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kryannoy · 2 months ago

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MOTIVATION FOR STUDY??

genre: fluff, sfw

characters: suo, sakura

summary: you need to study as exams are in just a week but... you're tired. instead, he suggests to fulfill any reward you ask for for studying. you ask for him

SUO HAYATO

"How about this; what do you want as a reward for studying at least an hour?" He asks.

"An hour???"

"Trust me, it will be worth it. Think carefully of your reward then."

"Hmm . . ." You ponder what reward you want for the hard work you'll put later. A drink? Well, you can always get that. Candy? Doesn't seem worth it. Traveling? Seems too far-fetched and doesn't seem balanced for a 1-hour study.

Maybe something you really want right now is . . .

"You."

Suo's eyebrows lifted in surprise, his eye changed. He seems taken aback by your unexpected answer.

"Me? Specifically, what do you want from me?" His head is tilted to the side and his smiling face is back on his facade again.

"I want hugs and kisses . . . and cuddles! From you. I want to snuggle up with you." You're already imagining your reward but you haven't even sat down at your desk not even open up a book!

Suo gives out a light chuckle. It would be a lie if he said he didn't melt from your request and felt suffocating, but in a good way, his heart became. He's just good at keeping a normal composure all throughout the day.

"You really are charming in your own way," he says. "Okay! But only if you study for at least one hour. Then you get what you want for the rest of the day."

Your face immediately lights up when you hear "the rest of the day". You thought that he might be a little more mean, something like saying cuddles and kisses are for your 5 minute breaks, or you have to recall to him what you learnt. But maybe you're just wrong for today? Or maybe he's feeling generous? Or maybe he's giving you a chance? Or maybe it was really just a wrong intuition?

Whatever it is, it made you feel motivated now to study. If you start now, you get more time with him. And so you do.

Suo checks in on you from time to time to make sure you're comfortable but not comfortable enough to accidentally fall asleep. He'll send you tea or snacks but never disturbed you. But, he was actually a little mean. You thought you were going to get a kiss or at least a head pat when he came to your room when sending those food to you, but he didn't. He didn't even touch you!

He really wants you to savour it so your reward will be worth while, that's all.

After an hour, as promised, he came back to your room and told you you can claim your reward now.

"Wait, let me finish this chapter real quick."

He smiles at this. That's why he tells you to study for one hour because he knows you'll start to be so focused on it that you don't even realize your surroundings. And seems like you almost forgot that feeling of wanting to be enveloped by a larger body.

However, he was a little sad to hear that you want to study more. He was actually looking forward to giving you cuddles too.

And finally, after another 30 minutes, you're finished. You closed up everything—your book, your notes, your laptop—got up from your chair, do a little stretch before turning to him and he's already standing near your bed, waiting for you. Just the sight of him makes those feelings earlier before starting to study rush back into you, especially when he reaches out a hand for you and that damn, sweet smile playing on his lips.

You pretty much dive right into his arms and Suo gave you the best hugs, kisses, cuddles and snuggles because you deserved it and he is proud of you.

SAKURA HARUKA

"But I don't wanna study!!" You whine while sprawled on the floor, kind of throwing a tantrum.

"Then don't study if you don't want to!" He retorts, his voice shows annoyance but he's not even annoyed the slightest.

"But I have to . . ."

"Fine, then what do you want after you study? I'll try and get it for you," he suggests while rubbing the back of his neck, his ears are turning red. Obviously, he mumbles the last part but you still hear it.

It surprises you to hear that, especially coming from him. It gets you excited to start studying. You hummed while making a decision for your prize later.

You don't exactly want anything from him but you do know one thing, or two, that you want but you know he might be hesitant about this.

"You."

Oh boy. You know he was going to get flustered but you didn't expect him to yell out a "HAAAA????!" that makes the roof shake.

"Wh—what the hell do you mean by that?!!!"

"I want you, Haruka," you say in a matter-of-fact tone, like it was an obvious answer—which it is. "I want you to hold me after. Is that okay?"

How could he say no to that? How could he say no to your pity face, puppy eyes, raised eyebrows and concerned voice? Gosh, he would hit himself and regret for the rest of his life if he said no.

He grumbles under his breath and in the smallest, tiniest voice he could muster, he said, "sure, whatever."

And you guessed it, with a burning red face.

You were so happy you almost wanted to hug him right then and there but you held back. And so, you open up your books and whatever that makes you focus and drown out your surroundings, and start studying while Sakura waits nearby while mentally—and physically—preparing himself for your reward. He'd say the biggest lie if he said he wasn't nervous!

Maybe he should've said no, maybe he shouldn't have accepted just because he wanted to get close to you, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to feel another person's warmth, your warmth. But if he did say no, he'd probably make a mistake, you'd probably get sad, or mad, or even upset at him for taking back his words. Who wouldn't? You probably think he's a weirdo for accepting something like that so easily. Maybe he should've—

"Haruka?"

The voice in his head immediately stopped going a mile a minute once he heard your soft yet concerned voice.

"I've been calling for you for the past minute. Are you alright? It's already been an hour."

He looked at your face and he wasn't sure. Why do you look so . . . ? Can he feel this way towards you? Can he even think you're worried about him?

"We don't have to do that reward thing if you don't want that. I'll think of something else."

"No!" He said almost too immediately, too desperately. "I-I mean, no. You don't have to change it. It's something you want after all." His eyes are looking everywhere but you.

It's cute.

"Really? Are you sure?" You ask once again, just to get a hundred percent clarification. You don't want to do something only one person enjoys. You want the both of you to feel that joy.

"Tch, yes, I'm sure! After all . . . it's not only you who wants it."

He doesn't know how you can still hear him but somehow, when it comes to things like this, you suddenly have very sharp hearing.

You immediately dive into his arms and lap and snuggle up into his chest. Yes, you know it's a little too sudden for him, but you couldn't hold back the burst in your heart from how cute he was expressing his true feelings.

You can definitely hear his heartbeat thumping loudly and rapidly off his chest but you didn't mind that. You just prayed that he doesn't faint or anything. He's such a strong guy but a soft boy on the inside.

After he cleared his head a little, you feel arms wrapped around your body and immediately you melt in, if possible.

Maybe . . . he never should have said no.

#wind breaker #windbreaker #windbreaker fluff #wind breaker fluff #sakura #sakura haruka fluff #sakura haruka x reader #sakura haruka #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #haruka x reader #suo #suo hayato #suo hayato x reader #suo x reader #hayato suo #hayato suo x reader #suo fluff #suo hayato fluff

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 4 months ago

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Jealousy

Just an idea that popped into my head. So many jealous!Bucky fics but where's my jealous!reader ones?

Summary: You get jealous when you see Bucky so close to someone and decide to do something to stake your claim

"Staring like that won't do anything."

You glance to your left, raising an eyebrow as Natasha takes a seat next to you. She smiles back, clearly amused at your predicament and takes a sip from her glass of what smells like whisky. Rolling your eyes, you turn back to your glass, poking the large ice cube inside.

"I'm not staring." You scowl, stabbing the ice a little harder with the toothpick in your hand.

"Glaring then. I could feel the heat all the way from the other side of the room."

"Oh please, that's an exaggeration. The only heat around here is the body heat from all the party guests." You look up at Natasha who has this devious look in her eyes. You're a little afraid of what's going to happen next, the last time you saw that look in her eyes was when Tony found all his suits decorated in bright pink confetti that refused to come off for a week.

"Really? Then tell me, how long has that girl been harassing Barnes for?"

"About fifteen minutes give or take." The words slip out before you know it, and regret immediately hits. You just proved Nat's point, and you hate yourself for it.

"Ok fine, I was staring. But it's only to ensure she doesn't do anything shady, or go too far." You raise your hands in surrender. Natasha's smirk lets you know she hasn't bought that excuse one bit.

"Go on." Natasha is clearly trying to hold in her laughter, enjoying it as you fumble for more excuses as to why you were staring at Bucky and the girl by his side.

"Was Y/N caught staring at a certain someone again?" A new voice joins in the conversation and you groan. Wanda slides into view, eyes bright with amusement. "You're getting less subtle as time goes on."

"Please just leave me to drink in peace," you sigh, flopping face first onto the table.

"When the chance is right there?" Wanda chuckles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You need to go there now and ask him out, or that girl is going to steal him away."

"Couldn't have put it any better myself." Sam comes into view, grinning like a maniac. "I told you before, Bucky's obsessed with you. Man refuses to shut up about you, mentioning your name in his vicinity just sets him off and suddenly he's rambling like some grandfather telling his grandkids about the good old days."

"Will the three of you just scram?" You weakly hit Sam in the arm, causing him to laugh.

"No can do, Y/N. Not when we're the best wingmen and wingwomen in the house." He flashes the other two a grin which they return, clearly delighting in your suffering.

"Hear hear," Wanda chimes in and you give her a small push of annoyance.

"Time's ticking, Y/N. The girl's starting to feel Barnes up." Natasha pats you on the back. "It's now or never."

"I'm going to end all three of you someday." You mutter, pushing yourself upright. Looking at the man who captured your attention the night you found him in the kitchen trying to distract from the nightmares, you realise that he is, in fact, trying to extract himself from the girl whose hands have wandered a little too far.

Something takes over, maybe it's the beast inside that wants to lay claim to everything you consider precious, maybe it's jealousy at how forward the girl is compared to you, but whatever it is, it sends you forwards towards the pair.

Your fingers curl into fists, eyes narrowed as you stalk towards them, a fire coiling inside your chest.

"Hands off my man, or I'll remove those hands for you. Permanently." The words come out as a growl, and your eyes darken. You may be shorter than Bucky, but you're far more intimidating right now, standing by his side as you place a hand on the small of his back.

Bucky blinks, looking at you with surprise written all over his face. He's only seen you like this once — when he'd been badly injured during a mission. Back then you'd stood over him, snarling at anyone who came a little too close and tearing into enemies who dared to try until the medics arrived. Even then, it had taken the combined efforts of Sam and Natasha to calm you down enough such that the medics could attend to him.

"Oh, you didn't tell me you were already seeing someone." The girl smiles, waving at you. "They seem…nice."

Bucky laughs nervously, "they are…nice…"

You narrow your eyes, lips curling and the girl backs off, hands raised in surrender.

"Alright alright, I'll be going on now. See you around, Bucky! If you ever want an upgrade, you know where to look." She winks, waving at him as she leaves, dress swirling around her legs. You hiss, glowering at her retreating figure before turning around, ready to head back to your drinks when a hand rests on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey doll, about what just happened —"

"Nothing happened." You push his hand off but he simply moves to block your way, giving you a poke in the chest.

"You at least owe me an explanation as to when I became 'your man'." His ice blue eyes sparkle with mirth, a finger gently sliding under your chin to tilt your head upwards. "Is this your way of proposing to me?"

"I —" You feel your cheeks heat up. "I just —"

"Speechless? That's a first." He smiles and you hear your heart thundering in your chest. "You know, if you wanted to go out with me, all you had to do was ask."

You swallow, placing a hand on his chest and push. "You just seemed uncomfortable with her, that's all. Go find yourself a better upgrade."

"That's going to be impossible. After all, I've already found the perfect one and they're standing right in front of me." He closes the distance, taking your hand in his. "So where would you like to take 'your man' tomorrow at 7pm?"

You stare up at him, stomach flipping. Your mouth opens and closes but no words come out. Is this real? Did Bucky just agree to go out on a date with you?

"Does pizza night work or would you prefer something fancier?" He probes, giving your cheek a poke. "Earth to Y/N, are you still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, pizza night works. That…that sounds good. I'll see you then." You fidget nervously, struggling to compose yourself.

"Didn't think all it took to shut you up was ask you out on a date. If I'd known that I'd have asked you out earlier." He nudges you with his elbow, chuckling.

"Shut up. I'm talking now, aren't I?" You huff, glaring at him.

"There's my Y/N, back to being the most annoyed person to ever exist." He reaches over to ruffle your hair but you shove his hand away.

"Well, I wouldn't be so annoyed if a certain idiot would stop being an idiot." You're fighting the losing battle of being irritated at him, weakened by his acceptance of going out on a date with you tomorrow.

"You did just ask said idiot out, what does that make you?" He grins.

"Someone who's stupidly in love with said idiot, I suppose." You lightly punch him in the chest, embarrassed, and he laughs.

"About time I got you to admit it." He smiles softly at you. "Sam told me that you returned my feelings but I never quite believed it until now. I told him I'd wait until you asked me out, and here we are, although I didn't expect your proposal to go like this."

"I'm too sober for this, I need more drinks. Coming with?" You pinch the bridge of your nose and start to head towards the bar.

"Of course. Can't let my doll out of my sight now, can I? Not after they claimed me so dramatically." He loops his arm around yours and you feel the tips of your ears burn. You can smell his cologne, his scent, and he's yours now, officially. It makes you giddier than any alcohol ever could and it's a nice feeling. Maybe asking Bucky out wasn't such a bad idea after all, even if it didn't go as planned. It did turn this party into a memorable one, and you're sure that girl won't be back to try anything funny.

You're still going to end those three wingmen and wingwomen though.

#marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #marvel bucky #mcu bucky #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #bucky fluff

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As you and Bradley start to blur the line between professional and personal correspondence, you feel yourself falling for him even more. He has charmed your students as well as you, and you decide to continue taking a chance on him.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley sounding hot

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley spent an hour bundling up all of his letters to your students, getting them ready to be sent back to California. Sure, he wanted to impress you, but he also couldn't deny that he was attached to hearing from Oliver, Violet, Jayden and everyone else. And according to you, they were just as happy to hear from him.

Without giving it a second thought, Bradley went all in with your personal email address. An account where he assumed you could say and send anything you wanted to. One that nobody else was monitoring. His thoughts strayed constantly over the past few hours to what that might mean. What did you deem too personal for your school account?

You told him you were single, and you made it seem like you were into him. You said he gave you butterflies, and now he desperately wanted to see this thing through. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the photos of your smiling face, and he felt a little dizzy. He wanted you to tell him everything. He wanted you to wait for him so he could take you on a date. Or several. He wanted to know what your lips tasted like.

It sounded like your ex was a real tool if he didn't appreciate what you did and how hard you worked. You taught eighteen kids enough about aviation that they asked Bradley some pertinent questions and brought up information that was relevant to his job. He was impressed as hell, and he thought he could be better than what you had before. He already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than Vanessa. It was obvious.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He turned toward the voice calling his name as soon as he dropped the package with your name on it off at the mail center. "Hey," he called out to the mechanic who let him take those photos for your class a few weeks ago. He read his jumpsuit again just to be sure. "What's up, Marty?"

