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movingmusically · 9 hours ago

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Author’s Note:

This is probably as close as I’ll ever get to writing Feyd, I thought I’d use this request as my opening. Pairing is Austin x actress!girlfriend.

Word Count: 9,032

Masterlist

Feyd’s Darling

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, taking a steadying breath as you step into the sleek black SUV waiting to take you to the studio. The small cameo you’ve agreed to shoot today isn’t like the roles you’re used to. You’ve built your career playing complicated, deeply layered characters that demand weeks of preparation. But this? This was something entirely different.

You weren’t here for the role itself. Playing one of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s Harpies—a voiceless, eerie presence in a pivotal scene—wasn’t what had drawn you to the set of Dune: Part 2. No, you’d agreed to this for one reason.

Austin.

It had been months since you’d last seen him. Between his rigorous training and rehearsals for Dune and your own shooting schedule overseas, time together had become scarce. You’d been surviving on stolen moments over FaceTime—late-night conversations where he’d look impossibly tired but still manage to make you laugh, and texts exchanged in the middle of the night when one of you was just waking up, and the other was finally going to sleep.

But today, for the first time in what felt like forever, you’d get to see him. In person.

The thought makes you smile as the car weaves through traffic. Austin had been dropping hints about how much work he’d put into the role—his training regimen, the diet, the months of preparation to embody Feyd. He’d downplayed it, of course, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

You’d also seen glimpses of the transformation in those FaceTime calls—the way his posture had straightened, the sharper angles of his jaw, the quiet intensity that crept into his eyes when he talked about the character. He’d joked about being “a total monk” while preparing for the role, but you knew how much it meant to him. And now, you were about to see the results of that hard work up close.

You glance down at your phone, re-reading his last message for what feels like the hundredth time:

Can’t wait to see you, Harpy. Don’t let me distract you too much. ;)

The nickname makes you laugh softly. It had started as a joke after Denis Villeneuve—Denis Villeneuve!—had suggested you for the cameo. You’d almost turned it down because of scheduling conflicts, but the idea of working with Austin on something this big, even for just one scene, had been impossible to resist.

You catch your reflection in the car window and smooth your hair. It’s not every day you step onto a set like this—not as yourself, at least. This wasn’t your project. This was his. You weren’t here to command the spotlight. You were here to be a part of something bigger. And for once, you didn’t mind.

As the SUV pulls up to the studio gates, your heart flutters. The driver rolls through security, and you sit up a little straighter, anticipation thrumming through you. It’s ridiculous, you think. You’ve been with Austin for years. You’ve shared countless moments more intimate than this. And yet, the thought of seeing him here, in his element, makes your pulse race.

The car slows to a stop, and you push your sunglasses up into your hair before stepping out. The familiar scent of a busy set—dry, metallic air tinged with the faint smell of latex—hits you immediately. Around you, assistants dart back and forth with costumes and props, crew members shout directions over the hum of machinery, and towering set pieces loom in the distance like alien monoliths.

Your eyes scan the chaos, searching for him. And then, you see him.

Austin.

He’s walking across the lot in a dark hoodie and sweatpants, the hood down, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he talks with an assistant. Even from a distance, you can feel the quiet confidence in his stride, the subtle shift in him that had started months ago when he first began preparing for this role.

As if sensing your gaze, he glances up—and freezes.

The grin that spreads across his face is immediate and infectious. He starts toward you, his pace quickening until he’s practically jogging, weaving around crew members and equipment.

“Hey,” he says, his voice warm and familiar, tinged with the kind of relief that only months of separation can bring.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, grinning as he reaches you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

The first thing you notice is the heat of him, the way his body feels solid, firm against yours. It’s not just the closeness you’d missed—it’s the way he’s changed. His chest is broader, his arms stronger, and you can feel the sheer strength of him as he holds you like he doesn’t want to let go.

Before you can say anything else, he dips his head, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s soft and sweet but lingers just enough to make your heart race.

“You made it,” he murmurs, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Of course I did,” you reply, your hands resting on his chest as you take him in. Up close, the subtle changes in him are even more obvious—the sharper lines of his jaw, the faint shadows under his eyes that speak to how hard he’s been working. “You look…”

“Different?” he finishes with a crooked grin.

You laugh. “Yeah. Different.” Your hands slide down to his arms, squeezing gently. “Have you been hiding these from me, or did this just happen overnight?”

His laugh is low and bashful, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s been a lot of work, but… it’s been worth it. Honestly, I’ve enjoyed it more than I thought I would.”

You smile, your hands still resting on his arms. “That’s because you don’t know how to do anything halfway. You’ve been obsessed with this since day one.”

One of the assistants calls his name, gesturing toward the makeup trailer. Austin glances over, then back at you, his hand lingering on your waist.

“I gotta go,” he says, his voice tinged with regret. “But we’ll talk later, yeah? Between takes.”

You nod, smiling. “Go. I’ll see you on set, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.”

He groans, backing away with a grin. “Stop with the titles. I don’t need an even bigger ego.”

As he disappears into the trailer, you let out a slow breath, your heart still fluttering. It’s only the beginning of the day, but already, you can feel it—it’s going to be one you’ll never forget.

After Austin heads off, you’re guided toward the makeup trailer by a friendly assistant. It’s bustling with activity, prosthetic pieces laid out like delicate artefacts on metal trays, airbrush machines hissing softly in the background. You take it all in with quiet fascination. As seasoned as you are in the industry, it never stops being surreal to see these massive productions come to life.

A makeup artist greets you with a warm smile. “Right on time. We’ve got everything set up for you.” You nod, slipping into the chair they gesture toward.

The makeup process takes far longer than you anticipated. You sit patiently as the team works around you, transforming every inch of your face and head into something alien and terrifying.

It starts with the bald cap—a delicate, almost surgical process that requires precise glue application and hours of smoothing to make it seamless. One artist carefully stretches the material over your hairline while another paints and blends until it looks like your skin. The sensation is strange and a little claustrophobic, but you’ve been through similar transformations before. You know the end result will be worth it.

“How’s it looking?” you ask, glancing in the mirror halfway through.

“Still human,” the lead artist jokes, not even pausing as they work. “But don’t worry, we’ll fix that soon.”

After the bald cap is finished, they move on to your skin. Airbrushes hum softly as they pale your complexion, giving it an unnatural, ghostly tone. Every inch of you, from your jawline to the exposed parts of your arms and shoulders, is meticulously blended to match.

Then come the details—the black, predatory contacts that make your irises look soulless, and the finishing touch: the black dental inserts.

The assistant holding them out gives you an apologetic smile. “These are going to feel weird, but you’ll get used to them.”

You slide the inserts into your mouth, testing the fit. The sharp metallic taste is immediate, and you can’t help but grimace when you flash a grin at the mirror. Your teeth are pitch black, turning your smile into something sinister.

“Yikes,” you mutter, leaning closer to inspect. “I look like I crawled out of someone’s nightmare.”

“Perfect,” the makeup artist says with a grin. “That’s exactly what we’re going for.”

The final piece is the costume, which you’re guided into with the help of the wardrobe team. The sleek black leather clings to your body like a second skin, the high collar and sharp lines giving you a distinctly otherworldly edge. It’s tight—so tight that even breathing feels measured—but the effect is undeniable.

When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror, it almost doesn’t feel real. You tilt your head, trying to reconcile the figure staring back at you with the person who stepped into the trailer hours ago.

“You ready?” one of the wardrobe assistants asks, adjusting a strap on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you say softly, taking one last look before turning to the door. “Let’s do this.”

The set is already alive with activity when you step out. The metallic hum of machinery mixes with the low murmur of voices, and the air is heavy with the scent of paint and latex. Crew members move purposefully around towering Harkonnen set pieces, their dark, industrial design making the atmosphere feel even more claustrophobic.

You clutch the edges of your robe closer to your body, the leather of your Harpy costume beneath sticking uncomfortably to your skin. The tightness of the ensemble, the black teeth, the bald cap—it’s all doing its job a little too well. You already feel like a stranger in your own skin, which you suppose is the point.

“Looking good, Harpy,” one of the crew members quips as they pass by, giving you an approving nod.

You smile politely, but your attention is drawn to the massive table at the centre of the room. This will be the focal point of the scene—a dark, sinister slab surrounded by smaller props that look like they belong in an alien torture chamber. A few assistants bustle around it, carefully setting up what appears to be ceremonial knives and goblets.

Before you can take another step, you hear the sound of a door opening behind you. The quiet hum of the set is broken as someone steps inside, and you know, even before you turn around, that it’s him.

“Austin’s here!” one of the assistants announces, and the energy in the room shifts slightly as everyone turns to greet him.

You turn, and there he is.

He’s wearing a simple black robe that hangs open just enough to hint at the body beneath. The bald cap, perfectly blended, makes his already sharp features look even more defined, and his posture—straight, confident, almost regal—is unmistakably Feyd.

