#from friends to lovers

[shangyeoms]

he's in love with his best friend your honor

[kiki-mimi222222222]

No one will break us - and If someone try - will pay for that

[anotherbluesunday]

Fic Update--In Technicolor, Ch.9: The Right Side of my Neck (Cheryl)

.

.

.

Dark eyes to match his dark hair. Dimples in his full cheeks and a small round nose that mirrored his twins. A voice that was just deep enough to give comfort but light enough in melody that it spanned a multitude of octaves. A cheeky grin. A knowing pop of his brow. The glint in the pools of deep onyx that sat unflinching behind his glasses–how they’d focus on me as I worked out the problems Lee couldn’t quite wrap his head around so he handed them off to me. How even while sitting he was still taller than me and the way he found it so funny whenever he used me as a chin rest.

Conventional but very much not.

“Mañana,” Lee smiled wide and lazy, lit up in shades of gold and warm bronze by the sunshine that washed out the bed. “Dormir bien?”

My eyes danced from his to the little gold Guadalupe tucked into the hollow of his throat then up to his lips as they curled into a bigger grin. One that began to show his nearly perfect teeth that added a strange charm to his smirks. Gold really was his color. Gold and green. And blue.

Catching myself staring when Lee shifted somewhat uncomfortably beneath the weight of my blatant gawking, I looked down. Felt the knot in my throat form again when he awkwardly apologized. Retracted his arm from where it had been sitting happily across my hips–just above my thighs and the band of the boxers he’d lent me for sleeping shorts. This confusing concoction of embarrassment that blended with the urge to keep his arm around me a little while longer. The aggravation at him moving it without my permission. The alarms that went off in screaming unison as I thought it. I knew what my irrational mind wanted to do. What it was trying to force. But I stomped it out. Told her to stop because another step closer to that button was another step closer to self-destruction because giving in meant losing my only friend. The only person who saw me. And I knew better now than to allow myself to trauma bond and build up unrealistic romantic delusions in my head.

Flicking his nose once my brain had performed a swift reboot, I raised a brow at him. “We’re going to be late for class.”

Swatting my hand away as it moved to pinch at him, Lee wiggled back. “H-Hey, stop it. We won’t be late, ‘kay. Bertie’s riding with Wynn so I’ve got the truck.”

“Uh, I still have to get my car from FP’s.”

“Or you could just leave it and hangout with us after school.”

“It’s homecoming tonight, Lee.”

“Okay, and?” he asked, rolling onto his stomach–face relaxed on the pillows bunched up on his folded arms with his questioning gaze locked on me.

“Jason’s playing. I may not be in cheer anymore but I still want to support him. It’s also our last homecoming game so it’s important.”

“Then go to the game and then hangout.”

Letting him think that through for a moment, I rolled my eyes when Lee gave me a silent dumb ‘what?’ in return. “I still wouldn’t have my car. So you’d have to wait for me. Or I could just take an Uber to Ocean Park–”

“You’re not taking an Uber that late.”

“Then you’d have to wait for me because I’m going to the game.”

“Fine,” he said without thinking through what exactly he was agreeing to. And it showed when his brain caught up with his mouth and the dread settled in with minute changes in his eyes and defiant smile. But something else followed. Something that brought the sureness back. “Do people still paint half their faces at football games and go shirtless?”

“Lee, no.”

“If we’re going, I’m making a scene of it.”

“Pugsley Addams, no.”

“Oh-ho yes, Cheryl Blossom. My counselor said the last time we talked I should try having more school spirit.” Laughing in a tickled jovial sort of way despite my groaning and protest, he rotated onto his back. Looked up at me just as I looked up at the ceiling with an exaggerated huff. Poking my chin enough times to get my attention, Lee didn’t drop the smile. “I won’t embarrass you, much. I promise.”

.

.

.