He jerked his thumb toward the main deck and said, "I just got around to unpacking some new engine components. You still writing to those kids?"

"Yeah."

"I'm about to do some repairs if you want to take some more pictures or a video for them."

Bradley had been planning on stalking his inbox for the rest of the day in the hopes that you'd write back and comment on his brief missive telling you he wanted the conversation to go further, but this seemed better than driving himself crazy. He could practically picture you and your kids flipping through some photos and watching a cool video he managed to snag for you. "Yeah, Marty. Let me grab my phone, and I'll meet you out in the shop."

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

After you read the email from Bradley where he called you Gorgeous, you were up most of the night. First, you screeched and almost spilled hot tea all over yourself as you rushed to set your mug down on the coffee table so you could giggle and kick your feet in the air. Then you read and reread the short email for about five minutes, curled up in a little ball with your phone right in front of your face. Then you sprawled along your couch and let yourself imagine what he might be like in person.

It was too early to get your hopes up about ever getting that far, but you couldn't seem to stop yourself from thinking about it. You hummed softly, because in your daydream, he lived in San Diego and asked you out on a date, and he was a perfect gentleman until you didn't want him to be any longer. You didn't even consider what reality might hold, because you were sure you wouldn't like it as much.

But for now, he was on board with going further. Your expectations of things included chatting about your likes and dislikes as well as learning more about him. "I'd like to take it further," you read softly, trying to imagine it in a masculine voice. But what did that sentence mean for him? You sat up on the couch. Surely he wasn't going to turn into a pig and start sending you anything too raunchy. Right?

You swiped out of your email inbox and looked at the photo of him standing in front of his jet and moaned. It was actually your mind heading for the gutter as you wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big arms. What it would be like to tug the zipper of his flight suit down slowly, enjoying the feel of the pull between your thumb and index finger.

It was like the fictional leading man in a romance novel came to life and told you that he thought you were pretty and that he liked your students. You flopped back down on the couch and screeched into the pillow so as not to alarm your neighbors. You needed to respond, but you didn't know what to say since you were probably past the point of playing it cool. You chewed on your lip while you typed and then deleted several versions before sending him something that you thought was okay.

Bradley,

I'd like to take it further, too. I don't usually do this kind of thing (oh, who am I kidding... I never do this kind of thing), but there's just something about you that made me feel like it was worth the risk. I hope I'm not being too bold if I say that I found the photos you sent me quite distracting. However, it's not just your looks that made me share my personal email address with you. I like the way you give me butterflies. There's something sweet that comes through in your writing, and I want to get to know you better. On that note, if you feel so inclined, please tell me three things I should know about you.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal

Once again, you had written back to him so quickly, it should have been embarrassing, but you had nothing to lose here. You tossed out the bait, and he took it in the most spectacular fashion. You didn't want to miss an opportunity like this, even if he did seem too good to be true.

But he still hadn't written back when you got to work the next morning. The ping of the email alert on your phone made you reach for it immediately, but it was just a reminder to pay your bills on time. As you unlocked your classroom door and flipped the lights on, you considered that maybe your message was a little bit boring. After all, you were the one to bring your personal account into play. Perhaps he was expecting you to reply with some sort of dirty picture. Your cheeks burned with mixed embarrassment. You wanted to take it further, but you didn't know how. You just knew that you wanted to keep him engaged without compromising yourself.

You tucked your bag and your phone away in your desk drawer and pulled out your lesson plans for the day. You'd start things off with language arts and then work your way through math and science before your kids had art class. There was no reason you had to think about Bradley at all right now; he could just wait until later with his big hands and his thick thighs and his mustache and cute smile.

Just before your students were due to arrive, you opened your laptop and logged in to see which parents had emailed you with questions or concerns about their child. You froze when you saw an email that was sent a few minutes ago from Bradley with the subject line A visit to the mechanic's shop. When you opened it up, you found that he had attached a video and a handful of photos.

You were a little bit annoyed that he didn't respond to the message you sent from your other account where you asked him to tell you about himself, but that melted away as soon as you clicked on the video. His face flashed up on your computer screen, and all of the features you'd shamelessly memorized were right there in front of you. Cute smile, tidy mustache, brown eyes, wavy hair. But then you heard his voice.

"Hey. I just thought I'd take all nineteen of my favorite pen pals on a little tour around the mechanic shop aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. Sound good?"

You slammed your computer shut and moaned, thighs pressed tight together as your heart hammered. He was too much. It was just a video. He wasn't even really here, but he was an absolute assault on your senses. He called you gorgeous, but meanwhile it was hard to look directly at him for fear that you'd burst out into a fit of giggles. You shook your tingling hands out and slowly opened your computer again.

"Bradley Bradshaw. How are you this hot?" you whispered at the video paused on your screen. His face was frozen mostly in profile as he looked to the side, and for the first time, you saw some long scars on his cheek and neck. "Oh." They weren't new, rather giving the appearance that they had faded over time. You wondered how pronounced they would feel beneath your fingers. Would he let you touch them? Let you drag your lips across them while your hands found their way to his tousled hair?

After taking a few deep breaths, you let the video play again. Another man joined Bradley on the screen, and he was holding up a long, metal rod.

"This is my friend Marty. He's been a mechanic in the Navy for twenty-six years, and he specializes in aircraft repairs. He knows more about my Super Hornet than I do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. So I'm just going to stand here and hold my phone still while we watch Marty do his thing."

The rest of the video was fascinating. It was still interesting the second time when you watched it with your class instead of doing your language arts lesson. The kids sat at rapt attention, eating up that little introduction that Bradley gave just as you had. He didn't talk to them like a bunch of little kids who didn't understand anything, which you loved. He and Marty explained what they were doing without making it too juvenile. Then when the video ended, your kids started raising their hands with question after question.

"You know what to do," you told them, holding out a dry erase marker for Jackie to take. She wrote down the list of questions that everyone had for Bradley while you tapped through the photos, once again imagining how warm and rough his hands would feel wrapped around your own instead of an intake manifold.

The impromptu aviation lesson lasted for two hours until your kids left for art class, and now you were a little concerned about all of the additional, more personal questions you had for Bradley besides the ones your class came up with. You wanted to know how old he was and where his scars came from. You wanted to know where he lived now, but you were too afraid of the answer. According to one of the notes he wrote back to Violet, he went to the University of Virginia. He even sounded like he was from the east coast.

You sat at your desk alone, digging your snack out of your drawer along with your phone. There was a new email. You smiled as you realized he must have sent it to you just after he emailed the video he took for your whole class to watch. The opening greeting once again had you kicking your feet beneath your desk, snack forgotten.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm still having a hard time believing that you want to get to know me better. Full disclosure, I'm a little nervous you'll get bored talking to me. I don't have much family, and I know it's cliche, but flying really is my passion. I spend a lot of my time on aircraft carriers which makes it hard to maintain relationships and friendships with people on dry land.

Talking to my nineteen new pen pals has been the most exciting part of my deployment. But you're right... you're my favorite one. I could tell from the first letter that wasn't even specifically meant for me that you were funny and sweet. And then I saw what you look like, and I kept going back to the photo for another look. You're just as gorgeous as you are funny and sweet.

Three things you should know about me? One, I'm afraid of spiders. Like so afraid of them that I might have a crisis on my hands if you tell me you have a beloved pet tarantula or something. Two, I loved taking piano lessons so much when I was a kid, I actually still take them. (Now I'm sitting here wondering why I'm telling you embarrassing shit.) My next door neighbor is a retired music teacher, and when I'm home, I trade yard work for piano lessons. Everyone wins. Third, I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies. That's a new one, but I thought you should know about it.

I'm giving you some homework, hope you don't mind. I want you to send me a picture of one of those San Diego sunsets where the sky somehow looks both blue and orange at the same time. If you happen to be in the photo, I'm not going to complain. I would also love to hear three things I should know about you.

Please tell your kids they have mail on the way. I hope to hear back from them. And you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

Oh. This crush was even worse than you thought.

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After days of running drills, Bradley was finally grounded because of a bad storm that was closing in, and he was given a few hours off. He stood out on deck, letting the first drops of hard rain hit his face. He was hoping to get a nice sunset photo to send to you, but the past few days had been terribly cloudy. And now he felt like he was being torn in three directions as his flight suit got wet: he was sweaty, hungry and curious. As a result, he couldn't decide if he should hit the shower, the mess hall or the lounge first.

He reasoned that he'd best appreciate an email from you if he was cleaned up and well fed. If you'd had time to write back to him, it would top off his night in the sweetest way possible. So he took a shower and unfortunately had to eat cabbage rolls for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the lounge, picturing a bunch of fourth graders eating dinner in the mess hall and ranking the foods. They would probably love that, actually.

As Bradley logged in and watched his email inbox appear on one of the lounge computers, he muttered, "Hell yes." There was a new message from you, and he couldn't click on it fast enough. Before he started reading, the attached photo caught his attention, and he grunted softly. Fuck.

There you were, on a stretch of beach in Coronado, not even a mile from his house with the sun setting behind you. Your features were in shadow, but your smile was a little shy and very pretty. You looked so soft, standing there on the windswept sand in denim shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with Mira Mesa Elementary printed on the front, and all he wanted to do was touch you. He could already imagine a picnic dinner on that beach, snuggling up with you as cooler temperatures moved in. Enjoying the blues and oranges until the sky got so dark, he'd lead you back to his house with your fingers laced with his.

Bradley,

I'm turning in my homework. I hope I get a passing grade. I'm not usually the student, so I'm a little out of practice. A Naval officer from Top Gun took this photo for me. Apparently aviators just like you are all over the beaches in Coronado.

I have some good news for you. While I'm not actually afraid of spiders, I promise I don't have a beloved pet tarantula. And I'm sorry, but the idea of you still taking piano lessons made me giggle for a solid minute. The mental image is just that adorable.

You always seem to know what to say to make my butterflies go crazy, and that's just through the written word. As an educator, I always stress the importance of honesty to my students. So let me just say that honestly, I'm not going to get bored talking to you. I also can't lie about the fact that I watched the video you sent several times just to hear your voice. (Now I'm the one embarrassing herself.) And I really can't see how you would have a hard time maintaining a relationship while you're away. Maybe your previous partners didn't appreciate how rare it is to find someone who is willing to put in some effort. Or maybe they didn't find your arachnophobia oddly endearing. But I kind of do.

Three things you should know about me: 1. I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. 2. Sometimes I fall asleep during movies, especially if I'm snuggled up on my own couch. 3. I have a crush on you.

Hitting send before I can change my mind.

Bradley couldn't help the smile teasing at his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head and read your last few sentences again. He always wanted to continue talking to you, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that you wouldn't grow bored with this. Maybe you'd care more about him than going out on dates, unlike Vanessa. He wasn't going to wait before responding to your email. What was the point? You were into him, and he was definitely into you.

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

"We got mail!" you announced, holding up the package that was waiting for you in the school office when you refilled your travel coffee mug on your way to your classroom. Your students erupted into delighted conversation.

"Is it from Lieutenant Bradshaw?" asked Jayden.

"Of course it is," Violet told him. "It must be. He's our pen pal after all."

"Did he send us more notes?" Oliver asked, practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation.

"He did!" you confirmed as you tore into the package and enlisted Harrison to help you hand the individual notes to their recipients. The room went silent as soon as they all started reading, and then one after the next, the kids started to get out their notebooks to start their responses.

You felt warm all over. Bradley was on your mind a lot, and you didn't really want him going anywhere. You watched the video he sent again last night before you went to sleep, and you dreamed about a strong man with a sexy voice curled up behind you in bed. You knew you had a new email from him, but you were waiting until you could sit quietly during your lunch break to read it.

At some point, you were going to have to taper off the aviation curriculum and focus on other things, but you just didn't want to have to do that yet. Not when your class was so engaged. Not when it made you feel connected to a man thousands of miles away who you had feelings for in spite of the fact that you never met him in person. In spite of the fact that you were too afraid to ask him where he lived.

After you eventually walked your kids down to the lunchroom, you were free to read your email from Bradley in peace. But the more you thought about opening it, you started to get nervous. You already admitted you were interested in him, so there was really no going back. If he hadn't sent you something similar, you were going to have to crawl under a rock, but you got your phone out as you took a deep breath and started reading.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Now wait right there. I have some concerns. I'm going to address them in order, so please bear with me. First of all, you didn't just pass your homework assignment, you got an A+. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset in my life, and yet it was barely noticeable next to you. But here's my main issue. I can't have another aviator taking sunset photos of you and sweeping you off your feet. How about you just stay off that beach in Coronado for the time being? Give a guy a chance here?

I couldn't agree more about the importance of being honest. Honestly, I'm letting out the breath I've been holding, worried that you were going to send me a photo of you with your pet tarantula. And honestly, smart women really do it for me, so any time you want to bring up that 4.0 GPA, I'm going to need a minute. And honestly, nothing sounds better than watching a movie with you on your couch right now. Can't stop thinking about it, actually.

Please, tell me in an overabundance of detail, what you would do if I promised I would take you out to dinner but then changed my mind and told you that I was tired from work and wanted to spend a quiet evening on my couch with some takeout instead.

You have a crush on me? Gorgeous girl, all I can think about is the couple days of leave I'm going to have once this aircraft carrier finally docks back in San Diego. Where you are. You and my eighteen other pen pals. I think I have a thing for fourth grade teachers. Or maybe it's just you. I can't wait to hear from you again.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

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

Okay. Some admissions have been made. Little bits of feelings have been established. She has seen him and heard his voice, and I think we're ready to keep taking things further. Maybe a phone call? Maybe another photo or two? We also can't leave the fourth graders hanging. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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dontbesoweirdkira · 8 months ago

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A/N: Had this in my drafts and i just needed to know i'm not alone.... Just thinking about possessive Dick Grayson being a sloppy and disgusting kisser. PLEASE HEAR ME ON THIS. errr this is a drabble that is kind of unfinished but you get the vibesss. There really no plot...just wanted an excuse to draft up this though so.....

Warnings: suggestive not full blown nsfw....

request: always open

masterlist

He'd have you pinned under his body the moment you entered the apartment. Your wrists were pinned together by just one of his hands and your legs were locked in between his muscular thighs. It hadn't taken much to completely subdue you like this, though you fought as hard as you could, you were helpless up against someone as skillful as he. He's ever so cocky about it at first too as his hot tongue trailed down the side of your neck until your body slightly twitched. ugh! He found a new sweet spot and it peaked his interests. You probably thought your loving partner wouldn't notice, huh? Oh, he notices everything, no matter how minor it may have been ...just like when he noticed how that person was eyeing you earlier.