But it’s his eyes that catch you. Even as he exchanges pleasantries with the crew, his gaze finds yours, and for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room.

He crosses the set toward you, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, well,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “If it isn’t my favourite pet.”

You smirk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Nice robe. You make that look work for you?”

He chuckles, glancing down at himself. “You tell me.” His grin widens, his eyes sweeping over you in your full Harpy transformation. “You look… amazing. Creepy, but amazing.”

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, tilting your head toward him. “I think you’ve got me beat in the creepy department.”

“Good,” he says, his tone playful but carrying just a hint of Feyd’s menace. “I wouldn’t want anyone stealing my spotlight.”

“Trust me,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “No one’s stealing anything from you.”

Before either of you can say more, a familiar voice calls out across the room.

“Ah, there’s my pair of troublemakers!”

You both turn to see Denis Villeneuve striding toward you, his expression warm but sharp, as if he’s already calculating how to squeeze the perfect shot from the scene.

“Troublemakers?” Austin echoes, smirking. “I’m on my best behaviour, Denis. You know that.”

Denis laughs, shaking his head. “Your best behaviour is still dangerous, my friend.” He turns to you, his eyes flicking over your costume with an approving nod. “And you—fantastic. Exactly what we needed.”

“Thanks,” you say, smiling. “This whole setup is incredible. The design, the atmosphere… it’s amazing to see it all come together.”

Denis waves a hand as if to brush off the compliment, but the pride in his expression is unmistakable. “It’s a team effort,” he says before glancing between you and Austin. “And now it’s your turn to make it sing. Are you two ready?”

Austin glances at you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Oh, we’re ready,” he says, his tone low and confident.

Denis nods, clapping his hands once to signal to the crew. “Good. Let’s get everyone into position.”

You’re positioned on the dark, slightly raised mattress in the centre of the set, flanked by the other Harpies. The leather of your costume creaks faintly as you shift into place, finding a pose that feels both regal and predatory. A prop goblet filled with thick, inky liquid rests lightly in your hand, and your black teeth glint as you test the angle of your jaw under the harsh studio lights.

Denis steps forward, adjusting the camera’s angle slightly. “Alright,” he says, his tone calm but authoritative, “we’ll start from the top. Harpies, I need you to feel utterly intoxicated. You’re watching him not as a man, but as a god. And Feyd…” He glances at Austin, who is standing at the centre of the room in his robe, his expression unreadable. “You own this space. No hesitation, no weakness.”

Austin nods, his face hardening as he prepares to shed himself and fully step into Feyd. A makeup assistant approaches, slipping off his robe, and suddenly, the set seems to fall into a collective hush.

He stands there, bare-chested, as the attendants begin applying the jet-black mud to his torso with precise, almost reverent strokes. The paint clings to the hard lines of his muscles, accentuating the strength and sinew he’s worked so hard to build.

Your breath catches slightly, but not just because of how striking he looks—though it’s impossible to ignore. It’s the way he holds himself, every inch of him embodying Feyd as though the character has seeped into his bones. You’ve always known how hard he works, how deeply he commits to every role, but seeing it up close like this… it’s something else entirely.

Every glance, every subtle movement of his body is deliberate, calculated. Even in stillness, he exudes an intensity that fills the room. You can’t help but admire how completely he’s transformed—not just physically, but mentally.

This isn’t Austin anymore. This is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, a creature of cruelty and cunning. Watching him, you realise there’s no trace of the man you know and love in the sharp smirk curling his lips, in the deadly precision with which he handles the blade. It’s almost unsettling, but it only deepens your awe.

“Focus,” you remind yourself, forcing your expression to remain neutral as you slip back into character.

“Action!” Denis calls, his voice ringing out across the set.

Austin moves into place, his bare feet stepping purposefully on the metallic floor. The attendants surround him, their movements graceful but subservient as they smear more mud onto his skin. His gaze is sharp, scanning the room with an almost predatory detachment, before landing on the three of you—his Harpies.

His lips curl into a smirk that’s equal parts seductive and cruel.

“Would you like some fresh meat, my darlings?” he purrs, his voice low and velvety, with just enough menace to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Lungs? A liver? What would you like? I hear they are big today.”

You and the other Harpies exchange subtle glances, your eyes gleaming with an almost feral hunger as you raise your goblets to your lips. The movement is slow, deliberate, meant to convey intoxication rather than haste. You let the thick liquid slide down your throat, suppressing the urge to gag at the bitter taste of the fake drink.

The tension in the room builds as the Weapons Master enters, grovelling before Feyd as he presents the blades. Austin steps forward, taking the white dagger in his hand and running the blade along his tongue in a move so smooth, so unnervingly casual, that even you feel a chill crawl up your spine.

You know this moment is calculated—designed to unsettle—but it’s so flawlessly executed that you forget for a second you’re on a set. You’re not just watching Austin act; you’re witnessing the culmination of months of effort. The discipline, the preparation, the way he’s pushed himself to inhabit this character—it all hits you at once, and you feel a swell of pride so intense it almost distracts you.

But it’s more than pride. It’s a magnetic pull, an overwhelming need to keep watching him. His body, honed to perfection, moves with a deadly grace that makes it impossible to look away. Every muscle, every sharp edge of his frame, tells a story of sacrifice and dedication.

The scene continues, building to the moment when Feyd turns his attention to the attendants. With brutal efficiency, he slices into the first, testing the blade with disturbing ease. As the actress crumples to the ground, clutching her neck, your job is to remain impassive, watching with a detached sort of curiosity.

When he stabs the second attendant in the ribs, over and over, you feel the weight of the scene—the cruelty, the coldness—but it’s tempered by your knowledge of the man behind it. He’s brilliant, you think, your chest tightening. Brilliant, disciplined, and utterly unstoppable.

“Cut!” Denis calls suddenly, and the spell breaks.

The room shifts as people spring into action, assistants rushing forward to reset the props and help the actors reset their positions. Austin steps back, his features softening as he glances at Denis for feedback.

“That was good,” Denis says, stepping forward. “But I want more menace from Feyd. The cruelty is there, but the charm—it’s a little too subtle. Remember, these people worship you. They want to fear you. And Harpies…” He turns to the three of you with a thoughtful smile. “I love the stillness, but I think we can push the intoxication further. Let’s see a little more… hunger.”

You nod, adjusting your position slightly as you exchange a glance with the other actresses.

By the time the cameras roll again, the atmosphere on set feels electric. Austin’s movements are sharper now, his command of the space absolute. Every glance, every shift of his body exudes dominance and danger, and as he delivers his line—

“Would you like some fresh meat, my darlings?”

—you feel a shiver run down your spine, not from fear, but from awe at how fully he’s become Feyd.

The scene flows seamlessly this time. Feyd’s smirk is perfectly calculated, the brutality of his actions balanced by the charisma in his tone. When he stabs the second attendant, the room feels charged, the energy thick and tangible.

As the third attendant trembles, Feyd tilts his head, his expression almost curious as he murmurs, “A notch off balance.”

The Weapons Master visibly quakes, and as Feyd delivers the final, cutting line—“It’s the tip. Should be sharper. See?”—you feel the perfect synchronisation of every element in the room, from the lighting to the acting to the unspoken tension that hangs in the air.

“Cut!” Denis calls, and this time, the applause is immediate.

As the crew begins to clear the set, you stay frozen in place for a moment, your goblet still clutched loosely in your hand. Your heart is pounding, your breaths shallow, and not because of the scene itself. It’s because of him.

Austin moves off to the side, brushing some of the remaining mud from his chest, and you can’t take your eyes off him. The sharp lines of his muscles, the powerful way he moves, the way his body looks like it’s been sculpted out of marble—it all leaves you breathless. But it’s more than that.

It’s the way he’s able to command a room, to hold everyone’s attention with nothing more than a glance or a shift of his tone. It’s the discipline you know he’s poured into this role, the months of preparation that have transformed him into something unrecognisable, yet still him.

You swallow hard, a heat spreading through your chest as you watch him joke quietly with one of the assistants, his easy smile making him seem so at ease despite the weight of the scene he’s just performed.

You feel something deeper than admiration bloom in your chest—something heavier, something that sends your pulse racing as your eyes linger on the curve of his shoulders, the taut muscles of his back.

He glances at you suddenly, catching you staring, and his lips quirk into a subtle, knowing smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes—the flicker of heat, the way they sweep over you briefly—says enough.

The tension coils tighter, a silent promise that you’ll deal with this later, when there’s no one else around.

“Alright,” Denis says, cutting through your thoughts. “Let’s move on to the close-ups. Take five while we reset!”

Austin walks toward you, his smile softening as he steps closer. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you with those impossibly sharp eyes, his chest still streaked with remnants of black paint.

