've not only managed to fall asleep in the garden of your home, but some chimera's have somehow found you.

love mail — did i put 5 requests together.. yes... 5 birds with ONE STONE 🩷🩷 but they all had similar prompts so i just put 'em all together :3 sorry individual anons that you won't get the notif i answered !! i love u guys, thank you for requesting anonnies f(^ー^; ♡ please forgive my laziness i swear i'll lock in. ACTUALLY had to drink two mountain dews writing this bc i could not force myself to finish this within the day if i didnt

anaxa doesn't know what to do after he finds you asleep on top the coffee table, which is right in front of the very comfy couch you two bought.

he knows you and him are busy, the academy has been working the professors overtime recently and you teach multiple subjects to multiple classes, so it's no wonder you're practically restless. it's just.. he wishes you could sleep in bed again. when you do get the opportunity for shut eye, it'll always be somewhere stupid. his least favorite was on your desk, as being hunched over like that can have long lasting back pains as a consequence (trust him, he knows)

so when one night, expecting to see you on the counters or atop the fridge, anaxa's natural frown deepens at the realization you don't seem to be sleeping in any unconventional place. have you finally relearned the skill to sleep in bed again? nope.. not quite, since the sheets are flat and untouched.

where on amphoreus are you?

that's when his train of thought is interrupted by little chitters outside, *the garden?* animals aren't typically seen around your home, but he supposes that it isn't impossible. but that's also the one place he hasn't checked, and if he's a moment too late to you getting mauled by.. whatever's out there, anaxa doesn't feel like losing another eye in hopes to see a loved one. though something that makes such a cute noise can't be too harmful.

and as always, anaxa is almost never incorrect. because there you are, in all your genius, asleep in the middle of the freshly cut garden with.. chimera's around you?

the little things are slipping into your coat, or rubbing themselves against your sleeping body. they seemed to think you'd give them attention, but they were just helping you fall deeper into sleep. fluffy balls of sweetness acted like a warm blanket, and you stood no chance, even with your issues with sleep.

and here anaxa is, having to deal with your antics for the millionth time. but if it was an issue—he'd be complaining, and even if he does, you know he doesn't mean it. like this very moment; "you're so weird," the scholar grumbles under his breath, yet he's careful as he approaches, careful to not startle you or the chimeras. "—i can't believe i have to deal with you." while he takes off his coat and covers you, all while he slowly carries you into his lap on the grass, settling you down comfortably to lean against him. "and you're just.. the worst."

he says these things while you're now asleep on him, his arms securely around you and keeping you close to support your body. if you were awake, surely you'd be teasing him about how affectionate he's choosing to be at the moment. and it seems the chimera's have gotten comfy too, the colorful critters beginning to yawn as he runs his fingers through your hair.

he wants to think he hates you for distracting him from his greater goal, for softening him up. for making him afraid to lose again.

but he can't, not when you're here and you wear the ring that reminds him of his promise. his promise to love you for however long he has and for far longer past death. his prophecy is neverchanging, but so is his love. and his legacy after death will never be truly told if your name is not mentioned alongside his.

mydei gets it. honestly, he does. sleep doesn't come easy to any of them, but mydei knows you're not exactly a heir. you're mortal, and you need things that he doesn't quite understand but he tries to. when he began catching you still up long past 2am, whether your nose buried in a book or eating leftovers from dinner, it worries him. he tries to soothe you back to sleep, but nothing works. and he has to watch you walk out that door with clearly not enough energy to function.

and it's the same thing tonight, he's laying on the couch with a novel in hand as you walk over to him. the time? 12:48 am. mydei wants to hide his unpleased expression, but he's sure his eyes narrow and his brows furrow slightly, however they're quick to melt into a much more tender expression as you move between his legs to lay on his chest, huffing.

"i'm tired, mydei." your voice is weak, and you feel limp on top of him. it actually causes somewhat discomfort to the warrior for a moment, as the feeling of a body on top of him is not foreign.. unfortunately. "i wish i could sleep. i really.. really do."

your hands ball into fists out of frustration, a trembling breath escaping you. but large, careful hands go over yours. breaking down that fist as he intertwines his fingers between the gap of yours, a perfect fit, as your two hearts are. "i don't know how i can help, but if i can find something, i'll be sure to tell you as soon as possible."

his lips softly kiss your forehead. "but i'm here. every night, and day, just come to me when it's too much." then he kisses each of your eyelids, and to mydei's surprise.. they don't open after he moves away. and you've fallen asleep, after a week of restlessness, you're brought into a dream state from kisses.

the chrysos heir would laugh, but he chooses to let you rest, rubbing soothing circles to your back as he waits for day to come.

phainon.. oh.. phainon... he's been so worried about the whole thing. he's gotten you some sleep medication, which does work, but he wants you to be able to sleep without them again. especially since there are times where you purposefully don't take them, and he has to find out when he comes home at 11pm and you're still up.

although tonight, when you're the one that comes home late, he's quick to catch on to the clear fatigue that's caught up with you. "baby?"

"work was horrible." you grumble, slugging towards him seated at the dining table before making yourself comfortable on the nearest chair (him). "i missed you, and i'm tired."

you feel his laugh echo in his throat, hands on your thighs pull you closer, before they move to your waist and stay there, humming teasingly. "i'm sorry to hear that, honey. you need anything? there's some dinner if you're hungry. i'll heat it up for you." he offers, caressing your form as you shake your head. what a touchy chair.

"i just wanna be able to sleep normally again, phai." you yawn, but you know well enough that your body will still refuse to rest. you forgot to stop by a pharmacy before going home, and you've run out of your sleeping meds. "i know, and you will soon baby. don't make your pretty head hurt any more than it already is, alright?" he dips down to kiss you tenderly with great passion. hey, if you can't sleep, he'll at least try to make the moments you're awake enjoyable. his left hand cups your cheek in order to tilt your head, his own shifting the opposite way to deepen the exchange of love. "you're alright, honey." he murmurs against your lips, pressing one last peck before he smiles. "i know you'll bounce back, you always do."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 2

Shout out to the fabulous @xbirdiex for letting me hit them up in their DM's to beta for this. 😘

CW: Limb Loss, suicide mentioned in passing, thoughts of murder, Emotions™

What does one do when confronted with their unknown sins?

Follow them home of course.

Johnny had lost his left leg at knee due to a bomb going off at a job and Simon had been discharged after repeatedly failing mental health evals. They were both given pensions and discharged with honors. Roach and Gaz had been kept together when moved to a new team and Price had been ‘gifted’ a higher position by command that left him chained to a desk.

The only confirmation they had that your leaving had been somehow their fault was the face down picture on the table. Price had called them to check on you as you had a family emergency. You had been firmly ensconced in a hard airport seat when they reached your flat. If they shared a speaking look about the photo before Johnny slid it from it’s frame and folded into his pocket, they never discussed it.

The discharges were how they finally ended up together. Simon needed something, someone, to care for to keep from eating a bullet and Johnny fighting him tooth and nail to stay alive was the right project. The physical therapists loved seeing Johnny rolled in by Simon because they knew he wouldn’t fight them on exercises today. He would snarl at his “L.T.” and actually work. They had to be careful to not let him overwork himself lest he be unable to work at the next day’s appointment.

Their first kiss had been when Johnny had been fed up with Simon’s sass about physical therapy. He had only been legless for a month and barely started trying to relearn how to balance.

Simon carried him from the car to their shared flat.

“I’m not going back.”

“Mmm, what a surprise it will be when I drag your ass to PT tomorrow then.”

Being carried bridal style rankled somewhere deep in Johnny. He wanted to take a bite of out Simon’s neck and keep ripping but that would have left him stranded in the hall with a dead body and only one working foot.

The look Simon sent him, one of cool acknowledgment and smugness had Johnny gripping both halves of Simon’s face and planting a kiss on him.

That would show the bastard.

Showed him something alright. All Simon could see the remaining few steps to the flat was the subtle shift in Johnny’s gym shorts and rising heat in his cheeks. Simon hadn’t said anything about it. Dinner had been a simple soup. Night fell. When Simon helped Johnny to bed that night, he inserted himself next to the man.

Johnny didn’t question it. Frankly he was relieved. He had flirted for years in front of the man he didn’t think he would ever catch. The press of his dry lips and light fingers had ignited the combustible fumes that swirled between them. Those fumes choked out any hope of anything healthy with anyone else.

When Johnny had ‘graduated’ from therapy and could walk with almost no limp Simon invited Johnny to move with him. They found a medium sized city in a place neither of them had been to but could reach several national parks and an airport relatively quickly. Housing costs were rising but they found an older neighborhood with a good amount of trees in the yards and a little space in the back to grow plants. They could see the mountains when they stood on the second story porch.

The previous owner had mentioned that the school pick-up and drop off point happened at their house for the junior high and the elementary schools. Kids would wait on the corner of their yard away from the cars. That is why the two owners prior had installed the stone benches that sat so close to the sidewalk. Simon had planned on taking them out until he heard that piece of information.

One day, during mid-spring where the mornings were chilled enough to need a jacket but the afternoons would leave you sweating, Johnny saw something that gave him pause. He was in the process of moving bags of clothes into the car to drop off at the shelter when the bus delivered a load of kids. He waved with the bus driver and slammed the trunk of the crossover.

The squeal particular to children had Johnny snapping his back to a pair of children who walked past his parked car.

“Don’t do that Mac!”

A glare he had only ever seen on Simon’s face painted itself across the face of a child who couldn’t be any older than seven. Johnny felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and fall into his ass.

“Don’t yell at me stupid!”

