#You don't have to work so hard at making yourself unlikeable Grey

[a-consuming-passion]

Well, this isn't exactly Dickens material, is it? 😔

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[hxney-lemcn]

Jealousy is a Bitter Look — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: how the overblots react to being jealous (some are a bit more jealous than others, but they all have their moment).

tw: unhealthy attachments (Malleus, but he's working on it). ngl this shows a bit of their flaws so its not complete fluff and a bit of a character study.

a/n: so I can't make a fluffy/cute jealous fic cus I find jealousy an emotion to work on? Like its not terrible to be jealous, it happens to the best of us, I just don't wanna romanticize it? 'Cus if left unchecked it can lead to toxic relationships so that's why I wrote this in a more uplifting manner (?). Idk, I'm weird ik.

wc: 1.5k (~200 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle tried not to get jealous. He trusted you wholly. But sometimes his insecurities got the best of him. Cater was more affectionate, did you wish he were more affectionate like that? Trey was kind, did you wish he would give you more? Ace and Deuce were stupid, but it was undeniable how well you got along, did you wish he were more carefree? Those feelings would tug at his heart, but it was something he needed to work on himself, it wasn’t your problem. That’s what he kept repeating in his mind as he watched you have fun with your friends. Lips downturned hidden behind a teacup, ocean grey eyes sharply watching the scene before him. He thought he was hiding it better, but it was clear to you with how he pouted. Excusing yourself from Ace and Deuce, you made your way to the ruby haired housewarden. Riddle greeted you, eyes softening and frown lifting slightly. You tell him that he could’ve just told you if he was jealous. Unlike some, he won’t deny it fully, instead explaining his reasoning. Work on it with him, reassure him that you like him for him. If you wanted someone else, you wouldn’t be with him, and he takes that to heart.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

Jealousy is Leona’s middle name. After everything he’s been through, constantly being in second place, never getting what he truly wants…he feels like having you will slip through his fingers as well. Being with you, creating all those happy memories…it scares him. That one day you’ll find someone better and all he’ll have left of you are memories. So yes, he does get jealous, quite easily, and he masks it with his ego. He’s the best, don’t look at anyone else, he’s a prince, why would you settle for less? It’s quite clear that he’s jealous, his tail flicking, ears twitching, the sharp glare. When you confront him he won’t tell you the full truth, that’s a step too far at the moment. Be gentle with him, if someone flirts with you, tell them you have a boyfriend. Leona gets this smug smile and a warmth in his chest. As much as he won’t hesitate to claim you if someone won’t stop their advances, he loves it when you claim him. After all, it shows how much you care for him, how much you want him, and even the big bad lion needs a bit of reassurance.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

He’s actually quite similar to Leona in this regard. Azul was bullied when he was younger, which led him to having an inferiority complex about almost everything. He is bad at hiding it as well, clearly needing to be reassured that he was doing well and he was a good partner. It was just hard for him to comprehend that someone as amazing as you was actually with someone like him. He loves you so intensely, he can’t help but let his insecurities get the best of him sometimes. He thinks you’d hate his mer form or that someone that could offer you more will swoop you away from him. He wouldn’t even blame you, he’d just be hurt he couldn’t do more for you. (He’s thinking all this even though he would and could offer you the world if you asked). When someone is trying to flirt with you outright he’s trying to mask his insecurity with his suaveness, asking if the person needs anything and if you're uncomfortable he leaves in a small threat about Floyd not being in a good mood (if you’re really uncomfortable he might use Jade as the threat instead). Azul checks in on you, but if you're smiling he might die a bit. Please just reassure him that you only have eyes for him.