“You’re staring, Harpy,” he murmurs, his voice low enough to make your breath catch. His smirk deepens as he stands over you, his shadow falling across your body sprawled on the mattress. “Should I be flattered?”

You tilt your head, forcing yourself to stay in character just a little longer. “What can I say? You do make a rather commanding figure.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, somewhere between Feyd’s menace and Austin’s genuine amusement. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the gleaming leather of your costume, the sharp lines of your body pressed into the dark mattress. His eyes darken slightly, a flicker of heat passing through them, and the tension between you tightens like a wire.

“Funny,” he says, leaning down until his face is level with yours, his voice dropping into something velvety and teasing. “I was about to say the same thing about you. My perfect little pet.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you forget about the dozen or so crew members moving around the set, the cameras, the fact that you’re supposed to be preparing for the next take. It’s just him, towering over you, his voice dripping with that intoxicating mix of Feyd’s menace and Austin’s natural warmth.

“Careful,” you manage to reply, your voice softer than you intended. “You’re going to make me forget which one of us is supposed to be worshipping the other.”

He chuckles, and the sound sends a shiver through you. His fingers brush lightly against the edge of your goblet, his touch deliberate, teasing. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s plenty of time for that later.” His words are a promise, quiet enough that only you can hear them.

Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your ears as he straightens up, his expression smoothing back into Feyd’s calculated coolness. He lingers for a moment longer, his gaze locking with yours, and then he steps away, moving toward the crew without another word.

You let out a slow, shaky breath, gripping the goblet in your hands as you try to steady yourself. It’s ridiculous, you think, how easily he can undo you with just a few words, a look, a slight shift in tone. But that’s Austin—and right now, it’s Feyd.

You glance toward him as he speaks with Denis, gesturing toward the set pieces with a calm authority that only enhances his commanding presence. He’s in his element, and watching him like this—completely focused, utterly confident—you feel that familiar rush of pride and admiration, mingled with something much deeper.

“Places for close-ups!” someone calls, and the noise of the set begins to rise again as everyone scrambles to reset. You shift on the mattress, falling back into your predatory pose, but your mind is still on him.

The tension between you now feels electric, and you know, without a doubt, that this isn’t over. It’s only a matter of time before you’re alone, and that thought is enough to send a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

For now, you tell yourself, you’ll keep it together. You’re a professional, after all. But as the cameras start rolling again, and Austin steps back into place, you can’t help but let your gaze linger on him just a second too long.

“Cut! That’s a wrap for this scene,” Denis calls out, his voice cutting through the hum of the set. “Fantastic work, everyone.”

The relief on set is palpable as the crew begins dismantling the setup for the next scene. The assistants start clearing props while Denis reviews the playback with the camera operators. You stay seated on the mattress for a moment, stretching your legs out and rolling your neck, trying to shake off the stiffness that comes with hours of holding predatory poses.

Austin approaches, still partially smeared with remnants of the black mud. He wipes at his chest absently with a towel handed to him by an assistant, though it does little to remove the dark streaks. Despite the intensity of the scene, he’s grinning, that boyish charm slipping through the cracks of Feyd’s menace.

“Not bad for a bunch of creepy Harpies,” he says, glancing between you and the other actresses. His voice is light, but his gaze lingers on you, softening slightly.

“Not bad for a sadistic na-Baron either,” you reply, smirking up at him as you shift on the mattress. “I think Denis might actually keep you around.”

Austin huffs a laugh, reaching up to scratch at the edge of his bald cap. “High praise. Should I be flattered?”

Before you can reply, Denis himself appears, his expression a mix of satisfaction and his usual sharp focus. “Austin, you were brilliant,” he says, gesturing animatedly. “The menace, the presence—it’s exactly what we needed. You owned the scene.”

Austin grins, brushing a hand over the back of his neck. “Thanks, Denis. Means a lot.”

Denis turns to you, his gaze appraising but warm. “And you…” He points at you, nodding in approval. “Exactly what I wanted from the Harpies. Controlled, predatory, but magnetic. You brought a presence to the scene that elevated everything.”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling as you push yourself up from the mattress. “This whole setup made it easy to slip into character. I mean, how could I not be terrifying in this costume?”

Denis chuckles, glancing briefly at your leather ensemble. “True. But it’s more than the costume. You both brought something special to this. This scene—it’s going to stand out. I can feel it.”

You glance at Austin, catching the flicker of pride in his eyes as Denis continues. For a moment, it feels like the three of you are the only ones in the room, the noise of the crew fading into the background.

“Well,” Denis says, clapping Austin on the shoulder before turning to you with a nod, “you’ve earned your break. Go get out of those costumes, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re back in the makeup trailer, sitting side by side with Austin as the team carefully removes the layers of prosthetics, paint, and black inserts. The atmosphere in the trailer is quieter now, a calm after the storm of filming.

You lean back in your chair, closing your eyes as the lead makeup artist gently peels the bald cap from your scalp. “I’ll never get used to how weird this feels,” you mutter, earning a chuckle from Austin beside you.

“Think of it as a free facial,” he jokes, his voice lighter now that the day’s intensity is behind him.

You turn your head slightly to glance at him, watching as one of the assistants wipes away the remnants of the black mud from his chest. Even out of character, there’s something commanding about the way he carries himself, something magnetic that keeps your eyes locked on him.

“You still have paint in the cracks of your abs,” you tease, pointing at the streaks the assistant is struggling to remove.

He looks down, grinning. “Occupational hazard. I’ll just tell people it’s part of my skincare routine.”

You laugh, shaking your head as the assistant works on removing the black contacts from your eyes. Once they’re gone, his familiar blue gaze locks onto yours, and the soft warmth there makes your heart skip.

“You looked amazing out there,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, meant just for you.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” you reply, smiling as your cheeks heat under his gaze.

He leans back in his chair, his grin lazy. “Not bad, huh? That’s all I get after transforming into a sadistic space lord?”

You shrug playfully, tilting your head. “Well, I guess I’ll give you some bonus points for the tongue-on-blade move. Very creepy.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something more. “Creepy was the goal.”

The makeup artist interrupts with a laugh. “Alright, you two, stop flirting, or we’ll never get this done.”

You and Austin share a conspiratorial look, but you stay quiet, letting the team finish the process. It’s not until the last remnants of paint and prosthetics are gone that you finally feel like yourself again, though the tight leather of your costume reminds you the day isn’t over yet.

By the time you’re both out of makeup and back in your casual clothes, the set has mostly cleared out. The towering Harkonnen structures seem less menacing now under the dimmed studio lights, and the hum of activity has died down to a quiet murmur.

Austin waits for you by the door, his hoodie pulled back over his head, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. “Ready to get out of here?” he asks, his voice low, his smile soft and inviting.

“Absolutely,” you reply, stepping up beside him. The weight of the day seems to lift as you fall into step together, the tension from earlier still humming faintly between you.

The night air is cool as you step outside, the city lights casting a soft glow over the lot. Austin’s hand brushes against yours, a subtle, fleeting touch that sends a thrill through you. He glances down at you, his smirk returning.

“Crazy day,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

“Crazy,” you agree, tilting your head to look up at him. “But worth it.”

He nods, his expression softening as his hand finally finds yours, his fingers curling around yours with an easy familiarity. “Thanks for being here,” he says quietly. “It meant a lot. Having you on set, seeing you there…”

You squeeze his hand, your voice warm. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Watching you work like that… it’s inspiring, Austin. You were incredible today.”

His smile is small but genuine, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as you walk side by side. “Hearing that from you… means everything,” he murmurs. “I mean, I know I put the work in, but seeing you out there, knowing you were watching… it made me want to give it everything.”

You glance up at him, the raw honesty in his voice making your chest tighten. You stop walking, tugging his hand slightly to make him pause. The lot is quiet now, only the faint hum of distant conversations and the occasional clatter of equipment breaking the silence.

“You always give it everything,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “That’s one of the things I love most about you. You don’t know how to do anything halfway.”

His lips curve into a small, almost shy smile, his free hand coming up to rest lightly on your waist. “I guess I just want to be someone you’re proud of.”

You take a step closer, letting your hand rest on his chest, where you can feel the steady beat of his heart. “You already are.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The tension from earlier lingers in the air, but now it feels softer, warmer—less like a coiled spring and more like a quiet promise. His eyes search yours, and you can see the weight of the day melting away, replaced by something tender and unspoken.

Austin holds your gaze for a long moment before he exhales softly, the tension easing into something quieter. He leans in to press a kiss to your forehead—simple, gentle, and lingering—before murmuring, “Let’s get out of here.”

You nod, your chest tight, and fall back into step beside him as the two of you walk toward the waiting car. The driver holds the door open, and Austin gestures for you to climb in first before sliding in after you. The interior of the car is warm and quiet, a sharp contrast to the cool night air, and as the door shuts, it feels like the rest of the world finally falls away.