"Be good and stay still for me. You don't wanna make me unhappy, right?"

You could feel his lips purse up into that cocky smile of his as he let out a chuckle. It was sly, maybe even a little twisted in the way he let it out. His mind was revisiting how good it felt to put them back in their place. Oh just how terrified they looked realizing how much they fucked up by having the audacity to even think they had a chance with you. And for Dick be on top of you like this right now while they were probably limping home? Man, that creep would flip his shit if he could see this. It gave Dick too much of an ego to be the only one in the world who'd ever have the pleasure to do whatever they wanted with you.

While he soaked in moments like this, you hated it. His arrogance left a sour taste in your mouth. Dick didn't deserve to be rewarded for this poor behavior and think this was okay. You tried once more to fight and tell him how you seriously needed to talk about boundaries but it was useless.

That didn't surprise you tho. Dick had selective listening and was too self righteous to ever admit to his wrong doings. He was like a puppy who desperately wanted to play but couldn't grasp the concept that he just destroyed the living room and you're pissed off at him. . You could punish, scream and threaten him but Dick will never fail to get what he wanted in the end.

His tongue met with the crook of your neck and slowly made circles in place.

"i'll let you curse at me all night but please just be still and let me just-"

He let out a breathy plead before he was sucked back into his selfish desires. It was pathetic how quickly he could melt into you. He hadn't even done anything yet but the taste of you was enough to send his body into overdrive. Suddenly he was the one struggling to stay still. It was far too hot in this damn apartment and his clothes were too restrictive. It was evident he didn't exactly know what to do with himself even though he's done this a million times. He couldn't stop himself from becoming overly excited each and every time he had you like this. So eager to explore your body like it was the first time all over again. His one free hand slithering under your dress and grabbing onto anything that was soft and plump.

You could feel your neck being pulled at as his lips sucked on your sweat spot. You tried to remain upset and stiff as he left his love bite but it was hard when you had someone as disgusting as Dick all over you like this.

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when his lips crashed into yours, shoving his perverted tongue as far as he could inside your mouth without any warning. The sounds of Dick's lewd moaning and smacking of each others lips filled the apartment as he sloppily made out with you.

He was so shameless in the way he handled you. He constantly craved more. More attention...more affirmations....more you.

Dick doesn't stop until he's begging you with his big, blue eyes, hoping you'd forget all about what he did to upset you. come onnn and be a good owner....he really...reallly wants to play right now.

#headcanon #imagines #oneshot #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson headcanon #drabble #yandere batboys #dc imagine #dc comics #dc universe #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #bruce wayne x reader #yandere prompt

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 8 months ago

Text

Interference Part 2

Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.

Part 1

You shut your laptop with a frustrated sigh and crossed out the last address you had written down on your pad of paper. The last two days you had been searching for a place to rent, only to be turned down due to your bad credit or limited income. You didn’t have the privilege of asking your family for help, most of them had shunned you once you got into your relationship and the few that did still speak with you were in no position to lend you money.

Your phone rang again for the 3rd time in 30 minutes, a blocked number popping up on the screen. You had ignored it the last 2 times for the fear that it was your boyfriend, but he should still be in jail with no chance of making phone calls, right?

Deciding it wouldn’t really hurt to answer it, you slid the call open and instantly regretted it once the familiar devious voice spoke to you.

“Hello bird,” he greeted with fake sincerity, using the pet name he made for you as a jab at your eating habits. The fear shot through you just as hard as the other night, rendering you speechless.

“I’m out baby. I’ll be home soon and we can sit down and talk about everything. Hopefully you were able to get the house cleaned, it was a mess the last time I was there.”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before you ended the call. Anxiety and fear began creeping into your body, making you scramble to grab a luggage bag from the closet before shoving some clothes, toiletries, and your laptop in it. Running into the living room, you peeked out of the curtains, hoping to see Aaron’s car in the driveway. No such luck.

So grabbing your keys, you left the house, not even bothering to lock it and threw your luggage into the backseat of your car. You tore out of the driveway and down the street like a bat out hell, unsure exactly how far away your boyfriend was. As reckless as driving 50 in a residential was, you took your chances of being pulled over and put as much distance between you and that house before dialing Aaron’s number at a red light.

“Hotchner,” he answered professionally from the other line.

“Aaron. He got out. I don’t know how, maybe his mom paid his bail. He called me and said he was on his way to me.” Your words were fast and frantic. You would've continued rambling had Aaron not stopped you.

"Y/N. Just take a deep breath for me, alright?"

The light turned green and you did as he instructed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, it doing very little to calm your frazzled nerves but appreciated it regardless.

"Now do you have anywhere you can go, maybe a friends house or family member? Somewhere you'd be safe?"

"No," you spoke. "I don't have any friends and most of my family disowned me when I got into this stupid relationship. The rest of them live on the West Coast."

There was a pause of silence as you felt him thinking over the phone. Most likely figuring out the easiest way to get rid of you and your problems.

"Alright. I have some down time before my meeting in an hour. Why don't you come by and we can figure out a plan. I'll send you the address, just take the elevator to the 4th floor."

A second later you felt the buzz of your phone from the incoming text message. "Ok. Thank you so much Aaron. And I'm so sorry for taking up your time." Tears threatened to fall but you held them back.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I want to help you. Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out. Just text me when you arrive."

"I will," you replied before you both said goodbye and hung up. You put the address in your navigation and drove mindlessly through traffic, so many thoughts going through your head it made you want to scream.

The address wasn't too far from your own homes, arriving there in less than an hour and heading into the very drab looking building before taking the elevator, texting Aaron that you had arrived on the way up.

You had just made it to the front desk before seeing Aaron headed in your direction, giving the receptionist a small smile. "She's with me Lonnette, thank you."

You waited as Lonnette printed your visitor badge and handed it over with a friendly smile before following Aaron through the floor, passing by glass offices and cubicles. You were quiet, not really in the mood for small talk which you felt he sensed and didn't bother saying anything as he lead you up some stairs to an office that you presumed was his by the gold name plaque on his desk.

"Have a seat, please," he offered politely, closing the door and walking over to his side of the desk. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?"

You shook your head. "No thank you. I appreciate the offer though."

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, moving some files to the side. "So I'm genuinely surprised to hear that he's out of jail. You said you think his mother bailed him out?"

"Yeah. I don't think she knows anything about what happened but whenever he asks her for money, she just sends it to him. I think she feels guilty for never being in his life so giving him money when he needs it helps her feel better about it." You rung your hands together, anxious about the whole situation as well as being there, talking with a man that was pretty much a complete stranger, bugging him for help.

"And he called you afterwards, telling you that he was on his way? Did he seem upset?" His tone was curious as if trying to get every piece of puzzle to fit perfectly in order to build an accurate idea of who your boyfriend was. It made sense considering his profession.

"I don't know. He's really good at hiding his anger until he snaps. He was talking like nothing had happened and we were just going to go back to normal." Your head whipped towards the open window blinds where someone was just walking by, Aaron noticing your jumpy behavior immediately.

"You're safe here. No one knows anything about what happened except you and I," he reassured you, making you relax just a little. "I don't think he'll be out of jail for long though, at least until he sees the judge for arraignment. I will personally see to that."

His words brought you a bit of placidity and hope as you still wondered why he would go through such lengths to help you out.

"I do have a small flat not far from here that I use occasionally for late nights at the office when I don't want to drive all the way home. You can stay there for now, until you find a place of your own if you'd like. Completely up to you, I don't want you to feel pressured."

Your eyes looked up from the floor to meet his, surprised by his offer.

"I- uh. I couldn't impose on you like that-

"You wouldn't be. I barely use it anymore, I prefer to be at my home with my son whenever I can."

Son? He has a son. Of course he does. He probably also has a wife or at least a girlfriend since you didn't see a ring on his finger. The thought of him with a son didn't bother you, in fact it only gave you more of a reason to trust him.

"If you're sure you don't mind," you said, trying not to sound too excited, relieved that you wouldn't have to go back to your boyfriends house. "Please let me pay some sort of rent or something though. It's the least I can do."

He shook his head no, his expression soft and nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna need the money for your new place. Just promise me that you won't contact him or go back to that house unless you have some sort of escort, preferably by law enforcement."

You could be my escort.

You nodded in agreement, ignoring your thoughts.

“Alright then. I can send you the address and give you the keys now. I'm not sure if the fridge is stocked but feel free to add or throw anything away. There is a washer and dryer there so you can wash the sheets and anything else you need." He pulled his keys from his desk drawer and removed a ring with a single key on it, holding it out for you.

You took it gratefully and stood with him as he buttoned his suit back up and checked his watch.

"Could I at least make you dinner or something?" you blurted, not sure where such confidence came from. "I mean, I just want to do something for you in return for your incredible generosity." You couldn't stop the blush from burning your cheeks, your words successfully embarrassing yourself.

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, showing off just the slightest sight of dimples. "I'll be with my son tonight but maybe we could grab a coffee sometime tomorrow."

You smiled back, more than satisfied with his offer and followed him out of his office, feeling a few stares from people but avoided eye contact. Aaron walked you back to the receptionist and even had her add you as a contact so visiting would be an easier feat.

"Thank you again Aaron," you spoke, the anxiety you had been feeling for the last few hours, finally beginning to dissipate. He answered with a friendly nod and you entered the elevators. Once the doors closed and you were completely alone, you took in a deep breath. Maybe everything was going to be ok like he said.

#aaron hotchner x y/n #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader #bau team #thomas gibson

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rootedinrevisions · 8 months ago

Text

Five Years

SUMMARY: Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again.

A/N: Sorry for all the angsty Tyler lately! It's just been the mood/vibe lately so I've been rolling with it! Thanks to the person who sent this request in! I hope you like it!

PROMPT: "What was he doing back there? Flirting with you like he has a fucking chance?"

WARNINGS/TAGS: Angst.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

It’s late, the kind of quiet that comes when the night has softened everything into shadows. You and Tyler are back in the motel room, tangled together in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His arm drapes over you, and you’re curled into his side, your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. The scent of whiskey lingers between you, mingling with the warmth of his skin, and you can still taste him faintly on your lips. Another night, another round of kisses exchanged under the dim motel lights, like something fragile and fleeting.

He stirs, his hand brushing along your back, and you wonder if he’s on the edge of sleep or just drifting in that space in between like you are. For a moment, you’re tempted to ask him the question that’s always on the tip of your tongue: What are we doing?

Instead, you stay silent, breathing in sync with him, wondering if he can feel the way your heart skips each time he holds you like this. He shifts, drawing you a little closer, and you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something soft, maybe even vulnerable. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly slurred. “You’re comfortable, right?” His hand rests at the curve of your hip, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you.

You nod, managing a quiet, “Yeah. Always.” You know he’ll pretend he doesn’t remember this in the morning, brush it off like it’s nothing, and you’ll let him because it’s easier that way. But tonight, you can pretend a little too—that these quiet moments mean the same to him as they do to you.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear, wondering how much longer you can keep pretending before you’re forced to admit the truth—to yourself, if not to him.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, “So… I just found out I’m being inducted into the PBR Hall of Fame.”

You blink, lifting your head from his chest to look at him. A smile lights up your face. “Tyler, that’s amazing! I mean, I knew you were a big deal, but… Hall of Fame?”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head with that familiar modesty. “Yeah, kinda crazy, huh? Guess all those years getting tossed around finally paid off.”

You laugh, knowing he’s downplaying it. You’ve seen some of those old videos, clips of him taking on bulls with more force and heart than anyone you’d ever met.

“No one deserves it more than you,” you say softly, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he looks away, and then, clearing his throat, he glances back at you.

“Thanks, means a lot,” he says, his voice softer. Then, after a moment, he adds, “Actually… I get a plus one to the induction ceremony. I was thinking maybe you’d want to come with me?”

Your heart skips at that. He doesn’t even pause to consider anyone else; he’s asking you. For a moment, you feel a surge of excitement that maybe this is more than just a friendly invite. But just as quickly, doubt seeps in. If he had a girlfriend, he’d take her, wouldn’t he? A familiar ache settles in your chest, the quiet reminder that maybe this is just about convenience for him.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, and casual. “I mean, you could take anyone.”

He glances at you with a soft smile, his eyes sincere. “Nah. Can’t think of anyone better. You’d come, right?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue—Of course, I’ll go.

Instead, you hesitate, just for a second, wondering if this is just a placeholder invitation until he finds someone to fill the spot he’s never openly said he wants to be filled. But you can’t bear the thought of missing the moment, so you nod, managing a smile. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He grins, pulling you back into his chest, and you settle against him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. But even as you breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm you, a question begins to take root in your mind. Where do we really stand, Tyler?

It’s a question you keep to yourself, swallowing it down as you close your eyes and listen to the silence settle around you once again.

* * * * *

The ballroom buzzed with energy and anticipation, and you could sense the excitement radiating from Tyler beside you. The event space was elegantly decorated, with every table set with crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. But you hardly noticed any of it; all your focus was on Tyler. This was his night. And you were honored to be here with him, even if you didn’t quite know what that meant for the two of you.

You eventually found your way to your seats near the front of the room, and Tyler’s hand brushed against yours as you sat down. His fingers lingered just a moment, a subtle contact that sent a rush of warmth up your arm.

Before you could say anything, the lights dimmed as the emcee took to the stage, announcing the start of the ceremony. The audience fell quiet, and Tyler’s hand was warm on your knee, a comforting weight that made your heart race. You glanced down at his hand, then back up to his face, wondering if he even realized the effect he had on you.

A part of you wanted to reach for his hand again, to close the gap between you both once and for all, but you stayed still, holding your breath as the ceremony began.

As the awards were announced one by one, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Tyler. He seemed to sit straighter with each name called, his eyes never leaving the stage. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the emcee announced Tyler’s name, and the room burst into applause. You clapped the loudest, your heart swelling with pride.

You watched as Tyler walked to the stage, his stride steady and confident, shoulders back with that natural charisma he carried wherever he went. When he accepted his award, he stood there with his plaque, his gaze scanning the crowd until it landed on you. The spotlight hit his face, highlighting the small, crooked smile you knew so well. And his eyes—dark, intense, focused on you—seemed to say something unspoken.