❥ Jamil Viper

Unlike Leona and Azul, Jamil doesn’t get that jealous or has an inferiority complex. No. Instead, he knows you wouldn’t go behind his back, after all, you managed to become his partner and that’s a feat in itself. He does get smug when you tell someone off, or politely inform them that you have a boyfriend. Jamil reveals in their look of defeat (he is a bit of a sadist in that regard). The time his jealousy truly shines is when Kalim is in the equation. He refuses to allow Kalim to take anything else from him, never mind you. The way Kalim easily makes you smile, steals your time with frivolous parties, puts his hands on you…yeah it's a feat that Jamil didn’t snap. Jamil is very good at masking his feelings, but the facade unravels when you both are alone for once. Give him your attention, affection, love, reassure him through touch that you want him. If you poke and prod enough he’ll admit he’s jealous, how it just reminds him that Kalim always takes and takes, afraid that you’ll fall for the charm (that Jamil couldn’t understand) of Kalim and fall into his arms instead. But when you soothe him, tell him that you see Kalim more of a brother if anything…Jamil will calm down and realize how foolish he’s being.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil, jealous? Yeah no. Not normally at least. Have you seen him? Vil is one of the fairest of them all. If someone tried flirting with you he’d laugh in their face if that wasn’t disgraceful. If anything, you were the lucky one in this relationship…he does cherish you though, and he loves you more than he’d like to admit. You may be a lucky potato…but he was one lucky man as well. He managed to snag your heart without the flashing lights and fame, you loved him for who he was and he was grateful. So when Vil watches Neige talk to you with no care in the world, hearts practically in the boy’s eyes…yeah it's the one scenario you’ll witness a jealous Vil. He’ll perch himself by your side, arm slung around you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek. A pleasant surprise as Vil isn’t this affectionate in public usually. Neige doesn’t seem to take the hint, so Vil ups the ante, talking about your last date and how he’s lucky you chose him. It’s an obvious change (and everyone knows the vitriol Vil holds for Neige). You eat the attention up, but after you're alone in his room, give him a ton of kisses, teasing him about how sweet he was, he doesn’t like to admit his jealousy, but he loves your affection.

❥ Idia Shroud

I’m noticing a pattern. Most of these guys have an inferiority complex. Idia’s is the most obvious. He barely believes you actually like him, so him being jealous is more common than not. Depending on how long you’ve been together he’ll react differently. If it's in the beginning, he’s blaming and degrading himself for not being good enough, that you deserve better and he locks himself in his room. He needs a lot of reassurance in this stage, lots of quality time. The longer you are together the more confident he gets. Someone tries to flirt with you; he's dissing them with his chronically online lingo. Doing that little giggle when you elbow him trying not to grin. Although those self-deprecating thoughts still swirl in his brain, he’s learned to trust and believe you, after all you decided to stay with him for how long? Not to mention that your reassurances made him feel better and trust you. You’ve seen his worst multiple times and you’re still by his side. Besides, if anyone dares insults Idia in their attempt to woo you you go crazy, insulting them which makes Idia want to melt, die, and kiss you all at once.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a bit confusing. On one hand he 100% trusts you, on the other he can be a bit childish. You spend too much time without him or go out to something he wasn’t invited to and you’ll find him pouting upon your arrival. He doesn’t mean to, he’s glad you have others to have fun with and he doesn’t want to restrict you in any way…but he is a bit needy when it comes to your affection. He is so touch-starved and isolated that he can’t help but cling to you, feeling a bitter pang when you have to go. If anyone dares to flirt with you it's when he isn’t by your side and you're declining them instantly. If someone is actually insane and tries to flirt with you when Malleus is present either 1. Malleus watches on trying to hide his smugness as you decline or 2. Sebek is shouting insults at them before you even get the chance. All in all, Malleus isn’t too jealous, and when he is he tries to work on his possessiveness. He wants a healthy relationship with you after all, and he’d do anything to make you happy, even if that means letting you go for a day to hang out with your other friends.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (3)

Summary: Terry get's a lesson in love and shares it with Patrice.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 5,049

Part: 3 of ??

Warnings: Smut (18+)

One. Two.

"Well, James, how you been?" 

"Honestly, Pop. I don't know where to start." 

Wooden spoons banged and scraped across pots on the stove while Marvin scooped red beans and rice into a small ceramic bowl. He'd long shed his work coveralls for an open flannel shirt and khakis to spend some quality time with his only son. 

James was their shared middle name in a long line of Richmond men dating back to their family migration from New Orleans to Fayetteville in the 50s. Marvin was a proud, honorable man. He never said a bad word about anybody, and no one had a bad word to say about him. He taught Terry how to play football, make a pot of dirty rice to perfection, and the importance of ensuring a lady never touched a doorhandle in his presence. He was the reason Terry joined the Marine Corps after a career in the NFL looked unlikely. He was the reason his boy spoke softly and carried a big stick. And he was one of only two people Terry trusted with his heart. 