The city blurs by outside the window, the lights streaking like lazy stars. For the first few minutes, neither of you says anything—there’s no need to fill the silence. Austin shifts beside you, his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb tracing soft circles through your jeans. It’s an absent, familiar touch, but it still sends warmth pooling in your chest, spreading outward.

“You okay?” he asks softly, breaking the silence. His voice is low, rougher around the edges after the long day.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you reply, turning your head to look at him. “About how much I missed this. Missed you.”

He lifts his hand from your thigh to lace his fingers with yours, bringing your joined hands up to his lips. “I missed you too,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “More than I even realised.”

The car slows as it approaches the building where Austin’s been staying during filming—an unassuming apartment building tucked away from the busier parts of the city. Austin thanks the driver quietly before stepping out, reaching back to offer you his hand.

“Come on,” he says, the faint smirk tugging at his lips softening the invitation.

You take his hand, following him out of the car and into the cool night air. The building is silent as you step inside, your footsteps echoing faintly off the marble floors. Austin leads you to the elevator, his hand never leaving yours, and the moment the doors slide shut, you both exhale at the same time, as though you’ve been holding your breath all day.

The quiet hum of the elevator fills the space as you step inside, the doors sliding shut with a soft hiss. Austin presses the button for his floor, leaning back against the wall, his hood pushed back, revealing his now-messy hair and the faint shadows still clinging to his jaw. One hand is in his pocket and the other still holding yours.

Neither of you speaks for a moment. The silence isn’t awkward—it’s heavy in a way that makes your pulse quicken, like you’re both aware of the tension but neither of you wants to break it just yet.

You lean back against the opposite wall, your fingers still tangled loosely with his. Austin’s eyes flick over you, lingering for a beat too long, and when your gaze meets his, you catch the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you ask softly, your voice breaking the silence.

His head tilts slightly, his blue eyes sharp and steady on you. “Nothing,” he murmurs, though there’s something knowing in his tone. “Just looking.”

You roll your eyes to cover the way your heart stutters, a teasing edge creeping into your voice. “Well, stop it. It’s weird.”

He grins, slow and lazy, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a few easy steps. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that the warmth of him wraps around you like a blanket.

“Stop looking at you?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes your breath hitch. “Not a chance.”

Your back presses against the cool wall of the elevator as he raises a hand to rest it lightly against your hip, his thumb brushing just under the hem of your sweatshirt. It’s the gentlest touch, but it sends heat curling through you, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” he continues softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thought I’d return the favour.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words catch in your throat when his free hand rises to brush a strand of hair back from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek. The touch is feather-light, but it’s enough to unravel you completely.

Your voice is barely more than a whisper when you finally speak. “Austin…”

Whatever you were going to say gets swallowed as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring every second of it. He tilts his head just slightly, deepening it, and his hands slip to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s nothing between you but the hum of the elevator and the thrum of your heartbeat.

It’s not rushed, but it’s not gentle either—there’s a quiet hunger in the way he kisses you, as if the tension that’s been building between you all day is finally snapping, and neither of you wants to stop.

When he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, you’re both breathing a little harder, your hands clinging to the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping you steady.

Before either of you can say anything, the elevator dings softly, the sound startling in the quiet, and the doors slide open behind him. Austin sighs, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he pulls back just enough to glance over his shoulder. “Perfect timing.”

You huff a breathless laugh, trying to collect yourself as he steps back, his hand slipping into yours again. “Saved by the bell.”

“More like delayed,” he mutters, his voice low and teasing as he leads you out of the elevator. You feel his thumb brush over your knuckles as you walk side by side down the quiet hallway, the tension from earlier still humming faintly between you, simmering just beneath the surface.

Austin pauses in front of his door, glancing back at you with that lopsided grin that’s both infuriating and impossible to resist. “You coming in, or are you still thinking about the elevator?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Just unlock the door, Butler.”

He chuckles softly, turning the key in the lock and pushing the door open, stepping aside so you can walk in first. The apartment is quiet, the faint hum of the city outside muffled by thick walls and drawn curtains. It’s lived-in but simple—warm lights, a couch with a throw casually tossed over the back, and a few stray scripts scattered on the table.

The door clicks shut behind him, and you barely take two steps inside before you feel his presence behind you, his hands slipping onto your waist, warm and steady. Your breath catches as he pulls you back against him, his chest pressed to your spine.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough in a way that sends a shiver down your spine, “I’ve been trying to keep it together all day.”

You turn slightly, just enough to catch his gaze over your shoulder, his eyes darker now, the usual softness replaced by something heavier—something you’d felt building between you since the elevator. “I noticed,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your pulse racing.

Austin doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else. He turns you to face him in one fluid movement, his hands still firm on your waist as he backs you up slowly until you hit the door. The soft thud reverberates through you, and you’re caged there—him in front of you, the door at your back, and every inch of space between you evaporated.

You look up at him, your breath uneven, your hands instinctively clutching at the front of his hoodie. “Austin—”

“I know,” he cuts you off softly, his forehead brushing against yours as his hands slide from your waist up to cradle your face, thumbs sweeping across your cheekbones. “I missed you too.”

There’s no hesitation this time. He leans in and kisses you, and it’s nothing like the kiss in the elevator. This one is deeper, hungrier, months of separation and stolen glances crashing together all at once. His lips move against yours with a desperate kind of urgency, like he’s trying to make up for every moment you’ve been apart.

You melt into him, your arms winding around his neck as you pull him closer, your fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He groans softly against your mouth, the sound low and rough, and it sends heat pooling deep in your stomach.

Austin presses you more firmly against the door, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them tightly as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear. When he breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, you let out a soft gasp, tilting your head back to give him more access.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. “Missed you.”

“Me too,” you manage to breathe out, your heart pounding as you tug him back up to kiss you again, your body arching into his. There’s nothing careful or hesitant about the way he kisses you now. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming, and you don’t care about the door pressing into your back or how your clothes feel stifling when his body is so close to yours.

One of his hands moves beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin, and you shiver at the contact, the heat of his touch searing through you. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips ghosting over yours. “Lying there, looking at me like that…”

You can’t help but smile, breathless, as your fingers tug at the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel him—all of him. “I couldn’t help it. You looked…”

“Hmm?” he hums, his smirk pressing into the corner of your mouth as he pulls back just enough to yank his hoodie and t-shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. “Go on. I looked what?”

Your words falter as you take him in, your gaze sweeping over the broad lines of his chest, the hard planes of muscle you’d only been able to admire from afar earlier. Your hands move instinctively to his skin, splaying out over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his abs. He’s warm and solid beneath your touch, and for a moment, you forget how to form words.

His smirk softens into something warmer as he watches you, his hands returning to your waist, his thumbs dipping just beneath the waistband of your jeans. “Speechless?” he teases, his voice low, his lips brushing your temple.

You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Just… appreciating the view.”

Austin chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, and he dips his head to kiss you again—slower this time, but no less intense. It’s softer now, more deliberate, like he’s taking his time to memorise every brush of your lips against his.

The warmth of his hands grounds you as he starts guiding you away from the door, walking you backward through the dimly lit apartment, his body close enough that every step feels like a challenge to keep moving. When the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, he pauses just long enough to look at you—really look at you—his blue eyes dark, filled with something that makes your pulse stumble.

You reach for him, your hands curling around his shoulders as you pull him closer, but he doesn’t move right away. Instead, he lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jaw with an unexpected gentleness. The contrast between the quiet intensity in his eyes and the raw need lingering in every other part of him leaves you breathless.

“You’re really here,” he murmurs, almost like he’s saying it to himself.

The emotion in his voice twists something in your chest, and you reach up to thread your fingers into his hair, pulling him down to kiss you again—this time harder, like you’re trying to answer every unspoken word in the way your mouth moves against his.

Austin doesn’t hesitate now. His hands slide beneath your sweatshirt, pushing it up as his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. You tug at the hem of his sweatpants as the two of you fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, laughter slipping out between the kisses, only to be swallowed up again as the tension finally snaps, pulling you under.

Austin’s weight presses you into the mattress as your bodies fit together like they were always meant to. His lips never leave your skin, moving from the hollow of your throat to the curve of your shoulder as he pushes your sweatshirt higher, exposing inch after inch of your bare skin to the cool air before removing it completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his voice rough and breathless, like he’s barely holding himself together. His hands trace your waist, sliding over your hips with a reverence that sends a shiver through you. It’s not just the way he touches you—it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to memorise every part of you after so much time apart.

“Too many clothes,” you manage to whisper, tugging at the hem of his sweatpants again. The desperation in your voice makes him grin, low and knowing, as he leans back just enough to peel the offending fabric down his hips, leaving him bare. Your gaze drifts lower, and heat flares across your cheeks when you take in the hard, heavy length of him, already straining with need.