Spared when Lee steered his father’s attention back to him, I looked down at my phone. Felt my throat clamp shut at the message dad had sent me. Another warning. A threat daring me that if I stayed out another night without his permission I’d be grounded. A word that was code for worse because he knew better than to say what he actually meant in written format. Texting Jason to see if he could fill me in on how pissed father was–which number he was at on our sliding scale–I recoiled at his terse response of “I don’t know Cher.” Today wasn’t a grade-A day for either of us. Wouldn’t be for our friends either. For Betty, especially, but just as much Jason. But I wasn’t trying to antagonize him or make today about myself. I just wanted a heads up on what I would be returning home to. But I had stepped on another landmine, it seemed, without trying. A bomb that I’d have to diffuse when I got back tonight after the game or brace myself for impact when father blew up. It could only be one or the other, never in between. And I would rest-assuredly be handling this on my own. A thought that made me wither inside.

“You good?” Lee whispered low into my ear, his voice a comforting sound to ease my worries. “Cher…?”

I didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave this place of calm and kindness. A bubble of safety where I could rest my weary head and battered bones without jumping back ready to fight at the slightest sound. I felt my cheek ache. The phantom fractures healed in my arm itch beneath my skin. How my jaw tensed and my eyes welled with dread. I didn’t want to go back. Lee had given me the option of staying longer. One that still, technically, stood. But it wasn’t something that was appropriate to bring up now and I had already told him I couldn’t stay another night. Couldn’t but wanted to so badly.

Looking up as Bertie and Wednesday and Gomez and his brother Fester got up in turn to leave, I watched them as if I weren’t inside my own skin. Passively watched in a disassociated daze as the dawning realization of what my evening would end with sank in. Would I be spitting blood into the sink like last time? How fast would the welts on my skin fade away? Half a year ago father had pulled out enough of my hair in one spot I had to wear it up just to effectively cover up the patch.

Rationing my breaths while working to keep control of myself long enough that no one would notice, I was thankful when Mrs. Addams gently placed a hand on my shoulder and sat me back down. Was certain my legs would have given out had I taken another step. Turning my gaze up to her–my eyes more pleading and hopeful than I had meant for them to be–I watched her closely. Observed as she told her two other children to take her car for the day; something that had both Wednesday and Bertie bug-eyed. But with one quick glance to me, Lee’s twin knew. Capitalized on that brain they both shared the same way Jason and I did, or so I hoped we still did.

“Angelito, darling,” she said to her eldest as Lee looked from me to her, “Could you please get my cell from the kitchen? I need to make a call to your school to inform the dean that you’ll be absent for the day as well as Cher.”

“Right.”

Without question or hesitation, he got up. Let go of my hand that he had been holding without my even knowing until the warmth of his palm had vanished. Eyes still fixed to the woman who was, as her children said, a mother to all, I mouthed a silent “thank you” to her when she looked down. Felt myself wishing I could cry as she told me everything would be fine while dotingly stroking her hand down the back of my head. How could they be so kind? How could they be so welcoming? Non-judgemental when I knew they knew about how I had treated Lee? Wasn’t it a mother’s instinct to protect her sons more intensely than her daughters?

Saying something to her son that I couldn’t understand–something that wasn’t English or Spanish–Morticia patted my cheek softly before Lee helped me up, us both leaving the dining room so that she could make her call. Said it was a good thing I hadn’t spent extra time on my makeup that morning since we were staying put for the day. I didn’t realize I hadn’t done my makeup yet until he mentioned it which made me laugh. Something that seemed to confuse Lee but didn’t bother having it explained because he smiled too. Chuckled when I made a turn toward the doors that led outside into the backyard.