“Mom says you can’t call me stupid! Stupid!”

Stepping into the sidewalk Johnny watches the the children, one with long hair and the other short, bicker until they reached a house five doors up and disappeared behind the front door.

Stumbling into the garage Johnny attempts to call for Simon. All that escapes is a croak. After a hard shake of his head and clearing his throat it works.

“Simon!”

The shout must have had an edge of panic because Simon appears with a hand gun pointed at the floor and the his Ghost eyes staring out. Upon seeing Johnny, unharmed and alarmed Simon tucked his work face and his gun away.

“What happened? Why are you sweating? Are you sick?”

Johnny swatted away that hands that reached for his face.

“I saw a fecking child with your face Si. Kid got off the bus and was arguing with his sister. I need you to come with me.”

Simon blinked at his beloved a few times. The fuck did he say?

“Why would a child in the states have my face? You know it is possible for unrelated people to look alike right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Listen to me Simon!” Johnny stumbled back, prosthetic catching funny against the concrete floor. “I, never, in all my life have seen a glare that looks exactly like yours. But this kid when yelling at his sister had one of your meanest glares. I could see him in you still after he smiled. I am asking you to come with me and knock on a door to introduce ourselves to the neighbors and find out what the hell is going on.”

Simon hadn’t seen Johnny this riled up in a long time. He searched his husbands face, noting the heaving of his chest and the flex of his fingers as he fought them from curling into fists.

“Okay,” he said gently as if he were speaking to a spooked horse, “let’s go meet the neighbors.”

That is how the found themselves at your door. The waiting after the harsh knock sounded into the space beyond the frame rattled something loose in Simon. Could he have a kid? He had been no prude before settling down with Johnny but he couldn’t remember more than a few women he ever fucked raw. Everyone of them had been on birth control, at least they said they were.

Johnny crossed his arms, drawing Simon’s gaze. They were both freaked out, concerned.

When the door opens there is you. A little older, a little more solid than when you had fled England, a few new piercings, but it’s still you. Simon glances to the wall visible behind you catching sight of two children in photos who wouldn’t look out of place on the walls of his and Johnny’s home. His gaze snaps back to you as you blanch and slam the door shut.

The deadbolt slamming into place solidifies in him the answer that there is something going on here and it absolutely involves them.

Before Johnny can pound his fist into the door to demand answers Simon catches it. Placing a gentle kiss along his knuckles he coaxes him from the door.

“She won’t answer the door. You know she won’t. Let’s all take the evening and try and come back tomorrow while the kids are at school.”

“She owes us answers, Si,” Johnny’s eyes flashed as he snarled.

Simon pulled him down one more step. Once Johnny started moving they walked home, hand in hand.

“She does owe us answers, but we know where she is now and can see about getting them. Right now I suggest we recoup and see what we can find. One of the kids in the photos looked like you Johnny.”

Johnny vibrates with tension until he sees the wisdom in coming at this from another angle. His shoulders drop from his ears as tears prick at his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t she tell us Si?”

Mulling over the answer they complete the walk home.

“Why would she Johnny? You know how we are.”

That sobering statement colored the remainder of the evening. It is late when they decide to call their former captain.

Part 3

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags:

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @persephone-kore-law @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo

@talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

[colonelkaboom]

Lingering Sweetness

✦First time wearing his clothes

Read more - Xavier ✦ Zayne ✦ Rafayel ✦ Sylus

Visiting Caleb in Skyhaven as you try to rebuild the relationship you once had. This is the first time you're wearing his clothes since you were reunited, making it feel like a new experience for both of you.

✦ Caleb x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.8 k

Visiting Caleb in Skyhaven still made you feel a bit uneasy. He used to be your everything. Then you were forced to spend several months relearning how to live, without him holding your hand. Having him back in your life was unbelievably amazing, but so much had happened whilst you were apart and you had to get to know eachother again. 

There were times when it felt like nothing had happened and you were still the same two people who grew up together in the Bloomshore District. As if the explosion never happened and he never became Colonel Caleb. 

There was no doubt in either of your minds when you agreed to work on your relationship, despite the fact that you both now had secrets that could not be revealed in their entirety. You had never ever kept secrets from Caleb, but now there were certain things, certain people, he couldn’t know about. 

Caleb had made you dinner and the evening had been one of the nice ones where it feels like you were never apart. You were craving something sweet and had begged Caleb to make cupcakes with you. It really didn’t take much begging, he never could say no to you. 

“Pass me the eggs, Pips?” Caleb asked, although it came out more like a demand. You did as you were told and he got to cracking them into the bowl. As he stepped away to throw away the shells you took his place and got to work with the hand mixer. 

You spend the next few minutes mixing the batter diligently whilst Caleb gets started on the clean up. The batter finally has the perfect consistency and you turn the mixer off.

“Hey Caleb, do you want to lick the whisk?” You call out, thinking he was still busy tidying up. As you turn to look for him, still holding the hand mixer, you find yourself poking the chocolate covered appliance into his hard torso. Your mouth hangs open in surprise as you stare at the large brown stain in the middle of his chest. Setting the mixer down on the counter you quickly get ready to apologize, as this was truly an accident. 

Caleb gives you no opportunity to do so as he reaches behind you dipping his finger in the batter and smearing it on your cheek. Clearly proud of himself he looks down on you with a cocky smile plastered across his face. Needing to reclaim control of the interaction you try to quickly plan your next move. You swiftly grab the hem of his shirt and lean in to lick the batter from the fabric. Hm, odd choice… You definitely should have given this some more thought. 

“Pip-squeak!” He shrieks as he tries to back away. He doesn’t get too far though and finds himself trapped between you and the island counter. His hands fly into the air as if he’s afraid to touch you. You lick away most of the batter but as you’re about to pull away you turn your cheek taking extra care to wipe his counterattack into the fabric.

A mischievous chuckle escapes your lips when you back away to admire your masterpiece. 

“Satisfied?” The playful annoyance radiates off him, making you shiver. This is definitely not over. 

“You know, now that you have made it so very clear that you’re an adult, I might not go as easy on you as I did when we were kids.” He takes a few steps forward and suddenly you are the one who is trapped against the counters. You knew that if it came down to physical strength alone, you'd surely lose. To ensure you emerge victorious from this, preying on Caleb’s weaknesses is essential. 

You quickly duck away and escape your confinement. But it doesn’t take long before he has both your wrists pinned behind your back holding you close with only one hand. The cold metal grasp makes you wince. His free hand reaches back into the batter and two fingers appear before your face dripping with sweetness.

“Ready to yield, soldier?” The firm voice of the Colonel sends shivers down your spine as you wriggle in his grasp. Your gaze closely watching the threatening fingers taunting your face.

“Caleb, you’re hurting me.” You whimper. Current mission, prey on his weakness; you.

“Your arm… Ugh… It’s gripping my wrists t-too t-tightly.” Hopefully the additional sniffles you added were enough to make it sound convincing. His grip quickly softens and you’re able to retract your hands quick enough to catch him off guard. The once very threatening batter covered hand is your new target. You quickly grab it, twisting him into the same hold he had just reluctantly released you from. 

Unfortunately the process is not as graceful as you had intended it to be. As you begin to turn him around, the struggle causes both your limbs to flail awkwardly unsure of what moves to pull to reclaim the upper hand. You don’t even know who caused it, but you both tumble to the floor. He lands on his stomach with you on top. You still clutch his wrist and it is now pinned between his back and your chest. The worst part is that one of you somehow nudged the bowl and it also came crashing down, coating you in sticky batter. 

“Truce?” You whisper as your whole body tenses. You can feel the batter trickling down your arms and you know it’s gotten in your hair.

“What? Why? You’ve got the upper hand, Pips, this is not the time to back down.” He sounds stern and clearly disappointed.

“What is that feeling on my arm..?” A heavy sigh escapes him and you’re fairly certain he already knows the answer. You release his wrist and begin awkwardly removing yourself from his body. 

“Oh, Pip-squeak…” He stands back up and tilts his head as he takes in the state of you. The discomfort on your face tugs at his heartstrings. You stare at the mess you’ve made of his kitchen and you feel… Happy… A small smile dares to reveal itself as you look up at Caleb. His brows furrowed as he let out a confused chuckle. You never cease to amaze him. 

“Alright Cupcake, straight to the bathroom before you drip even more chocolate on my floors.” You can’t help but snicker at your newly acquired nickname. Hopefully it’s only temporary though, you’re not ready to let go of Pip-squeak. 

“Could you get me some clean clothes, Caleb?”

“Yes, yes! Please move, you’re drippin’ everywhere.” You raise your arms in defeat before disappearing into the bathroom. 

This felt like the longest shower ever. Getting the sticky batter out of your hair seemed nearly impossible and you couldn’t exactly ask Caleb for help. Could you? A loud knock on the door disrupts your inner monologue but you have no time to respond before you hear a voice. 

“I’m not peeking, just bringing you some clothes. I’ll leave ‘em on the counter. You need anything?”

You contemplate asking him for help, but decide against it. It would be wrong.

“No, thank you!” Hopefully he heard you. Your voice felt feeble against the sounds of water on tile. 

“Alright, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” The soft sound of a door closing lets you know you are alone once more. 