With two bowls and spoons on a serving tray, Marvin made his way to the kitchen table. He stopped short to get a good look at his son with blue green eyes even more captivating than Terry's. He noted the new frown lines developing on his brow and the lone grey hair sprouting in his goatee. His boy was stressed and confused. He didn't need a conversation to tell him that but welcomed it anyway. 

After sliding one bowl across the table, he took a seat with his signature grunt. "Start at the top. Plenty of time still left in the day." 

Terry quietly thanked his father for his generosity and avoided the question by eating the first bite of his meal. They ate in silence for several seconds until Terry took a deep breath. 

"I think I've been okay. More ups than downs lately, but the downs are pretty damn low. I'm having a tough time sleeping. I'm barely working. I feel like a burden for Treece more than I feel like a man who can actually do something for her." 

"Being a man is about more than what you can do." 

"Yeah, but…" Terry trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just - things weren't supposed to be this hard. I gave this country a lot of my time, and I guess I expected to say my goodbyes and roll into my next chapter. Now, my plan b needs a plan b, and I'm out of options." 

"You're not out of options. You don't like askin' for help. Proud like your grandaddy." 

"And you too." 

Marvin chuckled and shook his head as he took another spoonful of food.  "This ain't about me."

The two men shared a laugh, their voices sounding nearly identical as they bounced off the walls. He was the spitting image of his father, both in stature and moral compass. 

"What do you need, James?" Marvin had grown serious again, making Terry avert his eyes to focus on his food. "I'll save you the stress of asking, but you gotta tell me what I need to offer. Is it money?"

"Not much. Enough to pay some bills until the end of the month, and I can have it back to you. I think I have a shot at this job on base if I can get through the second interview."

"How you getting back and forth? I know y'all do the Lyft and Ubom thing these days. Ridin' around with strangers like we didn't spend a whole decade tell y'all not to." 

Terry laughed. "It's Uber, Pop. But, no. Treece is out for the summer, so I'm…using her car when I need it. I don't wanna take advantage of her." 

"Those some of the bills you need help paying?" Marvin's question was answered with a silent head nod and eyes filled with shame. He softened his voice as he reached into his wallet for the cash he had on hand. "It's what you're supposed to do. Ain't no shame. That money is for yourself. Give me til tomorrow afternoon to have more. Five grand enough?" 

"Ah, Pop, I don-" 

"We didn't work as hard as we did for nothing. Plus, it's your college fund money we never withdrew. You're lucky your mother hasn't used it for renovations. She's been eyeing your sister's old room for an indoor she-shed or whatever the hell it's called." 

Marvin sounded exasperated by the concept of his wife's latest project, which amused Terry. They hadn't changed since the day he left. They were just two people who had been in love since the day they met and remained committed to supporting each other through the ebbs and flows of life. 

Standing from the kitchen table, Marvin shuffled around the corner to the garage entrance and returned with a ring of keys and a pile of mail. He tossed them at Terry and returned to his seat. 

"What's this?" 

"Keys to GMC outside. Take it. You might need to run it for a little bit and change the oil, but it works fine. The rest is your mail." Terry opened his mouth to protest and received a glare from his father in return. "I gave you my best speech about askin' for help, and here you go ruining things. Take the truck before I tell your mama."

"Alright, alright," Terry laughed as he raised his hands. "I love you, Pop." 

"Love you, man. I'm proud of you." Not ones for the warm fuzzies of hugs, the two extended their arms across the table for a quick fist bump before returning to their meals. Marvin let his son eat in peace for a few moments before the corner of his lips curled in a knowing smile. "So…Patrice Ellis, huh? That little love letter you wrote in 10th grade finally coming true?" 

"Pop." 

"Ah, come on. It's alright to be in love, son. She's a good girl. Got good folks, too. What's the holdup?" 

In love? The more Terry attempted to negotiate the gravity of the phrase within himself, the more he had to reckon with the idea that his father may not be that far off base.

Terry slowed his eating and looked at his father for help. "You think I'm in love?" 

"Oh, I know you are. You didn't come back to Fayetteville for me, did you?" 