Exiting out onto the minimally sheltered porch, I walked out a little further. Fell back onto the hammock bed with a padded body and plush pillows to break my fall. Laughing with some tears of relief breaking free, I swung between joy and the jitter that came from my anxious release. Sniffled and couldn’t stop even as Lee rolled over from where he had plopped down and hugged me tight. Eyes closed as he rubbed circles into my back cooing “shh, you’re okay,” I made myself believe in his words. Made myself trust him and his mother because my paranoid mind whispered in my ear that this was all a hoax. That Mrs. Addams was calling my father to tell him where I was and to come get me. But she would not do such a thing. I didn’t have much to go off of since I had only met her the night before. But I knew selling people down the river was not something that was in her nature. None of her children were like that. Her husband wasn’t either. None of them were so I could trust them when they gave their word.

I could trust this peace. This safety.

Focusing on a new sound filling the space around us, I could hear Pugsley humming. Felt the vibrations in his chest as they traveled up to his throat that moved against the minimal press of my forehead. Heard him as he murmured the words to “Sparks” which was a Coldplay favorite we both shared. Heard the lyrics isolate themselves in my mind as he sang “But I promise you this. I’ll always look out for you.” Sang back to him “And I saw sparks” which made his jaw move downward slightly when he smiled. He told me I was skipping the best parts. I told him the whole song was the best part. Looking down at me with an arched brow, he bit at my nose. Said it was good to have me arguing with him again.

Ironic, I found it, that the part of me that used to annoy him most was now Lee’s barometer for telling whether or not I was okay in the head.

.

.

.

[supporter-of-my-fav-ships]

Anna Castillo and Álvaro Mel

[chargezuma0]

Пожалуй, мой самый любимый троп, это «от друзей к возлюбленным»... Это что-то такое нежное и трогательное. Я обожаю нечто подобное, особенно, когда эта дружба не исчезает, после того, как персонажи начинают встречаться, а наоборот, также продолжает цениться. Именно из-за моей любви к этому тропу мои ОСы, ну... Да, вы поняли.

[zeniblesstsu]

Cherry 🍒 | a.i

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

How did we end up here?

“Ash is my best friend. I can’t ruin what we have. If you hadn’t said anything we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Just please keep your mouth shut. About everything.”

chapter 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 2:

November 21, 2018

Spring

“Mum says I can’t stay in the apartment, but what she doesn’t know won’t kill her right?” I groan, watching my dirty converse thump against the pavement.

“Well she has a point. I mean he can’t be that different yeah? Plus there’s Michael you can totally introduce me to.” Stells laughs, looping our arms together. We were currently headed to a local grocery store to stock up our fridge.

“Mmmhm. Sure. You just want to meet the band?” I roll my eyes at her laughter, which means I was right. “Okay, how about this? I won’t hide. He text me so he obviously hasn’t forgotten, yeah?” Cars honking in the distance flood through the thoughts swirling in my head.

“Hey Rea?” Stells voice flood in over the background noise.

“Hmm?”

“Why does it bother you so much? Why are you having such a hard time with all of this?” I can feel her fingers rub my arm in a soothing manner, as if to keep me calm.

That’s a good question. Why do I have such a problem with us reuniting? My head turns towards the day breaking sky. “I guess I just can’t face him? Maybe I feel insignificant to everyone he’s met along the way. He’s to busy for the childish shit we used to do. I don’t know. It just feels weird.” My voice was quiet, almost being taken by the late spring winds. “Maybe it’s my crippling daddy slash anxiety issues.” Sarcasms leaks past the serious answers, causing Stells to laugh. It wasn’t a real laugh, more of a pity laugh because she knows that I can’t be serious.

“Well maybe so, but you won’t every know unless you try. Maybe it’s all in your head and Ashton feels like nothing has changed. MAYBE he just misses you.” Now she’s shaking my arm, really laughing. I look at the false red head and can see the seriousness behind those playful glances. She’s trying to keep it light to spare my raging mind.

“Yeah, maybe…” my words trail off as I laugh along with her. Thankful, I let out an internal sigh once the shop came into view. “So, there will be no vegemite in my house.”

“That’s bullshit! You are a different breed my girl.” A quick change of subject is just what the doctor ordered, but now I have to have this argument.