After emerging from the shower you find yourself puzzled by the garments on the counter. These aren’t mine… You see one item you recognize as a lacey pair of red panties stare back at you. Hm, I must have accidentally left them here the last time I visited… You sigh and begin to slip into Caleb’s chosen attire. The feeling of his clothes on your body brought a familiar comfort. A comfort you had not felt in way too long. It felt different now, not bad, just different. The grey sweatpants were far too long and your attempt to fold them up using the elastic hem was only semi successful. A dark purple crewneck lay gently on your shoulders whilst softly cascading down your arms. You could tell it was clean, but his scent still lingered on the fabric. My Caleb… 

Returning to the living room you are met by the sweet scent of chocolate cupcakes. The trail of batter you left behind was long gone and Caleb was relaxing on the couch with a book. He had cleaned himself up, exchanging his messy shirt for a clean one. 

“I look ridiculous.” You say catching his attention. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he takes you in admiring seeing you in his clothes once more. It was a sight for sore eyes. A sight he had desperately missed.

“You do not look ridiculous, you look very cute.” He smiled reassuringly. 

You slump down next to him on the couch placing your legs in his lap as you lean back. He gently strokes your ankles through the sweatpants whilst returning his focus to the book he had kept himself busy with.

“How did you have time to remake the batter?” You ask, referring to the sweet smell of baked goods filling the room.

“Oh, I didn’t, there was enough left in the bowl for two small cupcakes.” He keeps his gaze fixed on the book. His tender hands keep moving on your legs like it comes as easily to him as breathing. 

You silently play with the hem of your sweater before moving your fingers to tug at the collar. Subconsciously you lift it over your mouth and nose breathing in the lingering scent of Caleb.

“Whatchu doin’ over there, Pips?” Caught in the act. He puts his book away and leans down over your legs staring into your eyes from across the couch. The mischievous grin adorning his face tells you he definitely wants an answer. 

“No rush. Take your time to come up with a reason.” He smirks, never breaking eye contact. You remain quiet feeling your heart beat faster against your chest for every second you don’t respond.

With a deep breath you finally muster up the courage to say something. “I’ve missed you, Caleb.”

His eyes soften and the tension fades away. He looks at you with such longing. Like he hasn’t seen you for years and you finally returned to him. 

“I’ve missed you too, Pip-squeak.”

You both remain quiet as you take in every detail of each other. Eyes, Lips, Freckles. You want his image imprinted directly into your brain stem so it can never leave you. He can never leave you. Not again.

A sudden ding is heard from the kitchen but none of you react. Did you unknowingly enter a staring contest? Regardless of whatever reason you had for staring, neither of you wanted to be the first to look away.

AN: Hm, I wonder if those panties were in fact left behind on accident, or if there is another reason explaining why they might have been in his possession...

Read more ll Masterlist ll Colonel Kaboom 𓂃🖊

[accidentcache]

um um um um um um um um um um hi um um um can i um have a love song duet with our baby boy touya pweaaaaaaaaaaassssseeee

emergency contact | pierce the veil / dee’s karaoke night

notes: post war / canon adjacent touya. he’s okay with your name being on a lot more of his things now. mentions of seizures, touya being stubborn. (this is more a bittersweet love, but this is still love <3)

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

his suitcase is heavy when it lands on the floor beside him. cat hair scatters on the hardwood at his feet, though the feline is nowhere to be seen. he can't remember the last time he's seen your cat. would he even remember him? would he still curl on his chest like he used to, beg for scraps like touya had always pretended he hated giving him?

the door shuts softly behind you as you step in beside him. the energy is tense-- not the reunion he was thinking he was going to get after coming home from rehab.

of course, the mushy, sappy bullshit happened at the hospital. he hugged you with the arm that wasn't under intense healing, he let you cry tears that he knew he didn't deserve into the ratty t-shirt you had brought him weeks before his official discharge.

he doesn't say much anything else, swallowing a lump that had forcibly formed in his throat. you don't say anything either, but there's a reassuring hand on touya's bicep that allows him the strength to drag his suitcase back to the bedroom.

in the weeks that follow, touya struggles to find his routine now that he's out of rehab and under intense surveillance and medical care. there are good days, and there are bad days. on good days; touya snuggles on the couch beside you, watching whatever crappy television show you decided to put on and eats himself stupid on take-out because he finally has an appetite.

on bad days, he shuts himself out. forgets to take his medication. snaps at you for helping him to the bathroom when he's about to vomit and when he ultimately falls to the floor, he pushes you away.

it's a back and forth. a step forward and two steps back kind of relationship. before the war there wasn't this much tension, but then again touya wasn't trying to relearn mobility in an arm he burned trying to end his family and himself.

on a really bad day, you have to rush him to the emergency room when he starts to tremble violently, throwing up like he can't control what comes out of his body. you're scared-- shaking and crying as you drive, trying to shut out his moans of pain out of your ears. you have to erase how he pleaded your name when the nurses rushed him back, leaving you in the lobby. you weren't on file. he hadn't added you yet.

touya's different after that stint in the hospital. physically, he's gone downhill. he struggles with the treatments. it affects him mentally.

he doesn't know when the switch happens. one day he wakes up next to you-- before your alarm goes off for work. the sun is just barely starting to peek over the horizon, the morning twilight softening the lines of your form under the blanket you had picked out the last time both of you went out together.

he takes his medication and makes coffee, setting out the mug you normally use off to the side for you to fill when you finally woke up.

the day isn't any different. the schedule is still the same, the routine the same as before. touya thinks he must've hallucinated something. he doesn't bring it up to you, nor does he mention anything to his therapist when he goes in for his bi-weekly appointment.

two weeks later, touya suffers from a grand mal seizure. his body almost shuts down on him-- you physically see the color drain from his body. you don't think you'd make it to the hospital in time, and you think the ambulance is running out of time.

when he's loaded onto the stretcher, the paramedics are telling you which hospital to meet them at. you nod through the tears, your body shaking with adrenaline and dread-- when touya's hand wraps around your wrist.

his grip isn't tight, but it's enough to get your attention. it's enough to glue your eyes to his form, even when his aren't even open. his ring finger taps three time on your wrist. he doesn't let go-- he practically hisses when the paramedics try to separate you from him.

they're telling him how only family are allowed, though when they pull him further into the cab of the ambulance he does not let go of your wrist.

touya was never one to think that far into the future. even before the war, especially afterwards. he was in a constant battle with his body, his health, thinking for sure he wouldn't reach 30. he never wanted to tie you down when he knew he wasn't going to get that far in the first place.

one thing he is sure about, is you.

how you’re always there, at the worst of times, and the better of it. how you’re still here. how you have yet to give up on him, even when both of you know he’s nowhere near easy to handle.

and even though that look of pity still flashes in your eyes from time to time, touya has gotten used to it. hell, he’s gotten used to a lot of things he thought he was already used to.

your name is added as an emergency contact to his medical profile before the ambulance reaches the hospital.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[winterrain-11]

some more gravity falls hcs :3

(a lot of these are sad)

cw for drug use, mentions of abuse, major character death, and other such depressing things

- mabel starts swearing like a sailor after the summer (ik that stan made an effort not to swear around the kids, but i don’t think ford did, and it made stan’s filter slip more) and gets in trouble for it at home. when stan finds out he tries to hard to pretend to be mad but he’s lowkey proud

- the twins have to fight tooth and nail to teach their grunkles to use a cellphone, especially facetime. they eventually get the hang of it, but the first few months at sea were two hour facetimes of the grunkle’s chins just bickering at each other and assorted “how’s it hanging pumpkin? how’s school?”

- stan and ford watched westerns nonstop as kids (though ford was more into star trek and doctor who) and they played cowboys often. stan was OBSESSED with cowboys and briefly tried to work as a ranch hand while he was homeless in his 20s

- dipper and mabel have a love/hate relationship with cw’s supernatural. mabel thinks the boys are hot and is definitely a destiel shipper. dipper loves the genuine supernatural-ness of the early seasons and now still watches it kind of as a joke but also because mabel got him on the destiel train. the last two episodes ruined their lives.

- the twins have opposite reactions to weed. it makes ford’s paranoia really bad and makes him nauseous, but it makes stan’s adhd brain quiet for once and allows him to relax for once. when dipper and mabel get older, they have very similar reactions. when stan catches mabel smoking, he tries to be responsible about it and tell her that smoking is bad for her and to not end up like him, but eventually they just smoke together on occasion.

- mabel is significantly better at guessing plot twists than dipper (in books, movies etc) and dipper DESPISES this fact (i think it’s the same for the stan twins too tbh)

- stan dies first, ford dies almost exactly a year later.

- stan picks up guitar while he’s homeless, uses it to make a bit of money on street sides. he teaches mabel in her teen years when his hands get to old to play.

- when ford and fiddleford rekindle, stan and fiddleford bond over regaining memory. they both relearn their instruments together (guitar and banjo respectively) and enjoy singing along to old outlaw country and appalachian folk rock (stan picked it up in his travels).

- (cont.) ford suggests music because it’s known to help dementia and alzheimer’s patients with regaining memories, and while that’s true, he really more just enjoys seeing his two favorite people happy again.

- both ford and stan think the other voted for trump (2016), neither of them did. stan thought hilary was hot (and thought trump was a loser) and ford voted third party (sorry he gives me centrist vibes). i imagine they both vote dem in 2020 and 2024 because they see trump as a much worse conman/asshole and a narcissistic sociopath respectively.

- (cont.) the twins have heard the stan’s complain about the other’s political ideologies and know that they vote the same but refuse to tell the other. wendy is also in on this and they all have to tackle soos on several occasions to keep him quiet before election day.

- nate and lee definitely explored each other’s bodies and when they finally came out to the friend group everyone was super confused because they assumed that they had been dating for years

- ford has a very addictive personality. while stanley does too, he can restrain himself (doesn’t smoke or drink around the kids, doesn’t lose himself in gambling), ford picks up smoking on the stan-o-war II and doesn’t stop until he dies. Stan has refused to go to Vegas with him even though ford begs, but stan knows an addict when he sees one. ford never acknowledges his problem.