"How would I know, though? How did you know?" 

Marvin stopped eating to sit back in his chair. A fond smile crossed his face as he thought of his younger years. 

"I knew I was in love when I wanted to show up every day and do the work to be with her. It didn't matter if she pissed me off or if we disagreed about decisions. At the end of every day, I can look at her and know I'm where I want to be forever. Plus, I still get a little fired up when she walks through the door all these years later. I ain't much to look at, but your mother is…" 

Marvin let his sentence drop to whistle at the mention of his wife. Terry pretended to take exception but eventually laughed at his father's antics. He quickly relaxed into a contemplative state. 

"I wanna be the best I can for her," he spoke softly. "I get…sad when she's gone for too long. Sometimes, I find myself forcing conversation just to make her look at me because the light in her eyes is the only thing keeping me grounded most days. What does that mean?" 

"You don't need me to answer that, son. Go with what you know." 

Before Terry could seek more advice, the mechanical roar of the garage door made Marvin nearly spring out of his seat to greet his one true love. 

Outside, Patrice was nearly doubled over from laughter in the front seat. 

Diedra "DeeDee" Richmond was the quintessential Southern black woman. Like a prim and proper belle, she wore her color-treated blonde hair big to match an even bigger personality.  She wore heels with every outfit and never left the house without earrings, but she could also drink and cuss like a sailor. 

When she offered Patrice the chance to tag along for her monthly Sister Circle meeting, there was no chance she'd miss the opportunity to ditch Terry and kick it with the upper crust of Black women. 

"And, girl, Rita thinks we can't tell that she took every one of those appetizers out of the damn freezer section. At least go to the Publix bakery. Finger sandwiches ain't that expensive." 

Amid their gossip session, the garage door's chime caught Dee Dee's attention, effectively ending her one-woman show in favor of giving her husband the eye. Behind him, Terry stood with a nervous smile and puppy dog eyes that he directed at Patrice. 

"Marry a Richmond, child. You'll never lift a finger for the rest of your life. Lord knows I love me some him. Hey, baby!" DeeDee advised as she watched Marvin nearly float to the driver's side to open her door. 

Patrice watched Marvin and DeeDee fawn over each other like teenage lovers until the faint pop of her door opening brought her back to life. 

Terry stood in the gap with his hand out to offer assistance. She accepted without protest, letting him gently pull her from the passenger side with her bags in tow and close the door behind her.

"I missed you." 

Terry's admission came in a sweet voice as he dipped his head to place two chaste kisses on Patrice's lips. Only the knowledge of his parents 10 feet away kept her from turning an innocent display of affection into something vulgar. 

Patrice chased his lips once he pulled away, earning a deep chuckle that vibrated her chest. 

"We kissing in front of the parents now?" 

"Too much," he asked, suddenly embarrassed. 

She used her thumb to wipe lip gloss from his bottom lip before rising to her tip toes to kiss his nose. "No. You're perfect." 

Dee Dee and Marvin watched the young couple giggle at nothing in particular with broad smiles and full hearts. 

"Treece, when's the last time you had some of my red beans and rice?" 

Marvin's question made both of them jump like children caught in the act with the realization that they weren't alone. 

"Way too long," Patrice answered, her stomach almost growling at the mention. 

"Then have dinner with us. We'd love to have you." 

Patrice looked toward Terry for confirmation, making Dee Dee cackle as she started up the stairs into her home. "Child, forget him. Terrence don't run nothing 'round here! Come get this food."

Terry's eyes grew wide at his mother's dismissal while Patrice dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at his expense on her way into the house. 

"Oh, that's funny," he asked, following her lead. "That's the last time I let y'all hang out unsupervised." 

Three extra hours at Terry's parents' house wasn't enough for the tandem to abandon their new night routine. 

Patrice stood at her bathroom sink, scrubbing the day from her face while Terry made himself comfortable on her closed toilet lid. Sometimes, he read something from Patrice's bookshelf, both preferring to simply exist in the same room. Other times, he watched baseball on his phone and attempted to provide color commentary despite Patrice not showing interest. This time, though, he sat with relaxed shoulders and low eyes while she moved through her beauty routine. 