“I think it’s because of my sperm donor’s American genes.” I make a gross face with my tongue out, the metal piercing clinking again my teeth. Stells laughs and makes a move to pull my tongue.

Once inside the store I grab a shopping cart, quickly making my way to the snack isle. “I’m going to grab a few frozen thing? Be back in bit.” My roommate bounces off into the opposite direction, her pleated school girl skirt bouncing too.

“Careful Stells. You’re going to give them a show for free.” She turns and glares at me, who was snickering wildly behind my hand. She flips the bird before rounding a corner out of site.

I grab a few things, before staring aimlessly at the boxes trying to decide what else to get. Absentmindedly, my hand went to my mouth. My pearly whites nip at my already shortened finger nails. Nervous habit.

“Uhm, excuse me.” A soft voice breaks my concentration.

“Oh! Sorry!” A nervous laugh leaves my chest. My hands quickly finding the cart to move it out of the way. My eyes then landed on a milky chocolate skinned girl. Only a handful of inches taller than me, she stands on her tip toes to grab the Tim Toms off the top shelf. Her nimble fingers were adorned with rings, and her hair sat in a short afro atop her head. She grabbed the box and turned to me with a smile. Her brown eyes wore a thick black line of eye liner that intensified her features. The light glinted off her piercings. She was beautiful, but what peaked my interest was her very American accent.

“Hi,” she laughed.

“Oh, hi. Sorry- I- You’re not from here are you?” My eyebrows knit together, of course she’s not from around here. I’m sure she has gotten that a lot.

“Yeah, what gave me away? Was it my hair? Or maybe my shoes?” She laughs, being sarcastic seemed to flow easy with her. I look down at her pink boots.

“Oh yeah, definitely the boots.” A smile formed across my face.

“I’m Alex. I love your style. You’re beautiful.” She was straight forward, but the hint of shyness didn’t go unnoticed. She looks me up and down, closely examining my features. I squirm under her burning eyes.

“Realynn, but you can just call me Rea. And Um,” I look down at my 80’s style windbreaker, simple black tee, and shorts. Not much if you ask me, but a lot to her I guess. “Thanks, but I just grabbed what was on top this morning.”

“Well, either way I bet your wardrobe is spectacular. If that’s “just what’s on top” and all.” She laughs but continues to speak. “Hey listen… I’m a photographer who doesn’t have a lot to do this winter- I mean summer? It’s summer here right? God. Anyways I know we just met but how cool would it be if you modeled for me? I have a few brand deals but none of my models could make the trip to Sydney so,” her fingers nervously tap on the box in her hand. She wants me to be a model?

She joking right?

“Me? A model? I don’t know sis.” I laugh shaking my head.

“No, I’m serious! Please I need your help.” She gives me a small smile and pleading eyes.

“I think you should do it Rea! You’re pretty stunning after all!” The voice of a certain taller woman in my life, comes from behind me. I turn to look at Stells, her brown doe like eyes glittering with curiosity and mischief.

“Look I know we just met, but trust me when I say I can see potential in you. I’m a photographer, I know my models.” The box of Tim Tams bounce in her ring clad hands.

“Ugh, fine. But this is all to weird.” Squealing quietly, Stells wraps me in a tight hug. I just laugh and hug her back.

“So your contact information?” Alex pushes her phone towards me with the dial screen open. Stells lets me go and I put my information in.

“So what brings you here from America?” I start walking, the girls follow me as I bee line for the fruits.

“Ah, well I came with some friends. Really to work something out, but they don’t know that.” She laughs nervously, looking around the shop at all the items.

“Okay. Not creepy or cripted or anything.” Stells laughs.

“Sorry. It’s a lot to unload, and I need a model, possibly models. Can’t scare you away with my drama. Plus that’s part of the reason I’m here. To get away from all that.” She shrugs. “I’m Alex by the way.” She lifts up a hand to Stells.