“Your turn,” he says, his tone low and teasing as his fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans. He drags them down slowly, watching every inch of your skin as it’s revealed, his eyes dark and hungry. When you’re finally bare beneath him, he takes a slow breath, his gaze sweeping over your body like he doesn’t know where to start.

“You’ve been driving me insane all day,” he mutters, his voice gravelly as he shifts back over you, his body settling between your thighs. “Watching you on set like that, knowing I couldn’t touch you…”

His hands skim up your sides, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just below your ribs, and you gasp softly, your back arching instinctively. Austin catches the sound with his lips, kissing you deeply as his hips press against yours, his arousal hot and heavy where you’re already aching for him.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dark and commanding but still tinged with that familiar warmth that’s all him.

“You,” you breathe, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the hard planes of muscle ripple beneath your touch. “I just want you.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Austin dips his head to kiss you again, slower this time, like he’s savouring the taste of you. His hands roam your body with purpose, mapping every curve, every sensitive spot, until you’re trembling beneath him, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

When his hand slips between your thighs, his touch is gentle at first, teasing, as his fingers brush over your slick heat. “So wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice rough and low. “You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you?”

You bite back a whimper, your hips rocking against his hand as he presses a finger into you, slow and deliberate. “Austin—please.”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kisses his way down your neck. “I missed hearing you like this,” he murmurs, adding a second finger, his pace steady but relentless as he works you open. “Missed feeling you like this.”

Your body arches, heat pooling low in your stomach as the tension builds, and you grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin. “I need you,” you gasp, your voice breaking as his thumb brushes over your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. “Now, Austin. Please.”

He groans softly, pulling his hand away to position himself between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He hesitates for just a moment, his eyes searching yours, dark and tender all at once. “You okay?”

You nod, your breath catching as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m perfect.”

That’s all the permission he needs. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he sinks into you, filling you completely. A gasp tears from your throat, and Austin groans, his forehead dropping to yours as he stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice rough and strained. “You feel… so fucking good.”

You tighten your legs around him, urging him to move, and he doesn’t hesitate this time. He pulls back slowly before thrusting into you again, setting a rhythm that’s deep and deliberate, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your hands cling to him, your nails dragging down his back as he moves inside you, his pace quickening as the tension builds between you. “Austin,” you gasp, his name a broken whisper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need as his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “I’ve got you, baby.”

The pressure coils tighter and tighter inside you, your body trembling beneath him as his movements grow more urgent, more desperate. His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and pressing in tight, deliberate circles that make you cry out, your back arching off the bed.

“Let go for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want to feel you, baby. Come for me.”

His words push you over the edge. The coil inside you snaps, and pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and shaking as your body clenches around him. Austin groans, his pace faltering as he follows you over the edge, his release spilling into you as he buries himself deep, his body trembling above yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. Your heart is still racing as Austin collapses against you, careful not to put his full weight on you as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his breaths coming hard and fast.

“You okay?” he murmurs, after a while, lifting his head just enough to look at you, his blue eyes soft and searching.

You smile, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “More than okay.”

Austin grins, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time, his lips warm and gentle against yours. “Feels like forever,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “Having you here… it’s everything.”

You smile against his mouth, your heart swelling. “I know the feeling.”

Eventually, he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you’re curled against his chest, his arm draped securely around you. The exhaustion of the day finally starts to settle in, but the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear keep you grounded, safe.

“Don’t let me fall asleep yet,” Austin murmurs sleepily, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your back. “I don’t want to waste a second of this.”

You smile against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “I’ll wake you if you do.”

But as his breathing evens out and his hold on you relaxes, you don’t have the heart to keep your promise. For the first time in months, you’re both exactly where you’re meant to be, and you’re not going anywhere.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #fan fiction #fanfic #imagine #fiction #feyd rautha #feyd rauth harkonnen #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune #dune 2

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peppermintmagicianlynn · 2 days ago

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TimBer Week 2024: First Sleepover

TimBer Week 2024 Day #7: First Sleeepover

Last one of the week. We made it!

It was amazing how casually it had come about.

They’d been dating for six months, officially boyfriends for only a few weeks. And yet…it felt like they’d been together for years. Bernard came by almost every day, they shared meals and swapped clothes, then bickered over whose turn it was to do laundry. It felt like they were sharing the boat as a home together and that filled Tim with delight that he couldn't fully express.

But the one thing they had yet to do was spend a night together.

N-not like that! Just…you know, sleeping in the same space. They’d done that a lot in high school, when they’d stay up late playing video games or watching movies, then crash at one person’s house. They’d make pallets across the floor or just collapse on top of someone’s bed, where parents would drape them in individual blankets.

It wasn’t a new thing… but this was a new thing!

One bed. One blanket. A pre-planned slumber party.

Granted, it had come about for a very non-romantic reason.

“Fumigate?!”

Bernard winced at his boyfriend’s outraged exclamation, setting the phone aside while he struggled to fold his clothes into his duffel bag.

“Yeah, some idiot called the health inspector on one of the neighbors. I don’t know what they found, but they gave us all an hour to pack up and get out. They said it won’t be safe to come back until tomorrow.”

“And where exactly do they expect you to go until then?”

Bernard wished they were on video chat so Tim could see his deadpan look. “Tim, babe, this is a low-income district. They don’t care if I sleep on the street as long as I don’t come back until they give the go-ahead.”

Tim squawked over the line while Bernd packed some underwear. “I’ll just sleep at a friend’s house. It’s fine. Jared has a pull-out couch and as long as Toby didn’t get kicked out of his girlfriend’s place again, I can just-”

“Stay here.”

“Huh?”

“Here. At the boat. With me.”

“Uh, are you sure about that?”

“Am I- Bear! You just told me you’re going to be homeless for a night. Why wouldn’t I want you to be here with me?”

“Well, when you put it like that, sure. I have a work shift for the next few hours, but I’ll come around sometime after 8. That cool?”

“Sure, that’s perfect. See you then.”

“Love you.”

Tim was quiet for a moment. Bernard was patient. Then, “I love you, too. See you later. Bye.”

Bernard grinned. It was a tactical risk pulling that on him. It hadn’t been that long ago Tim could call them boyfriends without stuttering. And now, they were going to have their first sleepover together since high school.

Bernard looked at his clothes as he packed them up, particularly his pajamas. They were hand-me-downs from Toby, and while Bernard liked them well enough, would they be a little too ratty for this? And moreover, would showing up there in Batman pajamas be a little too on the nose? He loved teasing Tim about his secret identity but that might actually get him suspicious that Bernard knew the truth. He’d need to pick up something else after he was done with work. He would not show up to his boyfriend’s boat looking like a slob!

Tim was a slob messy person. His mind was sharp, his deductive reasoning unparalleled, and his skills across various fields were masterful. But like most geniuses, he thrived in chaos of his own making, and there was no clearer sign of that than his houseboat. Once, his neighbor Lauren had stopped by to ask him to have dinner with her and Tammy, and nearly killed herself walking down the stairs when she slipped on a discarded takeout bag. Not Tim’s fault, though Tammy’s wrath after that incident said otherwise.

So while Tim definitely had to clean up any evidence of his Robin activities - case files, hardware, suit pieces, gadgets - he also gave the space a proper cleaning. Like on-the-floor-with-a-scrub-brush, window-washing, dishes-put-away kind of cleaning. The laundry… well, that went under the bed. He only had so many hours!

The fervor with which he cleaned his living space surprised even him. He had ignored it when his siblings talked about his junky boat; Bernard had already seen it this way from the very start. But he still wanted to make it shine for him. Make it just a little bit better for his boyfriend’s first night over.

Bernard arrived in the evening, with his necessities and valuables he didn’t want to leave behind where strangers might rummage through his drawers. A Gothamite born and raised. Tim tried not to linger over the idea that his boyfriend's whole life could probably fit in just three bags and met him on the dock for a welcoming kiss. They had been sharing a lot more kisses since officially calling each other boyfriends (though apparently, Bernard had been calling them that way longer). When they finally pulled back, Bernard was beaming with unrestrained glee. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Tim returned, picking up one of the bags and bringing it into his home.

Bernard gawked at the place. “Uh, did you buy a new house without telling me? Because I swear I haven't seen the floor of your boat since the day before you moved in.”

“Ha-ha,” Tim said, setting the duffel bag down on his clutter-free floor. “If you wanted to sleep in a Five-Star hotel, you should have spoken up sooner.

Actually, his back-up apartment over near Crime Alley might qualify. If Bernard was really uncomfortable sleeping on the boat, maybe he could bring him over there instead. He’d have to be extra careful about the access points to the Nest but…

“No way!” his boyfriend declared, sounding offended at the idea. “I love your boat. It's so cozy and homey and so totally you. It’s perfect just as it is, even when it’s messier than a frat-boy’s dorm!” He just couldn’t resist that last dig.