Something about the sleepytime body wash had him laser-focused on how her legs looked a mile long beneath her nightshirt, oiled to perfection and glistening under the warm vanity lights. He wanted to reach out and touch her. Maybe pull her closer by her thighs and whisper every single nasty thought on his mind below her navel until she promised never to leave his side. 

But, he shook his inner man loose and leaned forward to re-engage with her as she called his name. 

"You know you should use a gentle exfoliant every once in a while. It'll help your breakouts. Use some of my sunscreen, too. It's dangerous for you to let the sun hit your face with no protection."

Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said sounded like a chorus of 1000 angels to him. She could've revealed the cure to cancer, and he would be too lovestruck to notice. 

Knowing his restraint was dwindling, he stood abruptly and stretched his arms above his head with a yawn as she added moisturizer to her face.

Patrice watched him take up space behind her through the mirror, shifting so he could leave something to remember him by on her shoulder and neck. 

"Good night," he spoke between kisses, the words muffled against her skin. 

"Already? It's not that late, is it?" 

"I promised Corey I'd help him with football practice at Francis tomorrow morning."

"He'll run you ragged if you don't speak up." 

"I'll speak up. I promise." 

Using what little space she had, Patrice turned to rest her backside on the counter and face Terry. She used her index finger to hook his gold herringbone chain and bring him down for a kiss. Or kisses. It'd been so long since they could have each other in this way. Time and experience, both together and separately, had them maneuvering like professionals. Each kiss was teasing and sensual in equal measure. A tangible mastery of retreating and aggression made the pursuit of one another worth the wait. 

They'd lost track of their exhibition until Terry's phone buzzing against the toilet seat jolted them back into reality.

Patrice flattened her palms against his chest to create some separation and end what would surely turn into blurred lines if they weren't careful. "Good night, TJ.  Grab that exfoliant out of my shower before you leave. It's in the caddie." 

Terry took the gentle redirection in stride, smiling at her through the mirror before turning to do as she had asked. Patrice used what little focus she could muster to secure her headscarf to her head, desperate to extend her box braids for one more week. 

"What's this?" 

"What's what?" She didn't bother to look away from her task until the low hum of her vibrator caught her attention. She whipped her body around, too stunned to reach for the bright pink toy that had Terry smirking as he examined its buttons. "That is my personal property for personal and private use." 

"When's the last time you used it?" 

"It's been a while. A month or so." Mostly true. She couldn't say she hadn't thought about it more recently.

"Since I've been here?" 

She shrugged. "Kinda hard to get comfortable when there's a person on the other side of the wall." 

The mere sound of the only thing to touch her in two years made the hair on her arms stand at attention. Her eyes darted between the toy and Terry, who made himself familiar with each speed and pattern, cycling through dirty thoughts and intrigue as he held the device against his arm to get a feel for the intensity, 

Setting one? Bearable. A softball. Setting three? Maybe she'd call out his name from the pleasure? Setting seven? Surely, she'd hang on to him like a wet t-shirt on a Playboy model while she rode the crest of her orgasm. 

The possibilities excited him to no end. He needed to test each and every theory.

In two clicks, he returned the toy to its original setting and then off completely, holding it in one hand while taking slow steps to close the gap between him and the only person on his mind. 

She shifted her weight nervously as he approached, unsure how to respond until he towered over her with a look she knew all too well. 

Desire. 

Their senses were heightened. Everything felt surreal, almost as if one misstep could send them flying through a portal back to a more disappointing reality. 

Terry could smell the faint hint of mint on Patrice's breath before dipping his head to nip at her bottom lip with his teeth. She responded like he knew she would by making him work for his prize. Patrice never let him intimidate her. Not for their first time together all those years ago, certainly not now. 

He chuckled before leaning in again, this time leaving a trail of short kisses from her jaw to her clavicle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in vanilla and the subtle spice of his cologne from moments earlier.

Suddenly, Patrice felt weightless. Her feet dangled briefly and without warning as Terry took her from standing to sitting on the cold, hard counter before she could protest. 

Patrice fought for stability, using the peaks and valleys across the expanse of his muscled arms as her anchor in the dizzying experience that was his affection. Her lips parted to draw in sharp breaths and release airy sighs of approval in a feeble attempt to remain present. At the same time, he kissed his appreciation wherever his lips saw fit. Her legs acted under their own power to spread wider and make room for whatever came next. 