- stan doesn’t tell ford about his homelessness and abuse at the hands of his father/pimps/drug lords until they’re several months deep on the stan-o-war II and certain things start to trigger his PTSD. Ford listens and opens up about his abuse under Bill and his life of crime in the multiverse. they definitely cry together for a long time.

- (cont.) Stan only tells the kids when they’re in college. mabel self destructs a bit during this period trying desperately to find herself and stan is terrified that she’ll go down his path of dangerous desperation for self-worth and wants her to know that he knows how she feels, they grow even closer because of this.

- stan did drag for a short period of time around the southwest in his homelessness. at first he was forced to do it to be degraded, but once he got his autonomy back, he began to do it on his own accord and really enjoyed it/was really good at it. he tried to convince himself that ‘he wasn’t queer or anything’ and was just doing it for the money, but he never really fully believed that. (where he learned to wear a girdle)

- once again. stan wanted to be a cowboy so bad okay i know this in my heart of hearts. this man LOVES clint eastwood and johnny cash and RAHHHH i know it.

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Hai! It’s me again-

Can i once again request Gun x reader angst (help yes i know i request this a lot-)

Do basically kind of a continuation of the other fic I requested, but reader actually has her life together, like lots of friends, hobbies and overall is living her best life after they broke up? And like she’s not necessarily angry or something with Gun but is actually like how she always is, only it seems like reader moved on rather quick while Gun thought ye did but didn’t

I LOVE YOUR WORK❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🫶🫶

Ofc you can always ignore this if it’s too much! :P

~T

Gun angst, yes !🥹 Thanks T❣️

PART 1 💔

Were the sakura still in full bloom? Or were the autumn leaves falling, just like the broken pieces of your heart? Or was it winter, cold like his reaction?

You can’t recall.

Your memories are hazy. You smile and brush the sweat from your forehead. It’s summer now, bright and blooming. The skies are clear. It’s vacation time. And no matter how heavy this place feels with memories, you still look forward to coming back. Even when this place feels like a ghost of your past, it’s also the comfort of home. It always whirls up difficult emotions.

You were first apprehensive, what would your family say? Weren’t the clan elders going to expel you for breaking off your engagement with Gun? It was supposed to be a political arrangement, a benefit for both clans. Love was never part of the equation. How foolish of you two to assume otherwise.

But you had breathed a sigh of relief when it was announced that the alliance with the Yamazaki would remain intact, because Gun said so.

Things like that keep you questioning your decision, but you’ve promised yourself you’ll stay firm. No more boys. Only you. Your life. Your growth. You’re still unraveling the roots of that attachment. When you told your friend everything, she looked at you and said, “You do know your whole identity since childhood was to become someone’s bride, right?”

And she was right.

It made you shift focus and rewire the very axis of your thinking. So even when you got snide remarks or scrutinizing glances, you waved them off. If you could go against tradition and break up with the clan head, you could handle this. You were proud of yourself. You found an internship, made time for friends in Tokyo, and walked through all your childhood places again, this time with your past gently haunting the edges of your present.

🌺

“This is nice. Give it a try,” you insisted.

“No! It’s too sugary. How do you even eat this much sweet stuff?” your friend asked, giving you a funny look.

“I’ve always had a sweet tooth.”

“It’s sweet, but try these fries.”

And just like that, one bite, one laugh, one small thing after another, you were both surprised at how much you didn’t remember about each other’s tastes. But it was okay. You were both willing to learn, unlearn, and relearn. It’s not like you didn’t have friends at university, but nothing compared to the familiarity of speaking the same language, knowing your dinner would be ready when you got home.

You had just returned from your internship when the tension hit. You could already feel it, rumours spreading like wildfire. The clans, once in alliance with the Yamazaki, were being hunted down. Your own clan’s safety? Not guaranteed.

To make it worse, your mother kept nagging—why did you end things with your fiancé?

“A woman should accept her man as he is,” she said. “Now look at the state of things.”

Then came the elders. Whispering, judging, blaming. Claiming you had left the clan’s future hanging by a thread. “Ego: bigger than a man’s, this always ends in ruin,” they’d say.

It was too much.

And with days still left in your summer vacation, you packed up and left the estate. Moved in with your friend.

But not before shouting, “If you’re so scared, in what name are you even Yakuza?”

Not before calling them out. “If you're so terrified of Gun, why don’t you just fight him like the men you claim to be?”

Not before saying, “I’m done. I am not your tool.”

🌺

You spent the rest of your summer in peace. In fulfillment.

It wasn’t Gun’s fault. No, you had let go of him long ago.

It was the system.

Rotten. Unchanging. Unwilling to grow.

Better to stay far away, from it, from them, from him.

Better for both your heart and your skin.

🌺

“Hey! Wanna go somewhere fun today?” , your friend asks.

“Where to?” You inquire .

“Clubbing. Shibuya.”

“Sounds crowded.”

“Sounds exciting!”

“Please…”

“No.”

“Please!”

“…Fine.”

You mutter something incoherent under your breath, and your friend smirks. She knows it’s something unholy, but hey, you agreed. That’s all she needed.

🌺

It was crowded. Just like you expected. Loud music, half-drunk people, the chaos of city nightlife. But the place was spacious, and tonight there was a special menu, so you didn’t complain much.

Then your friend did the unthinkable, she called your high school friends.

You didn’t mind.

It was merry, warm.

But your social battery hits its limit within the hour. Now you sat alone in a corner with a drink, needing a breather, only for it to be shattered by that voice.

🌺

“Still hiding in corners?”

Goosebumps bloomed across your arms. The drink nearly toppled from your hand, only for a blond guy to catch it just in time.

“Hey, you shouldn’t scare people like that,” he said, all chirpy and annoyingly bright, both in hair and energy.

You think you remember him.

You immediately stand, reflex or etiquette, who knows?

“Oh. Hello.”

Your mind blanks.

How do you talk to your ex?

You’re surprised. There’s no anger. No sadness. Just a familiar face with too much history.

Before Gun could say anything, he had to butt in.

“Pretty girl, you remember me?”

You blink. Confused. You do remember him, you guess. Maybe?

Gun shoves him aside, and the blond whines dramatically.

You laugh.

Of course. This must be Goo Kim, Gun’s best friend. Though Gun never admitted it, the way he used to talk about him, the quiet camaraderie between them, it made you happy. He had a companion. An equal.

“Same clown who used to show up unannounced,” Gun mutters.

“I figured. Your best friend, right?” you tease.

He scoffs and sits beside you.

Same old behavior. Same old resolve.

But he’s watching you.

Your new hairstyle.

Your healthier skin.

Your brighter eyes.

Your lips—did you change your lip gloss?

You notice his lingering gaze.

“Analyzing ways to kill me?” you smirk.

“If I wanted to, I would’ve.”

You nod. Fair enough.

If he wanted to, he could’ve destroyed your clan.

He could’ve shattered everything.

But he didn’t.

“Want me to bow in gratitude for your mercy?”

“Sarcastic as ever.”

You don’t say anything. Because honestly? There’s nothing left to say.

But the air feels thick. Unspoken things hanging between you like smoke.

“You’re still doing the same old things,” you say, softly.

He smirks. He knows what you’re referring to, his habit of sleeping around. Ironically, he did it more when he was with you. Now? He barely finds time. Maybe he’s convinced himself you’re gone, so he should work more.

“I’m not angry, you know,” you add. “You can be honest.”

Still nothing.

“It’s my life. I do what I want,” he finally says. Defense mode, as always.

“Of course.”

A beat passes.

“But thank you for not hurting my clan, for not breaking the alliance… and for letting me go.”

You move to place your hand over his, but stop yourself. Gun Park, ever traditional, wouldn't like that. So instead, you bow.

A bow of respect.

Of gratitude.

Of understanding that in rank, he was always above you.

“It’s fine,” he says.

You smile and leave. Of course, it's fine , he has always been fine, and you were also doing great, so you leave with a bright future ahead, leaving behind a broken past and seeing him doing fine was like the ointment to your wounds. It's fine. Truly, he is doing great. You were doing even better, you think.

🌺

He watches you go again.

He laughs, cold and detached. But why does it ache?

Leaving. Just like last time.

Over trivial, irrational things, his mind insists.

But his heart…?

His heart whispers otherwise.

He reminds himself: The world only cares about results.

And the result was: you left him.

That’s fine.

He respected your courage.

He respected that you had the guts to leave, even when the whole world would judge you for it.

But it doesn’t make it any easier.

🌺

Goo returns with drinks, asking where Gun's pretty girl went.

Gun almost punches him.

He’s frustrated. Wants to leave.

But more than that, he wants to know...

Do you remember?

Do you remember what it’s been?

Six months.

Six months since…

Right where you left him.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Choosing Captain Robinson- The Finale

Summary: Melissa is determined to win you back through five love languages. Words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch

Warnings: Slight sports related injury, smut, 18+, cunnilinus, fingering, over stim, biting

Again @babytakeittothehead with the amazing gif.

Previous Chapter

4.5k words

Masterlist

-

Melissa was determined to win you back any way that she could but she also knew that rushing it was not going to work. Not after everything that both of you had been through. She was going to have to relearn who you were piece by piece. She had worked with Dr. Parks to plan to call to some of your love languages. She had some inkling of what might be your favorite and how to appeal to each of them but all of this was different. There was history between you two that she would have to build from even if she couldn’t go back and fix it all. You both had changed so much in your time apart. Melissa wanted to relearn all of the parts of you that she had missed. She wanted to learn what it was like to love you and not be afraid. 