But Tim appreciated his words all the same.

They ordered delivery for dinner, a local Thai place that they both adored. While sitting around Tim’s table, Bernard brought out his laptop to show him his latest discover: a fan-made Green Lantern movie. Tim was genuinely impressed by the flick and was already plotting how to get Bruce into a situation where he couldn’t escape watching it. The aroma of green curry and spring rolls, Bernard’s theories that the filmmakers were actually part of a Lantern Corp splinter group wishing to sway public opinion and take over the universe - all of it felt right. For them, at least.

“It just makes sense,” Bernard insisted between bites of his curry. "By hiding in plain sight on YouTube, they can secretly influence galactic events and just blame it on the more famous members!”

Tim laughed, urging him on. Bernard's eyes sparkled when he was passionate about a new idea.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through topics of jobs, school, family and anything else they wanted. There was a lightheartedness to it all, but also a deeper connection, an unshakable comfort and safety that let them be as unfiltered and silly as they pleased. As the night went on and their movie ended, they were still talking, ignoring their food that had long gone cold. Bernard leaned back against the bench, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "This is what I like most about being here. It’s just you and me. It’s nice.”

Tim smiled, reaching out to squeeze Bernard's hand. "I love having you here.”

Bernard’s yawning told Tim they’d stayed up long enough. He had already called off of patrol for the night but the other still had work tomorrow, so they couldn’t burn the late-night oil like the might any other time. Tim insisted Bernard could head to the bedroom first and get changed while Tim cleaned up the mess.

“He’s already mending his ways,” Bernard wiped a fake tear from his eyes. “I’ve never been more proud.”

He ran to the bedroom, closing the door fast before the couch cushion could hit him.

Bernard felt far less sure about his choice of sleeping clothes now that they were on his body. He’d only allowed himself thirty minutes after his shift to dash into a store and grab a “respectable” set of pajamas off the shelf. No garish logos, no quirky patterns; just something nice and neat for when he shared a bed with his Significant Other.

But seeing himself in the light blue, pinstriped flannel, he looked...wrong. Like he was trying to hide behind something "presentable" and fake his way through. A harsh reminder to his teen years, causing a rush of those old insecurities he'd tried to hard to shed. He shouldn't have bought this. He was proud of who he was and what he liked. So why did he keep having these moments of doubt that made him do things he would end up regretting?

Tim knocked on the door, politely refraining from barging into his own bedroom. Bernard would have given anything to rewind, hit pause, and change his life’s decisions. But he couldn’t.

“Come in,” he said, his voice as steady as he could manage.

Tim pushed the door open, took one look at him, and smiled. “Cute.”

Usually, that word from Tim would make him happy, but this time it hit a little wrong. “Yeah, I know it’s… it’s stupid.” He gripped the offensive fabric between his fingers, hating it more with each passing second. “I should have worn the Batman ones instead.”

“Well, that would be very much your style, you fanboy,” Tim said, coming closer. He wrapped his arms around Bernard’s waist, pulling their bodies together, then murmured into his ear, “But these are nice, too. You're a handsome guy, Bernard, no matter what you wear. These look good on you."

Tim’s boldness was unusual, but his ability to read Bernard's insecurities and immediately sooth them was commonplace. Bernard hugged his wonderful boyfriend in gratitude for those words. He then left the room so Tim could change into his own pajamas, which were a lot simpler: basketball shorts and an oversized T-shirt.

Bernard didn’t let their dissimilarity of outfits bother him a second time. He chose to savor the moment; brushing his teeth together in Tim’s tiny bathroom, hip-checking each other for space in the mirror, and trying not to choke on foam amidst their laughter.

Tim’s bed wasn’t small, but it was compact. Enough for one person comfortably and two if they didn’t mind touching in the middle. Bernard waited to see which side the other preferred climbing under the sheets with him, taking the spot closer to the wall.

Was that intentional?

The dock lanterns outside shone their light through the windows, the only illumination they had. Bernard was 80% certain Tim could actually see in this dark, so he felt a little more self-conscious than he might have otherwise. A calloused hand found his beneath the blanket and squeezed it, offering silent reassurance to what he must have read on Bernard’s face.

Finding the right sleeping position was hard; Bernard was used to a much firmer (and lumpier) mattress, so his body was a little unsure how to work with Tim’s memory foam. For his part, Tim couldn’t seem to settle on what part of the bed he actually wanted, going from the very edge of his side to taking up a good chunk in the middle. There was a lot of shifting limbs, sometimes kicking each other which provoked retaliation, but that was a familiar part of their old sleepovers too. It was nostalgic.

“Fair warning: I’ve been told I snore,” Tim whispered.

“That won’t bother me. My roommates are like grizzly bears trying to harmonize with one another in an all-night concert. When my eyes are closed, I’m deaf.” Bernard paused, considering, before adding, “But, um, I might wake up in the middle of the night. I get nightmares sometimes.”

Tim was quiet; Bernard wished he could see his face. Then warm arms came up around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that always felt like a safe place to hide. “I’ll be right here if you do,” Tim promised, soft yet unyielding. “I’ll be here when you get up tomorrow, too. You're safe, Bear. "

Bernard bit his lip to keep the tears of gratitude at bay. How had he found someone who care so much, who actually paid attention enough to see the fears he’d never admit to. Bernard shifted until his lips found warm skin, trailing them across Tim’s cheek until he could properly kiss the man he loved. It was gentler than what they’d had outside, but twice as meaningful. Simple but perfect, just like this moment. Just like every moment they got to share in this comfy houseboat.

The night dragged on, their attempt to sleep interrupted by whispered comments and gentle touches. Snuggling under the blankets was the best part by far, feeling heartbeats and gentle breaths, the warmth and safety of having a lover’s arms to hold you tightly through the night.

The bond they shared was already strong, but taking a step like this made it feel like they were truly unbreakable.

---

I wonder if you can tell how tired I was after a week of writing. Still, I gave it my best to end TimBer Week 2024 on a good note. That said, I might come back through these on a later date and do some editing. Not for a while, though.

Thank you to everyone who read even one of my posts and a special thanks if anyone joined me in this project!

Let's see what next year brings!

#tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #dc #robin #timber week 2024 #timber week

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feraltvman · 3 days ago

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Broken Star Puzzles

Powers and MORE explained

Prepare yo'selves for one long ass post, as I ramble off about my silly little AU Puzzles. The full course meal of how he works is now LIVE TEEHEE

⭐ Lets start off with this fun little detail I put in BS!Puzzles design!!!! If you take away his body, then put the pieces closer together you get a mangled broken star shape :D I didn't just pick a random amount of star pieces to be sticking out of his body, it was on purpose to really send home the message that he IS a Broken Star UvU

The rest of The Wishing Star is in his system, mangled and waiting to be used... Is it possible to bring the star together and mend it? Possibly but who knows what that would do to Puzzles? 🤭

👾Build a Minion-

Puzzles first power is to Create Minions that will blindly follow his every order without a second thought. The Wishing Star relies on his Thoughts and Emotions, while a star can read your mind... The deepest desires in your heart when you wish upon it... If you wish for something while your mind is tossed like a salad, unsure of the bigger picture then how is the star supposed to get the bigger picture?

If Puzzles isn't Focused on what he wants. Say hes robbing a bank for petty purposes and hes not totally in it bc in the long run this doesn't do much for his plans, or these guards are pathetic couldn't do shit to him.... He wants a Cool lizard thing to rip them apart and he could get what he imagines or....

A ball of scales with wings. Puzzles may be more edgy and brooding however he is still. Your honor. A silly little guy who cannot stay on task or will ruin his own plans- he could be doing something and suddenly think about how badly he wants Fish Crackers

Star doesn't care that this thought was for Later. He wanted them now and snapped his fingers, you get fish crackers my king.

🕷️Mind Control/⏯️Pause and Mute

The Wishing Star DOES NOT directly affect Puzzles NATURAL abilities in the slightest bit, they are his normal built in functions and the Star doesn't correlate, the only reason he has some of his natural powers is just the convenience that this is a Star in his body. Nothing else.

1 Extra Star he was never supposed to have so his natural abilities are weak and unreliable. Mind Control can only last for a minute if not less than that, he can give someone a simple command to do and use that time to make distance between himself and them in order to summon minions.

Pausing and Muting, can be resisted now. The more someone fights back against the Pause, their body will start to twitch until they can break free on their own accord before Puzzles ability runs out of time.

As for muting, the more insistent the target is to talk their voice will slowly become unmuted.