You felt your breath catch, frozen under his gaze, and for a second, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

His acceptance speech was simple and heartfelt. He thanked the people who had been there with him through the highs and lows. He spoke of long, hard days, the sacrifices he’d made, and the passion that drove him. But you could’ve sworn that when he mentioned his gratitude for “the people who kept him grounded,” his eyes found you once again.

As Tyler wrapped up his speech and made his way back to his seat, you barely had a chance to process the pride you felt for him, for everything he’d accomplished. But that brief moment when he’d looked at you on stage lingered in your mind, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Could it have meant something more?

He sat back down next to you, and you leaned over, unable to keep the smile from your face. “That was incredible, Ty. I’m so proud of you.”

He looked at you, a soft chuckle escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks. I think I might’ve fumbled a little bit up there.”

“Not even close,” you replied, squeezing his arm. “You were perfect.”

The atmosphere at the afterparty was more relaxed, a contrast to the formality of the ceremony.

The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone here to celebrate the achievements of legends, past and present. You’re standing beside Tyler, trying to blend into the background of the room’s energy. But then, without warning, Tyler reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours before intertwining them completely. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a rush of warmth through you. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment, almost as if he’s silently asking if this is okay, if you’re okay. You squeeze his hand, hoping he’ll understand that, yes, this is more than okay.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” he says, his voice low and soft. He leads you through the crowd toward a man with a broad smile and lines etched deep around his eyes—Tyler’s old mentor. Tyler introduces you with a genuine warmth that makes you feel like you belong here, like you’re not just an accessory to his big night but someone he wants by his side.

As they begin chatting, Tyler’s hand drifts to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into your hip as he pulls you closer, fitting you against his side. You feel a warmth blossom in your chest, and for a moment, the nagging doubts you’d been harboring vanish. His mentor jokes about old times, and Tyler laughs, giving your waist a small squeeze as if to share the moment with you. You let yourself lean into him, letting his warmth melt away the walls you’d tried to build around your heart.

But then, as the conversation comes to a close, he lets go. Just like that, his hand falls from your waist, and he takes a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets, a casual smile on his face. He glances around the room, no longer focused on you, and the sudden distance sends a chill down your spine. You’re standing side by side, but the connection feels fractured, like a missed beat. He begins walking next to you, his attention now elsewhere, no hand-holding, no gentle touches to keep you close.

Half an hour later you’re standing next to Tyler, trying to stay engaged with the conversation he’s having with an old friend he used to ride with, someone who knows a side of him you’ve only heard about in stories. Tyler’s posture is easy, his laugh warm and unguarded in a way that you rarely get to see. You watch him as he reminisces, letting yourself get lost in the sound of his laughter, in the way his eyes light up with a spark of the past. But as they continue to talk, it becomes clear that he’s in his own world, like you’re not even there.

The laughter between them grows, each memory shared drawing them further back into the years before you knew him. You shift your weight, feeling a slight ache in your chest as you realize just how separate you feel from this part of his life. A sense of loneliness creeps in, one you can’t shake, and you find yourself glancing toward the bar. Maybe a drink will help dull the sting.

You start to turn, your heart heavy, but just then, you feel Tyler’s hand reach out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. The touch is so familiar, so comforting, and for a brief second, that hopeful warmth flickers back to life.

You glance over your shoulder, catching his eye, a hint of something unreadable there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter, as if trying to break through to you despite the noise around.

You swallow, forcing a smile to cover the twinge of sadness that’s growing in your chest. “Yeah,” you say softly, nodding toward the bar. “Just thirsty. Thought I’d grab a drink.”

He nods, giving your hand a slight squeeze before letting go, turning back to his friend with that easy laugh that now feels like a barrier you can’t quite cross. You turn away, your heart sinking as you walk toward the bar, feeling the absence of his hand like a chill creeping over your skin. You can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that settles heavy and cold. Just moments ago, he was intertwining your fingers, holding you close with his hand on your waist, like you were more than just a companion for the night.

How did it change so quickly? How did he go from holding you, grounding you with those intimate touches, to leaving you in this limbo of almost but not quite? You realize that, despite how much he means to you, there’s a line between you that he doesn’t seem ready to cross. And that thought hurts more than you want to admit.

You’re leaning against the bar, lost in thought, when a voice breaks through the noise, smooth and warm. “Hey there. You look like you could use some company.”

You glance up to find a guy with a charming grin and a relaxed confidence that’s instantly disarming. He extends a hand. “Eli Vastbinder,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

For a moment, you’re taken off guard, but you shake his hand and introduce yourself, motioning to where Tyler’s standing in the distance. “I’m here with Tyler Owens.”

At the mention of Tyler’s name, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment, maybe surprise—crosses Eli’s face before he recovers his smile. “Owens, huh? How do you know the Tornado Wrangler?”

You can’t help but laugh at the nickname, feeling some of the tension ease as you explain. “We work together. I help him run his YouTube channel.”

Eli’s gaze shifts from Tyler back to you, a curious glint in his eye as if he’s sizing up the situation. He doesn’t linger on it for long, though, before flashing you a daring smile. “So, just coworkers, huh? In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I bought you a drink?”

The question lingers, sparking a twist of hesitation in your chest. You glance over at Tyler, hoping for some kind of sign, some acknowledgment of what you’re feeling. Your eyes meet his, and he offers you a casual smile before turning his attention back to his friend. The moment leaves you cold—another reminder of all the times he’s pulled you close, only to leave you feeling as if you’re just out of reach.

You turn back to Eli, a decision settling in your mind. Tyler isn’t claiming you. He never has. And he’s had five years to do so.

You give Eli a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Eli’s grin widens as he orders your drink, leaning in just slightly as he asks about your work with Tyler. He’s charming, effortlessly making you feel seen and appreciated. There’s a warm intensity in his gaze, like he’s genuinely interested in hearing about your life, in learning the pieces of you that Tyler seems to take for granted. You laugh at his jokes, leaning in as he tells stories about the crazy things he’s seen on the road. Every so often, his hand brushes yours, sending a little thrill through you—like something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in far too long.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. There’s no ambiguity with Eli; his attention is clear, unburdened by mixed signals or unspoken boundaries. It’s refreshing, exciting, even, to be the center of someone’s focus without second-guessing their intentions.

You glance over at Tyler once more, but he’s still wrapped up in conversation, seemingly unaware of the ache you’ve carried alone. A part of you wants him to notice, to see what’s happening, to finally feel the urgency you’ve held onto for years. But there’s another part of you that’s finished waiting.

As you turn back to Eli, you find yourself smiling, the kind of smile that feels like letting go.

You’re laughing at something Eli just said, a relaxed warmth in your chest that’s been missing around Tyler lately, when you feel a familiar presence behind you. You glance back, and there he is—Tyler, wearing that easy smile that’s disarmed you a hundred times before. He leans close, his hand slipping around your waist, fingers warm and possessive against your hip. “Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, the pet name rolling off his tongue as naturally as the smirk tugging at his lips.

But Tyler doesn’t stop there. His gaze shifts to Eli, assessing him for a beat, and then extends a hand. “I see you’ve met my date,” he says, voice casual but with a certain edge, like a claim staked.

You freeze, glancing up at him, surprised and confused by his sudden assertiveness. Eli’s expression mirrors your own—slightly perplexed, eyebrows lifting as he takes Tyler’s hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes flicker back to you, questioning. “Date? I thought you two were just coworkers,” he remarks, eyes shifting meaningfully to Tyler’s hand, still resting on your hip.

Before you can answer, Tyler lets out a dismissive scoff, as if the notion of you two being “just coworkers” is absurd. “Coworkers?” he echoes, his hand tightening just a fraction. “Yeah, we’re a little closer than that.” He shoots a look at you that’s both playful and possessive.

You feel your blood simmer, heat rising in your chest at the presumption in his tone. As if you’re some claim he can lay when it’s convenient, without any real commitment. You step out of his grip, your voice firm as you say, “We are just coworkers.” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t soften them.

Tyler’s smile falters, his brow furrowing, but you’ve already turned away, excusing yourself quickly to Eli before slipping out toward the exit.

Humiliation washes over you, prickling your skin as you push through the crowd, needing fresh air, needing space. You had been enjoying a perfectly nice conversation with Eli, feeling appreciated and even flattered, until Tyler decided to swoop in and turn the moment into something possessive and confusing.

As you reach the hallway, you feel a sharp sting behind your eyes. Tears blur your vision, and you blink them back, furious with yourself for letting Tyler get to you like this. You’re tired—tired of being in his orbit only when he wants you to be, of being treated as something more only when it suits him. Because heaven forbid another guy notices you.

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft murmur of voices drifting from the ballroom as you stand there, waiting for the elevator. The moment stretches, tense and thick, when you hear his footsteps behind you, his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around. “Tyler… don’t.” The plea is barely above a whisper, but he ignores it, closing the distance between you, his face etched with frustration.

“What was he doing back there?” he asks, motioning down the hall toward the ballroom, his tone hard, possessive. “Flirting with you like he has a chance?”

Your heart twists painfully at his words. His tone says it all—like he assumes you’re his, like it’s obvious. Like you should know.

But you’re done with the assumptions. The words spill out before you can stop them, thick with months, years, of unspoken hurt. “And why would you care, Tyler?” Your voice cracks, and you feel the first tear slip down your cheek, quickly followed by another. “It’s not like we’re together, right? You said it yourself—we’ll never be anything more than friends. We’re just…” You falter, searching for the right words, but the truth tumbles out, raw and painful. “We’re just really close, and we make out sometimes. Nothing more.”

The weight of it hangs in the air, and you can see the impact of your words in the way his face falls, his expression softening, regretful.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out, but you shake your head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling to the surface.

“No, Tyler.” You step back, keeping the space between you. “I’m done. I’m done with this… with you.” Your voice shakes, but the conviction is there, clear and sharp. “I’m done not being good enough. Done being yours only when you want someone on your arm or in your bed. I can’t keep doing this.” You wipe a tear from your cheek, gathering whatever strength you have left. “I’m done with everything. Our friendship. The channel. All of it.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open with a quiet chime. You glance back at him one last time, taking in the hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“Go back to the party, Tyler. It’s your night. You deserve it.”

You step into the elevator, pressing the button as the doors start to close. The last thing you see before they shut is him standing there, looking lost and completely, utterly alone.

Back in the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you feel the emotions from the hallway encounter with Tyler crash over you. It’s almost overwhelming, but you shake your head, determined to focus on the immediate task. You kick off your heels and reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it slide down as the gown falls in a pool around your feet. You step out of it, scooping it up to drape over the chair, and head to your bag, ready to change and leave before you can overthink it.

Digging through your clothes, you pull out the first shirt, but frustration prickles at you when you realize it’s one of Tyler’s. With an annoyed huff, you toss it on the bed. You dig deeper, pulling out another… his again. Why didn’t I pack more of my own clothes? you think bitterly, remembering that his shirts have been your usual comfort, your routine.

Finally, you find one of your own t-shirts and pull it on, then slide into a pair of jeans. You run a hand over your face, taking a deep breath to keep yourself from falling apart, and open your suitcase, methodically folding the rest of your things and stowing them away. As you pack, a plan begins to form, each step sounding clearer in your mind. You’ll finish packing, get a car downstairs to a nearby hotel for the night, and fly back tomorrow. It might be an awkward plane ride home, but you’ll put in headphones, turn away, and then… you’ll walk away from Tyler James Owens for good.

With your bag nearly ready, you look around the room one last time, eyes falling on the small pile of his things on the bed. His shirts, the ones you’ve wrapped yourself in so many times, now just reminders of all the blurred lines that never became anything real. You turn away, inhaling deeply to steady yourself, willing the resolve to carry you through whatever comes next.

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, ready to walk out of Tyler’s life for good, when the hotel room door opens behind you. Your heart races, and for a second you want to pretend you don’t notice him there, but when you turn, his expression says he’s already figured out exactly what’s happening. His eyes drop to the half-packed suitcase, then back to your face. His look of confusion shifts into something desperate.

“Please,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, almost raw. “Please, stay. We can talk about this. Just… don’t leave. Not like this.”

You shake your head, fighting the tears that are already building again. “Tyler, I’m done,” you say, your voice trembling. “You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You keep me close enough to feel like there’s something between us, but it’s never anything more. It’s just not fair anymore.”

You curse under your breath, blinking hard as the tears spill over. You don’t want him to see you like this—vulnerable, broken, hurt. Swallowing back a sob, you start to walk past him, head held high even as you feel yourself shattering. Just as your hand reaches for the door, he says it. Those three words you’ve been waiting for, holding onto, for what feels like forever.

“I love you.”

It stops you cold, and you stand there, hand frozen on the doorknob, not sure if you actually heard him or if it’s just some desperate wish in your mind. But then he speaks again.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steady, almost pleading. “And if you love me—if you can still love me—then I’m asking you to stay and just… hear me out. But if you’re done with me, really done, and I’ve already lost you… then go.”

The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, and there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. Vulnerability, sincerity, something real and unguarded. He’s finally opened himself up, given you the one thing you’ve been longing to hear, but the choice to stay or leave is yours.

Your chest tightens as you search his face, feeling the weight of all the years, the almosts, the near-misses, the longing. He stands there, his hands clenched at his sides, waiting, as if he’s holding his breath.

“You… really love me?” you whisper, the words barely audible.

“Yes,” he breathes, stepping toward you, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I just… didn’t know how to show it, and I was afraid if I did, you’d walk away. But losing you… that’s the one thing I’m really afraid of.”

You take a shaky breath, looking into his eyes, feeling every bit of his honesty, and for the first time, he’s offering you everything, without conditions, without holding back. The pain and hurt are still there, but as he waits, the tears in his own eyes now, you feel something else rising to the surface—a glimmer of hope.

The words are out before you can stop them.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Tyler steps forward, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand the storm inside you. He reaches up, hesitantly at first, as though unsure if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, his hands gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His thumbs swipe at the tears still streaking down your cheeks, wiping them away as if he can erase all the pain he’s caused with one simple gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For not telling you sooner, for not making a move sooner… for making you feel like you don’t matter. For making you cry. You deserve so much more than that.”

You’re frozen, his words sinking deep into the cracks of your heart that you didn’t even know were there. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a silent apology that speaks louder than anything else could.

He takes a deep breath, his voice low but sincere. “I know I’ve messed up, but I’m asking… can you give me another chance? To do it right this time? To take you on a real date, to buy you flowers, to tell the world that you’re mine… to be proud to have you by my side. I want to do this right, with you. Will you give me one more chance?”

