#bananamonkewrites

"Look, I said I was sorry," McLaggen scoffed, leaning casually against the Gryffindor table as you stared dismayed at your ruined parchment. "It’s not like it was that brilliant anyway. You can just rewrite it tonight, right? You’re nice like that." You opened your mouth, ready to at least politely ask him for your missing page—when Draco had stepped into view. "I’m sorry, McLaggen," a familiar voice cut through the scene.

"Did I miss the part of the conversation where anyone asked for your useless opinion?"

His tailored Slytherin robes were immaculate as his hands were casually tucked into his pockets while his grey eyes fixed on Cormac with absolute disdain. McLaggen straightened up, trying to look unimpressed.

"Malfoy. Mind your own business."

"Whatever my girl is handling," Draco drawls, "is my business." He said softly, taking a step closer. The sheer menace in his tone made the surrounding students go quiet—though, he did not have the need to raise his voice. "Draco, it’s fine—" you began softly, touching his arm.

"It isn't fine, darling," he murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, reassuring cadence he reserved strictly for you. "You’re too polite to say it, so I’ll say it for you."

He snapped his gaze back to McLaggen, "Apologise properly, you arse." McLaggen’s face flushed a deep, ugly shade of red. He squared his broad shoulders, shifting his weight as if trying to intimidate Draco with his size.

"Or what, Malfoy? You’ll run and tell your father?"

"I don’t need my father to deal with a bumbling thickhead who can’t keep his inkwell upright," he sneered, his voice smooth and lethally quiet. He took a subtle step forward, effectively putting himself between you and the Gryffindor.

"I’m only giving you five seconds, offer my girl a proper apology before I make sure you spend the rest of the week in the Hospital Wing." And all the boy in front of Draco could do was laugh before it faltered. "Simply, no, Malfoy."

He spits on the floor, and that angered Draco more. Not that he spat on him, but it seemed improper for a student to do so, especially in front of him. He was a Malfoy, nevertheless.

And that was when Draco's fist landed on his jaws, "Draco!"

"That's enough—" You say, dragging him out as you led him to your spot, scolding him entirely as you looked at his knuckles.

The heavy oak doors of the Great Hall slammed shut behind the two of you, cutting off the sudden explosion of shocked mutters and McGonagall’s echoing call for order.

You dragged him by his wrist, your grip firm despite the tremor running through your hands, leading him all the way to the abandoned alcove near the courtyard—the quiet, sunlit nook that had become your unspoken sanctuary away from the prying eyes of four Houses.

"Sit," you instructed, pointing toward the stone bench.

Draco didn't protest. He sank onto the cold stone, rolling his shoulders back and shaking out his right hand with a soft, bitter hiss. The sharp, pale line of his knuckles was already split and swelling, blooming a deep crimson against his porcelain skin.

"Draco, what in the bloody hell were you thinking?" you scolded softly, dropping into a kneel right in front of him. You pulled a clean handkerchief from your pocket and gently took his bruised hand into yours. "Punching him in the middle of the Great Hall? In front of half the professors?"

"He spat on the floor," Draco sneered, though the sharp edge in his voice faltered the second your fingers brushed over his injured hand. He winced lightly, his fingers twitching before relaxing completely in your grasp. "Like a filthy swine in the middle of a dining hall. The utter lack of decency from that braindead brute—"

"He ruined my essay, Draco, not my life, at least." you murmured, as the spell hummed lightly between your palms, knitting the torn skin back together, though the deep blue bruise remained. "You didn't have to break his jaw over a piece of parchment."

"It wasn't about the parchment," he snapped quietly, "I didn't like how he spoke to you like you were beneath him," Draco murmured, his voice dropping into that dangerously soft, velvet register he only ever used when the corridor doors were closed and no one else was listening.

"He took advantage of the fact that he knows that you won't hex someone even when they deserve it. You're too damn good for this place, and people like him think that gives them permission to push you around like that."

"I can fight my own battles, you know," you whispered, softly pressing the damp cloth against his knuckle one last time before you put it aside.

"I know you can," he replied, taking your chin between two fingers and lifting your face to look at him. His touch was absurdly gentle, striking against the fierce reputation he spent every waking hour cultivating in the hallways.

Then he pulled you up by the hand, making you sit on his lap as he wrapped his arm around your waist the moment you sat. "You're going to get detention with Snape for a month," you pointed out quietly, leaning into his warmth.

A small, arrogant smirk returned to his, "A month? Well—let him. I'll just tell him that McLaggen was insulting the House honor." He paused, his thumb gently tracing a pattern on your hip over the fabric of your robes.

"Besides... did you see the look on his face before he hit the table? Totally worth it."

"Draco." You warned as he huffed in defeat, kissing the side of your neck before lifting his head to meet your gaze, his grey eyes completely soft, as he leaned close to your lips.

His mouth closed the tiny distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and entirely possessive. All the lingering rush from the Great Hall seemed to melt his tension and his anger the second his lips moved against yours.

He hummed softly against your mouth as his free hand ran up through your hair.

His fingers tangled gently in your locks, tilting your head back just enough to deepen the kiss while you unknowingly grind back and forth against his lap, making him groan out of pleasure. "M'love," he said, muffled as he continued to kiss you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer into his chest. Draco let out a soft sigh out of pleasure as his arm tightened around your waist,, holding you against him on the stone bench.

There was no trace of the arrogant, sneering Slytherin Prince who had just sent Cormac McLaggen sprawling across the floor as there was only Draco, breathing you in like you were the only clean thing in the entire castle.

As if he was touch starved.

When he finally parted your lips with a soft slide of his tongue, it was sweet and searing all at once. His thumb stroked gently along your jawline, his knuckles brushing your skin with exquisite care, minding the faint sting of his own freshly healed hand.

"Still mad at me?" he murmured against your mouth, barely pulling away, his breath hot against your lips. His grey eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and completely focused on you.

"Extremely," you breathed out, though your fingers were still casually twisting the silver collar pins of his robe. "You're terrible." You cleared out.

"Liar," he whispered with a faint, arrogant smirk, before leaning back in to capture your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a playful, gentle tug.

You let out a quiet gasp, and Draco took instant advantage of it, pressing you back slightly as his mouth took yours with renewed intensity. His hand slid down from your hair to rest firmly on the nape of your neck, his fingers warm against your skin, deepening the kiss until your head felt light and the quiet hum of the castle courtyard completely faded away.

His lips were down from your mouth to your jawline, then down to the curve of your throat, pressing a lingering, warm kiss against your pulse point.

His lips press against yours again as his grip tightens, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

His mouth moves over yours with growing hunger, lips parting, tongues brushing in a slow, deliberate slide. Each kiss melts into the next, wet and warm, the rhythm building naturally between you. One of his hands slides up your back, fingers splaying wide between your shoulder blades, while the other stays at your waist, anchoring you to him.

You tilt your head, changing the angle, and he follows without hesitation. His tongue traces your lower lip before slipping past it again, exploring the heat of your mouth with a patience that makes your knees weak. The kiss turns deeper, hungrier, yet never rushed—each movement of his lips against yours feels intentional, like he's memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck. He makes a low sound in his throat, almost a hum, and presses you back against the nearest desk. The wood is cool against your thighs, but his body is warm, solid, fitting perfectly against yours as he leans in.

He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like nothing else matters beyond the way your mouths move together. His tongue strokes yours in long, languid caresses, and you respond in kind, meeting him halfway. The wet sound of your lips parting and reconnecting fills the quiet room, punctuated only by soft breaths.

Draco's hand moves to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he tilts your face up to kiss you from a different angle. His mouth is insistent now, claiming, but still achingly tender. He nips at your lower lip, soothes it with his tongue, then dives back in, kissing you deeper than before.

You lose track of time like this—pressed together, mouths locked, breathing each other's air. Every kiss bleeds into the next, a continuous flow of heat and want that never quite crests, just builds and builds in the most delicious way. His tongue slides against yours in a rhythm that makes your head spin, and you clutch at his robes, pulling him impossibly closer.

When you finally break apart to breathe, your foreheads rest together, noses brushing. His grey eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and his lips are kiss-swollen and glistening. He doesn't say anything, just leans in again, capturing your mouth in another slow, deep kiss that makes your toes curl inside your shoes.

This time his hands roam more freely—one slides down to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, while the other stays tangled in your hair, guiding the angle of your head as he kisses you senseless. His tongue explores every corner of your mouth, tasting, teasing, until you're both breathless again.

You could stay like this forever, you think—wrapped in his arms, mouths moving together in perfect sync, the rest of the world forgotten.

The rhythm of his breathing slowed, but the intensity in his dark, silver eyes didn't fade for a single second. Without letting you catch your breath, Draco’s mouth slid away from yours, trailing a hot, deliberate path down the line of your jaw to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear.

He pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point, making you shiver in his lap.

"Draco," you gasped softly, your hands tightening on his shoulders as his lips dragged lower down the curve of your throat. "Don't... don't you dare."

"Don't what, darling?" he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, chest-rumbling purr. He didn't wait for an answer. His lips parted, and he sucked lightly at the soft expanse of skin right above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the spot immediately after.

"You know exactly what," you breathed out, your head tilting back against his shoulder as a wave of heat surged through you. "Not where people can see. Do not leave anything in an obvious spot. I have Potions with the Ravenclaws tomorrow, and I am not sitting there with my robes done up to my chin."

Draco hummed against your neck, a quiet, thoroughly unimpressed sound as his teeth nipped gently at the sensitive flesh right beside your tendon. You let out a quiet, hitching gasp, your fingers instinctively tangling tighter in his platinum hair.

"Draco, I'm serious—"

"So am I," he cut you out as his tongue tracing the spot he’d just bitten before applying a steady, possessive pressure. He sucked deeply, slow and unhurried, deliberately marking the pale skin right above your collar.

You tugged lightly at his hair to pull him back, but he didn't budge. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, anchoring you completely against his chest while his hand at the back of your neck held you in place. You could feel the smirk forming against your skin before he pulled away with a faint, maddeningly satisfied pop.

"Draco!" you whispered, scandalized, reaching up to cover your neck with your hand. The skin was already burning hot to the touch. "I told you not to do that!"

He tilted his head back, looking down at you with heavy-lidded, dark grey eyes. The arrogant, self-satisfied smirk on his lips was entirely insufferable.

"I heard you," he murmured smoothly, leaning in to capture your hand, gently pulling your fingers away from your neck so he could look at his work. A deep, dark crimson mark was already blooming clearly above the line of your uniform. "I just chose not to listen."

"You're insufferable," you huffed, trying to look stern, though your voice lacked any real bite. "Everyone is going to see it."

"I need you," he murmured smoothly before leaning in to grab your hand, gently pulling your fingers away from your neck so he could look at his work.

The moment he reached his private quarters in the Slytherin dungeons, he slammed the heavy door shut and locked it with a sharp flick of his wand. The click of the lock echoed in the sudden silence, a signal that the world outside no longer existed.

Before you could even take a breath to scold him again, Draco spun you around and pressed you firmly against the cold stone wall. He didn't waste time with words. He crashed his lips onto yours, his kiss now devoid of the patience he'd shown in the courtyard. This was raw, hungry, and desperate. His tongue fought for entrance, claiming your mouth with a ferocity that left you lightheaded, while his hands wandered with a frantic energy.