Her hands left a trail of tingles as she dragged them from his arms to the back of his head, down the sides of his face, over his tank top, between his pecs, and, finally, into the waistband of his shorts. 

Surprised by her touch, he lurched forward to grab her wrist. "Not this time," he whispered, unsure he meant what he was saying. 

Patrice nodded in understanding, earning a sloppy kiss for her obedience. 

There was no discerning where his mouth ended, and hers began. They were on one accord, hungrily tasting, exploring, and consuming each other without holding back. 

Then, the low hum returned. This time, it was closer than Patrice remembered. 

Cold silicone soon caressed her inner thigh. A low whimper escaped past her lips as she made eye contact with Terry. He leaned close enough to speak against her mouth. 

"You trust me?" 

"Mhmm," she answered, fighting to keep her eyes open as he moved further up her leg. 

"Let me take care of you, then. Take these off for me." 

Trembling fingers latched onto her boyshorts, pushing them to mid-thigh for Terry to take care of the rest. As quickly as he was gone, he'd returned for another taste of her tongue. Languid and unhurried, he used the time to relax her while slowly inching the vibrator to her center. 

Initial contact made her hips buck forward, and her head softly hit the mirror behind her. Terry chased her with sloppy kisses at the base of her neck. 

The slow and steady setting was enough to get her wet and sticky. Terry'd be lying if he said the thought alone didn't have him wanting to renege on his early statement and dive in with reckless abandon. But, he remained steadfast in his pursuit of her pleasure. 

Once the initial shock had worn off, Patrice ground her hips slowly, making small circles while the vibration worked to settle her nerves. Terry took a break from leaving praises in the form of kisses on her throat to smile at his girl. 

"You're beautiful. You know that?"

She gripped his chin and pulled him closer for a fiery kiss that he let her lead. "Yeah. But, I love to hear you say it." 

"Good," he answered, grinning at her confidence as he upped the intensity on her vibrator. Her eyes clamped shut as her entire body tensed. "Stay with me." 

A deep, steadying breath turned into a silent scream as Patrice gave in to the natural urge to hold her breath. Terry used his free hand to sneak up her tank top and grope one breast while pressing his lips to her ear. 

"Breathe, baby. In and out." He modeled the behavior until she found the strength to match his tempo. "There you go. You feel good?" 

"Yes, yes," she whisper-chanted to the ceiling, her head thrown back in unimaginable euphoria. 

"I want you to feel this good every day. You deserve it, right?" 

A twisting, turning feeling at the pit of her stomach forced her to draw in a deep breath to steady herself. Her answer came in a soft moan. "Right." 

"Damn right." Pressing his forehead to hers, he zeroed in on each of her features twisted in unthinkable pleasure. 

She kept her mouth open to sigh and moan as she saw fit. Her nostrils flared in a rhythm as she tried to force herself to breathe through every peak and valley of the moment. Her brows were knitted, and her eyes closed as if she were too afraid to look at him. He wondered what she was thinking. 

Did she want him inside of her as much as he wanted the same for himself? Was she yearning for more pressure? Could she feel how much he loved her?

"Don't get quiet on me. I want everything. Let 'em hear you. You need more?" 

A quick glance down helped him reposition the vibrator on her already sensitive bud, earning a guttural curse as appreciation for his good deed. 

"Fuck! Don't move. Please don't move." 

Terry obliged for the moment, too entranced by his view of her flower on full display for his viewing pleasure. Glistening. Wet. Beautiful. Appetizing like nothing he'd ever seen before. He pulled the toy away and replaced its presence with his thumb. Slow circles and firm pressure made her want to close her legs to escape the overwhelming stimulation, but her attempt was futile. She was at his mercy. 

"Damn," he whispered to himself, enamored by the way her body reacted to his touch. 

Every revolution around her clit brought with it more wetness at her entrance and indentations in his arms from her nails gripping for dear life. 

It wasn't enough to touch her. He needed to taste. 

Using his middle and ring fingers, he teased his introduction with gentle brushes against her inner lips. She keened for more against his mouth as she held his face close. He granted her wish and pushed into her slowly, immediately feeling her warmth envelop his long digits. 