Puzzles has the tendency to forget that he has limited time so will go into an Evil Villain monologue just to get his ass kicked 2 seconds later- bc he is silly and autistic like that. I wouldnt dream of taking away his quirky behavior uwu

🤕Pain Resistance-

When Puzzles first got the star it was ungodly painful as the giant mass wormed its way into his body, which caused his first wish for Resistance To Pain.... He can still feel damage, and his quirky behavior causes him to flinch anyways even if it won't hurt as much anymore. But he can take a punch from Mario and barely feel a thing now, which isn't the best thing for him as he still wears down just the same as before but now that he can't feel himself wearing down as much, he'll push himself beyond his limits and it will take a lot longer to get him to run away in a fight which could also lead to his capture bc he figured out hes tired way too late and passes out while fleeing.

🎎No Bone Mode-

This ability is a combination of The Wishing Star and The Demonic Goop collaborating in order to keep Puzzles safe from harm since he can't do that himself yet-

The demonic eyes in his arm and in the Puppeteer hand ARE fully functional, seeing more than Puzzles sees but just not sharing that to him bc that would fuck him up even more and they don't need that. Instead it uses what knowledge it has to help Puzzles however it can. Nudging him with impulsive thoughts on top of the fact this man fully does not want to get hit- The Wishing Star fully understands the mission and helps him avoid contact by any means necessary.

Sense Puzzles is resistant to Pain he can't feel any of this as the Puppeteer hand flings him around like a rag doll. Its more or less a very powerful enhancement to his movement and flexibility

♻️Jealousy Meter- (AKA The power of Friendship)

Depending on Puzzles state of mind different emotions and desires have VASTLY different effects on his abilities- Right now he is currently ⭐Hoe Mad⭐

Violently Betrayed by his friend

Left behind by who was supposed to help him

Shown that his vulnerability was nothing but a weakness

Affection is just a TOOL people can use against him

All this goes into the factor of how STRONG his powers while using specifically the Wishing Star are, because his Desire is revenge and to break apart the friend group which ruined his own companionship

Jealousy and Hatred fuel him like a rechargeable battery that was left plugged in.

The more he feels, the stronger he gets. Summoning big creatures straight from hell with full magical capabilities of their own, his own physical strength being enhanced (without changing his appearance. Strong anime twink logic), up til the point he COULD get strong enough to mend the wishing star in his body

This is catastrophic behavior... The more fixed the star is, the stronger Dreams or Nightmares BS!Puzzles can make a reality. Warping the area around him to become different (grasslands to volcano type of shit), gaining better abilities if not negating his need for 5 stars to use his natural abilities.

He has the

potential

To become ungodly dangerous, but he doesn't really think about Mending the broken star in his own system, he rather fears that possibility... He doesn't want to lose it and thinks if he Fixes it, that it will fly out of his body then he will be powerless again. Thus he goes with the status quo. Good Enough 👍

The most he will do with the Star is summon more pieces of it in order to give himself a massive cleaver scythe hand for murdering

TLDR Power Of Friendship:

He could become REALLY fucking dangerous however just uses it to power up his ability to summon things and his own physical strength

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bigcats-birds-and-books · 4 months ago

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Books of 2024: THE AMBERGRIS TRILOGY by Jeff VanderMeer.

Up next! This series is how I'm bridging my current writing/revision project with the one on deck for my personal nano. They're both Weird Stories, but the one I'm working on now is Weird (genre), like VanderMeer, and the one I'm planning for November is going to be Weird (fungus), also like VanderMeer. I hope to get Driscoll vibes AND some New Book vibes out of this!

#books of 2024 #book photo #book photography #jeff vandermeer #ambergris #city of saints and madmen #shriek: an afterword #finch #also these are deceptively small books #they look Slender but the shortest one is almost 400 pages lmfao #(the big one is not cumulatively numbered but IT is SEVEN HUNDRED AND FOUR PAGES!!!)#sir wtf #i suspect CITY will be vaguely ALWAYS COMING HOME #(weird to read and brainbendy and dense)#(since it's also lots of little pieces put together)#anyway i've been hanging onto this because vandermeer = driscoll vibes to me #and then i realized i wanted to do weird fungus for nano too so i'm like. ah. perfect. we'll use this for bridge material.#and then i have SO MANY HAUNTED HOUSE STORIES TO READ >:D #i am very fond of these covers #and they're a good size of paperback #i'm considering springing for the new southern reach paperbacks because i only have the collected hardback and that's not hand-friendly

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bluebunnysart · 9 days ago

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Neru took me like 2 hours. I was out of practice and when I had to do the legs (the very first thing you do), I immediately got confused like, "Wait, isn't this too big??" so I had to revisit the tutorial to figure it out again lmao.

I wanted to finally do Neru for fun, so my favorite Triple Baka squad is now complete. Then I realized I could make them this blog's header, so I did a small photoshoot lol. It's not perfect in the slightest but that's what makes them so fitting. xD 🥰🥰

#papercraft #pieced together by me #akita neru #hatsune miku #kasane teto #triple baka #i was thinking a lot and there's a reason i wanted to do Neru today #anyway i'll see if I can upload what i draw more frequently #thinking of drawing a little bit every day (if i want to which i almost always do) so that may happen #made neru to put at my desk to remind myself of that goal lol #there's also other symbolism if you're reading my tags rn lol #everyone has a different interpretation of these characters and that's their creative freedom #these are the Miku Teto and Neru that _I_ put together so they're MY versions of them #when different people draw the same chara they come at the chara from a different perspective and angle #whenever i drew them I was always depicting MY (ideal/favorite/childhood) versions of them #not ascribing to a single canon or official image or law #so it's just a reminder that my versions of these three (my faves) are not at all universal #when you're engaging with them or seeing them in this blog they're always coming from me since i drew them #so it's a nice reminder about creative freedom and stuff (something i like a lot) lmao

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pallases · 17 days ago

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IM FREEEEEE

#(FROM PROJECTS)#personal #the engineering chronicles #WILL HOPEFULLY NEVER NEED TO SLEEP THREE NIGHTS ON THE FLOOR OF THE ENGINEERING BUILDING AGAIN!!!#one class the final project was to build a karaoke machine which my partner and i had planned on making look like actual speakers and #microphone but we couldn’t find the stuff in time and her mom made a joke abt singing into hairbrushes and we decided to take that and #run lol we used a pink sparkly makeup box to store our circuit and cut out holes for the speakers and decorated it with makeup and put the #hairbrush mics inside and it was very fun actually and our class voted us as one of the groups to go to project day which was pretty cool!!#project day did get canceled bc of. asnow day which was unfortunate especially considering we stayed up until 4am the night before #preparing our documents for it and trying to perfect the karaoke machine when we could have been putting that time toward project number #2 😐 but whatever we still get our extra credit and i can say i qualified for it so im happy enough #then project 2 was for another class but we’re lab partners in both (+ another guy for this project) and it was digital monster pet so we #made a dragon i was mostly on design so i hand CADed the whole thing which was living hell if i never want to lay eyes on solidworks #again but also he came out very cute after MUCH hasle putting him together with all the wires and components bc our wires from the kit are #so bad they’re constantly getting disconnected from each other which we didn’t know would happen bc the labs we usually do we don’t have to #connect them together like that since you’re not routing them thru bodies etc and they’ve worked great until now but anywya.#i did the lcd faces and the light sensor and a couple other things + a lot of the code was copy and paste from past labs and fitting it to #suit the project but for the most part it was a shit ton of hardware on my end while she and the other guy managed the rest of the code #which i really wish i could have been more involved with but oh well. as it is though he’s my baby i birthed him <3 we’re planning on #meeting up over weekends next semester to change some stuff and add other extra features that we missed we got a decent grade 85% but we #all agreed we don’t want to leave him like this we want to add the extra features we had come up with and also i think we should switch out #our motors for servos bc the motors we were required to use #instead suck they’re not strong at all compared to what a servo can do for you. also we want to make it so you can not only pet him which w #already have with light sensors but also wash him with a Hall effect sensor and magnet so like we’d stick the sensor inside and the magnet #inside a little cad brush or sponge is what im envisioning and i have an expression in mind for what we’d do then. also paint him and #redesign the platform he stands on bc it’s rlly cramped and also make a pcb bc we only have him with the microcontroller and breadboards rn #and i might mess with his face piece a bit too im not sure. oh and speakers!!! those were technically a requirement but we didn’t get them #done on time but i want to make him play music sooooo bad so definitely that. anyway want to be more involved in the software when we do #all this. pretty excited actually :]

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aggressionbread · 9 months ago

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oh one really cool thing i think i never noticed or really considered when I played the game, is that the Knight Academy rooms are actually a big room, divided in two with a wooden room divider in the middle. I have noticed that before, but what I didn't notice is that in Groose's shared room, Groose has presumably pushed the divider over so he has extra room for all his workout equipment, and just, space, meanwhile Cawlin and Strich are sharing that teeny room on the other half, but they also have a fancy golden couch for some reason, and I guess that makes up for it.

note: i did some looking through the other characters' rooms and houses, to see if this was indeed a fancy gold couch, or just a regular couch. after a very quick scan, I found that not only did i not find another golden couch, there was in fact only one couch of any kind that i could find in anyone's house (in rupin's house apparently, and its not gold)

also there's this picture of Groose wedged down between the desk and the wall divider

what is it doing there?