"Draco..." you whimpered into the kiss, your back arching against the wall as his hands slid down to your thighs, hoisting you up.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest and into yours. He broke the kiss just long enough to trail his mouth down to that mark he'd left on your neck, sucking on it again, harder this time, as if trying to brand you into his very soul.

"Mine," he muttered against your skin, his voice ragged and stripped of its usual composure. "Every single inch of you is mine."

He carried you toward the large, four-poster bed, the emerald green curtains casting a moody, dim light over the room. He dropped you onto the silk sheets with a soft thud, hovering over you instantly. His silver eyes were no longer soft; they were dark, clouded with a level of lust that made your blood simmer.

With shaking hands, he began to strip away the layers of your robes. He worked with a focused intensity, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending electric shocks through your nerves. When he finally peeled the fabric away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he paused for a heartbeat. His gaze swept over your body with a hunger so intense it felt like he was tasting you with his eyes.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It's driving me bloody horrid, my love."

He didn't wait any longer as he then stripped out of his own clothes with a hurried desperation, his pale skin contrasting against the dark sheets. When he slid back between your legs, the heat coming off his body was stifling. He didn't go straight, he spent an eternity worshiping your body as his mouth found every curve while his tongue traced the valley of your breasts, nipping at your nipples until you were sobbing his name, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

When he finally shifted, his hand sliding down to find your folds wet and dripping ready for him. He then entered inside you in one slow, agonizingly deep thrust, filling you completely. You let out a loud, sharp moan as your head hits the pillow while your body adjusted to his size.

Draco froze, his forehead resting against yours, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He looked deep into your eyes, his expression one of pure, unadulterated devotion mixed with raw desire.

"Tell me," he gasped, his voice a broken whisper. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Draco... please, just... please," you pleaded, your hips instinctively bucking up against him.

That was the breaking point. Draco began to move, his pace hard and unrelenting. He drove into you with a rhythmic intensity that shook the bed, each thrust hitting deep and precise. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the frantic sounds of your shared breathing.

He gripped your hips, his knuckles white, pulling you harder against him with every stroke. You could feel the tension building in your gut, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to snap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a messy, passionate kiss as the friction drove you both toward the edge.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

"Mommy, where are we going?" A childlike voice was heard from the other room, a soft rattle coming out from it. "Hold on sweetie, we're just setting things up. You know, your new room is going to be so beautiful," you called back, keeping your voice warm and steady as you bent over and smoothed out the wrinkles on a sleek, minimalist duvet cover.

Then youtook a step back, surveying the bedroom. The house was perfect. It was a stunning, mid-century modern gem nestled just far enough from the chaotic heart of Oklahoma's storm alley, but close enough to feel like home. Large glass windows let the golden afternoon light flood across the polished concrete floors.

Your parents had offered to pay for everything, but you had insisted on securing the lease yourself, using your own savings. You needed to prove that you were this independent, vessel of the family who could build a beautiful, independent life for your four-year-old son, Leo, without looking back for help or hesitation.

Then a soft thump of boots and a clack echoed as Leo wandered into your room, dragging his favorite toy truck across the floor. He looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. "Are we staying here forever?"

"We are." you smiled, kneeling down to press a kiss to his forehead.

Back then, when your ex vanished the moment the pregnancy test turned positive, he had refused a single dime of child support. You were young, terrified and couldn't do anything. So when Leo was born, you couldn't drag a baby into the path of a violent tornado, so you packed your bags and went to your parents. You hadn't expected Tyler to walk you to your car back then, you remembered how his jaw clenched, how his blue eyes swam with a desperate, unspoken emotion as he practically begged you to stay. You also didn't expect for Dani to pack you a box of morning-sickness snacks and extra pain killers with a promise to check in every single week. It was a promise she actually kept.

But you had been gone a long time. They had grown. And Tyler was famous now.

"Come on, Leo," you said, pushing the heavy nostalgia down. "Let's go load up the car. We need to go pick up the last of your toys from the storage unit, and then Mommy is going to surprise some old friends."

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊ ୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

An hour later, your sleek black, modern SUV pulled up to the familiar gravel lot of the crew's main garage workshop. The sight of the massive, dented rigs parked outside made your stomach do a nervous flip.

Before your engine could even fully idle down, the garage's side door flew open. You laughed, getting down from the car while Leo stayed inside.

"No freaking way!" a voice screeched.

Dani dropped the heavy metal wrench she was holding with a loud clack against the gravel. She didn't care about the grease on her overalls. She had already bolted across the lot. You barely had time to close your car door before she threw her arms around your neck, squeezing the breath out of you.

"You're back! You're actually back!" Dani yelled into your shoulder, her voice cracking. "Why didn't you text me you were arriving today?! I would have cleared the whole schedule!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," you laughed, hugging her back just as tightly as she did. Then the familiar smell of motor oil and rain on her clothes instantly made you feel grounded.

Within seconds, the rest of the chaos erupted. Boone poked his head out of a truck bed, his eyes going wide behind his camera lens.

"Guys! Look who it is!" he shouted. Dex and Lily materialized from the back, abandoning a drone calibration to swarm the car.

Leo peeked out from the backseat, clutching his toy truck to his chest. He was startled but seemed fascinated by the loud, colorful crowd in front of him.

"Oh, look at him! He's gotten so big!" Dani beamed, instantly softening her voice as she leaned into the back, giving Leo a goofy wave. "Hi, buddy. Remember me on FaceTime?"

You leaned against the side of your car, watching your old family embrace your son. A deep, warm sense of relief washed over you. They hadn't forgotten you.

"Hey, where's the boss man?" Boone asked, looking back toward the garage. "He's gonna lose his mind."

"Right here," a deep, drawl of a man's southern voice echoed from the shadow of the garage door.

The laughter around the car died down to a soft murmur. You turned your head at the voice as your breath was caught in your throat.

Tyler Owens, who had walked out into the sunlight, looking exactly the same, yet felt completely different. But he wore a crisp white t-shirt, dark jeans and his signature cowboy hat pulled low. He looked rugged, impossibly handsome and toweringly confident until his eyes locked onto yours.

Then Tyler stopped dead in his tracks. The swagger completely vanished, replaced by a raw, paralyzing shock. His chest rose and fell in a sharp breath. Because for years, he had lived with the ghost of your absence, holding onto the memory of the girl he had been desperately, secretly in love with. And now, here you were. Standing in the gravel lot, looking radiant and undeniably beautiful.

"Hey, Ty," you said softly. God, he loves it when you call him that. But of course you don't know it. You only know when your voice had started feeling very small.

He swallowed hard, taking a slow step forward. His eyes darted from you to the backseat, where Leo was watching him. A complex storm of emotions crossed Tyler's face. A face mixed with a longing, immense joy, and a sharp, sudden pang of jealousy toward the man who gets to hold you, but had been foolish enough to throw it all away.

"You're back," Tyler breathed, his voice rougher than usual. He reached out, his hand hovering near your shoulder for a split second as if checking to see if you were real, before he pulled you into a firm, brief embrace. He smelled like leather, ozone, and old spice. It made your chest ache. "Why didn't you tell us?" Why didn't you tell him?

"I wanted to surprise everyone," you repeated, but the warmth from earlier felt a little more guarded now. Tyler's reaction felt heavy. Distant, even. You wondered if he resented you for leaving him to handle the crew alone.

But bfore Tyler could say anything else, a sharp female voice called out from inside the garage.

"Tyler? Did you find the extra brackets for the doppler? Javi said that the storm front is moving faster than we thought."

A gorgeous woman with an effortless, practical beauty walked out, holding a tablet covered in weather radar streams. She stopped when she saw the crowd, her eyes shifting curiously between you and Tyler. It was Kate. Kate Carter. The woman that Dani was talking about back when you were in a FaceTime with her.

Then you noticed at the way she naturally called for Tyler, the way she stepped into the space right beside him and the way Tyler's eyes instinctively flicked to her to answer. It was how you and Tyler were.

And that made a sly, icy drop of dread pool around in your stomach.

Of course, you thought bitterly, your proud, independent defense mechanisms instantly slamming into place. Five years is a long time. You didn't think he'd just be waiting around for you, did you?

"Oh, Kate, this is—" Dani started to introduce you, but you smoothly cut her off, forcing a polite, breezy smile onto your face that didn't reach your eyes.

"I'm an old friend of the team," you said, saying your name, stepping back and putting a polite distance between yourself and Tyler. "Just stopping by to say hello while I get settled into my new place. It's nice to meet you."

Tyler's eyes snapped to you, his brow furrowing as he felt the sudden shift in your demeanor. Kate then smiled, greeting you back as you smiled back.

Her gaze drifted down to Leo, who was still peering curiously from the backseat. "Oh? What's this? A little partner-in-training, that is. He's absolutely adorable." Then she looks back at you, repeating your name.

"That's a nice name. I’m Kate, Kate Carter. I’ve heard so much about you from Dani. She talks about you constantly. Especially—" a cough was heard from Tyler, "Think that's enough for now."

"Yeah. Dani talks about me? All good things, I hope," you replied, your voice perfectly polite, though your heart was still hammering against your ribs.

You glanced at Tyler. He was watching you intently, his jaw tight and those piercing blue eyes searching your face, trying to decode the sudden distance you had put between them. He looked like he wanted to say a thousand things, but with the entire crew standing in a circle around your SUV, the weight of everything unsaid hung suffocatingly heavy in the humid Oklahoma air.

"The best things," Kate assured you, tapping her stylus against her weather tablet. "Tyler, Javi just texted. The supercell near El Reno is cycling faster than expected. We need to hook up the Doppler rig now if we’re going to catch the initiation."

"Right. Yeah," Tyler said, though his eyes didn't leave yours for a beat too long. He finally tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. "Boone, Dex, get the hitch lined up. Dani, I need you on the telemetry check."

"On it, boss," Dani said, though she shot you a lingering, worried look. As the resident keeper of everyone's secrets, Dani could practically see the thick cloud of misunderstanding settling over the lot. She knew you were putting up walls, and she knew Tyler was currently spiraling internally.

"You're chasing today?" you asked, keeping your tone light like a detached acquaintance rather than the woman who used to ride shotgun in Tyler's truck, screaming at the top of your lungs as you ran down tornadoes together.

"Yeah," Tyler said, stepping closer to your car door, his voice dropping an octave so only you could hear him over the sudden burst of activity from the crew. "A big one. Look... are you going to be around later? Where are you staying? I want to come by. Help you unpack. See the kid."

There was a raw, aching vulnerability in his eyes. He had missed your entire pregnancy. He had missed the first four years of your son's life. He had wanted so badly to be the one holding your hand through it all, but pride, fear and a deadbeat ex had built a wall between you five years ago.

Now, he wanted in.

But your defense mechanisms were already operating on overdrive. You saw Kate standing by the garage door, waiting for him, looking like the perfect, professional, brilliant partner he deserved now. You weren't a storm chaser anymore; you were a mother with a modern house, a quiet life, and a heart that couldn't handle being broken a second time by the same town.