(Words of Affirmation)

It started at Ava’s party where she asked you questions about everything that you had done during the summer. She wanted to catch up on all the things that she had missed, being unable to reach you. She loved learning about your days at the gym and how you found yourself through sweat and tears. How you had fallen in love with your softball team feeling that you had found a safe space among the queer women who were mostly married and showed you what life could be like. How families could grow from broken pasts and unsupportive parents. Asking questions about the books that you had fallen in love with and some of the poems that you had been writing. She had known since you first became friends that your goal was to become published. It warmed her heart that you had continued to write and had been working to create a collection that you were proud of. You talked with an ease, not hesitating to share parts about your life and even took time to ask Melissa about what she had been doing.

Melissa was honest about the parts of her that had shattered upon your quick exit from her life and the time that she spent reflecting on her part in it. How she grew to love Dr. Parks even though going to therapy scared her. How she had started to open up to Barbara about what she was feeling and why she had responded the way that she did. Piecing together the parts of her that she had ignored and hidden for so long. Both of you had been through hell and back and you could tell that Melissa had tried her best to come back more put together than she had been. You did not expect her to be completely healed but it was nice to know that she was trying her best to make things right. 

“I am proud of you,” Melissa had said as she walked you to your car that evening, “I know that everything that happened was really hard. And yous probably wanted to give up more than once. But you kept goin and you look amazing. Not just looks wise but you seem lighter in your soul too ya know. It sounds like you have a lot of great people in your life.. I know I am rambling but I just wanted you to know. That I see you and I am proud. And I want to be one of those people cheering you on along the way.”

You smiled leaning in to hug Melissa close to you, “I don’t think you realize how much that means to me Mel and just know you are one of those people already. Even if you didn't realize it those texts helped me through a lot.”

At the sound of your usual nickname for the red head falling from your lips she breathed a sigh of relief. She was even more caught off guard as you pulled back and moved a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I know we still have a lot of ground to make up but I am proud of you too Mel. It is not easy to come out no matter when or how it happens. And I can tell that you have been working through a lot with your therapist. You deserve just as much appreciation and praise,” You said with a genuine smile that melted Melissa’s heart, “I am glad that you are back and I want this to work, just as much as you do.”

And before Melissa could answer, you pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and promised that you would text her when you got home. Melissa waved as you pulled out of your spot and down the street. Later when she was just getting home was her first text back from you in months: I made it home. I hope just because I responded doesn’t mean all of the really nice inspirational texts stop. I have grown very fond of them. 

Melissa smiled: Never. In fact they may increase now. I missed you Y/N 

Your response was immediate, deciding to call Melissa. She picked up on the first ring and you blurted out “I missed you too.”

“So much that you decided to call me?” The redhead giggled.

“Absolutely,” You smiled, “You wanna watch a movie together? Your favorite just came out on Hulu.”

“Only if we facetime so I can watch your reactions,” Melissa replied, queuing up Hulu. 

Within moments you switched over the call placing the phone on your coffee table so that Melissa had a perfect view of you curled on the couch. You were wrapped in a fuzzy blanket that she had gotten you for Christmas with a bowl of mashed potatoes in your hand. 

“You ready to start?” You smiled.

Melissa nodded and started the moving keeping the volume low so she could hear your tv in the background. But instead of the movie she watched you as you laughed and smiled throughout the movie. Even as you drifted off to sleep on the couch she stayed on the phone wondering how lucky she was to have you back in her life. 

(Acts of Service)

Melissa had always been known to make food to show appreciation for the ones that she loved and now that you were back at Abbott it was easy for her to make two lunches every morning. She asked you about any change in your diet since you had started working out and laughed when you said that all you ever wanted was carbs and probably could use a little more protein. You had thought it was a random question until she sat next to you at lunch on your first day of school and placed a green lunch bag in front of you.

“Open it,” Melissa smiled looking at your little salad you had packed for the day, “It is going to be way better than that.”

And of course she was right. Lasagna was tucked into a container with your favorite dinner rolls. Some whipped butter that you had told Melissa you had been dying to have again. A small chicken cesear salad was in a different container and to top it off was one of Melissa’s famous chocolate chip cookie. Next to it Melissa placed a cold cherry coke.

You smiled at her as she took the lasagna container and went to heat it up with her slice , “You really didn’t have to Mel.”

“It’s your first day back and you need to eat,” Melissa said turning around to gently kiss your head, “Have to make sure that you are taken care of.”

“You gonna spoil me and tomorrow when I go back to my old salad I am going to be upset,” You joked. 

“Who said I was only doing it for today?” Melissa quirked her eyebrow, “Now come on tell me how your day has been.”

Which is how every lunch became now that you were back with Abbott. Melissa packing your lunch and you bringing her a coffee every morning. Even after all this time you still knew how to make it exactly the way that she wanted. Before school she would help you reshelve books and pull something to read for whatever class that you had during the day. They were tedious tasks but it allowed for you to catch up on all of the labeling and protective covers that you had to redo. You had tried to assure Melissa that you could get it done but she promised that it was not a big deal and enjoyed spending time among the bookshelves listening to you hum along to your music. Every time right before the bell rang and Melissa was called away to her own classroom she would lean over your desk and give you a small kiss on the forehead.

Then if Melissa’s class was in the library for storytime, she sat at your desk finishing whatever project that had been interrupted, occasionally looking up to smile at the funny voices that you were making. At the end of the day if she had an easy day she would be waiting for you outside the library to walk you to your car and see you off safely. Other days when she was buried under her own work you would sneak inside her classroom and work through projects together. Soon an ease grew between you two working through problems without even having to say a word. With one look you knew exactly what Melissa needed and she would often finish tasks for you before you had even thought to do them.

Melissa was showing up for you as much as she could every day but still allowing you the chance to pull back when you needed to. Which is why she was surprised at the end of the third week of school when you took her hand after placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. Melissa was standing shocked as you pulled her towards the car.She gripped your hand tight like she was certain it was a dream, but you merely smiled at her.

“Come on baby, it’s Friday and I want to get out of here.”

(Receiving Gifts)

You had always struggled receiving gifts finding it awkward to have to open it in front of the other person. You felt forced to make sure that you said something nice even if you hated what they had given you. Melissa didn’t stress the idea of finding you the perfect gift because she knew that it would be an impossible task but she still wanted to get you something. Instead she set out to find small things that reminded her of you. She never put pressure on you opening her little treasures always leaving them on your desk when you weren’t looking. However after she left the room she would sometimes hang just outside the doorway to watch your reaction.

The first gift was a crystal that she had found at a store that you had been raving about for weeks. It was nothing too flashy, just a smooth amethyst heart that was a deep purple with only one light spot in the corner. You smiled holding the stone in the palm of your hand before placing it next to the picture frame of you, Barbara, and Melissa from your first day back at Abbott. With a smile at her first big success, Melissa snuck off back to her classroom to plan her next gift. 

She didn’t have to wait long before she stumbled upon the next gift while she was grocery shopping. You had been complaining about how your favorite pen had disappeared and no other pen seemed to compare. Melissa grabbed a pack full plus a pack of sticky notes and then the next morning placed the pens on your desk with the note: Here is a pack of pens to replace the lost one. Try not to lose them all at one time <3 Mel. She had swooned when she heard your laughter fill the hallway as you read the note. Every morning from then on she left a purple sticky note scrawled with her handwriting for you.

Melissa’s final gift was a little be extravagant but when she saw it walking around the mall with Barbara she knew she had to have it. It was a necklace with a silver moon with constellations made out of purple diamonds with the words to the moon and back engraved on it.  Something about it just called to her and with some of the money she had been saving she took it home with her that day. Inside a purple velvet box she placed it on your desk and took off running down the hall. To nervous to watch you open it she had consumed herself in her little eagles until lunch time where she waited outside the library for you.

“Mel, come in real quick,” you called shuffling papers around your desk, “I need a favor.”

“Whatcha need sweetheart?”

You held the necklace out to her with a smile that made her heart beat out her chest, “My secret admirer left me this and I need help putting it on.”

“Secret admirer huh?” The red head blushed taking the necklace gently.

You nodded standing in front of her and pulling your hair up, “Yeah I'm hoping it is this really hot redhead who keeps leaving me notes. Think I have a shot?”

As Melissa locked the clasp she took a moment to kiss your exposed neck. The feeling of her lips on you made you shudder letting out a small gasp. The older woman couldn't help but grin.

“I think you have a very good shot angel.”

You turned around adjusting the necklace till it hung just the way you wanted, “How does it look baby?”

Melissa gulped realizing that the moon fell just above your exposed cleavage, “Looks beautiful just like you.”

You grabbed Melissa's hand as you made your way to the break room falling back into your normal ease, “You are coming to my champs game Saturday right?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Melisssa promised

(Quality Time)

Melissa had never been one to go to the gym or workout in general but since it had become such a grounding part of your life more often than not she was joining you for the workouts that she felt were manageable. You spent yoga classes next to her trying not to laugh at the swear words that fell out of her mouth. Holding hands anytime that you laid in the ending pose her thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

On days she was feeling a little more courageous Melissa would walk on the treadmill or bring a book to read on the stationary bike. However more often than not as she walked or biked she was watching you. How you joked around with other regulars. Moved from one machine to the next with ease. At some points she had to stop entirely watching your muscles rippled as you lifted enough weight that she as sure you could carry her with ease. Then once your workout was done you would come over to the redhead all smiles asking what type of food she wanted to get. 