“Stells. Nice to meet you.” She gingerly took Alex’s hand and shook it, smiling. They continue to chat amongst themselves while I searched for the good stuff.

I reach down for the big container of bright red cherries, smiling like an idiot. They go into the shopping cart as Stells scoffs as me. Ignoring her, I roll my eyes. They’ll get stuck up there one day.

I’m brought out of the thoughts by a familiar tune. Someone’s phone was ringing, but it wasn’t mine. I look around, it was Alex’s. She scrunches her eyebrows and sighs before picking it up.

“Hey,” she pauses for a minute looking at us, mouthing a quick sorry. “Yeah, I’m still here. Okay. Be out soon.” She hung up and shook the box in her hand.

“Well, I got to run. My ride is here. Can’t miss that since I’m new and all.” She laughs and turns to walk away. “It’s was great meet you guys!”

“Great to meet you too!” Stells and I say at the same time, waving goodbye to our new acquaintance.

“She seemed really cool! And super pretty.” Stells says walking with me to the next isle.

“Yeah, I just hope this modeling thing is for real.” I pick up a few cans off the shelf.

“Seemed like it.” She shrugged, grabbing some of her favorites. “Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of right now,” with that we took the cart and started towards the front. Once we were to the lines, out of the corner of my eyes a specific pair of pink boots make themselves known. They quickly disappear into a black van. I smile thinking about her offer. A model, aye?

Before the door shuts on the van a certain dirty blonde quickly gets into the van. It was just the back of him, but I could spot him out of a crowd in no time.

Ashton Fletcher Irwin.

-zeni

[nysocboy]

This scene needs some deep-reading analysis:

In Episode 2.9, as they walk toward Jake's Steakhouse to admit Keefe to the family, Kelvin looks defiant, daring someone to make an issue of it, and Keefe looks decidedly nervous. Kelvin holds out his fist, as if for a fist-bump. Except why would they require a fist-bump greeting when they just drove in from the church together? Fist-bumps can also be used to celebrate victories, such as Keefe's admission to the family, but they're walking side by side, so a bump would be impossible. Instead Keefe cups his hand over Kelvin's, a gesture often used by romantic couples in formal photographs.

Maybe Kelvin is making a symbolic fist-bump attempt, with full knowledge that Keefe must respond with another type of gesture altogether. The romantic "covers" the dude-bro, signifying their movement from buddies to boyfriends.

[cherrybright]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Alpine the Cat (Marvel) Additional Tags: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Social Media, Friends to Lovers, from old man to influencer, Instagram king, Sam to the Rescue, I'm Bad At Tagging Summary:

When on the run, Bucky discovers the joy of scrolling Instagram. He likes plants, he likes cats, and eventually he starts liking Flyingking78. But he can't hide in Instagram, he can't escape his life, and eventually he can't ignore his feelings for Sam.

[red-and-black-forever]

Watch "Conrad and Billie My Everything" on YouTube

Here is Another one of my new Conrad and Billie Video and the song that I used in this video is My Everything by 98 Degrees and this song was so suggested by Mandy Marie Hoang Hoffman.

[dinurdi]

I wish to see at the "House of the dragon" show

Fellas, I know for some people "Game of Thrones" and "House of the Dragon" are unknown shows, but I am into it right now.

I was inspired to watch it years ago bc I loved "Fantastic Beasts" movies and couple young Gelert Grindewald with Albus Dumbldore who were played by Toby Regbo and Jamie Campbell Bower. In 2019 it was rumores about prequel of GOT with these actors, but the show was canceled really fast. Now we have HOTD prequel, but! I still wish to see boys together in the show. Like...let them play some incest lover-brothers Targaryens or something please?

Is it weird? I don't care. Just need to see something sweet in the show you know :D

[canisalbus]

✦ Freshly ordained ✦

[dcxdpdabbles]

Alfred: A old contact is sending a representative on his behalf. I need you all to be on your best behavior while he is here.