The weight of his words hangs between you, and you feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crack. He’s standing there, fully exposed, offering you everything he’s held back for so long. The room feels smaller, the air thicker as you look into his eyes, where you see nothing but vulnerability and hope.

You swallow hard, emotions warring inside you. You’ve wanted this—wanted him—to say it, to fight for you. And now that he is, you’re not sure whether to run or to stay. But as you stand there, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, something shifts. The hurt, the confusion, the loneliness—it all starts to unravel, replaced by a flicker of something new: hope.

You take a breath, your voice barely more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to hear. “Last chance, Owens.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but it’s softer, more relieved than triumphant. He doesn’t say anything else for a moment. Instead, he just pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug that’s full of promise, the kind that says he’s never letting you go. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe him.

You stand there, still in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. The tension that had built up over the last few days—hell, the last few years—seems to fade away in that moment. Tyler’s hands are warm on your back, his arms strong around you as if he’s holding on, not just to you, but to everything that was between you two. His breath is steady, the pulse in his chest calming yours. He doesn’t let go, not yet. You don’t want him to.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. There’s no need to. Words were said, the hurt was aired out, and now, the only thing left is the silence between you—a silence that feels like the promise of something better, something real.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze soft, full of regret and hope. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his voice steady but raw. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

You nod, feeling something inside you shift, finally able to let go of the heaviness that had been pulling at you for far too long. You offer him a small smile, your fingers brushing his lightly as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Hey…” His voice is quieter now, almost like he's considering his next words carefully. "How about we skip the rest of the party downstairs? We can grab some pizza, put on a movie, just... relax in here."

You glance at him, surprised by the suggestion, but something about the simplicity of it feels perfect. You nod, the corners of your mouth lifting into a genuine smile. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Tyler’s eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. “Good. Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll order the pizza. Whatever you want.”

You feel a sudden sense of relief wash over you. It’s not just the break from the chaos of the night, but the quiet, intimate comfort of knowing that it’s just the two of you, no expectations, no pressure.

Tyler watches you for a moment, his smile softening as he watches you dig through your suitcase for something comfortable. You pull out a pair of sweatpants, replacing your jeans, and as you move to crawl onto the bed, he’s already a step ahead of you.

Before you can sit down, he reaches for the bottom of your t-shirt, pulling it up over your head. You freeze, giving him a confused look, about to protest. "Tyler, I’m really not in the mood—"

He cuts you off with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Not like that," he says, his voice teasing but warm. "Trust me, I’m not asking for anything like that."

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but Tyler doesn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. Instead, he reaches down into your suitcase and pulls out one of the t-shirts you had tossed aside earlier—one of his shirts. He holds it out to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Here,” he says, “put this one on instead.”

You take the shirt from him, still a little baffled. “What’s wrong with my other shirt?”

Tyler grins, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He steps closer, leaning down slightly as if he’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Because it’s not your boyfriend’s,” he says, his voice low and almost teasing. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you wear my shirt to bed.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. It’s the little things like this—the small gestures, the inside jokes, the way he’s already making you feel like you belong—that make the tension from earlier seem a little less heavy.

You slip the shirt on, and Tyler's eyes soften when he sees you in it, the way it fits just right, the way it looks like it belongs on you. You glance up at him as you finish adjusting it, your voice quieter now, full of warmth. “This better for you, boyfriend?”

"Yes." He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "I think you look pretty damn perfect in it."

You laugh softly, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened earlier melts away, leaving you with nothing but the quiet comfort of his presence. You sit down on the bed, pulling the blankets up and patting the spot beside you. "So, pizza and movies?"

Tyler nods, settling in beside you, having traded his tuxedo for sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hand finds its way to yours as he lets out a contented sigh. "Sounds like the perfect way to spend the night."

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things are exactly where they need to be.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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wingedhallows · 3 months ago

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— THE PAST SHOULD STAY THE PAST —

CHAPTER FOUR

— ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING vi!basketball jockey x reader!ballerina ; 3.3k words — ₊˚⊹♡ SYNOPSIS There was something there—something unspoken, something undeniable. But in one careless moment, it all fell apart. Words were said, pride got in the way, and now she’s left with nothing but regret. She wants to fix it. She has to. Now, Vi is determined to fix what she broke. She’ll do anything—everything—to prove she didn’t mean it. But pride is a stubborn thing, and second chances don’t come easy. Can she turn the tide before it’s too late? Or has she already lost what she never had the courage to claim? — ₊˚⊹♡ AUTHORS NOTE hey babes! i totally forgot to post this so here you go, love u

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The door creaks open, breaking the cozy silence of your dorm. Margot’s voice follows a second later, lazy and curious. “Okay, what’s up with you?”

She strolls in, clearly way later than she promised—probably off with Ellie again, but you don’t even care.

You’re perched on your bed, legs curled up beneath you, cheeks flushed pink and practically glowing under the warm lamplight. Phone clutched to your chest like a secret.

Margot pauses mid-step, her brows lifting as she takes you in. “Why do you look like you just got proposed to?”

You don’t answer right away, just let out a little breathless giggle as your heart does another wild somersault.

She tosses her bag onto her desk chair, clearly sensing something's up. But before she can press, you burst—literally squeak, “She kissed me!”

Margot yelps at the sudden outburst, hands flying up like you just threw something at her. “Jesus! Warn me next time!”

You’re already off the bed, springing forward to grab her arms with both hands, practically bouncing.

“Who kissed you?” she demands, eyes wide, head tilted, trying not to smile too hard.

“Vi! Violet Lane fucking kissed me!” you squeal, and it’s like the words are helium—they lift you right off your feet.

Margot just stares for a second, blinking. Then she lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “Vi kissed you?”

You nod so hard your hair bounces, a dreamy sigh escaping your lips as you fall back onto the bed like a heroine in a romance movie. “She was so gentle... and her hands were like—ugh—and Christ, the way she kissed me…” You trail off, absolutely dazed.

Margot presses a hand to her mouth, doing her best not to laugh, but failing spectacularly. It’s not mockery—it’s fond, the kind of amusement only best friends get away with.

“I cannot believe Violet Lane kissed you,” she says, voice full of wonder and something teasing beneath it. “You’ve been mooning over her for months. And now look at you. Tragic no more.”

You just grin, wide and blissful. “I think I’m in actual love.”

And for once, Margot doesn’t make a joke. She just smiles. Because maybe—you are.

Vi is losing her damn mind.

Out on the porch, hunched over on the top step, a cigarette burns between her fingers—half smoked, forgotten.

She doesn't even like cigarettes. Hates the taste, hates the smell. But right now, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.

Her knee bounces restlessly. Her fingers twitch.

The night air is cool against her overheated skin, but it’s not enough to ground her. Her mind is a relentless reel of you—your voice in her ears, the look in your eyes, the way your lips felt on hers.

God.

She swears her boxers are still soaked just from that kiss. It wasn’t even dirty—it was barely anything—and yet it hit her like a punch to the chest. Like a car crash in slow motion.

The screen door creaks open behind her, and then Abby drops down onto the step beside her with all the grace of a bowling ball.

She’s got a beer in one hand and, without even asking, plucks a cigarette from Vi’s pack with the other.

“Damn. You sick or something?” she mutters around the filter as she lights it, one brow arched as she eyes Vi sideways.

Vi doesn’t look at her. Her gaze is fixed out at the street, on nothing in particular—just trying to get her head to stop spinning.

“I kissed her,” she says, quiet.

Abby pauses mid-light. She stares at Vi, then lets out a long, low whistle as the lighter flicks out.

“No fucking way,” she says, loud enough Vi’s sure the whole neighborhood just heard.

“You kissed her? Vi, holy shit! Finally!”

Vi flinches like the words physically hit her, dragging a hand down her face with a groan. “Jesus, keep your voice down.”

Abby ignores that completely, her grin stretching wide across her face like a damn cartoon villain.

“How was it? How’s she taste?” she says, nudging Vi’s arm like they're in a locker room talking stats.

Vi shoots her a look like she’s just chugged bong water.

“You dog,” she mutters, face twisted in mock disgust.

Abby just howls with laughter, clapping her on the back like she just won the championship. “Nah, don’t give me that. You’ve been walking around all broody and lovesick for months. I’m just proud of you, dude.”

Vi shakes her head, finally letting a laugh slip through. It’s hoarse, like it caught in her throat on the way out.

“I don’t even know what happened,” she admits, staring at the glowing end of her cigarette. “One second we were just talking, and then... I kissed her. And she kissed me back.”

There’s a beat of quiet. The kind of quiet that feels heavy with something unsaid.

“You’re fucked,” Abby says, but there’s no judgment in it—just honesty, plain and simple.

Vi exhales smoke like a confession. “Yeah,” she says. “I really am.”

“This is the first time you’ve actually been excited for a party,” Margot teases, laughter in her voice as she tugs you up the long driveway.

Her grip is tight on your wrist, boots crunching over gravel, while Flint strolls just a few steps behind—hands in his pockets, looking like nothing ever rattles him.

You flash Margot a grin so wide it almost hurts. “Because Vi’ll be here,” you say, practically glowing at just the thought.

The house is already pulsing with bass and bodies by the time you step onto the porch.

The scent of beer, sweat, cheap cologne, and something undeniably close to weed hits your nose all at once, thick and dizzying in the warm night air.

Margot elbows her way through the crowd like a seasoned pro, dragging you along behind her while Flint follows, grinning at the chaos.

But your eyes are already scanning the crush of people inside—past the tangled limbs, solo cups, and multicolored lights. Searching. Hoping. And then—

You see her.

Vi.

Pink hair half-up, cheeks flushed, smile wide and reckless as she pushes through the crowd like she owns the place.

And maybe she does—the way people part for her, the way her gaze lands right on you like it’s the only thing she’s been looking for all night.

Your heart goes off, a deep, pounding thunder that rattles your ribs.

And then she’s in front of you, grabbing your hand without a word, tugging you gently—no, claiming you right out of Margot’s grasp.

“Hey, pretty,” she murmurs, voice low and warm as she leans in close. Her breath ghosts over your ear, and then—quick as a heartbeat—she presses a kiss to your cheek.

She’s definitely drunk. You can taste it on the air between you—beer and something sweet, maybe cinnamon gum—but she’s steady enough, her grip sure as she leads you through the crowd like she’s bringing you home.

You follow without hesitation, cheeks hot and grinning so hard your face might crack.

Vi sinks into the couch with a sigh, all loose limbs and tipsy confidence, dragging you down beside her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her arm drapes lazily behind you—not quite around you, but close enough that her fingers brush your shoulder, testing the waters.

You’re hyper-aware of her warmth, the way her thigh presses against yours, the soft scent of sweat and beer and something undeniably Vi clinging to her skin.

“You look really...” she trails off, eyes squinting like she’s trying to land the right word. “Like... woah.”

You laugh, tipping your head toward her. “That’s not a word.”

“It is now,” she insists, grinning crookedly. “You’re... woah.”

Before you can say anything back, Abby throws herself down onto the couch next to Flint, legs sprawled, drink sloshing slightly in her cup.

“Ohhh no,” she says, eyes locked on Vi with a devilish smirk. “She’s officially in the heart-eyes stage.”

“Hey, shut up,” Vi mutters, though she doesn’t exactly deny it.

Ellie plops dramatically into Margot’s lap on the armchair across from you, sing-songing, “Vi’s got a crush, Vi’s got a crush—”

“I will tackle you,” Vi warns, but she’s still smiling, cheeks a little pink as she turns her attention back to you. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Oh, I’m listening,” you say, smiling into your cup.

Margot shakes her head fondly, fingers playing with Ellie’s hoodie strings. “I’ve never seen her this soft. It’s almost scary.”

“You shut up too,” Vi says, nudging your knee with hers. “Y’all act like I’m proposing or something.”

Ellie gasps with mock excitement. “Is this a public confession? Should we clear the room?”

“Ellie.” Vi gives her the most tired look she can manage, though her mouth is twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. She leans in a little closer to you, quieter now.

“You wanna get outta here for a sec? Just—air. Less noise. Fewer idiots.”

“Rude,” Abby says, raising her cup in mock offense.

But you’re already nodding, heart thudding as Vi stands and offers you her hand.

You take it.

The couch groans as you rise, the laughter fading behind you, and Vi tugs you gently toward the sliding door—just the two of you again, leaving the teasing and chaos behind.

The sliding door clicks shut behind you, muffling the party into a low, distant hum.

Out here, the air is cooler—crisp against your skin, thick with the scent of night and grass and cheap beer spilled on the porch.

Vi doesn’t say anything at first. She just walks a few steps into the yard, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket, head tilted up like she’s looking for answers in the sky. Her breath fogs faintly in the air.

You follow, arms crossed for warmth, heart drumming way too fast for how slow everything feels.

Finally, Vi turns, and there’s something different in her eyes now. Not the usual confidence. Not even her drunk, cocky grin. Just this soft, raw honesty that makes your chest go tight.

“I, uh...” she starts, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t usually do this. Like, the whole... feelings thing.”

You smile gently. “Yeah, I got that vibe.”

She huffs out a laugh, ducking her head, her cheeks flushed and not just from the beer.

“But I kissed you. And I keep thinking about it, and now you’re here and I’m just—fuck, I’m nervous.”

You blink. “You’re nervous?”

Vi nods, biting her bottom lip. “I know I’m not... the best at showing stuff. Or saying the right thing. But when I’m around you, I—I feel like maybe I don’t have to fake it, y’know?”

You step closer, heart fluttering. “I like you, Vi.”

The words come out small but clear. You’re not even sure when you decided to say them. Maybe the moment she looked at you like you hung the stars. Maybe long before that.

Vi looks at you like she’s waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her. But then she smiles—slow and crooked and so her. “I like you too. A lot. And it’s kinda terrifying.”

You both laugh, a little breathless.

There's a pause, charged and uncertain. Then Vi steps forward, close enough that her jacket brushes your arm. Her hand hovers near yours, fingers twitching—like she wants to touch you but doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Can I—?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod. “Please.”

And then she kisses you.

It’s hesitant, soft at first—like she’s scared of getting it wrong. Her lips are warm and slightly chapped, and her hand comes up to cradle your jaw, just barely trembling. You lean into it, into her, the rest of the world fading away with the thud of your heartbeat in your ears.

It’s not perfect. Your noses bump, and you both giggle mid-kiss, but it just makes it better—realer. Her forehead rests against yours when you break apart, both of you slightly dazed and smiling like idiots.

“Okay,” she murmurs, breathless. “So... that was really nice.”

“Yeah,” you whisper back, your fingers still laced with hers. “It was.”