Melissa made it clear that whatever you were doing in your day was something she had wanted to be apart of. Which is how early Saturday morning she was at the softball field with Ava and Barbara ready to cheer you on.

“Wait Ava.. I can't wear this. I'm not technically Y/Ns Girl,” Melissa said her heart stuttering at the red shirt Ava handed her.

“It has been months since y’all made up and you practically spend every minute together. Y’all are basically dating. Now you backing out or putting the damn shirt on?” Avs retorted, handing Barbara her shirt.

Melissa gave herself one moment to smile down at the words before she pulled the shirt on over her black long sleeve jacket. With a picture of you from your softball photos on the front and your name proudly displayed on the back she felt dorky and absolutely in love all at the same time. She followed Ava and Barbara to the front row bleachers throwing down her emergency snack bag she had packed for you. Ava caught you coming out of the dugout before warm ups and yelled to get your attention.

You couldn't help but smile as you looked at your own little fan club. Ava’s shirt reading: Y/N’s Best Bitch Barbara’s shirt reading: Y/N’s Mom and then your heart stutter when you got to Melissa. The proud smile across her face and the way she jumped up and down like a school girl. You had dreamed of this day when you could parade her around as yours.

Your teammate walked up next to you taking in the scene, “Made up with your red head?”

“Yeah, I did,” You smiled, “I'll be right back.”

You ran over to them zoning in on Melissa, “Mel! Come here.”

She walked to the opening in the fence the ten feet distance giving her time to overthink. Twirling her hands together she looked anxiously at you, “Listen if it is too much I can take it off.”

“Shut up, your mine,” you said taking a handful of her shirt and pulling her into a kiss.

Melissa melted into you the final pieces of her heart finally clicking back into place. When you pulled away she rested her forehead against yours, “I love you Y/N.”

“I love you Melissa,” You smiled, “So fucking much.”

“Not as much as I love you.  Now go out and win me that medal, angel.”

You laughed but promised you would giving her one more kiss. 

(Physical Touch)

Your team had been down by three points with the second and third bases loaded. With one out left, it was up to you to hit big and get as many people home as possible with your captain playing cleanup. You walked towards home plate looking over at Melissa. Her fingers were locked around the fence long ago forgetting her seat. 

“Get em baby!” She yelled at you, “I love you!”

You winked back and stepped up to home plate. Calming your breath, you watched as the ball flew through the air letting the bat connect at just the right spot. For a moment you hesitated watching as it flew over the outfield players. Soon you took off running tracking the ball as it hit the ground rounding the bases as quickly as you could. You hesitated at third base as the ball creeps closer to you. When the second base player dropped the ball you continued to run knowing that you were taking a big risk. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears you were a couple feet away from the home plate when you saw the incoming ball. Without thinking you slid ignoring the pain that radiated from your calf. 

“She’s safe!” The umpire screamed and the field broke out into loud cheers. 

Your teammates threw their bodies ontop of you and all of the air escaped your body as you began to laugh. The rest of the game completely forgotten you relished hearing their congratulations as the helped you up from the ground. You took a step and then hissed in pain. Looking down at your leg your pants were ripped open a large scratch coming across your knee. 

You swore under your breath as you heard a loud, “Move schmutzs! Let me see her.”

Your teammates scattered as the redhead rushed to you. You smiled trying to ease her tension, “Won you that medal baby.”

“By throwing your body across the damn field,” She seethed, “Let me see your leg!”

“Baby calm down it really is just a scratch,” You promised, “Just need a clean up and then I will be good to go.” 

Melissa growled but relented as the medics came and cleaned your wound at the bench. Nothing but a deep scrap that they easily bandaged and promised would heal in a couple of days. You walked with a slight limp still sore but grinned as they placed the first place medal around your neck. Melissa and Barbara wouldn’t stop taking pictures until Ava literally took their phones and threw them in her purse. 

“Where is the after party at Y/N? I am ready to celebrate,” Ava said then looked at the captain of your team, “And talk to that hottie over there.”

“She isn’t going anywhere on that leg,” Melissa said still clinging to your hips.

“Melissa, it is tradition. Let loose a little. The medics said she was fine,” Barbara reassured her.

Melissa only relented after you kissed her gently on the neck give her a soft bite to the ear. Which is how you ended up at a bar downtown back against the wall and leg propped on a barstool. Melissa stood next to you one arm wrapped around your waist your varsity jacket gently placed on her shoulders. She looked so hot watching protectively over you wearing everything that represented you. You looked for Ava who was over making out with your captain in a corner and Barbara who was dancing with Gerald and leaned down to Melissa.

“How would you feel about getting out of here baby?” You whispered before kissing her neck.

Melissa involuntarily moved her neck to the side giving you more access, “Where you trying to go sweetheart?”

“Back to my apartment.To my bed preferably,” You said, placing kisses up and down her neck as she began to lose her breath, “With you naked on it.”

“Your leg,” Melissa panted as you continued your onslaught of kisses.

“Is fine,” You growled giving her a sharp bite making her jump, “And I want my girl laid out on my bed only wearing my medal.”

Melissa turned around her green eyes darkening, “We are leaving now.”

“Don’t even want to say goodbye to our friends?” You giggled as Melissa pulled you from the barstool.

“AVA! BARB! See you monday!” She yelled without looking and pulled you out into the street. 

The entire ride back to the apartment Melissa kept her fingers running up and down your inner thigh purposely avoiding the place that you wanted most. You unlocked the door quickly pulling the redhead in with you. As soon as the door shut Melissa pushed you up against the wall kissing you frantically. You gently pulled the medal from your neck sliding it over hers as she pulled down on your bottom lip. You moaned before pulling away to catch your breath.

“Baby. Bed. Now,” You said attempting to push back up from the wall.

Melissa tsked caging you in with her arms, “You aren’t the one in charge here. Now ask again nicely.”

“Can we go to bed please?” You asked pouting out your lip.

“Better,” Melissa grinned grabbing your hand and pulling you to the bedroom. 

She threw you down on the bed and you did you best not to grimace as something hit your scratches. The redhead immediately softened looking down at you, “Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes baby, please I have been dreaming about this for months. I just need you,” You said removing your jersey.

Melissa gulped at the sight of you in your sports bra your abs fully on display, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rolled down your softball pants adding them to the pile at the end of your bed throwing your socks with it. Your bandage was on full display but so was the fact that you had no underwear on. You smiled as Melissa clutched her hands tightly to her side, “Baby I need you so much.”

You began to trail your fingers towards the apex of your thighs when Melissa growled, “Don’t fucking touch what is mine.”

Melissa moved forward sinking to her knees in front of you. She spread your thighs taking extra care to avoid your bandage before hooking your legs over her shoulders. You gasped at the sudden movement and the feeling of her hot breath on your clit. 

“Baby,” You groaned reaching for her hands. 

She twirled her fingers in yours looking up at you, “What do you want angel?”

“Make me yours,” You said squeezing her hand.

Without any more encouragement Melissa set to work swiping her tongue up hard and fast. Your back arched as a moan fell from your lips. This only encouraged Melissa more as she began to suck and nip at your clit. You squeezed your legs together the pressure to much and not enough all at the same time. You moved one of your hands to Melissa’s hair pulling it tightly causing Melissa to moan. The vibrations caused you to buck again. Melissa wrapped her arms around you holding you into place as she nipped your clit once more.

Within seconds you were falling over the edge chanting Melissa’s name over and over until she brought you down from your high. Melissa greeted your pants with a grin as she stood up towering over you. 

“I have been dreaming of doing that for months,” She said looking down at you, “I love you angel.”

“I love you too,” You said scooting up the bed, “But you have way too many clothes on.”

Melissa hurriedly pulled of her pants and underwear adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Shortly after followed your jacket, shirt and bra leaving only your medal hanging between her  breasts. 

“Is this want you wanted?” She said playing with your medal, “Your precious little medal on your girl.”

“Say it again,” You begged as Melissa made her way onto the bed next to you. 

“Your girl. I am all yours angel.”

You whimpered pulling her down by the medal until her lips were crashing into yours. Your hands were everywhere learning every single part of Melissa’s body. Grabbing a handful of her ass as she slotted herself over your thigh. You could feel her desire drip onto you as she rocked back and forth. You bit on her lip hard making her swear as you moved to her neck. Leaving small bites along to her collarbone Melissa panted heavily in your ear. 

“Yours. Yours. Yours,” She moaned as you used one hand to guide her back and forth and the other to pull on her nipple. 

Within moments she was coming her body shuddering as she clutched onto her neck. She rolled off pulling you with her so your injured leg swung over her hips. She quickly trailed her hand in between your thighs and circled your clit hard and fast. 

“Slow down for a minute,” You whined, “I want to come with you.”

Melissa paused for a moment looking into your eyes, “Okay one more baby.”

You nodded and began to rub Melissa’s clit genty before dipping your fingers lower. She gasped as you filled her with two fingers. As you pumped in and out letting her adjust to the feel of you she moved back to your clit rubbing hard. It didn’t take long before you could feel your stomach twisting with a familiar sensation. Flicking your thumb over Melissa’s clit she let out a large fuck before she let her orgasm wash over herself. You followed shortly after biting into Melissa’s shoulder. 

Your legs shook as you flopped down to the mattress a sheen of sweat coating your body. Melissa kissed your cheek and that is when the adrenaline from the whole day began to wear off. Your leg hurt starting to throb, you started to shiver, and anxiety began to build in your chest making you unable to catch your breath.