Bruce: aka, do not embarrass Alfred in front of his old spy buddies

Jason: you're the most embarrassing one among us

Bruce: How so?

Jason: *gesturing to Batcave*

Bruce: Well, at least I didn't get my city dragged into a dimension of death when I was a teenager.

Jason: What?

Alfred: He's talking about Danny. He is the young ward of my old contact Clockwork. Master Bruce has a rivalry with Danny since they were both young

Bruce: It's not a rivalry. That implies he is my equal which he isn't.

Alfred: Of course, Master Bruce.

Later in the evening

Danny: Bruce.

Bruce: Danny.

Danny: Still single, I see.

Bruce: Still ugly, I see.

Danny: Whore

Bruce: Virgin

Alfred: Danny hasn't even stepped through the door yet. Master Bruce, could you please behave for one weekend?

Danny/Bruce: Sorry Alfred he just gets on my nerves-WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

Alfred: *sigh* this will be a long seventy two hours.

Jason: What is going on between them?

Alfred: It's a tale as old as time young master. Spite at first sight.

[inkskinned]

in internet posts it is easy to cut them out of your life. they are hurting you! they aren't listening to you!

they held your hair back. they lent you lipstick. they held your hand at the train station and got you home safe. they rounded on your bully, got loud, said get fucked, spitting-mad in your defense.

they also cut the hair off again. told you that you should really think twice before wearing something like that. took you for granted. took your insecurities and threw them in your face again.

you know logically it should be easy. all the internet advice comments always read it will feel better. like an equation - if a person is rotten, you just remove them. you pull the tooth that's hurting.

but it was never a big flare-up moment. you don't live in a sitcom. they never tried to take your boyfriend or steal from your apartment. they showed up to birthdays and they wrote songs about you and bring you water without you asking. once you found out they carry an emergency inhaler for you, even though you haven't had an asthma attack in years - just in case.

where is the line? people fuck up. sometimes they fuck up badly. sometimes people have raw personalities, like a powerline, and being around them is dangerous. addicting. sometimes they can't help themselves, but you know they're trying. sometimes they are just rough-around-the-edges. sometimes they don't even realize how they sounded when they said that. sometimes it's just - you've both loved each other for so long now, the way this thing hurts goes back to the root.

and that's the fucked up part. you have pushed your fingers against the sweetheart of memory. things these days are electric, tense, harrowing. they didn't used to be. there were a lot of good days in there. sometimes you want to just close your eyes and say can this be over yet? do we still need to be fighting?

doing that would give up any chance you get of getting an apology, but you don't always know that you need an apology, you love them. once they flaked on your birthday party. once they told you to get over it, people are always dying. they also let you crash on their couch for a week after the breakup, handfeeding you when you were so sad you couldn't eat. they are also judgmental about everything, occasionally react to banal statements with an attitude that is weird and fiery. they also love you like a lighthouse sometimes, so strong they cut the storm like lightning.

but the problem is that you might be storm. you might be the thing that needs breaking. what if you are two forces who are desperately, horribly drawn to each other, shaped by the other person's passions, and both good for each other and bad in equal measure.

what if you're both just people, and you're no saint neither.

just cut them off! swallowing the saltwater, you catch yourself in the mirror. you've been shaking more than usual. there's an ache in you that is oblique, loud, impossible to soothe. is this what it looks like? when life is "easier"?

your mouth will always have a hole, is the thing, if you remove the tooth.

[witchcraftandgeekness]

Do you ever think about the fact that Inej is very likely to go down in history as a Saint, while Kaz would most likely be forever remembered as Ketterdam's boogeyman who lives under beds and snatches disobedient kids? That one day, they would be known as Sankta Inej of the Sea, the patron of weak and hurt, and the Dirtyhands, a superstition for bad luck? Cuz I think about this a lot

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#She Fell First But He Definitely Fell Harder