"Don't worry about it, Tyler," you said, offering him a brilliant, entirely hollow smile as you stepped back into the driver's seat. "I actually bought a house just outside the city limits. It’s all taken care of. Professional movers handled the heavy lifting, so I'm completely set up."

Tyler’s brow furrowed, a flash of hurt crossing his features. He knew you didn't need his help. You didn't need his money. But it was the way that you didn't seem to need him at all, and that was the problem. He needs you to need him back.

"Right," Tyler then muttered as his hands rested inside the pockets of his jeans as he stiffened up, his own pride flaring to protect his aching heart. "Good. Glad you're... doing well."

"Thanks. Say goodbye to the others for me. And good luck with the cell today. Be safe," you said breezily. You then opened the car door and buckled your seatbelt as soon as you got up the driver's seat, looking back at your son. "Say goodbye to Mr. Tyler, Leo."

"Bye-bye, cowboy hat man," Leo chirped, waving his little toy.

A bittersweet, painful smile broke across Tyler’s face. "Bye, buddy. I'll see you around."

As you pulled out of the gravel lot, watching Tyler and Kate walk side-by-side into the garage through your rearview mirror, a lone tear slipped down your cheek. You wiped it away fiercely. You weren't a loser, and you weren't going to pine over a life you chose to leave behind. You had a beautiful home, a beautiful son, and a fresh start.

But as the dark, bruised-green storm clouds began to gather on the horizon, you couldn't shake the terrifying feeling that a completely different kind of tempest was about to wreck your carefully built life.

Your son suddenly asks, "mommy? Why do you look sad, did that man do something wrong?"

You froze for a second, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as you pulled the SUV out onto the smooth, asphalt highway. In the rearview mirror, you saw Leo’s big, innocent eyes looking up at you, his little brow furrowed with genuine concern.

Kids always saw right through the armor.

"Oh, sweetie, no," you said softly, forcing your voice into its usual comforting, rhythmic cadence. You reached back with one hand, gently squeezing his knee. "Mr. Tyler didn't do anything wrong. He’s a very good man. Mommy was just... remembering some old times, that's all. Sometimes seeing old friends makes you happy and a little sad all at the same time."

"Like when I miss my old sandbox?" Leo asked, tilting his head.

"Exactly like that," you smiled, relieved by his four-year-old logic. "Just like that."

You focused your eyes on the road ahead, navigating toward your new neighborhood. The drive was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rumble of distant thunder rolling across the Oklahoma plains.

When you finally pulled into the driveway of your new home, the sight of it immediately brought back a sense of grounding comfort. It was a beautiful, two-story modern house with sharp architectural lines, expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, and a perfectly manicured lawn. It looked safe. It looked stable. It looked nothing like the chaotic, dust-covered world you had just left behind at the garage.

"Wow," Leo gasped, pressing his face against the side window. "Is this our giant castle?"

"It sure is, buddy. Let's go check out your new room," you said, unbuckling your seatbelt and feeling a surge of fierce, maternal pride. You had done this. You didn't need a deadbeat ex, and you didn't need to rely on your parents' fortune to bail you out. You were making a life on your own terms.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊ ୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

For the next few hours, you threw yourself into a frenzy of unpacking and organizing. You helped Leo set up his mountain of toy cars, legos and also arranged his books, watching him happily zoom his toy truck across the polished concrete floors.

By the time early evening arrived, the house felt lived-in, smelling of fresh linen and the pizza you had ordered for dinner.

But as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the sky outside the massive living room windows took on an eerie, bruised-purple hue.

A severe thunderstorm warning popped up on your phone. You walked over to the glass, looking out at the distant flashes of lightning illuminating the clouds. Down in the city, the sirens weren't wailing yet, but the wind was picking up, making the trees in your yard sway aggressively.

Instinctively, your mind raced back to the crew. Are they still out there? Did they catch the supercell? Is Tyler safe?

Before you could spiral any further, the bright headlights of a vehicle cut through the gathering gloom, sweeping across your front window. A massive, heavy-duty truck pulled into your pristine driveway.

Your heart stopped. You would recognize the roaring purr of that custom Dodge Ram engine anywhere.

It was Tyler.

A heavy knock sounded at your front door just as the first fat drops of rain began to slam against the glass. You took a deep breath, smoothing down your shirt, and opened the door.

Tyler stood on your porch. He had clearly just come straight from the chase as his cowboy hat was slightly damp, his white shirt had a smear of dark mud across the shoulder, and he looked entirely out of place against the chic, minimalist backdrop of your entryway. He looked breathless, his blue eyes burning with an intense, unreadable emotion as he looked at you.

"Tyler?" you breathed, gripping the edge of the door. "What are you doing here? The storm—"

"I needed to see you," he interrupted, his voice deep, rough, and completely stripped of his usual playful swagger. He took a half-step forward, the smell of rain and ozone rolling off him. "Dani gave me your address. And I couldn't just sit in that garage tonight pretending like everything is fine. We need to.. talk."

You wanted to laugh, "Ty. Talk about what?" You say, not getting what's it about but you also kind of knew what it was going to be about.

Tyler took off his cowboy hat, revealing slightly damp, ruffled blonde hair, and held it tightly by the brim. He looked past you for a fraction of a second, taking in the sleek lines of your entryway, the expensive-looking lighting, and the absolute peace of your home. It was a far cry from the cramped, messy truck cabs and loud diners you two used to share.

"About everything," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, gravelly register he only used when he was genuinely frustrated. He stepped across the threshold, not waiting for an invitation this time, though he carefully wiped his muddy boots on your doormat. "About why you left. About why you didn't tell me you were coming back. And about why you looked at me today like I was some stranger who replaced you."

Your jaw tightened. Damn you, Dani, you thought bitterly. Your friend just couldn't keep her mouth shut. She had clearly picked up on your freezing reaction to Kate and fed it right to Tyler the second they got back from the chase.

To anyone else—to Dani, to Boone, to the entire state of Oklahoma—it was painfully obvious why you were upset. You were fiercely, undeniably jealous. But to you? You thought you were just being practical. You thought you were protecting your dignity. You didn't think you had a right to be jealous, because you convinced yourself that Tyler had only ever seen you as a friend and a partner.

"I didn't think I looked like anything," you lied smoothly, crossing your arms over your chest to create a physical barrier between you. You leaned against the wall, trying to project an aura of casual indifference. "I was tired, Ty. It was a long drive. And I have a four-year-old to take care of."

"Don't do that," Tyler said. He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him from the adrenaline of the storm. He set his hat down on your minimalist console table, entirely ruining its neat aesthetic. "Don't play the 'everything's fine' game with me. Not after five years."

He looked at you, his blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your knees a little weak. He was spiraling, though he’d never admit why. Tyler thought he was just being a protective, loyal best friend who felt abandoned. He didn't realize that the suffocating weight in his chest wasn't righteous anger—it was pure, unadulterated jealousy over the fact that another man had gotten to build a life with you, and absolute panic that he was losing his spot by your side.

"Dani told me what you said. An 'old friend of the team'?" Tyler shook his head, a flash of genuine hurt cutting through his rugged exterior. "Is that what I am to you now? An old friend? After everything we went through? After I spent months helping you prepare for a baby, just because I couldn't bear the thought of you doing it alone?"

"You didn't have to do that, Tyler!" you snapped, your proud defense mechanisms finally cracking. The raw emotion in his voice was pushing all your buttons. "I never asked you to! I left because I had to fix my life. My ex left me broke and humiliated, and I had to go back to my parents to get my feet under me. I didn't want to drag you down into my mess!"

"You think you could ever drag me down?" Tyler yelled back, stepping even closer, his chest heaving. "I wanted to be there! I wanted to go with you! But you shut me out. You packed up your car and you drove away, you barely even looked back."

"Because you had a life here!" you cried, tears finally stinging the corners of your eyes. You gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the brewing storms outside. "Look at you now, Tyler! You're famous. You're the Tornado Wrangler. You have a massive crew, you have YouTube channels, and you have... you have Kate."

The name slipped out before you could stop it, heavy with all the unsaid heartache you’d been carrying since this afternoon.

Tyler froze. His brow furrowed, completely caught off guard by the venom in your voice when you said her name. He was so incredibly dense about his own heart that he didn't even recognize the green-eyed monster staring him in the face. He just felt an overwhelming, desperate need to clear his name, completely missing why you cared so much in the first place.

"Kate?" he repeated, his tone genuinely baffled. "What does Kate have to do with anything? She's a meteorologist. She’s helping us test a system to stabilize tornadoes. We’re working. If you think I just forgot about you—"

"Uncle? Mommy? Mommy, why are you fighting with him? But you were—"

A small, innocent voice cut right through the heavy tension in the room.

Your eyes widened in absolute panic. Leo was standing at the edge of the kitchen, holding a half-built Lego set, looking between the two of you with wide, curious eyes. He had been about to finish that sentence—about to say "...but you were always talking about him to Grandma," or "...but you were saying how you have a picture of him in your scrapbook."

"Leo!" you cut him off quickly, your voice high and strained as your heart leaped into your throat. You could feel the heat rushing to your face.

Tyler’s head snapped toward your son, his jaw dropping slightly as he tried to process what the little boy had been about to reveal. He looked from Leo back to you, his blue eyes blowing wide with a sudden, intense curiosity. "What was he going to say?"

"Nothing," you said breathlessly, your proud defense mechanisms slamming right back into place. You couldn't let him know. You couldn't let him see how much space he had occupied in your mind for the last five years while he was out becoming a superstar. "Tyler, you have to leave."

"Hey, hold on—"

"Tyler," you repeated, your voice firmer this time, though it trembled slightly. "Please. Just leave."

You didn't give him a chance to argue. You turned your back on him, instantly shifting your focus to your son to hide your flushed face. You knelt down on the polished concrete floor, forcing a warm, bright smile onto your face. "And let's get back to fixing your toys, okay? Didn't you want Mommy to help you build the big Lego castle?"

Leo’s face instantly lit up. He nodded with a joyful smile, completely forgetting the heavy adult conversation he had just interrupted. "Yes! The castle with the giant tower!"

"Then let's go do that," you murmured, gently taking his small hand.

Tyler stood frozen by the console table, his damp cowboy hat still in his hand. He looked entirely out of place in your sleek, modern home, but the frustration rolling off him was palpable. He wanted to demand answers, he wanted to know what Leo meant, and he wanted to shake you until you admitted why you were acting so fiercely protective and angry. But seeing you there on the floor, focusing entirely on being a mother, he knew he couldn't push any further tonight.

With a tight, frustrated breath, Tyler gripped his hat, turned on his heel and walked out into the pouring Oklahoma rain as the heavy click of the front door signals his departure.

You let out a breath you felt like you’d been holding for five years, resting your forehead against Leo's small shoulder for just a second before heading toward the bedroom. You had managed to protect your secret, but as the thunder rattled the glass windows of your beautiful new house, you knew this storm was far from over.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The heavy metal door of the garage slammed shut, the loud BANG echoing over the steady hum of the rain and the classic country track playing softly from Boone’s speakers.

The entire crew stopped what they were doing.

Tyler stood in the doorway, soaked from the brief walk between his truck and the building. He didn’t even bother to shake the water from his cowboy hat. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle was twitching in his cheek, and his blue eyes were dark, burning with a mix of fierce frustration and absolute confusion. He looked like a man who had just run headfirst into an EF5 tornado and had no idea how he’d survived.