Neither of you say anything for a while. Just standing there in the quiet, swaying slightly, like the world slowed down just for this.

“Should we go back in?” you ask, finally.

Vi shrugs. “Eventually.”

You rest your head on her shoulder, and she wraps an arm around your waist without hesitation.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” she says softly, and this time, there’s no teasing in it. Just truth.

“So am I.”

Eventually, you murmur something about needing the bathroom and give Vi’s hand a quick squeeze before slipping back inside the house. She watches you go with this dazed little smile, like she still can’t believe you’re real.

The sliding door clicks shut again, and the quiet wraps around Vi like a blanket. For a moment, she just stands there—head tipped back, grinning like a complete fool.

That is, until she hears the sharp clack of heels behind her.

“Cute,” a voice cuts in, sugar-laced with venom. “Didn’t know you had a thing for ballet slippers now.”

Vi tenses before she turns. Caitlyn.

Hair glossy, ponytail too perfect to be real, wearing that smug little smirk like it’s part of her uniform. Cheer captain to a fault—and her ex, whether she liked it or not.

Vi’s jaw tightens. “What do you want, Cait?”

Caitlyn crosses her arms, manicured nails tapping against her elbow. “Just came to see if the rumors were true. You and her?”

Vi shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah. Me and her.”

Caitlyn raises a brow. “You seriously downgraded.”

Vi’s laugh is dry, humorless. “Nah. I upgraded. You just never liked the idea of not being the center of everything.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flash. “You didn’t mind when you were wrapped around my finger.”

Vi steps forward, close enough that her shadow cuts across Caitlyn’s flawless makeup. “You’re confusing me with someone who still gives a damn.”

For a moment, neither of them speak. The tension between them crackles like static.

Then Caitlyn’s voice softens, low and too sweet. “We could try again. You and me. It doesn’t have to be like before.”

Vi snorts. “Yeah, it doesn’t. Because I’ve moved on.”

“With her? Come on, Vi. She’s a dancer. What’s she gonna do, pirouette her way through life? She doesn’t get your world.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Vi snaps. “She doesn’t try to change me. Doesn’t act like loving me’s a project.”

Caitlyn flinches—just barely. Then she scoffs, turning on her heel. “You’ll come crawling back. You always do.”

You’re just about to step back outside when you pause by the glass door, hand brushing the handle.

Out on the porch, Vi is still standing where you left her—shoulders tense, jaw set. And across from her, like some ghost dragged out of the past, stands Caitlyn Kiramman.

Of course it’s her.

That smug little tilt to her chin, the flawless ponytail, the cheer captain uniform like armor—perfect as always, cruel as ever. You’ve seen her before. Around school. On Vi’s arm, once upon a time. You know exactly who she is. And what she used to be to Vi.

You shouldn’t eavesdrop.

But you can’t move.

You watch as Caitlyn leans in, way too close. Her voice is low and smug, like she knows she's winning some twisted game. And then—she turns her head just slightly and looks directly at you.

Dead in the eyes. As if she knew you were there the whole time.

And she kisses Vi.

Your breath catches—sharp and sudden. Like someone just slammed a door in your chest.

The world goes quiet. Not soft, gentle quiet—hollow quiet. Like all the sound was sucked out of the room. Like you’re watching a movie underwater, slow and detached and unreal.

You want to look away. You should look away.

But you’re frozen. Nails digging into your palms, stomach dropping like you just missed a step on a staircase. And your heart—it doesn’t just break. It fractures. Splinters. Like pointe shoes shattering on concrete.

Because you know Caitlyn. You know exactly what she’s doing.

And worst of all—you know Vi used to let her.

You don’t wait to see what happens next. Can’t.

You turn away, walking fast, barely able to breathe. Your vision blurs around the edges, but you don’t stop, not even when your chest starts to ache or your legs feel like they’re made of smoke. You just keep going.

Behind you, through the glass, Vi jolts back like she’s been slapped.

“Caitlyn, what the hell?!” she barks, shoving her away hard enough that Caitlyn stumbles.

Cait just smirks, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve. “Oh, calm down. It’s not like she didn’t already know.”

Vi’s eyes flick toward the door—just in time to catch the flutter of your dress, the faint blur of you vanishing into the house. Her stomach sinks so fast it makes her dizzy.

“Shit,” she breathes, too late.

Caitlyn’s smirk widens. “Told you,” she says, sing-song. “You’ll never outrun what we had.”

But Vi’s not listening anymore.

She’s already moving—ripping open the door, storming back into the house.

Looking for you.

Praying she didn’t just lose you before anything even had the chance to begin.

The music inside hits like a wave the second you slip through the sliding door—a bass-thumping, light-blurring wall of noise. But you don’t stop.

You push through the crowd, blinking hard, breath caught in your throat like a sob that doesn’t know where to go.

You barely register the tangled mess of bodies around you—people laughing, dancing, red Solo cups in the air. It all feels distant, muted. Like you’re not really in your body. Like you’re performing a role: heartbroken girl storms through party, exits stage left.

“Hey—whoa, whoa—” a voice cuts through the haze as someone catches your wrist.

It’s Margot, eyes wide, wearing a glittery crop top and concern.

Flint’s right behind her, already stepping between you and a guy holding a beer like he might’ve bumped into you. “Back off, man.”

“Jesus,” Margot says, tugging you gently aside, “what happened? You look like you just saw someone die.”

You try to speak but your throat is tight, jaw clenched. Your hands are shaking.

“Was it her?” Flint asks, already scowling.

You just nod.

Margot’s expression shifts instantly—fierce. Protective. “Where is she?”

You shake your head. “Don’t. I don’t wanna—just... I need to get out of here.”

Flint glances toward the door. “She’s gonna come after you.”

Margot looks at you like she’s ready to throw hands. “Let her try.”

Outside, Vi’s halfway through the door when she sees you disappear into the crowd—your back turned, the pale pink ribbon in your hair fluttering like a trail she can’t quite catch.

“Wait!” she calls out, voice breaking across the music.

She doesn’t care about the people she shoves past, doesn’t care about the way her name gets called out, confused and curious—“Vi? Yo, Vi, what’s going on?”

She doesn’t even notice Abby and Ellie until they grab her arm.

“Vi, what the hell?” Abby says, trying to hold her back. “What’s going on with you?”

“Cait kissed me.” Vi chokes out, eyes frantically searching the crowd.

“You kissed Caitlyn?” Ellie adds, somewhere between judgmental and genuinely baffled. “Why would you—?”

“I didn’t kiss her!” Vi snaps, practically shaking them off. “She kissed me, okay? And she did it on purpose. She knew she was watching—”

She’s breathing hard now, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Abby tries to calm her. “Vi, seriously, slow down. You’re scaring people.”

“I don’t care!” Vi shouts, already pulling away. “I have to find her. I have to fix this.”

And then she’s gone—shouldering her way through the crowd again, scanning every face like she’s trying to spot a dream that’s slipping too fast between her fingers.

Vi bursts through the front door, out into the chill of the night.

The porch lights burn bright behind her, casting long, lonely shadows across the lawn. The party is still thumping behind closed doors, the muffled bass a cruel reminder that the world keeps spinning even when yours just cracked open.

Her boots thud against the grass as she jogs forward, eyes scanning, heart thrashing.

“Where is she—” she whispers to herself, frantic. “Come on... please, please be out here...”

But the yard is empty.

The street’s quiet. Just a few parked cars, the soft hum of a distant engine. No fluttering ribbon. No soft footsteps. No you.

Vi stops in the middle of the lawn, turning in a slow circle, like maybe she missed something. Like maybe you’re just behind a bush, or sitting on the curb, or—

But you're not.

You're gone.

Her knees give out before she can even think about it, sinking into the damp grass with a dull thud. She drops her head into her hands, breathing hard like she just ran a marathon, like the air isn’t enough.

“Shit,” she whispers, voice cracking.

Then again, louder. More broken.

“Shit—”

Because she saw it. That split second through the glass—your silhouette at the door, your face right before you turned away. The way you froze, and then left without a word.

And she knows what it looked like.

She can feel what it must have felt like—for you.

The way Caitlyn turned and saw you before leaning in. That calculated move. That kiss meant to destroy.

And maybe she didn’t kiss Caitlyn back. Maybe she stood there stunned and horrified, shoved her away the second it happened—but you don’t know that. You didn’t see that part.

You saw her lips on Vi’s.

And that was enough to shatter everything.

Vi grips her jacket tight, knuckles white, like holding herself together physically might stop the emotional freefall. Her chest aches in this raw, pulsing way—because you’re soft and careful and brave in this quiet, delicate way. And you trusted her. You kissed her like you meant it. You chose her.

And now?

Now you probably think she chose Caitlyn.

You probably think she let it happen.

You probably think she’s just like before—the Vi who didn’t know how to be good for someone. The Vi who always ruined the things that mattered.

“I messed it up,” she says to no one. “I fucking messed it up.”

The night doesn’t answer.

Only the wind, brushing past the trees. Carrying your absence like it’s a weight Vi will never stop feeling.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TAGLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚

( @foralltheprettygirls ; @sawaagyapong ; @jivimatcha ; @majuia ; @uhmidkmuch ; @savedforlaterr ; @baylegend6 ; @elle-girlylesbian @dazevi @paymeinkash , @jupitism , @lostsouls-mxli ; @xseraphine ; @tdawg2012 ; @norwayromanoff ; @caffeine-pup ; @tuliptu ; @killuomi ; @lin-elizabeth ; @sillyloafff ; @hitmehardmommy ; @cloudy-fay ; @powpowjinxlife ; @antobooh ; @horde9 ; @mikellie @caitvisthird44 ; @halle5s ; @strawb4kdior ; @daughterofthemoons-stuff ; @paankhaleyaaar )

#vi arcane #vi x reader #vi fanfic #vi league of legends #vi x you #arcane #violet arcane #vi fluff #vi angst #arcane vi x reader #vi au #vi lol #arcane vi #arcane au

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dreamescapeswriting · 1 year ago

Text

Stray Kids Reaction || He Throws His Wedding Ring [Hyung Line] [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, sex trafficking (not involving the reader) murder and fighting.

CHAN:

You couldn't even remember how the argument had and now you and Chan were standing in his living room staring at one another. Your breathing was rapid as you fought back the tears that were threatening to spill.

"Chan, I can't do this anymore. This life, the constant worrying and danger...Secrets...Not knowing if you're going to come home or not." You were exhausted from fighting with him, it had been going on for hours now and it felt as though he was never going to see your point of view behind this.

"This is who I am, Yn. You knew that when we got married, I can't just walk away from this."

"I didn't sign up for a life where I'm constantly worried if you'll come home alive! Or worried that someone will grab me!" You sniffled a little tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I want a normal life, a family without the fear of losing you every fucking day!" You finally yelled out but Chan scoffed at you like you were a child talking back to him.

"Normal? You think we can just walk away from this and be a normal couple?" He stared you down and shook his head at you,

"It's not that simple. I have responsibilities, they won't just let us go." He grumbled at you, pouring himself a drink from the mini bar in the living room as you stared at the back of his head.

"Responsibilities?! Chan, you have a responsibility to me, you know...your wife! I won't be a widow before I'm at least 80!" You yelled at him finally losing your last bit of patience.

"You'll always put this life above me...Won't you?" You questioned, waiting for him to tell you that was crazy and that he loved you more than that,

"You knew when you married me that this was our life. Don't go trying to change the rules now." He downed the glass in one and you stared at him, the tears finally stopping as you felt nothing but anger for him now.

"Then maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I never should have married a man who thinks throwing his life away is honourable," The words flew from your lips before you had a chance to process them and the air turned thick and silent. You swore you could hear the faucet in the kitchen dripping, that's how quiet it was in the home now.

Chan silently twisted the ring around his finger before slipping it off and hurling it across the room, the ring clattered against the wall and onto the floor,

"There, happy now?! Is that what you wanted?!" He screamed at you, and your eyes searched him for any sign of your once-happy husband, the one you wanted to spend your life with.

"No, Chan. I wanted a husband, not some mafia boss..." You slowly slid the ring off your own finger and placed it down onto the coffee table,

"I can't sit here night after night waiting for that phone call to tell me you're not coming home." You wiped the tears from your face and walked toward the front door, Chan didn't stop you he just stared down at the wedding ring on the floor, the weight of his choices crushing him down onto the floor.

It had been two days since the huge blowout with Chan and you'd been hiding out in one of your friend's places for those two days, no phone or tracker for Chan to find you with which was why it was surprising to find him waiting for you at the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"Kat called," You scoffed a little, she'd been threatening to do it but you never thought she would. Whatever happened to the girl code?

"I'm not interested in fighting anymore. If you send divorce papers I'll sign, I don't want anything." You explained as you moved around him, unlocking the front door to head inside. You'd been apart and it killed you but anything was better than worrying every day about whether he was alive or not.

"Yn." He called out but you shook your head at him,

"You can keep everything,"

"I have nothing." The words stopped you in your tracks as you slowly turned to face him,

"What?"

"I walked away. Not without consequences but I did." It was then you noticed the sling around his arm, within seconds you were by his arm and inspecting it.

"It's just a minor break," He whispered as you stared up at him,.

"You walked away?" You whispered in shock, staring down at the ring that was back on his finger.

"Given the choice between that life and the love of my life? I needed to." He held out your wedding ring and you stared into his eyes, the mafia life was everything to him,

"But-"

"I'll still work for them but mostly low-level stuff...You're looking at a desk boy." He said proudly to you, it hurt his ego but he'd rather be chained to a desk than risk losing you. You slipped your ring back on before throwing your arms around Chan and hugging him tightly.

MINHO:

The living room was thick with tension as you paced back and forth in front of Minho who lounged on the sofa with a sombre look on his face but it only made you more frustrated to look at him.

"You promised me," You seethed out, shaking your head at him.

"You promised me that you were done with this...Done with all of the killing." You gestured to his shirt which was drenched in blood and then looked at his face. Streaks of blood and skin were dripping down his face as you felt the bile in your throat beginning to come up again. He'd walked through the door all nonchalant thinking you weren't home today only to find you waiting for him,

"I did what needed to be done, Yn!" He didn't yell or scream he just sighed at you. He thought he might have been able to get away with it if he could get home before you and shower before you had a chance to see him.

Sure he would have been lying to you but anything was better than getting into a fight with you over the same thing you always thought over.