Melissa noticed your change in demeanor and immediately pulled the covers up around you. She pulled you close to her chest rubbing her hand down your back soothingly, “I am here angel. I got you. You are okay. I love you. I got you."

“Just don’t leave,” You whispered into her chest.

“Never Y/N. I am right here. I love you so much,” Melissa said kissing your forehead, “I am not leaving now or ever again.”

Which is how four months later you were sitting up in your bed with Melissa in the house that you shared together. There was an amethyst engagement ring on one hand and a matching one placed on the red head’s finger. She was feeding you cake samples from a large plate as you flipped through your wedding binder. You looked over at her and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I love you so much Mel.”

“I love you more Y/N. I can’t wait to marry you.”

And in that one moment the whole world felt complete. 

-

Taglist

@yoyo-w

@cupldscntrl

@milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme

@milfjuulpod

[actual-changeling]

the undercover mission in arcadia only lasting a few days is a criminal waste of potential. lock them in those suburbs together for a month MINIMUM. slowly infiltrating the community and gathering information while trying to not go insane with the way they're Not Talking to each other.

they sleep in the same bed, share meals, spend most of their time together doing research and working on other cases—but do they talk? really talk? about the tension and the awkwardness and the way she still flinches whenever he touches her even with warning? or about the fact that no matter how hard he tries, mulder can't help but linger in her space?

it's torture, it's being locked in the basement office with him, it's watching through a glass door as diana takes his hand and smiles. it's mulder's voice saying words she cannot erase from her memory, fibreglass stuck in her capillaries.

long days of silence followed by even longer sleepless nights. scully refuses to give in and move to the guest room so whenever the dreams get to her, she's stuck in the bathroom relearning how to breathe.

despite everything, though, he's still mulder. she watches him—sunflower seeds, shitty movies, shittier jokes, a spark of warmth in his eyes—and sees him again, not a mask of apathy, and the part that misses him begins urging her back into his orbit.

neither of them ever consciously makes the decision to slowly tear down their walls and yet it happens day by day, week by week. old habits seeping through the cracks.

the first time she wears one of his sweatshirts it takes her two hours to notice and then she cannot bring herself to take it off—she's cold, that's all, she tells herself (he never asks, she never tells). mulder's hand lands on her lower back more and more frequently, and she stops flinching, allowing him to touch, to lead, to shield her from prying eyes like he's always done. he's her partner, unwavering and determined and soft.

he never forgot how she likes her coffee, that she reads the newspaper out of order, that she needs a glass of wine and a long, hot bath at least twice a week. patient and attentive and the friend she's been aching for.

it scares her shitless whenever he manages to make her laugh, the sound having become oddly foreign to her own ears. scully's afraid of the air vibrating in her lungs and the lightness in her head, the way she can forget about everything for a moment. the anger doesn't disappear but it makes space for familiar fondness and the warmth radiating off of him whenever she stands too close to him which is more often than not.

eventually, they talk. awkwardly, slowly, with her voice raised and his eyes trained on her as he listens to every word. there are apologies spoken for things she's already forgiven him for but she needs to hear them anyway. the first time she seeks out his embrace they both cry; something breaks open and finally gets a chance to heal.

they pretend to be in love day after day until it starts feeling like the truth again. until they can finally stop pretending, one way or another.

[urhoneycombwitch]

waittt lulu I've been thinking...

so roommates... mixed laundry... is roommate Eddie a panty thief? if so, was this an occurrence before the get-together or more so after? Like how much perving does he do before and after? Especially now that the apartment is neutral territory? I feel like there's a lot of opportunities. mixed laundry as said before, coming out of the shower, sweltering hot days when going basically bare is the only way to combat the heat

like when it's just them in the apartment there's no reason he should stop from going "damn.. that ass looks heavy, need me to carry it for you? 😏 haha jk... unless 👀" and just being a little perv pest to roommate reader at times

ummmmmm yeah I do i do think this actually wait (+18 mdni)

underwear freak behavior you've been warned 😏

i think the first time was pre-relationship/hooking up and he did it by accident... but still kept them overnight bc they smelled like your perfume somehow even after the wash. then felt really guilty about it next morning and waited until you were at work to sneak them back into your drawer like nothing happened </3

the second time tho he does it on purpose because you'd just hooked up for the nth time and he was in your room by himself for a sec and... he just wanted to <3 so there <3 takes a sweet lacy pair from the top drawer <3

this time you noticed tho.

you make a big deal of it, half-laughing because it's hard to be too mad, more shocked and amused than anything- "did you take my underwear? seriously, Eddie, the black ones are my best pair and I need 'em back."

and he goes so red in the face. truly caught red-handed. gets all shifty and blustery like "wh!! what?! that's sick. I would never do that. that's crazy. that's- what are those? never seen 'em before in my life."

you'd beelined for his top dresser drawer and found them shoved into the back corner. they're dangling obscenely from your finger now.

Eddie's brows are halfway up his forehead, big doey eyes adding to the picture of innocence. you step into his space and his lungs just... pause.

"these aren't even used, silly," you breathe, lips almost touching his. "but the two pairs of boxers I've got of yours are. and they're hidden much better."

Eddie blinks. relearns how to inhale. "wear 'em for me, then?"

___

roommate!series mlist

[tiredsmashbros]

and so we are gathered here today, to hear TSB's horrible 1k sobbing {LONG}

well guys, it's been officially a week later since the end of the "birthday party" event. crazy it already flew by fast but formerly something i really wanted to say from the very start: thank you.

quite frankly i know i could've just made a simple thank you text as a normal person does, but i wanted to really to show my gratitude by giving something nice. and that something nice was the discord server until... my chaotic brain decided to make a daily week event inspired by scott cawthon UIGHJDSXUKGJH but otherwise- i hope everyone enjoyed tuning in everyday and i've personally been having a blast talking and hanging out with everyone since.

now, i got my secret final card up my sleeve that i've been wanting to do. was to give back something to some specific folks. amazing folks. folks that one: were my introduction to this amazing smg4 community, and two: friends i've made that has genuinely changed my life for the better, and three: been the greatest support i could've ever asked. it's still insane to me that i knew my life would be changed the moment i clicked on a youtube video of someone yapping about a specific blue and purple character from a gmod meme show and if they would work canonical. following up with me just 3 hrs later my first fanart doodle for myself. with just recently that moment being so happy i reached 100 followers on here... if you would've told me four months later that it'll exceedingly grow 10x i would laugh at you and walked away... you guys are insane in the best way possible it has scared me to death, but never have i done better improving my skills and mental health.

and with that, i give to thy, my absolute wholeheartedly appreciation:

@theartistisme43 you were the, if not one of, my first exposure to the community on twitter when i was looking for fanart on day one. i remember vividly being so captivated by your smg4 au by implementing sign language to your smg4 rigs. especially cause despite i've been meaning to relearn sign language for years, it has a special place in my heart for personal reasons. i remember being so obsessed with your animations replaying it again and again and adoring your art style so much. i've been {and still am} really shy expressing my feelings but seriously man i genuinely love your work so, so, SO much. it's still insane to me how you get the unfortunate rope under your feet by some nasty ass fools on twitter, but ong, they're just so jealous our your gmod rigging talent and storytelling. seriously man keep going!! always excited to see what you cooking up next! 💛

@ominus-potato + @bluestrawberrybunny adding you both together because ong it will feel weird to me if i didn't. of course, i am a fanfic addict once i get into a new fixation... and you two have been feeding me graciously. ominus, i love and get inspired by your fics SO MUCH it's insane to me how i'm alive after reading a new piece you've made /pos. you were also my introduction to marware and i've stayed since even if it was started of as a joke UIGHJV. strawberry i remember discovering you on artfight but exploded when i found out you were the creator of the apprenticeship au fic. i was shy to read it but i've been wanting to give you something before artfight started i finally caved in to the lore and my only regret is not getting into it sooner. i love both of ya'lls writing styles so much it's inspired me to genuinely get back into writing fanfics. thank you both so much and please continue writting!!!! i get so excited every now and again going to bed reading them. 💛🌈

@aquaproductions and speaking about artfight... yoU! i remember discovering you actually from trap sanchez's smg4 map BECAUSE THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I WAS PAUSING TO SEE EVERY PEICE TO THEN EXPLODE WHEN YOU SHOWED THEM AT THE END HIUGJHFEDS i LOVE you style so much and god when i got the message from you on artfight i actually fucking screamed. even getting that attacked for you has never once failed to make me smile. i've overcome it by now,, but i genuinely was really shy because you are just so cool and i'm still going crazy the fact your a fan of the boys LIKE BROOOOOOOOOO IUGHJDSXYUJ. ahem- anyways... kEEP BEING SLAY AQUA!!!!! 💛💕💛

@coralalala64 + @cookiepopcat ah yes another duo bc im trying to shorten this but cause you both played a similar role for me. you two, i kid you not, are the first folks i followed while joining the smg4 community. i am in love with your traditional work sm corala i am just obsessed with comics and seeing someone was making 34 comics just made me jump in glee. additionally i love the c r e a t u r e gag sO MUCH T&*YGUIHJK. cookie in general i adore your artstyle so much and especially how you add those little sparks on the hair GUHH ITS SO CUTEEEE!!! i became more of a bigger fan from your shark au and now a fan of ur new au with 3! so excited to see what you guys got cooking up next!!! 🌿💛