Dani, who was sitting on the hood of a refurbished Scout with a grease rag in her lap, didn't even look surprised. She just raised an eyebrow.

"So—what did you two talk about?" she asked, her tone entirely too casual for the storm Tyler was bringing inside.

Tyler stormed over to the workbench, tossing his damp hat down onto a pile of blueprints with a heavy thud. He didn't answer her question. Instead, he leaned his palms flat against the wooden surface, glaring directly at Dani.

"What did you tell her, Dani?" Tyler demanded, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble.

"I gave her a hug, told her she looked great, and gave her the address to her new place," Dani said, completely unfazed by his glare. "Which, by the way, I only gave to you because I thought you’d act like a normal human being. Clearly, I over-estimated you."

"She thinks I had forgotten about her," Tyler snapped, placing his hands on his waist.

Then he turned around, pacing the length of the concrete floor like a caged animal. "She stands in the middle of this giant, fancy, modern living room—looking like she doesn’t need a single damn thing from anybody and she looks at me like I'm a traitor. She also brought up Kate!"

Across the garage, Boone stopped editing his footage, his eyes widening. Lily slowly lowered her drone controller. Even Kate, who was sitting in the corner going over radar data with Javi, raised her head, looking entirely bewildered.

"She brought me up?" Kate asked, pointing her finger at herself, at her own chest. "Why?"

"Because she thinks you two are..." Dani trailed off, gesturing vaguely between Kate and Tyler. "I don't know! Partners!" Tyler frowns, "In every sense of the word. She told me she was 'happy for us' and implied that she didn't seem to fit into my business anymore."

"Business?" Boone let out a sharp, breathless laugh, quickly covering his mouth when Tyler shot him a death glare. "Sorry, boss. It's just... you're a genius with weather, but you are legally blind when it comes to women."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tyler growled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "We were partners for years. We went through hell together when her damned ex bailed. I slept on a crappy lawn chair in her apartment for a week just to make sure she was eating right before she moved away! I am her best friend for a year. Why is she shutting me out all of a sudden?

Dani groaned, tossing her grease rag onto the hood of the truck and sliding off. She walked over to Tyler, looking up at him with pure exasperation.

"Tyler. Listen to me very carefully," Dani said, tapping a finger against his chest. "Anyone with working eyes can see what's happening. She saw you. She saw the guy she hasn't seen in five years, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Kate. So she must have been fiercely, undeniably jealous. She probably thinks she lost her place in your life."

Tyler blinked, his brow furrowing in genuine, absolute bafflement. "Jealous? Of Kate? Why would she be jealous of Kate? I told her that Kate is just my partner for the project and that she's helping us."

"Because she has feelings for you, you absolute idiot!" Dani snapped as she threw her hands up.

"No, she doesn't," Everyone groaned as Tyler fired back instantly, his defense mechanisms kicking in. He then shook his head, running a hand through his damp blonde hair. "She’s never said anything like that or felt anything like that for me. She thinks of me as a brother. A friend. And If she had feelings for me, why would she pack up and leave five years ago and tell me she's 'all taken care of'?"

"Because she's proud of what she built for herself and for her son!" Dani yelled back. "And because she thinks you only see her as a friend too!"

Tyler then went quiet, his mind suddenly racing back to the living room. He remembered the flush on your face, the defensive way you had crossed your arms, and the sharp, venomous bite in your voice when you said Kate's name. It hadn't felt like a friend being protective. It had felt... personal. Deeply personal.

And then, his thoughts hit a brick wall.

Leo's little voice echoed in Tyler's ears. The way your eyes had gone wide with sheer slight panic. The way you had practically screamed your son's name to cut him off before he could finish that sentence.

Tyler’s posture shifted. The anger faded, replaced by a sudden, intense focus. He looked at Dani as his voice dropped into a quiet whisper.

"The kid," Tyler muttered.

"What about Leo?" Dani asked, her brow furrowing.

"We were arguing, and Leo walked in," Tyler said, his eyes scanning the floor as he pieced it together. "He looked at me, then he looked at her, and he asked, 'Mommy, why are you fighting with him? But you were—' and then she cut him off. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost, Dani. She kicked me out of the house right then and there."

The garage went completely silent. Boone, Lily, and Dani all exchanged a massive, knowing look.

"What was he going to say?" Tyler asked, looking around at his crew, his voice carrying a rare, vulnerable ache. "What has she been telling that kid about me?"

"What if you were the dad?"

The voice cut through the heavy silence of the garage like a lightning strike.

Everyone snapped their heads around. Javi was leaning against the breakroom counter, casually nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee, looking entirely too proud of his own sudden theory.

Before the words could even fully settle in the air, Kate lunged forward and brought the flat of her hand down squarely against the back of his head with a loud smack.

"Read the room, idiot!" she muttered fiercely under her breath, glaring at him with a look that could kill.

Javi winced, rubbing the back of his neck as his mouth instantly formed a perfect, silent 'O' of realization. He looked at Tyler’s face, swallowed hard, and slowly retreated a step behind Kate, suddenly wishing he could blend into the drywall.

But the damage was done. The words were out there, hanging in the humid air of the garage, heavier than a low-pressure system before an outbreak.

Tyler didn't move. He didn't blink. He just stood there, his hands still resting flat on the workbench, his knuckles turning entirely white.

The dad.

The timeline instantly fractured and reassembled itself in Tyler’s mind. Five years ago. He remembered the exact night she had come over to his place, sobbing, her world shattered because her ex had packed his bags and denied everything. He remembered holding her on his couch for hours while she cried into his shirt. He remembered the sheer panic in her eyes, the pride that kept her from asking her wealthy family for help right away, and the way she had stubbornly insisted she had to handle it alone.

Tyler had stayed by her side through those first terrifying months. He had bought the groceries, checked her tire pressure, and secretly stayed up late researching prenatal vitamins. He had done it because he was deeply, hopelessly in love with herand because he thought he was just being the ultimat Ke best friend.

But he had never touched her back then. He had been too afraid of ruining what they had, too respectful of her situation, too much of a coward to tell her how he really felt.

"No," Tyler breathed, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain drumming against the metal roof. He let out a sharp, hollow laugh, though there was absolutely no humor in his eyes. "No, Javi. That’s impossible. We never... she was with him before everything went south. It doesn't work like that." We never slept, was he wanted to directly say in front of everyone. But he felt like a coward. Then— "He doesn't mean biologically, you giant cowboy linebacker," Dani said, her voice dropping into something incredibly soft, almost pitiful. She took a step closer to him, crossing her arms.

"Look, think about it. What if he wasn't going to say 'the man who is my dad'? What if he was going to say 'the man you said you wished was my dad'?"

Tyler’s chest rose and fell in a harsh, ragged breath.

Mommy, why are you fighting with him? But you were—

The way you had practically thrown your body between Tyler and your son's words.

"Oh. She has a picture of you, Tyler," Lily reckons, talking from the corner as she looks up from her drone calibration. "Remember that old polaroid Boone took of the two of you after the Enid storm? The one where you're both covered in mud, laughing? Where you were wearing that stupid foam finger?"

Tyler’s head snapped toward Lily. "What about it?"

"When she left, she asked me if she could keep it," Lily murmured. "I saw her tuck it right into her wallet. Come on you guys. A four-year-old kid doesn't just randomly say something like that out of thin air, Tyler. He probably knows who you are already because of how she’s been probably talking about you. Now you're telling us she doesn't feel anything for you?"

Tyler felt the room tilt. The blind spot he’d had in his own heart for half a decade was suddenly blown wide open, leaving him completely exposed.

He hadn't just lost his partner five years ago. He had walked away from the only woman who held his heart, leaving her to raise a child alone while she secretly carried a torch for a man she thought had replaced her. And tonight, he had stormed into her beautiful, quiet sanctuary, yelled at her, and made her feel like a stranger in his life.

"I'm an idiot," Tyler whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow to the stomach.

"We've been trying to tell you that for three years, boss," Boone said, his usual hyperactive energy completely gone, replaced by a supportive, serious nod.

Tyler didn't waste another second. He grabbed his damp cowboy hat off the table, shoving it onto his head as he turned back toward the garage door.

"Where are you going?" Dani called out. "It's pouring out there and she just kicked you out!"

"I don't care," Tyler barked, his hand already throwing the heavy metal door open. The cold Oklahoma rain sprayed across his face, but he didn't even flinch. His truck keys were already in his hand. "She can kick me out a hundred more times. I'm going back."

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

"Alright, we're done here," you muttered to yourself, wiping a stray bit of dust off the sleek, minimalist coffee table and tossing the microfiber cloth onto the kitchen marblecounter.

The house was finally immaculate. Every box was emptied as the modern furniture was perfectly arranged, and how the quiet luxury of the space should have brought you peace. Instead, the silence felt incredibly heavy, vibrating with the leftover echo of the shouting match you’d just had with Tyler a while ago.

"Leo—" you called out, wiping your palms on your jeans as you walked into the living room.

The words died in your throat.

Leo wasn't playing with his Legos anymore. He was standing on the plush area rug, his small hands pressed flat against the floor-to-ceiling glass window, staring out into the dark, storm-swept yard.

Outside, the Oklahoma sky had completely opened up. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the streetlights and whipping the trees into a frenzy. But right in the middle of your pristine gravel driveway, illuminated by the amber glow of your porch light, stood a shadow.

A massive, unmistakable shadow.

Your heart skipped a violent beat. You stepped closer, your eyes widening as you took in the sight of those broad, masculine shoulders, the rugged posture and the cowboy hat pulled low against the downpour. He was standing right outside his running Dodge Ram truck, entirely motionless, getting absolutely soaked to the bone but still looked handsome.

Wait. I know who that man is...

"Tyler?" the name breathed out of you, a mix of sheer disbelief and sudden panic. "Mommy it's uncle Tyler?"

Before you could even think, your feet were moving. You sprinted across the polished concrete floor, threw open the heavy front door, and stepped out onto the sheltered porch. The freezing spray of the rain hit your face instantly.

"What the hell?!" you yelled over the roar of the wind, your voice laced with exasperation and a terrifying surge of worry. "Tyler! Are you insane? Get inside!"

Tyler didn't move for a second. He just stood there in the pouring rain, his white t-shirt plastered to his chest, water streaming down his jawline. But when he looked up and met your eyes, the usual playful, cocky "Tornado Wrangler" swagger was completely gone. His blue eyes were burning with a fierce, raw intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

He didn't say a word. He just started walking toward your porch, his heavy boots crunching against the wet gravel, eating up the distance between you like a man on a mission.

"Tyler. Look at the weather. So please, get inside now," you pleaded, your voice cracking slightly as the wind whipped around the porch, spraying cold rain across your arms. Then you turned to look at your son, "Leo, please go to your room. Mommy has to talk to uncle Tyler." Leo nods, a face of a child who doesn't know anything about what's happening right now has taken his toy truck, imitating the engine sounds of a truck, running to his room.

Meanwhile, Tyler didn't budge. He just stopped right in front of you, the rain pouring off the brim of his cowboy hat like a curtain between you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that easily cut through the roar of the storm.