"You told me things were going to change once I got pregnant," Your sight began to blur from the tears that were building up,

"You said you wanted our child to have a father but look at you!" You gestured once again to the state of him,

"If our child sees this what are they going to think!?" You yelled and threw your hands up in frustration. All of this was supposed to stop once you got pregnant, he promised he'd take a step back and leave the dirty work to his minions.

"You think it's easy for me?!" He finally screamed, getting up from the sofa and staring you down.

"Do you actually think I enjoy living like this?! Killing people?! Sometimes there is no other choice!" He yelled at you, your eyes unblinking as you stared at him.

"There's always a choice! You could have found another way." You grumbled at him, you were sick of this fight. Every time it was the same, he'd promise to stop killing only to pick it back up a few days later.

"I won't raise our child in his environment, Minho. I won't let him grow up to think it's normal to kill people in order to get what he wants."

"Yn. It wasn't to get what I wanted."

"No? Then what was it? He looked at you wrong? Flirted with me?" You listed off all the excuses he'd given to you before and Minho finally snapped, pulling off his ring and throwing it across the room. It skittered across the floor coming to a stop at your feet.

"Whatever. You want something so normal, go on and try it." With that he walked out, slamming the door behind him as you stared down at the wedding band on the floor. Something that had once been a symbol of your commitment to one another now meant nothing as it sat there.

"Changbin told me everything." You told Minho as you sat in the hospital waiting room together. It was deserted since Minho would never let anyone be alone with you,

"Hmm." He answered blandly, staring down at the floor. It had been a week since your fight and despite living in the same house you'd barely spoken a word to one another.

"Why didn't you tell me he was a sex trafficker."

"Would it have made a difference?" He slowly turned his head to look at you, your eyes were already staring into his as you nodded at him,

"Yes."

"I only kill who I have to. It's not something I do for fun." He admitted, his voice shaking a little. It wasn't as though it didn't affect him, he was taking another person's life which twisted him up in a way.

"I try and limit what I have to do myself but sometimes I have to do it." He told you with tears running down his cheeks, you nodded a little before kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours.

"I understand,"

"I won't bring work home with me...Please, just don't leave." He begged, Minho wasn't the type to beg anybody for anything and you nodded.

"Wouldn't dream of it," You whispered before kissing him once more.

CHANGBIN:

You stared at Changbin from across the table with an unimpressed look on your face, Changbin had sweat dripping down his forehead as he glanced down at his phone for the time again.

"This was supposed to be our night," You were pissed at him, you wanted to yell at him for standing you up but you were in such an upscale restaurant you couldn't even do that.

"A simple dinner date and you couldn't even make it on time." You mumbled at him,

"I got held up. Business came up." Changbin answered as if it made the whole thing better

"Business always comes up. I'm tired of being second best to your business." As you spoke Changbin took out his phone clearly not listening to you as he began texting with someone, probably one of his men if you knew him well enough by now.

"It's not like I enjoy this but it's the life I have." He shrugged his shoulders as you stared at him, his head still in his phone, he didn't even see the tears rolling down your cheeks in a silent cry.

It seemed that was all you ever did lately when it came to your relationship, you'd be left crying while he pretended he didn't notice or maybe he didn't even notice, you didn't know anymore.

"We're drifting apart, Binnie. You're never here and I need more." Your voice broke as you spoke to him, your frustration getting the better of you.

"I knew who you were when we got married but I didn't sign up to be stood up, or for anniversaries and birthdays to be missed." You'd finally broken, he'd missed so much of married life you weren't even sure you could count each other as a married couple.

"I want a life with you, not one where I'm always waiting for you to show up and magically decide I'm worthy that day." Changbin stared down at the ring on his finger before he twisted it, throwing it onto the table and gaining attention from nearby diners.

"Maybe you're right. I can't give you what you need." Was all he said before storming off, leaving you to stare down at the ring on the table as people around you muttered about what had happened.

"You know this is getting a little exhausting," Changbin told you as he followed you from the car to the house just like he had been doing every day since the night he'd given you his wedding ring back.

"I want a divorce." You told him plainly as you headed into the house you once had called home and he followed swiftly.

"You know you can't walk away. I've been trying, Yn."

"I'm not interested in you trying anymore Changbin, I'm tired of never being put first..." Your voice trailed to a stop as you walked into the living room, there must have been thousands of your favourite flowers around the living room in vases and different arrangements.

"A thousand and one flowers...To make up for the dates I missed." He explained once he saw you trying to work out how many there were.

"W-What?" You stuttered a little walking toward them and running your hands on them to make sure that they were real.

"I missed too many to count so a thousand and one seemed fitting." He shrugged his shoulders and you turned around to stare at him.

"You didn't miss anywhere near a thousand." You laughed weakly and he stood in front of you, running his hand gently over your cheek as he stared down into your eyes,

"I won't miss a single one again...If you'll take me back." You wanted to, more than anything but it was going to take a lot more than flowers to make up for all of the time you'd lost together.

"It's going to take more than some-"

"I know." He told you with a smirk on his lips,

"And you're going to have to show me change." He planned on it, he had a plan in place for everything he was going to do.

"I know."

"And I- I wanted to go out regularly, once a week." You told him, right now Changbin would have given you whatever you wanted and one date a week sounded too easy on him in his eyes,

"Okay." He smiled at you,

"Okay?" You frowned as he smirked down at you.

"Yes, okay. Now will you let me kiss you?" You went to speak but it was quickly stopped as Changbin kissed you deeply.

HYUNJIN:

You couldn't believe it was coming down to this, you stared at your husband as he stared back at you with a scowl on his face clearly unamused by what was happening but you were tired of all of this. Tired and hurt about second guessing where you fell in Hyunjin's life.

"I need to know..." Your voice came out shakey as you stared at him,

"Do you even love me anymore?" You finished before he scoffed at you, downing the glass of whiskey he'd been nursing and shaking his head at you.

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I do." It wasn't a silly question, it was something you'd been agonising over for weeks now, months even.

"Your actions say otherwise." You scoffed, staring at him as he poured himself another glass and began to slowly nurse it as you stared at him.

"You're always so caught up in your business and I'm always here wondering if I even matter to you."

"This is the life of a mafia wife Yn. You knew that when you married me." You did, which was a fair point but he'd shown you that while it was a lot of waiting for him it was supposed to be a lavish lifestyle the two of you could share. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd gone out together that wasn't an obligation to the both of you.

"I didn't sign up to be a in loveless marriage! You promised me it would be in sickness and in health, for better or worse." He drank from his glass before pouring a third one for the night, usually two were his cut off so you knew you were getting under his skin a little and if that's what it took for him to see your point then you didn't care.

"I need more than lavish gifts from you every now and again and empty promises that we'll do something eventually."

"I take you out." He defended angrily but you didn't back down. There hadn't been a real date since you got married to one another, everything else was parties you had to be seen at or charity events you couldn't miss.

"To your stupid parties where your presence is required. You never take me somewhere we want to go."

"You don't think I provide for you!? Is that it?!" He finally yelled, losing his patience with you. Hyunjin adored you, practically worshipped the ground you walked on and for you to suggest otherwise was a knife to his chest,

"No-"

"I work like a dog, day and night and I give you everything you could ever possibly need in life!" He shouted out, not meaning to shout at you but he'd snapped that last bit that was holding him back,

"I don't NEED material things, I need you! I need your love! I need your presence!" You yelled at him.

"You know what I feel when we go out to your parties?" He doesn't answer you, instead, he stares down at the liquid in his glass that is burning his throat,

"I feel like a fucking trophy on your arm, something you can show off as the "Ha I got her" look." You started down at the wedding ring on his finger. Hyunjin had no idea you felt that way, his heart broke a little as he stared back at you, how could he have not seen it before?

"If you love me, then show it. Actions speak louder than words." In a fit of frustration, Hyunjin takes the ring off his finger and hurls it onto the table, the metal echoing around the room.

"You don't love me." You barely whispered before walking out of the room,

You'd walked out on him two weeks ago and since then he'd been nothing but sweet to you, showing up every day to walk you to work and bring you lunch.

"Why are you doing all this?" You asked as you stared at the picnic that was on your office floor.

"I'm starting again." He told you as if it explained everything he'd been doing for the last two weeks.

"What?" You slowly sat down on the floor noticing that everything he had was all of your favourite foods.

"You said actions speak louder than words. I'm starting from the beginning with you, more dates, more time together." He held out a glass for you and you took it from him,

"To new beginnings." Your eyes stared down at his hand as you noticed the ring was back in its rightful place.

"New beginnings." You said, clinking your glass with his and smiling a little. Maybe it wasn't the best way to start again but if it was him truly trying to change you were going to give it your best shot.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

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tinylilacbun · 7 months ago

Note

Could you do a JJ’s little sister fanfic where she gets hit by Luke and JJ comforts her and takes her to the chateau to get her away from it? She could be like 13 maybe

Daddy Issues

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: angst, child abuse, Luke, bruises, swearing

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You squint your eyes shut as you try to close the front door quietly, praying to god that your father is dead asleep or passed out from drinking.

Peeking inside the living room you sigh in relief when he is nowhere to be seen only to squeak when you bump into a chest, looking up to face your father.

"You're late." He states, the smell of beer reaches your nose and you refrain from the urge to scrunch your face up in disgust.

"M-My phone died and I lost track of time." You stammer, cursing at yourself mentally for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he's scaring you.

"Uh-huh..." He trails off before his fist suddenly connects with your face, sending you on the ground from the inpact. "Care to explain why your goddamn school called me today 'cause you keep ditchin'?"

You cradle the side of your face, tears stinging in your eyes as you try to come up with an explanation only to flinch when he raises his hand again.

"If I get one more call I swear I'll give you a beating that you'll never forget." He seethes and when you don't give any acknowledgement he leans down to grab your face with one hand, his fingers digging uncomfortably into your skin. "Got it?"

"Y-Yes dad..." You answer, your voice shaking.

He let's go of you harshly, walking past you to get himself another beer and you quickly scramble off the floor to rush for your room, locking the door you press your forehead against it and let the tears finally flow.

Fun fact, the only times you don't go to school are the days you got another bruise from Luke, not wanting to keep explaining to your teachers where they're from and risking that CPS gives you a visit, knowing they would instantly take you and JJ into foster care and the chances that you both stay together is low.

You wouldn't know what to do without him. He's your big brother, the only person you can tell everything and see more as a father figure than Luke.

20 minutes later you're curled up on your bed, sobbing quietly into your pillow when a tapping on your window startles you, lifting your head to see JJ.

You force yourself to get up and walk over to the window, opening it for him to stumble through.

"Thanks...didn't wanna get caught by dad." He says, standing back straight he smoothes out his clothes, adjusting the cap on his head.

He doesn't notice what state you're in until you move back to your bed, getting a glimpse of your face from the lamp on your nightstand illuminating it.

His eyes widen as he approaches you. "Whoa, what happened." He asks, lifting his hand to grab your chin but when you flinch away he stops mid air, his jaw clenching the moment he realizes.

Luke. He's gonna kill him. He's gonna fucking-

JJ's thoughts are interrupted by you starting to sob, pulling you into a hug with a hand cradling the back of your head against his chest. "Shh, I'm here now...I got you."

He just stands there with you for a while, not making any move to pull away, waiting for you to make the first move and when you do he pushes you gently to sit down on your bed.

Without saying anything he grabs one of your bags and shoves some clothes into it and any necessities he thinks you might need, then crouches down to pick up the teddy bear you had since you were a baby and shoves it in there as well before he stands back up.

"Let's go." He grabs your hand and pulls you towards your window.

You don't protest and climb over the window seal, your feet touching the ground again you watch JJ come out after you and shut the window quietly.

He grabs your hand again and leads you to his dirt bike, helping you sling the bag onto your back, climbing onto his bike first he waits for you to get on as well.

After you do, you wrap your arms around him tightly, your face pressing against his back. JJ revs his bike before taking off towards the Chateau, knowing you'll feel safer there.

Arriving at your second home JJ stops the others from greeting you, telling them you need a moment and taking you inside, placing his hands on your shoulders he leans down to meet your gaze.

His heart aches at the sight of the blooming bruise on your right eye, your eyes puffy and red rimmed from the crying. "Go take a shower, I'm waiting with the others outside, yea?"

You nod, making your way to the bathroom JJ sighs, walking back outside he grabs a beer can and cracks it open, taking a big sip.

"What's up with tiny maybank?" John b asks, his concern growing when JJ starts pacing, pulling the cap off his head angrily.

"Fucking Luke..." The blonde mutters. "He hit her man! He hit my baby sister!"

Everyone's eyes widen, protectiveness and anger flaring up in all of them. You're the youngest of the group, so of course they see you as their own little sibling and would do anything for you, just like JJ does.

"Why? What happened? Is she okay?" Kie asks concerned and JJ scoffs.

"No, she's not fucking okay, kie. She has a damn black eye 'cause of this piece of shit!" He snaps at her, too worked up to see that his friends are just as worried and upset as he is.

"Man, calm down, okay? We're trying to help." Pope tries to ease the tension.

"Right, right. I'm sorry- I just...fuck. I should've been there I..." JJ trails off, feeling tears build up in his eyes but pushing them back.

He knows how you feel, the feeling of not understanding how someone who's supposed to love and take care of you can hurt you like that without batting an eye.

JJ feels even worse for not being there to protect you, to stop his father from laying a hand on you.

He sits down on the ground near the crinkling fire, his arms braced on his knees when he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking to his side to look at John b.

His best friend doesn't need to be a mind reader to know what he's thinking, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "It's not your fault, jay. We're here for you both."

JJ just nods, giving him a small smile. "I know. Thank you. All of you."

Everyone's attention goes to the Chateau when they hear the screen door being shut, seeing you coming towards them, freshly showered and dressed in an oversized shirt.

JJ instantly gets on his feet again, approaching you to pull you into another hug and you wrap your arms around him, holding onto his shirt tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I-"

"S'okay..." You whisper, already feeling a lot better being in the presence of your real family. "I love you, jay..."

"I love you too, kid." He whispers back, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead. "More than anything.

You smile at him, the throbbing pain from your bruised eye slowly fading as you turn to look at the others. "Hey guys..."

"C'mon, sit with us, sweetie." Sarah pats the places next to her and you go to sit beside her, letting her wrap an arm around you.

The moment everyone gets settled again the usual banter and laughter kills the built up tension in the air, JJ keeping an eye on you the whole time to make sure you're alright.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

#sister!reader #sister reader #jj maybank x sister!reader #jj maybank x sister reader #brother!jj maybank

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doodlebeeberry · 8 months ago

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It's OSC gift exchange number 4, baby!!