@zurkton i know we don't get the opportunity to talk much more but i seriously wanted to feature you in as my appreciation from the insane support you've been giving me. seeing your comments make me smile in glee and even a bonus seeing something new you make. i adore your gmod style of these silly mario recolors BUT SRSLY MAN UR OWN STYLE IS SO GOOD AND SEEING U MADE AN OC FINALLY GUH ITS BEEN IN MY TO DO LIST FOR SOOOOOOO LONG. JUST GUH I LOVE UR WORK SO MUCH PLEASE CONTINUE BEING AWESOME AND I HOPE WE CAN GET MORE TIME TO BE ABLE TO YAP MORE!!! /GEN 💛🍳

@clownypillar oh yeah. you bet your buggy ass i added you on here. cause bRO i was surprised to find someone else who loves bugs it made my little me so happy. and i still have not gotten over that smg4 cult of the lamb au you made since, i love that game sm seeing that on my feed just made me immediately become a fan. doesn't help the fact blue/silas says really amazing and silly things about you in our talks i was so shy finding the right opportunity to try and talk to you qnq,, and when the opportunity did come up {bot issue} I GOT EVEN MORE NERVOUS IHKJFEGDSXUGJH /POS i love your humor sm man you are so fun and i apologize silas has gotten you under the theory trap sigh... but other than that i need to get back into my retired bug fixation and find more ways to make fun of you as we yap and appreciate dr pepper 💛🌈🥤🐛

@libbytwq i still remember the day i got that tsb piece from you on artfight and literally screaming and running around my room in glee seeing my silly man in a silly looney pose. seriously man, ever since i saw that i immediately became a fan of you. i just am a sucker for your style man /srs. hECK i remember struggling so hard to pICK someone to fight back bc i genuinely loved all your ocs and wanted to do everyone- i also find it sO funny and ig coincidental theres so many like coincidences with you??? ong i need to say this or im going to continue going crazy- like ong libby {oc} reminds me one of my trusted friends oc and brings me back to my 2016 nostalgia days, i actually have an oc name lore who has a similar hair style as smgl:e, AND THE FACT WITH OUR SMG4 OCS LORE SIMILARITIES LIKE BRO WE LIVE IN A MATRIX OR SOME SHIT THIS MAKES MY BRAIN EXPLODE AAAAAIOYUIGHJEFDSXZ /J but in all seriousness bro, i love talking with you and seeing your silly work so much. i know you're gonna be makin awesome things bro and you bETTER WIN THOSE MARCHING BAND COMPETITIONS IUGJHEDS 👑🍔🌈💛

@its-a-me-mango mango mango mango... YOU BRITISH FREAK- anyways. you seriously were one of my favorite artist when i joined and ngl i was absolutely terrified talking to you to the point i legit thought you hated me at some point IOKJEHFDWS heCk getting that attack from you on artfight blew my fucking mind bc i was screaming over the tari duck since af was the only place i dropped the tari love interest and i didnt realized it until i looked at your page that you were THE MANGO... bro i actually fucking exploded you have no fucking idea how happy i was 🌈. like you are one srsly one of my favorite inspirations man i love your artwork, your humor, and just everything man. i'm still going internally insane that im talking to you sm bro and the memes we mAKE BRO IM UYIGJHFDWSXZYUITJG THANK YOU FOR BEING SUCH A SILLY MANGO HORSE DOCTOR DUDE, YOU ARE SO COOL, INCREDIBLE, AND MAN WHERE IS THAT SNOWTRAPPED 1K YOU PROMISED /J i could go on a bit more but im literally exploding just writing this rn so now imma just lalalalalalalala 🍔💛🌈🥭🐴

@josiekatxd / josiekatxd jo. you are one insane creature /pos. LIKE DAMN MAN YOU DRAW SO FAST IT WAS WILD GETTING ALL THE AMAZING TSB GIFTS AND GETTING TO KNOW MORE OF UR OC 7 JUST BECAME A MORE JOYOUS RIDE!!!! i love your work so much man and the amount of support i've gotten from you makes me so so SOOSOSOSOS HAPPY ITS OVERWHELMING /POS. i enjoy talking with you man {even if i may be slow at timess..} pLEASE dont be afraid to send me smth, more yummy art or MEMEMSSSSS i appreciate anything and everything!!! this was honestly such a joy getting to draw 7 again she's been stuck in my head for so long hELPPP /SILLY 🌿⭐️💛

@rr3d2y AKO!!!!! YOU!!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SERIOUSLY MAN EVER SINCE THAT ATTACK YOU MADE FOR ME FROM ARTFIGHT I HAVE BEEN A DIEHARD FAN SINCE. I WENT ABSOLUTELY INSANE OVER IT SO MUCH I HAD TO SHARE IT WITH MY IRL FRIENDS IT MADE ME SO HAPPY. EVEN MORE HOW YOU ACTUALLY IMPLEMENT MY INTERESTS EVERY TIME YOU ATTACKED??? LIKE HELLOOOO??????? AND DAWKO??????? AND JUST UR OC IN GENERAL I LOVE HER SO MUCH BROOOO IUYGJHEFWDCSXZUYHKJ EDWSHJDCS LIKE DUDE I HAD NO IDEA HOW MUCH I COULD WRITE A FULLBLOWN ESSAY UNTIL YOU BARGED IN WITH YUMMY ART EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. YOU SPOIL ME SO MUCH AKO YOU ARE INSANELY INCREDIBLE AND SUCH A JOY TO TALK TO AND BE SILLY WITH. IT MADE ME SO HAPPY TO FIND SOMEONE WHO SHARES MY INTERESTS FROM THE START AND I STILL GO CRAZY EVERY TIME ANY OF IT IS MENTIONED. WHETER ITS SMG4, DAWKO, CG5, FAIRYOFFPARENTS, SONIC, WOLVERINE UYIGJHEFDSCXUIGJH IT ALL MAKES ME JUMP UP AND DOWN KICKING MY FEET MAN. I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY IM A BIG FAN AKO. I APPRECIATE EVERY SINGLE 1 MILLION PERCENT AND ADORE YOUR SUPPORT SO MUCH. THANK YOU AKO THE GREAT!!!! LIFETIME SUPPLY OF CHOCOLATE MILK FOR YOU!!!!!!! 🍫🥛💛🌈🍔💕

@radiantrevolt i know your not in the smg4 community whatsoever let alone know anything but i srsly meant it that receiving your support was such a big deal to me man. i never expected you to join the server but it genuinely made me feel more secure knowing i got you right my side just like old times. your support means the world to me man even if i suck as explaining or expressing that. you genuinely mean a lot to me man and the fact your still sticking around if still mind boggling to me evermore. thank you ander for staying by my side and willing to do so even at a space your unfamiliar with. being able to talk to you again has been such a joyride 💛💛💛💛🌈🐈‍⬛

and lastly...

these two freaks...

@strange0-0storm + @bluesbox... honestly... i owe you two a lot. genuinely. storm i remember you specifically when i first started acknowledging the smg4 community bc of how recognizable smg8 was on tumblr and immediately finding you to be so cool. so cool in fact, I WAS TOO SHY TO INTERACT TYIGHJFEDS. i LOVE smg8 so much and getting to see your other ocs such as jessee, cold cash, spamton... 8YIUGFEDSU J ITS JUST SO COOL AND HOLY FUCK MAN I LOVE YOUR ART SO FUCKING MUCH. I AM STILL FUCKING OBSESSED WITH THE TSB PIECE FROM ARTFIGHT MAN VDCXZUYJHGF ITS JUST SO PERFECT I CAN GO FUKING GO OFF AGAIN IHUGFJEDS but in all seriousness man, thank you so much for having the courage to respond to my lipbite comic, to me having the courage to follow you back and interact with you more, to giving me the courage again to join ur server, and the courage to say yes to watching popee with you and silas. finn you have no idea how much your silly words have an impact on me you make me so nervous in the most positive silliest way you have no idea how genuine happy i was being in that call for the very first time. even tho i know how quiet and anxious i was from the start, it was cause i was so shy and nervous bc man it was you! YOU!!!! you're such a fucking awesome guy finn i want you to seriously never forget that!!!! silas, thank you for even talking to me. hell, even after finn left to sleep we stayed and yapped for few more hours. i was never expecting that outcome ever in my life due to past experiences, and im so glad to the earth and back that it did come out as it did. i love talking to you man, i love seeing your work so much, and adore and appreciate to the fullest all the gifts you made me. thank you even more for getting me into the great gatsby and returning my hidden sherlock fixation back to light. i appreciate it way more that i can ever express it man. whether it may us talking about our day, silly nonsense, or me bullying you /j, it makes me so happy. and so grateful i can call you and finn my friends. you guys seriously helped me get out of my darkest angst shell i've had caged inside myself for the past, i didnt think i would ever escape from let alone actually be able to heal from. i didn't think i could ever be the happy ever again. like guys, i look forward to every week getting to get on a call with you guys so much its honestly my favorite activity/event of the week. i know im just silly guy i don't ever show my sappy self ever to ya'll but i mean it wholeheartedly ya'll helped me out so much more than you guys could ever imagine. i love you both so much i just wanna pick you two up and throw you into a canon so we could all go to disney world together and be just be silly. thank you finn, thank you silas 💛🤍💙🍔🍟🥤

i could honestly continue yapping but i was not expecting this to take longer than i was originally expecting so imma just end it here for now. i do want to thank everyone in the smg4 community for your continuous support. the amount of appreciation and love i get is still insane for me to grasp and i adore every single piece of giftart i've ever received. never did i expect to grow this big let alone meet such incredible and talented people ever in my life. i genuinely love all of you guys. thank you so much and onwards to more silliness!!! 🍔🌈 ⛅️🌿