"Tell you what? Tyler, you're soaking wet, freezing. Just—"

Tyler interrupted, saying your name with a weight and a tenderness that completely knocked the breath out of your lungs. He stepped up onto the porch, towering over you, his chest heaving under his soaked shirt. "You know, saying your name used to be my favorite part of the day." He confessed, continuing as you just looked at him with an almost teary eyes. "And then you left. I had to learn how to stop saying it. I had to pretend like I was fine after you left."

You turn around, stepping back into the warmth of the entryway of the house as your heart hammered against your ribs. "Ty, please, we– we already fought about this—" you stammered as you felt how his eyes were locked entirely on you.

Then he says your name, "we didn't fight about the right things," he said, following you inside as you started to walk towards the kitchen, leaving a trail of water on your pristine floors. Because all of a sudden, your throat felt dry. "Dani told me, okay? And Lily. They told me about the picture. And Leo... I already knew what he was going to say before you cut him off."

Your face went entirely pale. The walls that you had built over the last five years suddenly felt like glass, cracking under the sheer force of his gaze. You turned around as you swallowed hard, backing up until your hips hit the kitchen counter.

"He wasn't going to say anything important," you lied, though your voice trembled so badly it betrayed you instantly. "He's four, Tyler. He mixes up his words."

"He was going to say I'm the man you always talk about," Tyler whispered, closing the distance between you until you could feel the icy dampness radiating off his clothes and the fierce, burning heat of his breath. "Ain't he?"

Then he reached out his large trembling hands hovering just inches from your face, holding himself from wanting to touch you but terrified that you'd pull away from the touch. "If you thought I replaced you, if you thought I didn't care... why did you keep my picture?"

"Because I couldn't forget you!" you finally snapped, the confession tearing out of your throat, raw and agonizing. Tears spilled over your eyelashes, hot against your cheeks. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I lived in my parents' house for five years, completely stable enough to give my son a life and completely taken care of while I would always feel miserable every time I look at things that reminds me of you, and how I wished that you were there for me while I gave birth to my son! But you were the infamous tornado wrangler, and I was just a single mom. I didn't think I had a right to your life anymore!"

Tyler stared at you, his blue eyes blowing wide as the truth finally crashed over him. The dense, blind boy from the garage was officially gone. It was now a man looking at the only woman he had ever loved and just realizing thatshe had been hurting for the same exact reason he had.

"S'that it?," Tyler breathed, a ragged, emotional laugh escaping his lips. He didn't hesitate this time. He stepped firmly into your space, his large, warm hands coming up to cupping your face, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. "You think I care about a title? You think I care about some stupid YouTube channel? I built all of that because I was trying to run away from how empty the world felt without you in it."

He leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet spaces of your modern kitchen.

"I don't just want to be an old friend of the team," Tyler whispered fiercely against your skin. "I want to be here. With you. With Leo. I'm not leaving this house until you understand that you could never, ever be nothing to me."

You both froze, your lips inches apart until the sudden burst of high-stakes romantic tension snapping like a broken power line in a storm.

"No kissy!"

The small, stern voice echoed from the hallway, completely shattering the heavy, emotional atmosphere.

Tyler’s eyes flew open, a sudden, breathless laugh bubbling up from his chest as he slowly lifted his head. You blinked, your face instantly flushing a brilliant crimson as you looked over Tyler’s broad shoulder.

Leo was standing at the edge of the kitchen, his tiny hands planted firmly on his hips. He was wearing his favorite cartoon pajamas, his little brow furrowed in deep, four-year-old disapproval. He looked at Tyler, then at you, nodding righteously.

"Grandma says kissing is for when people are married, or if it's on the cheek," Leo lectured solemnly, holding up a single finger to emphasize his point. "And cowboy truck man is still too wet. He's gonna get the floor sticky."

A choked sound escaped your throat as you hid your burning face in your hands. Leave it to your son to completely ruin the most profoundly romantic moment of your entire life with your mother's strict etiquette rules.

Tyler, however, didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, the sheer adoration in his eyes as he looked at Leo made your heart do a violent flip. He slowly let his hands drop from your face, though his thumb brushed your jawline one last time before he turned around, kneeling down on the polished concrete floor so he was at eye level with your son.

Even soaked to the bone and dripping onto your pristine floor, Tyler looked completely at home.

"You're right, buddy," Tyler said, his deep voice carrying a warm, incredibly gentle rumble as he smiled up at Leo. "My bad. Strict no-kissy rules. And I am definitely making a mess of your mommy's floors."

Leo looked at the small puddle forming around Tyler’s boots, then looked up at Tyler's face. The little boy's stern expression began to melt, replaced by that familiar, curious wonder. He took a few hesitant steps forward, dragging his half-built Lego castle with him.

"Are you gonna stay and help with the tower now?" Leo asked softly, peeking out from behind his toys. "Mommy said we were gonna build the big one but it was too hard."

Tyler’s blue eyes flicked up to you for a split second—searching, asking for permission, checking to see if the walls you had built were truly down. You looked at him, the rain still drumming against the glass, and for the first time in five years, the heavy weight in your chest felt light. You gave him a small, genuine smile, nodding your head.

"Sorry— hello?" You softly greet, excusing yourself from a phone call. "We're closed, I'm sorry—" You were cut off as you saw this familiar, tall, broad, handsome blonde man, walking towards you with a smile, "Hey," he greets, God, you hate it when he drawls towards you like that. And you hate it how you have this throbbing feeling for him. For years. And for years, you were denial whenever your friends tease you about him or ask about him. "Steve." Your hand slowly drops beside you, it was a long time since you've seen him and you never expected him to come to where you work which takes an hour from where he stays at. 

He says your name, "I– What are you doing here? People walking by will see you!" You hissed, you leave the counter, walking towards him then pulling him to the staff's room. "Woah there– just a visit." He chuckles as you pull him towards the staff room. "A visit?" You finally asked, turning around to face him. Not realising the distance between you both, making Steve flush a little. He coughs, "Well– look, It has been a long time since I've last seen you."

You stifled a laugh, "Steve– you– you don't know what you're saying right now." He frowns, saying your name, "I care for you, and I–" He holds back.

Care? For me? As a friend, right?

You shovelled the thought away, trying to make up an excuse why he should go now. "Steve, you should go. I have to go somewhere urgent." You lied, it'll work. You thought, "Urgent? I can drop you–" Before he could finish his sentence, your phone vibrated on the counter where you dropped it. "I gotta take this call. It's– you know." You paused, then ran up to the phone vibrating. 

He follows from behind, "Yes– I'm sorry. I'll be there soon," you spoke to the person on the phone, Steve curiously looked at you, he couldn't tell if it was a family, a friend or a boyfriend. A boyfriend. He definitely hated the thought of you having a boyfriend. Then you hung up, waving your hand in front of Steve's face, "Steve?" He goes back to realization, now looking at you, "Sorry." He muttered. You sigh, "Well? Who was it?" he asks before you could open your mouth to talk, "A friend." You cleared, it was a date. "I see." He quote, there was a short moment of silence, until you spoke again, "Okay. I gotta go, Steve. Thank you for um– coming to see me but it's a really bad timing right now, I have to–" 

"–go. I got it." His voice dropped, losing that easy, warm tone from before. 

Then Steve stepped back, giving you space, but his eyes never left your face as he looked stiff. Making his broad shoulders square down, slipping his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. For a man who had faced down armies, he looked entirely defeated by a single phone call. 

"Right," you murmured, avoiding his intense gaze by reaching for your keys and purse on the counter. Your heart was hammering against your ribs. The guilt of brushing Steve off tasted like ash in your mouth, he was your friend. So why couldn't you tell him the truth? 

"I'll see you around, Steve. Call me next time you're thinking of coming up?" 

"Yeah. Next time," he muttered. 

You unlocked the heavy front door of the bar, letting the cool night air rush in. Steve stepped out onto the dimly lit sidewalk first. He turned back to look at you, the neon sign of your bar casting a vibrant, bleeding glow across his face. Red, blue, gold. He looked like a masterpiece and you felt entirely unworthy of being the one holding the damnbrush. 

"Be safe," he said softly, a heavy, unreadable emotion swirling in his blue eyes. 

"Always am," you lied with a tight smile. 

You locked the door behind him as you watched his tall silhouette disappear down the street. You took a deep breath, trying to shake the throbbing ache in your chest, and went to go get ready for a date you already knew you were going to hate. 

Minute after, the date was a disaster. Really.Not because the guy was awful, but because he wasn't him. He didn't have Steve’s quiet confidence, he didn't laugh with that deep, rumbling chest sound, and he didn't look at you like you were the only person in a crowded room. 

His name was Thomas, or maybe Marcus but honestly, by the time the appetizers arrived, your brain had alreadychecked out. He was a nice enough guy, a corporate lawyer who talked extensively about his latest promotion and his weekend golf trips. He was perfectly ordinary. 

Gray. Next to the vibrant, overwhelming memory of Steve standing in your breakroom, this man felt like a faded photocopy. Or an expired one. 

"So," Thomas said, leaning across the candlelit table with a practiced smile. "Your bar is doing incredible. Must be exciting, meeting all kinds of people in the city, you know." 

"Yeah," you murmured, swirling the wine in your glass, "It's a lot of work." 

"I bet. Though, I have to ask... a gorgeous woman like you running a place like that? You must have guys throwing themselves at you constant—" 

You stopped listening. Your mind drifted back to the sidewalk outside your bar. To the way Steve’s broad shoulders had squared down, his hands shoved deep into his leather jacket pockets. He had looked so small in that moment, despite his size. 

Defeated. Because he probably thought you were rushing off to a man you just met few weeks ago, dismissing the man you know longer than the guy who doesn't deserve your time more than he did. 

"Hey, are you alright?" Thomas asked, blinking at you. "You're a million miles away." 

"I'm sorry," you said, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. The guilt was a physical weight in your chest now, suffocating and sharp. "I just... I have a really early morning with inventory. I think I should head home." 

You slipped inside your small, yet quite spacious apartment of yours, tossing your jacket onto a table. You didn't bother turning on the main lights, letting the streetlights through the windows guide your way to the liquor shelves. 

You grabbed one of the liquor bottles from the shelf, you didn't wanna sorrow deep into liquor but you can't lie but you do miss Steve. Maybe as a friend. Maybe more. But who knows? 

Then you grabbed the glass and poured one in as the liquor splashed into the heavy crystal glass, the sharp, medicinal scent of the bourbon hitting your nose before you even lifted it to your lips. You took a long, burning swallow as it tore down your throat. A persistent ache throbbing right behind your ribs. 

You leaned your hips back against the kitchen counter, staring out into the living room. Without the lights on, the apartment was a canvas of shadows, painted only by the cold, pale blue of the city streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains. 

You closed your eyes, but that only made it worse. Blue. His pretty, blue eyes. And behind your eyelids, you could still see him standing on the sidewalk. You could see the bleeding neon sign from your bar reflecting off the sharp angle of his jaw, the deep, sorrowful ocean of his eyes when he looked at you. You take another slow sip of the bourbon, letting the liquid fire settle in your stomach, but it does nothing to warm the chill under your skin. 