Thats right folks!!! once again so so excited to host the gift exchange, hopefully itll be yet another fun one! :D

doing things slightly differently this year: if you wanna join you can just fill out this google form! You can also still join by replying/reblogging/dming me with what you'd like if you prefer to do it that way though.

Rules, dates, and details are all under the cut (and also in the form), please read them through fully before joining!!!

Entries close November 28th at midnight (est)!

For those not in the know, the gift exchange is just what is sounds like! Upon joining, you tell me what you like to see in you gift. After, you'll be randomly assigned a giftee, and will make a gift for them based on what they've requested. When the day comes, you'll post your gift and @ the person it's for!

The timeline this year looks like this:

Nov. 7-Nov. 28: Join the gift exchange by filling out this form, dm-ing me, replying, or tagging this post with what you'd like to receive. You can ask for anything--shows, ships, ocs, whatever! Additionally, if there's anything you dont want to see or can't make (ie, ships that make you uncomfortable), you can make a note of that as well

Dec. 1: I'll let you know who you've been assigned and what they'd like! This'll most likely be done through tumblr dms, so if that's an issue do let me know!

Dec. 1-30: You make your gift! This can be anything, from art to writing to music and more! so long as you follow your giftee's request, the possibilities are endless!

Dec. 31: Post your gift, being sure to @ the person its from! Please do not post your gift before this date!!!

Some other things to note:

You can request anything--shows, characters, ships, etc--just please make sure they are osc related! it is an osc gift exchange after all

Asking for OCs is very much allowed, just be sure to provide me with a reference when you join

in regards to things you can't do, please do note that "i haven't seen x show so i wont do it" or "i'll only do requests for x show" are not being treated as valid requests in this context, so i won't guarantee them. also please remember that giftees are assigned randomly.

If your giftee requests more than one thing, you aren't obligated to fulfill all of their requests if you don't want to. Just be sure to do one of them and you're good!

If you need to drop out for any reason, that is completely ok, it happens! just please be sure to let me know ahead of time so I can re-assign your giftee!

On that note, if you have reason to believe you will be unavailable or otherwise unable to post your gift on the 31st, please be sure to tell me so we can work something out! Additionally, if you can't reach out on tumblr (say, your blog gets deleted) you can also poke me on bluesky (@ bumblebeeberry) or discord (thatonegaycat) about it

You can not join anonymously! I just don't think it'd fair to your giftee

While I highly doubt I will need to, I can bar you from participating if I deem it necessary. Again, unlikely, but in the off-chance it does happen I will message you to let you know, pretty please do not yell at me if I do

Not a requirement but when I send you your giftee if you could just let me know you saw the message i would greatly appreciate it!

As per usual I'll be tagging everything with #osc gift exchange, feel free to use it on your gift as well!

That's it! if you have any questions, comments, notes, what have you, please don't hesitate to dm me! :]

#yippie!!! opening it early this year cause i wanna #went with both joining options also cause i wanna. also cause i want folks to have as many options as possible yk #apologies for the tag spam here #osc #object show community #osc gift exchange #object oc #bfdi #bfb #tpot #ii #inanimate insanity #hfjone #itft #bfdia #what other show tags do people use these days #animatic battle #tdos #burner osc

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allthingsfangirl101 · 6 months ago

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*About Damn Time – Jake Seresin

Warnings: public kink, unprotected, teasing, language

I walked in from training, instantly taking my hair out of my tight updo. I ran my fingers through my hair, well aware of the eyes that followed me through the room. I knew all too well who was watching me. That just made it even more fun.

It was no secret - to anyone - that Jake Seresin had a massive crush on me. I found out after about the third time he scared off the hot guy talking to me at the bar. In fact, no one comes near me because of him. Not that I minded. I only wish he would finally tell me how he felt.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," Jake nodded as I walked into the auditorium.

"Lieutenant Seresin," I nodded. "You look good."

"We're in the same uniform," he stuttered.

"Relax, Hangman," I said, playfully patting his face. "It's just a compliment. You act as if no one has ever told you how handsome you are."

"You think I'm. . ."

"Don't act like you don't know it," I teased him. To send him over the edge – and to give him a hint– I kissed his cheek before heading over to talk to Phoenix.

"He cannot take his eyes off of you," she laughed as soon as I walked over to her. "That poor boy."

"Hey," I said, putting my hands up in defense. "All I'm doing is flirting and teasing him a bit."

"All you're doing is torturing the man," she said.

"It wouldn't be torture if he did something about his feelings," I shrugged. "It's been 13 months of this. You think he'll finally tell me how he feels about me now that we might be put on different ships?"

"I don't know, sweetie," she shrugged. "I hope he does."

"Me too," I sighed. "Maybe I should just tell him how I feel."

"I thought you said the whole reason you haven't told him is because you wanted to let him be the man and confess his feelings for you."

"I thought so," I mumbled. "But I'm getting tired of waiting for him to finally do something about it."

I walked away, heading to check in. Little did I know that Phoenix was running to the others and coming up with a plan.

* * * * *

After graduation, we all changed out of our uniforms and went to the unofficial party. I ended up showing up a little late and by the time I got there, everything was in full swing.

"There you are, Y/L/N," Jake teased me as I walked in late to one of the other trainee's homes. "I thought you ditched us."

"You know I would never," I smiled as I patted him on the arm as I passed. "I got stuck talking to and taking pictures with my family. They finally went back to the hotel after I promised I'd meet them for breakfast."

"Guess that means you can't get batshit drunk," Payback smirked.

"I never said that," I said, looking over at Jake and sending him a wink. "I'll be right back. I gotta get out of this uniform."

"Aren't you going to help her with that, Hangman?" I heard Coyote taunt Jake as I walked into the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen.

I quickly changed out of my uniform and into the light blue silk floor-length gown. I was about to zip it up when I got an idea. I opened the door, instantly seeing Phoenix.

"Hey, girly," she smiled. "Need help with your dress?"

"I do," I smirked. "Any chance you can push Hangman into the hall?"

She looked into the kitchen and laughed. "Honey, he is hovering around the corner, waiting for you to come out. I'll mention something to him."

"Thank you," I said sing-songy as I closed the door.

I heard as Phoenix mentioned me taking a while getting into my dress. Jake cleared his throat before I could hear footsteps. Just then, I peeked my head out of the bathroom.

"Jake!" I whispered loudly.

"Yeah?" His breath got caught in his throat when he turned around and saw me barely dressed. "What's up?"

"Can you help me zip my dress?"

"Sure," he said, his voice dropping. I carefully held my dress to my chest as I walked out of the bathroom and turned around. "Thank you, Jake," I said, sounding like I was relieved. "I was hiding in the bathroom and thought I heard Phoenix."

I looked over my shoulder to see Jake focused on the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra underneath my dress. "Everything okay, Hangman?"

"Yeah," he said a little too quickly. He slowly reached forward and grabbed my zipper. I hid my smirk when he carefully zipped up my dress.

"All good?" I asked.

"All good," he said, his voice catching in his throat. I turned around and didn't hide my smirk when he checked me out.

"Jake," I said, sounding concerned as I gently reached up and felt his forehead and cheek. "Are you feeling okay? You look kind of flushed."

"I'm fine," he stuttered.

"Let's get you a drink." I grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen.

"Damn, Y/L/N!" Payback laughed when we walked in.

"Jealous?" I smirked.

"I know someone who might be," Coyote mumbled, hiding behind his beer.

A few minutes later, I noticed Jake off to the side, listening to Fanboy, Phoenix, Bob, and Omaha argue about their fantasy football while I was listening to Rooster and Payback argue about who's got a better time on the track.

"I don't know why you boys are debating this," I scoffed. "Everyone knows that I've held the record for the fastest time since I joined your little training group."

"Y/N, can I borrow you for a minute?" Phoenix asked.

"Sure," I shrugged. "Not like I'm missing anything here."

"You are evil."

"How so?" I laughed. She looked into the living room, toward Jake.

"Do me a favor," Phoenix sighed as she looked back at me. "Please put that poor boy out of his misery and just tell him you feel the same. I can't handle him moping around and watching you from across the room with yearning in his eyes."

"I'm still waiting for him to tell me how he feels," I chuckled, sending her a playful wink.

"Well," she giggled, "let's give him a little push."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the other room. "Whatever happened with that guy from your hometown?" She asked a little too loudly.

"What guy?" Rooster asked, glancing at Hangman whose beer was frozen halfway to his lips.

"No one," I pushed off. "He was an old neighbor, growing up. Apparently, he's here doing his residency and looked me up. He wants to get drinks."

"You gonna go?" Coyote asked, no-so-subtly looking at Hangman.

"Not sure," I shrugged. "He's an old friend, but I haven't seen him in a while. Then again, it's not like there's anyone else with a better offer."

I pretended to see someone trying to get my attention and excused myself. Instead, I hid around the corner and listened to everyone badger poor Jake.

"You good, Hangman?" Rooster laughed.

"Yeah," Payback chuckled. "You look like you're gonna throw up."

"Or kill a man," Coyote mumbled.

"Maybe the guy who's been pestering Y/N to go out with him?" Phoenix teased him.

"You heard her," Rooster smirked. "She'd forget him if she had a better offer. Anyone know of a better offer?"

Part of me did feel bad for teasing him like this. Jake is actually a great guy. He got a bad rap when we first started training. Sure, he's 'Hangman' when we're flying, but he's not actually like that when we're on the ground. He's literally saved me from a drunk creep at the bar on multiple occasions.

I hadn't noticed that they had stopped talking until someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me around the corner. Once they had me against the wall, I saw it was Jake.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I scoffed as I pushed him off of me. "You can't go grabbing people, Seresin."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding like himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my own tone of voice changing.

"Yeah," he said with a soft smile. "I'm okay. I just needed to talk to you."

"And you thought kidnapping me was the best thing to do?" I taunted him. "There's this thing called a conversation."

My sentence got caught in my throat when he took a step forward, trapping me between him and the wall. I couldn't look away from his eyes as he slowly leaned in. I grabbed his face and closed the gap between us. Our lips instantly started moving roughly in sync as we wrapped our arms around each other.

We both let out moans as he pushed me firmer up against the wall. He broke the kiss and reattached them to my neck. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes as he explored from my collarbone to my ear.

"Shit, Seresin," I moaned.

"You've been driving me crazy, Y/L/N," he moaned against my skin. I gasped when he roughly kissed me again. This time, I broke the kiss and rubbed my hands up and down his chest.

"Follow me," I whispered. I grabbed his hand and led him down to the basement. The second we got to the bottom of the stairs, Jake turned me around. As soon as I was facing him, he leaned in and kissed me. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Without breaking the kiss, Jake picked me up and put me on the counter. He opened my legs and stepped between them. Our lips moved in sync and our tongues danced as we held each other close. I ran my fingers through his hair as he slid his hands up my thighs, bringing my dress with him.

Unable to resist anymore, I roughly pushed him away. I hopped off the counter and landed directly in front of him.

I looked up at him with innocent eyes. "Can you help me with my zipper?"

His pout turned into a smirk when I turned around. He stepped up and dragged his hands up and down my arms. He kissed my neck as he slowly unzipped my dress. I turned around before letting my dress pool at my feet.

"Fuck," Jake moaned. "I knew you were gorgeous under that flight suit."

"You've thought about what I had underneath my flight suit?" I smirked. I reached forward and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"All the time," he moaned as I tore off his shirt.

"Well, good," I said as I grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward me. "To be honest, I've often thought about what you had underneath your flight suit. Especially when I am alone. . . Late at night. . . Or in the shower."

"Fuck," he moaned again as he crashed his lips onto mine. I wrapped my arms around him as he pulled me into his chest. He backed us up until we collapsed onto the couch. As Jake climbed on top of me. I pulled the waistband of his pants down.

Jake tore his lips away from mine as we finished undressing. His eyes glanced over my bare body before he rolled his body down mine. I arched my back and moaned when his body pressed firmly to mine, smashing all the right parts together.

"Oh Jake," I moaned as he continued to rub his body against mine.

"Fuck, Y/N," he moaned back. "I want you so bad."

"Then take me," I grunted loudly before grabbing his face and bringing his lips down to mine. "Finally take me."

Jake pressed his lips back to mine as we both adjusted. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed my leg and wrapped it around his waist. I arched my back and moaned against his lips as he pushed himself into me.

"Holy shit," he groaned against my lips.

"Oh baby," I moaned as I bit his bottom lip. He chuckled before focusing back on his hip movements. The more he moved his hips, the weaker mine got. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pressure built.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath. I opened my eyes to see him watching me.

"What's wrong, baby?" I purred.

"Nothing," he stuttered through his grunts. "Just watching your face change as I. . . As I make. . . Seeing the effect I have on you."

I arched my back, bringing my face closer to his. "Just you wait, baby. There's a whole lot more we got to do."

"Fuck!"

I gasped when his movements got deeper and sharper. He kissed my neck as I dragged my hands up and down his bare back.

"I have wanted you for so long."

"And I have wanted you," I gasped, Jake's movements cutting me off.

Our lips reattached as our hips continued to dance. We could hear the party going on upstairs, but neither one of us cared. We only focused on each other; our movements, our lips, our feelings.

"Shit!" I moaned as I reached orgasm.

"Shit," Jake echoed me. He gently pulled out of me but remained hovering over me. "Y/N," he whispered, "there's something I've been dying to say to you since we first met."

"And what's that?" I asked as I snaked my arms around his neck.

"I'm crazy into you," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "The thought of not being with you literally drove me mad. Now, the idea of someone else getting to have you makes me ready to get kicked out of the Navy."

"Don't do that," I pouted. "Then I'll be all alone."

"I will never let that happen," he whispered.

* * * * *

After going another round, we quickly got dressed and tried to make ourselves look like we didn't just hook up. With matching smirks on our faces, we headed back upstairs.

"And where were you two?" Payback smirked as he folded his arms and studied us.

"Downstairs," Jake smirked, "in the basement."

He grabbed my hand and led me into the kitchen. I winked at Payback and the others.

"Finally," Phoenix chuckled. Rooster laughed as he agreed.

"About time they hooked up."

#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagines #jake “hangman” seresin #jake seresin #top gun maverick #glen powell smut #jake seresin hangman smut

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rootedinrevisions · 6 months ago

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Too Late: Part 2

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

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

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

WORD COUNT: 6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

TYLER’S P.O.V.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She told me-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

YOUR P.O.V.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tyler—”

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

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

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

“Tyler, that’s ridiculous—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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