#all screenshots are from noclip.website #skyward sword #its been a long time since i first played skyward sword and its hard to remember a lot of the little details #theres so many tiny character things in this game! if you finish all the sidequests or even just talk to everyone periodically #so maybe these were more explicitly mentioned somewhere and i dont remember? also others have probably mentioned these before too!#y'know what i'm tagging this. i feel like i'm connecting the dots here. putting the pieces together.#also i love tiny details

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autumnrory · 5 months ago

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woooo my niece took 5 of my 13 lego sets, one of which was one of the three larger ones, so that's one huge box out of the way and i'm just glad she wanted them because like they ARE twenty years old and they look fine ofc but sometimes kids aren't gonna want stuff that isn't new and shiny ya know, but she did seem to want everything which would've been fine with me but i knew there was no way they would take all that with them, and at least i still have stuff of my own to sell, plus should get at least a cut of my brother's stuff for doing the inventory and putting together that stuff that wasn't already done

#i mentioned the hp sets and how they had been pretty much left together and he was like '....i had harry potter sets?'#which once he saw them he did think they were familiar which was some of my feeling with mine #like oh YEAH i do remember these i just didn't remember having so many #i mean between 13 sets it's really like 3 categories so i would've played with like the whole ice palace and its related sets #i do just wonder how it'll be at the store like everything is pretty much in fine shape #and probably there are people who want older stuff that's rarer and whatever now #BUT then there might be more of a demand for newer stuff at a better price or whatever idk #anyway 6 sets left in the upstairs and then the bionicles and statue of liberty are still in the attic #i'm still not convinced there couldn't be another box somewhere bc idk how to explain the few sets #that are missing so much that i can't actually do them bc even if we had gotten rid of some why would we not include the huge base or w/e #anyway we'll see! but i'm getting closer! and i did a little one this morning #that seemed to be complete it didn't list some of the pieces as extras but based on the instructions i figure they have to be #so i don't really need them like i'll include them if i find them and they're not needed for something else but yeah #anyway i can go back to fic though these first two at least are short so i may be going back to another one tomorrow #can't wait to have my room back though fr like #it is not the only thing making it feel messy because i have newer jewelry and clothes and stuff that i just have to organize and put away #but man the jewelry situation is just. it's not even having so many pieces it's like big earrings that take up a lot of space or whatever #so i just have not wanted to deal with it but it's kinda out of hand #but i can really think about that after this particular project is done #and do puzzles again oh my god i have 3 puzzles waiting for me at least #plus my mom always has a bunch to be done since everyone knows to buy her puzzles lol but that has also gotten out of hand #i wouldn't mind getting rid of a couple of mine though just bc it is like okay you do it but then you just have it and it takes up space #would be cool to have pretty ones framed tho

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cat-tranzer · 5 months ago

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ugh i kinda wanna get back on tumblr and rot my brain out some more

#i’d probably mostly just still bitch about my family tho #and then dish n overthink on the polycule expansion pack that just dropped #kink club tales abound #didn’t see that one coming #still unemployed #broker than ever #paranoia is consistently present but manageable #social anxiety is getting lesser every day tho!! making friends is awesome and cool and epic #okay time to bitch about the fam #the level of misogyny/transmisogyny is ASTRONOMICAL since my moms bf moved in #like he’ll deadname/mispronoun ems and he didn’t even meet her until #until recently and she’s been transitioned for over two years like buddy you do not get the benefit of the doubt with a little ‘slip up’#here. you are being a malicious piece of shit on purpose!!!!! at least don’t be a pussy about it!!!!!!!#also big kudos to my mom on sharing ems dead name. really fucking classy.#my cats and my girls tie my sanity together with a spider’s spinner #thin and invisible they weave the net around me to keep me safe until i can pluck up the courage to get us the fuck out of here #should be able to pass a drug test soon so that opens up my application options a lot. i feel confident that i’d be able to hold myself #together long enough to get enough cash to put a security deposit down somewhere in the city #extra friends means the chance for roommates too!!!!!<333 #only if i can be chillin in the nude in front of them tho. chances now are looking dece lol #ugh i’ve been manic dramatic for long enough tonight #hopefully it’s only the void i’m screaming at. i’m so damn lucky to have all that i have rn. especially the friends.#stick together with your local faggots and trannies always #ALWAYS<33 #signed dogweed

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thosetwofirefighters · 2 years ago

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find the word challenge

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

thanks @the-likesofus for the tag!! very excited to see how many of these words I've used...

my words are: quiet, hold, cover, first, together, and small. unsurprisingly, my fake dating au (currently sitting at almost 30k words like it has been for the past few months...) has all of these words multiple times lol <3

quiet

Buck’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket, his hands shaking when he reads Bobby’s contact name. He answers before he can even register it. “Pops?” His voice is quiet and terrified.

hold

Hearing footsteps from his spot on the couch, Buck tenses as Nathan comes up the stairs. It’s been so long, but Buck can still recognize the man’s footfalls. He lets out a breath he’d been subconsciously holding when Nathan finally appears and moves towards one of the armchairs across from him instead of the couch.

cover

“Jurassic Park!” Chris yells, and Buck has to cover his ears against the sound, the kid’s excitement causing him to be louder than usual. “Please, Dad, I know it’s kind of scary, but they just put it back on Netflix, and I’ve seen it before! Plus, I’m ten now, I won’t have nightmares!”

first

“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” Eddie says, meeting Buck’s gaze. His eyes are soft and despite his words, they shine with support, and Buck thinks—not for the first time—how lucky he is to have a best friend like Eddie.

together

Nathan’s study abroad had been nearly over when Buck brought up the idea of him going to Los Angeles to fight fires and help people. Nate had just nodded before taking Buck’s hand and kissing him, saying he’d buy the plane tickets in the morning. Buck had assumed they’d be going back together to be together.

small

Eddie glares at Chim when he insists on playing with the station’s small Hildy gadget that they keep in the kitchen. They mostly use it to play music, but Chimney takes the opportunity to ask her a bunch of questions throughout the day and only stops when Eddie threatens to run her over with a fire truck after Chimney starts asking her questions about the 118 themselves.

words for people I tag: home, care, love, make, and dream

no pressure tagging @mooshkat @jacksadventuresinwriting @ty-in-bedlam @lilbuddie <3

#so many of these were JUICYYYY #but i said lets be mysterious for once #and then i actually succeeded in not giving yall the juiciest tidbits? for once?#the snippet for 'hold' is so rough but like. we'll get there #i've decided to re-read all of my fake dating fic because OOOH BOY did I forget the vibes of the last chapter i've written #it is SPICY yall (not in the smut way)#asdgdsh tbh i feel evil giving you pieces of buck/nathan (an omc) and barely any buddie >:)#also jurassic park my beloved!!#it is my go-to when it comes to a movie to put in a fic tbh....like #it's my favorite and i am convinced chris would love it once buck convinced eddie to let them watch it together <3 #omg new headcanon just dropped buck and chris read jurassic park 'together' when chris is a teenager #not together together but like at the same time #when chris finally puts his foot down and says no more bedtime stories buck gets sad and so they come up with a new thing #aka buckley-diaz book club and i am SO writing that fic #holy shit i'm so excited it's gonna be so cuuuute #anywayyy i was looking through all my uses of 'cover' and didn't have to read past the jurassic park mention soooo love that lol #seriously though i cannot wait to edit this fic after i finish re-writing the earlier chapter i've been working on #i forgot how much i love editing my own work since i have most recently been working on a lot of lil projects that require little revision #but it's so fun! i truly am an editor at heart hehe <3 #i am going to 1) try to read it like I would someone else's work (which is impossible but like. we can try)#2) stop thinking about the big picture and focus on line edits and perfecting what i've already edited and had betaed #3) read it and edit like a motherfucking poet #this fic is gonna be so gorgeous i stg #she's got good bones now she just needs a decorator #and yk the last 60-ish percent of it lol #mine #wip #find the word challenge #tag game

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kaiijo · 7 months ago

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ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there.

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life.

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply. he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”)

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”

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rhaenyratargcryen · 5 months ago

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you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian.

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch.

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump.

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him.

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government.

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris.

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head.

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours.

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze.

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head.

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more.

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head.

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head.

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you.

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once.

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans.

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated.

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here.

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

#twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #glen powell #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens smut #glen powell x reader #glen powell smut #as a former tyler dater this was soooo triggering for me to write #JFNLKQJBNF

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