You hate how easily he unbalances you. You’ve spent years building up walls, convincing yourself that Captain America, belongs on a pedestal in a museum or in the sky saving the world. Anywhere but in your cramped world, looking at you like you hold the answers to the universe. 

With a heavy sigh, you set the crystal glass down on the counter. The sharp clink echoes loudly in the quiet apartment. You pad over to the window, resting your forehead against the cool glass, looking down at the street below. Headlights blur into long streaks of white and red. 

“I care for you.” 

His voice echoes in your ears, deep and steady. He hadn't said as a friend, and you don't even know it. You just know that you were the one who had tacked that label onto his words, how you convinced yourself that Steve only wasted his time driving an hourjust for a casual catch up. How he didn't look upset over a "friend" having a phone call. 

You were just too terrified to see what was right in front of you. And you're a coward.

And that was problem. The problem you wanted to solve. So you decided to pay them a visit despite how many hours the drive will be by tomorrow morning. 

"Look who it is!" The voice had belonged to Sam Wilson, his voiced echoed through the room, making everyone turn their heads on you. Pepper shouted your name in excitement, "no way," she runs to you, leaving Tony stunned. 

Pepper’s heels click rapidly against the polished floor before she throws her arms around you, pulling you into a warm, expensive-smelling hug. "No way! What are you doing all the way out here? We've missed you so much!" 

"Hey, Pep," you managed a laugh as the tension in your shoulders melting just a fraction under her genuine enthusiasm. 

Over Pepper’s shoulder, you see Tony starkly freeze mid-sip of his green smoothie, blinking at you in faux-betrayal. "Wait a minute. You close down the hottest bar in the city on a Friday morning just to come visit us? Without an appointment? Who are you and what have you done with my favorite mixologist?" 

"I didn't close it, Tony, I have managers," you roll your eyes playfully, stepping back from Pepper. "And I was just... in the neighborhood." 

Sam Wilson lets out a loud, booming laugh from the kitchen island, leaning his elbows on the marble counter. "In the neighborhood? Girl, you live an hour and a half away in heavy traffic. Try again. And judging by the look on your face, you didn't drive all this way to bring Tony his favorite bourbon." 

You feel a hot flush creep up your neck, and you desperately hope none of them notice. Leave it to Sam to see right through you in less than five seconds. 

"She's allowed to just visit, Sam," Pepper chides gently, though her eyes are sparkling with knowing amusement as she looks at you. She leans in a little closer, lowering her voice. "He's out on the grounds. Left about an hour ago for a run, but he should be back any minute." 

Your heart does a violent thud against your ribs. He's here. You hadn't even mentioned Steve's name, but Pepper already knew exactly why you were standing in their living room with dark circles under your eyes and a nervous grip on your car keys. 

"Is it that obvious?" you mumble, deflating a little. 

"To anyone with eyes," Tony chimes in, walking over to toss his empty glass into the sink. He points a finger at you. "Cap came back late last night looking like someone ran over his childhood golden retriever, didn't say a word, went straight to the gymand literally destroyed three damn punching bags before midnight. I was gonna bill him for the equipment, but now that you're here, I'm guessing you're the one who broke Cap." 

"Tony," Pepper warns, swatting his arm. 

"What? I'm just stating facts," Tony shrugs, though his expression softens into something surprisingly gentle when he looks back at you. "Go easy on him. The guy doesn't exactly have a high emotional IQ when it comes to... well, you." 

"He's right for once," Sam adds, tossing an apple from hand to hand. "Steve’s a lot of things, but subtle ain't one of 'em. Go get your man." 

Your man. The words ring in your ears, sweet and terrifying. 

"Thanks guys, but we're not—" you say softly, the words catching in your throat. You look down at your keys, tracing the metal edge with your thumb. "We're just friends." 

Sam lets out a soft, sympathetic grunt, setting the apple down on the counter. "'Just friends' don't drive an hour and a half minute at the crack of dawn looking like they haven't slept in a week just toapologize to each other or.. something. Go find him before he starts on a fourth punching bag." 

Pepper gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. "H.e usually loops back around the eastern trail near the lake. Go on. We'll make sure Tony doesn't follow you with a drone." 

"Hey, I resent that," Tony calls out, though he’s already turning back to his tablet, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. "I only use drones for high-profile couples. You two are strictly indie-film territory." You laughed at Tony's remark. 

Offering a small, grateful smile to Pepper and Sam, you turn on your heel and head toward the glass doors leading out to the compound's massive, sprawling grounds. 

The morning air is crisp, carrying the sharp scent of pine and dew-covered grass. You walk briskly down the paved path, your boots clicking softly against the concrete until the path dissolves into a dirt trail lined with heavy oak trees. Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re convinced the entire state of New York can hear it. 

What am I even going to say? 

Then you heard a branch breaking, must be Steve. You thought to yourself, then a squirrel jumped onto you, making you fall back to the water. You yelped, "Fuck," You muttered. You then looked down on your shirt, it was see through. Only if it's wet. Right.

You sat there in the shallow edge of the lake, water soaking completely through your clothes, freezing the skin of your stomach and making your shirt cling to you like a second skin. It was entirely see-through now. Out of all the ways you had imagined this confrontation going on your drive up here, getting taken out by a rogue squirrel and looking like a wet t-shirt contest contestant was definitely not on the list.

"This is fucking—" You started to swear, tossing a handful of wet grass back into the lake in pure frustration.

"Hey— oh."

That voice. That deep, instantly recognizable Brooklyn drawl vibrated through the crisp morning air, cutting your rant short.

You snapped your head up. Steve was standing at the edge of the tree line, his chest heaving under a tight, sweat-dampened gray shirt from his run. He looked incredible. HAd a vibrant and full of life against the green of the woods.

But the second his blue eyes locked onto you, he froze entirely. His gaze flicked from your face down to your soaked, transparent shirt, and a massive, roaring crimson flush immediately crept up his neck, coloring his jawline and ears.

Steve tore his eyes away so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash, staring aggressively at a completely random pine tree to his left.

"I— I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I heard a yell," he stammered, his Captain America persona completely evaporating into the awkward, flustered boy from Brooklyn.

Then He scrambled with the hem of his oversized navy blue sweatshirt, pulling it over his head in one swift, athletic motion and holding it out toward you blindly, still refusing to look in your direction. "Here. Take this."

"Steve, you can look at me, I'm not naked," you muttered, though your own face was burning a furious shade of red as you waded out of the water. You took the sweatshirt from his hand. It was massive, smelling heavily of cedar, laundry detergent, and the clean scent of his skin. You quickly threw it over your head, the thick fabric swallowing you whole and falling halfway down your thighs.

Only when you were completely covered did Steve finally let his breath out in a long, shaky sigh, his broad shoulders dropping as he looked back down at you. His eyes scanned your wet hair and shivering frame, the initial shock fading into that familiar, deep-seated concern.

"What are you even doing out here?" he asked softly, stepping closer to close the distance between you, completely forgetting about his run. "Sam and Pepper didn't tell me you were coming. Did... did something happen in the city?"

The underlying anxiety in his voice caught in your throat. He was still thinking about last night. He was thinking about the phone call, the "urgent" exit, and the fact that he thought he had been replaced.

"No, nothing happened," you said quietly, crossing your arms over your chest inside his giant sweatshirt, hugging the warmth of it close to your body. You looked up at him through your damp eyelashes, your heart doing that familiar, terrifying throb. "I just... I wanted to see you. I didn't like how we left things last night."

Steve blinked, his brow furrowing as he processed your words.

"You had plans," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing a bit of its warmth as he tried to remain casual. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his running shorts. "You don't have to apologize for having a life, or... seeing people. I shouldn't have just dropped in on you like that without calling first. It was bad timing."

The sheer stupidity of the lie you’d told last night tasted like ash on your tongue all over again. Looking at him now, standing in the middle of the woods just trying to protect his own heart from getting broken by his "friend," you couldn't keep up the charade.

"It wasn't bad timing because of work, Steve," you confessed, the words rushing out before you could stop them. "The phone call, it was just a date. A setup from one of my people."

Steve went entirely still. The slight breeze off the lake rustled the leaves around you, but he looked like he had been carved out of marble. His jaw tightened, a hard, sharp clench that made the muscle tick. He didn't look angry as he looked completely hollowed out by the confirmation of his worst fear from the night before.

"A date," he repeated, the word sounding heavy and foreign in his mouth. He looked away from you, staring out at the rippling water of the lake, his chest rising and falling in a slow, controlled breath. "Right. Well– I hope it went well."

"It was awful," you said bluntly.

That made his head snap back to you, his blue eyes wide with genuine surprise.

"He was nice, I guess. A lawyer," you continued, taking a tentative step closer to him on the dirt path, the damp fabric of your jeans dragging against your boots. "But he wasn't... Well– I spent the entire night thinking about how much I wanted to leave. I spent the whole time thinking about you standing on the sidewalk outside my bar upsettingly."

Steve’s breath hitched. He stepped toward you, closing the remaining distance until he was towering over you, blocking out the morning sun. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, a swirling storm of confusion, hope, and a deep, aching restraint.

"You thought about me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and thick with an emotion he was desperately trying to keep under wraps.

"Of course I did," you murmured, looking up at him, your hands itching to reach out and touch the soft fabric of the shirt he was still wearing, just to ground yourself. "You looked so upset when you had to leave. And.. Tony said you broke three punching bags last night."

A small, sheepish streak of pink returned to Steve's cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his boots.

"Hey.." You softly spoke, continuing–

"Steve, I drove an hour and a half at the crack of dawn because I couldn't handle the thought of you being upset with me," you said, your voice cracking slightly with the weight of the insecurity you always carried around him. "I value you too much. You're... you're my best friend."

Steve looked at you for a long, agonizing moment as his eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to your eyes, a heavy, unreadable tension hanging in the air between you. He reached out, his massive, warm hand hovering over your shoulder for a beat before he gently tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles brushed against your heated skin, sending a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine.

"I'm not upset with you," Steve said softly, his thumb lingering just for a second against your jawline before he dropped his hand back to his side, exerting an immense amount of self-control. "Never with you. I just... I worry about you. And I missed you."

"Come on," Steve said, a soft, genuine smile finally breaking through his features as he gestured back toward the path leading to the compound. "Let's get you inside before you catch a cold. Tony's probably already tracking us." You nod, both of you now heading back.

The walk back to the compound is quiet, but it’s a completely different kind of silence than the heavy, suffocating one from the night before. This one is thick with a brand-new, electric tension that keeps your pulse racing, even as the cool morning air bites at your wet jeans.

Steve walks right beside you, adapting his long, soldier’s stride to match your pace. He kept his eyes on the path ahead but there’s also a softness to his jaw as the tight, defeated lines from last night hadfinally smoothed out.

"So," Steve clears his throat, breaking the silence with that low, rumbling voice. "A corporate lawyer, huh?"

You let out a wet, breathless laugh, pulling the oversized sleeves of his sweatshirt down over your hands. "Don't remind me. He spent twenty minutes explaining the nuances of corporate tax law and his handicap in golf. I think my brain actually short-circuited somewhere around the appetizers."

Steve’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh, a genuine, easy sound that makes your chest ache in the best way possible. "Doesn't sound like your type."

"I don't think I have a type," you murmur, glancing up at him through your damp hair. "But 'boring and gray' definitely isn't it."

Steve’s smile falters for a fraction of a second, his blue eyes flicking down to meet yours. There’s a sudden, intense gravity in his gaze, a silent question hanging between you that neither of you is brave enough to voice yet. He looks like he wants to say something, something bigbut he catches himself swallowing hard and looking back toward the glass doors of the compound fading into view up ahead.

"Well," Steve says softly, his tone shifting into something a little more playful to break the tension. "Next time you need an excuse to get out of a bad date, you don't have to invent an emergency inventory crisis. You can just tell them your friend from upstate is demanding a cocktail."

"My friend from upstate, right," you repeat, a small, slightly sad smile touching your lips as you use his own safety net. "I'll remember that."

As you reach the heavy glass doors, the warmth of the compound’s heating system hits you instantly. The quiet sanctuary of the woods evaporates as the sounds of the kitchen island come back into focus—Tony’s espresso machine whirring loudly, and Sam’s voice carrying over a morning news broadcast.

Before you can push the door open, Steve reaches out, his hand resting gently against the glass just above your head, effectively boxing you in for a brief, stolen moment. You freeze, looking up at him. The sheer size of him is overwhelming up close, his shadow completely covering you.

"I'm glad you came up here," he says quietly, his voice dropping so low it’s meant for only you to hear. The intense, unreadable emotion from the lake is back in his eyes, burning bright and focused entirely on your face. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Your breath hitches in your throat, your fingers curling tightly into the hem of his sweatshirt. "Of course, Steve. I... I couldn't leave things wrong between us."

He holds your gaze for one beat, two, his eyes dropping to your lips for a fleeting, agonizing second before he pulls his hand back and opens the door for you, stepping back into his role as the polite, protective gentleman.

"Hey, look who survived the wilderness!" Sam’s voice booms the second you step inside, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the giant navy blue fabric drowning your body and your damp, messy hair. He looks between you and Steve, a massive, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "Cap actually shared his clothes. It’s a Friday miracle."

Tony looks up from his tablet, raising an eyebrow as he takes a slow sip of his coffee. "Well, look at that. You went out looking like a drowned rat and came back wearing a security blanket. I’m assuming the punching bags in the gym are safe for the rest of the weekend?"

"Shut up, Tony," Steve mutters, though the bright crimson flush immediately rushing up his neck and staining his ears tells a completely different story.

"Well, what happened? Why is.." Tony paused, "Why is she wet?" Sam spits out his water from the way Tony said it, "Tony!" Pepper scolded, Tony knew what he just said judging from his tone. Tony sniffled a laugh, "Right. You fell onto the lake, right?"

Right..

Sam was still coughing, wiping his chin with a napkin while glaring at Stark. "Man, you need a filter. Seriously."

"I am a man of science, Samuel. I ask the hard questions," Tony said, gesturing with his coffee mug toward you. "And my hypothesis was that Cap’s intense pining had finally altered the weather patterns around the lake. But a squirrel? Classic."

"Tony, drop it," Steve growled, but it lacked any real bite because he was currently preoccupied with trying to find a way to melt into the floorboards. The crimson flush had spread from his ears all the way down his neck. He stepped in front of you slightly, his massive frame shielding you from Tony’s line of sight. "She needs to get out of those wet clothes before she catches a cold."

Pepper stepped past Tony, giving him one last warning look before she walked over to you. Her expression was entirely warm. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs. FRIDAY, override the guest wing thermostats. Crank up the heat in room four."

"Already on it, Boss," the AI's smooth voice chimed through the ceiling speakers.

You offered a grateful smile to Pepper, gladly letting her lead you away from the kitchen and toward the elevator. But before the glass doors closed, you looked back over your shoulder. Steve was still standing exactly where you’d left him, his hands shoved back into his pockets, his deep blue eyes incredibly soft and fixed entirely on your face.

The elevator ride to the guest wing was quiet, the hum of the compound a stark contrast to the loud banter downstairs. Pepper was a saint; she didn't pry. She just escorted you to a massive, beautifully minimalist guest room where the air was already radiating a comforting, artificial warmth.

"Here," Pepper said, handing you a neat stack of clothes she'd grabbed from a nearby linen closet. "A pair of my old sweatpants and a clean grey t-shirt. They might be a little loose, but they're dry." She offered a soft, knowing smile, her eyes flicking to the massive navy sweatshirt still swallowing your frame. "I'll leave you to change. Take your time."

"Thanks, Pep," you murmured.

Once the door clicked shut, you finally let out the breath you felt like you’d been holding since you left the city at five in the morning. You peeled off the damp, clinging jeans, the relief of the warm air hitting your skin making you shiver. But when your hands reached the hem of Steve’s sweatshirt, you hesitated.

You brought the collar up to your nose, inhaling deeply. Cedarwood, clean sweat, and crisp autumn air. It was overwhelmingly him. You reluctantly pulled it over your head, leaving it carefully draped over the back of a chair, and changed into Pepper's dry clothes.

Just as you finished towel-drying your damp hair, a soft, heavy knock rattled the wooden door.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Come in?"

The door pushed open slowly, revealing Steve. He had changed out of his damp running clothes, now wearing a simple, dark grey thermal shirt that clung tightly to his chest and a pair of dark jeans. He looked cleaner, but his hair was still slightly damp at the ends, and he carried a steaming ceramic mug in his large hands.

"Hey," he said softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with a quiet click. The sudden privacy of the enclosed space made the air between you feel thick, instantly charged with that same electric tension from the lake. "I... brought you some tea. With honey."

"Steve, you don't have to play nursemaid," you smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the large bed.

"I know," he murmured, walking over and handing you the mug. His fingers brushed against yours during the handoff, and even though you were dry and warm now, a violent shiver rushed up your spine. Steve noticed, his eyes darkening slightly as he stood over you. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Tony and Sam... they don't know when to shut up."

"It's fine. Tony's right, though," you said quietly, taking a sip of the hot tea, the liquid warming your chest. "I probably looked ridiculous."

"You didn't," Steve said instantly. The fierce, protective tone in his voice made you look up. He was staring down at you, his jaw tight, his blue eyes entirely consuming. He took a slow breath, adjusting his posture. "You could never look ridiculous to me."

There it was again. That heavy, unreadable gravity. He was standing close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, blocking out the light of the guest room. You were safe inside the compound, but looking up at him, you felt more exposed than you had when your shirt was completely see-through.

"Steve..." your voice was barely a whisper, your fingers tightening around the warm ceramic mug.

"You know.. I meant what I said at the lake," he interrupted softly, taking a half-step closer until his knees were almost brushing against your shins where you sat on the bed. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. "I'm not upset. Really. But when you left last night, I thought you were rushing off to someone else..." He swallowed hard, his vocal cords straining.

"It made me realize how much time I've wasted pretending. After all these yearsbeing friends or whatever you call it, I'm done pretending," He softly said your name, making your breath hitch as your brain screamed at you to put up the walls, to remind him that you were just friends, to protect yourself from the inevitable crash.

But as you looked at the sharp angle of his jaw and the sheer honesty that wasbleeding out of his eyes, the word coward echoed in your head.

"Pretending what?" you asked, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you were certain he could hear it with his enhanced hearing.

"That—"

Click.

The heavy wooden door swung open with an obnoxiously loud creak.

Steve tore his hand back so fast it practically created a gust of wind in the room, stepping away from the bed in a single, fluid motion. He scrambled to look casual, but his chest was heaving, his broad shoulders practically vibrating with the sudden spike of adrenaline.

"Hey, lovebirds— oh, whew,okay, keeping the hands to yourself, good job Rogers."Sam’s voice boomed as he strolled right into the room, entirely unbothered by the thick, suffocating cloud of romantic tension he had just shattered into a million pieces.

He was holding a large white first-aid kit under his arm. "I'm proud," Sam added.

You sat frozen on the edge of the mattress, your knuckles turning white around the ceramic mug. Your face was burning a furious shade of red, and you desperately stared down at the tea leaves swirling in your cup just to avoid looking at either of them.

"Sam," Steve choked out, his voice a full octave lower than normal, thick and raspy with a terrifying amount of restrained frustration. "What are you doing?"

Sam sets down the first-aid kit down on the desk with a loud thud. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Pepper sent me. Said the kid got taken out by wildlife and might have scratches on her knees after tripping over. I brought the antiseptic."

"Thank you but I don't have scratches, Sam," you muttered into your tea, your voice sounding breathless and tight.

"Well look at that, a miraculous recovery," Sam replied, his eyes flicking between your flushed face and Steve’s rigid, towering posture. A slow, deeply wicked smirk spread across Sam's face. He knew exactly what he had just interrupted. "You know what?" Sam swuinted before eyeing the two of you "Am I interrupting something? Because Cap, you look like you want to throw me out of a closed window."

"I am considering it," Steve replied flatly.

Sam let out a loud, booming laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender as he backed toward the door. "Alright, alright! I'm leaving. Just checking in. Oh, by the way, Stark wants everyone in the lounge in ten minutes. Apparently, he ordered a ridiculous amount of greasy takeout from the city to celebrate the fact that Steve isn't brooding anymore. See you downstairs."

With a wink that made you want to crawl under the bedsheets and never come out, Sam stepped backward into the hallway and clicked the door shut.

Silence descended on the guest room again, but the magic of the moment before was completely broken. The heavy, electric pull had been replaced by a sharp, awkward static.

Steve didn't move for a long moment. He kept his back to you, his chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths as he forced his heart rate back down to normal. When he finally turned around, the intense, raw vulnerability from before was carefully tucked away behind his polite "Captain" mask, though his ears were still tipped with a lingering flush.

"You should... drink your tea before it gets cold," he said softly, offering a small, tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at your lips. "I'll let you get settled. I'll see you in the lounge?"

"Yeah," you murmured, clearing your throat to find your voice. "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute." Actually, you didou thanked Steve for hospitality and soon went down to meet them downstairs.

Later on, "Hey guys," you greet as you walk towards them, "you feeling good now?" " Pepper asked, her eyes scanning you with a warm, maternal sort of relief now that you were in dry clothes. "Yeah. Thank you, really."you replied, offering a genuine smile as you took a seat on the edge of one of the massive leather couches. Then Tony looks up from his food with an.. unexplainable reaction.

"Alright. I know that look. Leave her alone Tony, she just got here," Sam chimed in as he slid a box of noodles across the sleek coffee table toward you. "Eat up. You drove all this way on an empty stomach."

Just as you reached for a pair of chopsticks, the heavy glass doors of the lounge slid open, and Steve stepped inside.

The entire room seemed to shift under the weight of his presence. He had combed his hair, the damp blonde strands swept back neatly, and he had completely recovered his composure—at least on the surface. But the second he crossed the threshold, his blue eyes didn't look at the food, they didn't look at Tony, and they didn't look at Sam.

They locked straight onto you.

Your heart did that familiar, violent thud against your ribs. The memory of his large hand touching your neck over your pulse flooded your mind so fast your face immediately began to heat up all over again.

Steve paused for a fraction of a second when he noticed your flush, his jaw clenching slightly before he forced himself to look away, stepping up to the kitchen island to grab a plate.

Look who decided to join civilization," Tony remarked, tossing a crumpled napkin at Steve's chest which Steve caught effortlessly without even looking.

"We saved you the carbs, Cap. Lord knows your metabolic rate demands it after the workout you put those leather bags through last night."

"Right.. thanks Tony," Steve said quietly, his voice smooth and steady, completely slipping back into his polite, disciplined rhythm. He filled a plate and walked over to the seating area, deliberately choosing the single armchair directly opposite your spot on the couch.

Every time your eyes met, the air grew thick. It was a silent, frustrating waiting game.

The words he had started to say upstairs—"I'm done pretending" were still hanging in the space between you, loud and completely unresolved.

Later on after thechaotic energy of the takeout feast finally wound down as the clock crawled past midnight. One by one, the team turned in their 'quarters' or so, bed rooms..

Meanwhile inside the guest room, you couldn't sleep. You had spent the last two hours staring at the ceiling, the unfinished weight of your conversation with Steve pressing heavily against your chest.

Taking a deep breath, you threw off the covers. Slipping out of bed in Pepper’s oversized sweatpants, you decided to go find him—whether he was brooding in the gym or staring out at the dark lake. You needed to clear things out.

You padded quietly across the room and gripped the handle, pulling the heavy wooden door open.

You froze.

Standing right there in the dim hallway, his hand hovering mid-air in a half-formed knock, was Steve.

He hadn't expected the door to fly open. For a fraction of a second, the legendary Captain America completely vanished, replaced entirely by a mortified, starry-eyed boy from Brooklyn. His jaw dropped slightly, his blue eyes widening in absolute shock as his hand awkwardly dropped back to his side. A massive, roaring crimson flush rushed up his neck, staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears a vibrant pink. He looked exactly like a little boy who had just been caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Steve?" you breathed, your heart doing a violent, erratic flip against your ribs.

"I— uh. Hey," he stammered, his deep voice cracking slightly. He scrambled to find his footing, nervously clearing his throat and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans. He looked down at his socks, then up at your face, the embarrassment practically radiating off him in waves. "I didn't think you'd... I mean, I was just... I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't wake me. I was actually coming out to look for you," you confessed quietly, stepping back just an inch to give him space, though your eyes never left his flustered face. "What are you doing out here?"

Steve swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to reel in his runaway nerves. The boyish embarrassment began to melt into something much deeper, something raw and heavy with years of unspoken truth. He took a slow, deep breath, stepping over the threshold into the warmth of your guest room and quietly closing the door behind him, sealing the two of you away from the rest of the world.

"I couldn't sleep," he said softly, his voice dropping into that low, rumbling register that always made your knees weak. He stopped just a foot away from you, towering over you in the shadows of the room, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the window. "I kept thinking about what happened before Sam walked in. What I was trying to say to you."

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the hem of Pepper’s oversized grey shirt. "Steve..."

"No, let me say it. Please. If I don't say it now, I'm going to go back to the gym and destroy every bag Stark owns," he murmured, a small, breathless smile touching his lips before his expression turned entirely serious. He stepped closer, eliminating the final boundary of space between you until you could feel the steady heat radiating from his chest.

"You asked me what I was pretending," Steve whispered, looking down at you with an intensity that made the rest of the world entirely gray. "I've been pretending that I'm fine just being the friend you call when you're lonely. I've been pretending that it doesn't tear me apart every time someone asks if you're seeing someone. And last night, when that phone rang... when I thought I’d finally run out of time and lost my chance..."

He stopped, his throat working as he reached out. His large, warm hand hovered for a fraction of a second before gently cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, so tenderly it made tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"I drove an hour into the city just to see your face because my world is completely gray without you in it," Steve confessed, his blue eyes burning bright in the darkness, entirely focused on yours. "I don't care about the bar or the cityor how much space is between us. I love you. I've loved you for years. I'm completely yours, if you'll have me."

A breathless, tearful laugh escaped your lips and you reached up, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thumping of his heart beneath his shirt.

"You're an idiot, Steve Rogers," you whispered softly.

Steve blinked, a flash of that boyish worry returning to his eyes with pure confusion pooling over him. "I am?"

"Yes," you murmured, pulling yourself up on your tiptoes, your fingers curling tightly into his shirt to drag him down that final, agonizing inch. "Because I've been in love with you the entire time."

a/n: FINALLY! I'm so sorry for the long wait guys... I forgot my password to my account and I did NOT have my laptop with me these past few weeks. Hopefully, you all enjoy! Stay tuned for upcoming series and one shots! 👀

Edit: I’m back once again, I forgot about the taglist ya’ll. 😭✌️

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The door of the Daily Planet archive room clicked shut, instantly cutting off the aggressive clatter of typewriters, ringing phones and editors shouting across the bull pen.

Inside, it was darkly illuminated with only the gray Metropolis rain washing over the high, narrow window and the faint light slipping under the door.

Then soft grunts and breathless quiet moans had echoed faintly through the narrow aisles where decades of old files and heavy boxes were stored. A sudden shift in weight caused a soft rattle of the metal shelves, followed immediately by the desperate, messy, wet sound of a makeout session that had been building up for weeks.

Clark had you pressed back against the sturdiest shelf in the room, his massive frame completely shielding you from view if anyone were to suddenly open the door. His hands, usually so careful and tentative when he adjusted his glasses at his desk, were buried deep in your clothes, mapping the curve of your waist with a sudden, possessive urgency.

"Clark," you gasped out his name, your hands roaming blindly under his suit jacket, feeling the incredible, solid warmth of his chest through his dress shirt. You needed to stop. You needed to breathe.

"Mmm?" He hums against your lips, completely refusing to break the contact. He angled his head, deep and heavy, dragging his lips from your mouth down to the sensitive skin of your jawline. His breath was hot, his stubble scraping pleasantly against your skin, a low, rumbling vibration in his chest that you could feel right through your own ribs.

You both were trying so hard not to risk it. Dating a coworker was already a line the editors hated crossing, but dating Clark meant keeping a secret far heavier than just a workplace romance. You had promised each other to be professional, to keep a strict distance, to not show an ounce of intimacy toward each other while on the clock.

But looking at each other across a busy newsroom all morning? Sharing quiet, lingering glances over coffee mugs? Clark found it entirely impossible to resist you. And you'd be lying if you said you found it any easier to resist him.

He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, his thick tortoiseshell glasses slightly askew on his face. Behind the lenses, his blue eyes were dark, blown out with an intensity that belonged entirely to the man behind the reporter persona. His large hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, which was flushed and swollen from his kisses.

"Five more minutes," he murmured, his voice dropping into that incredibly low, soft, rumbly tone he only used when it was just the two of you. He leaned back in, his forehead resting against yours, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Just five more minutes, please."

He pleaded, "Clark— Clark!" Your voice in a frantic, breathy whisper as you forced your hands up between his chest. "

We have to not get caught, remember?"

You then held his face in your hands, your fingers framing his strong jawline, tilting his head up so his dark blue eyes had to meet yours. The heat radiating off his skin was incredible and you could feel the rapid thudding of his heart right through his dress shirt.

Clark then blinked behind his crooked glasses, looking briefly like a man waking up from a trance. The raw, heavy intensity in his gaze softened just a fraction as he looked down at you, his large hands settling firmly but gently on your hips to anchor you both.

"I remember," he murmured, his voice incredibly thick and low, vibrating right against your palms. He leaned into your touch, tilting his head just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss right into the center of your right palm. It was a completely gentlemanly, sweet contrast to the desperate way he had been kissing you just a second ago. "I know. Perry is already breathing down our necks about the front-page layout."

But as he said the words, his eyes dropped back down to your lips, flushed and darkened from his mouth. His thumbs made slow, mesmerizing circles against your hips, his broad shoulders shifting slightly as he leaned just a fraction closer, completely erasing the space between you again.

"But you smell like rain and vanilla," he whispered, a helpless, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He let out a low, shaky sigh that fanned across your cheeks. "And I've been sitting across from you for four hours just listening to the sound of your heartbeat. It’s a miracle I lasted until lunch."

You raised your brow, a teasing smile playing on your lips despite the adrenaline rushing through your veins. "Well baby, I know."

The pet name worked like a charm. Clark let out a soft, defeated chuckle, finally stepping back to give you some space, though his hands lingered on your waist for one last, reluctant second.

Then, the frantic scramble began. You both quickly fixed yourselves, the atmosphere shifting from heavy romance to breathless teamwork. You smoothed down your wrinkled clothes, desperately patting down your hair while Clark used the dark reflection of a glass-framed archive photo to straighten his tie. He adjusted his thick tortoiseshell glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose until the fierce, intense look in his eyes was hidden once again behind his gentle, clumsy reporter persona.

"How do I look, baby?" he whispered, giving himself a quick shake to shake off the nerves, looking every bit the polite country boy from Kansas again.

"Perfect." you whispered back, giving his tie one final nudge. "Let's both go back one by one. I'll go first. Cive it two minutes, then you follow."

He nodded. Then with a deep breath, you smoothed your skirt and kissed his lips one last time before slipping out of the storage roomand merged seamlessly back into the loud, chaotic hum of the Daily Planet bullpen—leaving a very flustered, very smitten Clark Kent waiting.

Draco Malfoy

The boyfriend of the sweetest girl you know ❤️‍🔥💛☁️🍋

Everyone at Hogwarts knew who you were. Especially when you're far too good for the Slytherin Prince you called a boyfriend. You were the girl who helped first-years find their classrooms, offered up extra parchment without asking, and always had a kind word for the house-elves despite who they are. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand had sharp, arrogant cocky smirks, and a reputation that made people cross the corridor to avoid him. But when you two would always be left alone, he was no different. He was just this one misunderstood boy, whose father forced him to carry the weight that his father carried and hand it all to him. Which brought you to this moment in the Great Hall.

Hopelessly Devoted {ongoing — wattpad} 🥀☁️🍋

Being born into the Valerius legacy-second in wealth and prestige only to the Malfoys-comes with absolute decorum, suffocating, pressuring expectations, and trouble. Specifically, Draco Malfoy. When summer officially draws to a close and the train doors shut, meeting him face-to-face again changes everything. Behind closed doors, dark corridors, and covert glances, an unspoken arrangement lingers-friends with underground benefits, bound by pureblood expectations and high-stakes secrets. Draco pretends it's casual. He pretends that his subtle touches and lingering presence mean nothing to him. To you. But beneath the mask lies a desperate devotion-a devoted man who knows he doesn't know how to be gentle with something as precious as Amaris Valerius, yet is far too terrified to let anyone else have her. This isn't to read through this distinct classic fantasy and pureblood romance weight?

Academic Rivals {coming soon — wattpad} 💛🥀☁️🍋

more to be added to the list > ────── {.⋅ ♚ ⋅.} ──────

>    Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes)

Oneshots: tba

Series: tba

>    Captain America (Steve Rogers)

Oneshots: tba

Multi-chapter: Colors – one | two 🥀☁️🧸

>    Iron Man (Tony Stark)

nothing to see here yet...

>    Daredevil (Matt Murdock)

nothing to see here yet...

>    Bullseye (Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter)

Oneshot/s: tba

Multi-chapter: tba

more to be added to the list >

────── {.⋅ 🐒 ⋅.} ──────

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