Their mouths hung open, breaths being traded between the two as he set a slow pace. Not enough to bring forth a release. Just enough for Terry to get what he came for. 

Removing his fingers left him with a coating of clear arousal nearly dripping to his knuckles. Patrice watched him as he smirked at the sight, examining it like a jeweler appraising precious diamonds. 

When he'd seen enough, he put both fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the taste. Patrice's mouth hung open as if waiting for her turn to experience the wonders of her juices. 

Had she closed her eyes for even a second, she would have missed Terry extending his tongue from his mouth to allow a mixture of his saliva and her essence the chance to slide from his tongue in anticipation of a new host. 

Something profound and hungry within her made her lean her head back and hold her tongue out to receive all that he had to give. It excited her, delighted her, and aroused her like never before.

Like a lewd work of art, spit connected their tongues in what would otherwise be seen as an infraction among more proper circles. But fuckin' wasn't proper, and all forms of affection were welcomed in their home. 

Almost immediately, Terry rushed to reward her with a wild and frenzied kiss that nearly surprised him. 

Primal. Carnal. Intense. Fucking disgusting. He loved every minute of it.

The race was on. Terry kept their lips connected as he returned the vibrator to her clit, dialing up the settings to a level below their max. 

Patrice's moans and his couldn't be distinguished from one another. Her hips bucked wildly. Her fingernails left marks in their wake as they scratched at his arms and back. Her body twitched and seized in anticipation of the inevitable. 

"Oh my - fuck!" Satisfied tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks to her man's awaiting lips. "Terrence!" 

Terry remained locked in. A man possessed. A one-track mind focused on nothing other than completing the mission. 

The first stage of her orgasm came without a warning. Heat washed over her as if she'd stepped outside at high noon, making her skin almost unbearable to live in. Her toes curled, her voice caught in her throat despite the intense desire to release a scream from the depths of her soul into the atmosphere. 

She thanked Terry and God in Heaven for blessing her with the opportunity to touch the moon and the stars without ever leaving her home. Terry used his free hand to grip and massage her thighs, knowing that the best was yet to come. 

Patrice's voice began to climb as the main event approached. Shallow breaths gave way to loud gasps for air, which came rapidly while she did the same. She was suspended in a beautiful bliss and already sad about the prospect of coming down. 

Her lover reveled in the opportunity to see her unraveling at the seams. 

"I'll always come back to you, beautiful. No matter what, okay? Look at me." His request earned intense focus from Patrice under hooded eyes. "You're so pretty. Say it back to me. Tell me you're pretty."

"I'm so pretty!" Impending release sent all her words out in one breathless sentence. 

He smiled at her compliance. "I know you're close. Hold my hand."

Her fingers scrambled against the counter, filling the spaces between his fingers and gripping with enough force to turn her knuckles a lighter shade of brown. 

"That's my girl. I love you," was all he could manage before Patrice let out something akin to a squeal, turning his declaration into background fodder. 

Sensitive, overstimulated, and completely spent, the after-effects of her release had her panting to recover. Her ears rang with a heady feeling that could only be compared to a few puffs of homegrown bud. 

Terry held her through it all, propping her up while her body sagged against him for stability. He put aside the vibrator to run his palms up and down her legs while he showered her temple with whispered praises and sweet kisses. 

He waited until her breathing was even before gingerly pressing his forehead to hers. "You good?" 

His smirk was incredibly smug. He was proud of himself, and for good reason. She was open to giving credit where credit was due. 

"You can never leave this house without me again. I hope you're happy." 

"That's the whole point. My granny taught me some things during them summers down in New Orleans, you know?" 

"Oh, so this is some magic shit?" 

"Family business, baby. Gotta have the last name to find out." A playful glint in his eyes and a squeeze to her waist made Patrice's stomach feel butterflies that she thought would never return. Terry tapped her nose with his index finger and stepped back. "Stay put. I'll clean you up." 

Patrice scoffed. Stay put. As if she could go anywhere. As if she wanted to go anywhere.

Like the perfect gentleman, Terry was tender with his care. A warm towel to soothe sore muscles and ensure a thorough cleanup was mandatory. The extra loving was complimentary for only his favorite lady. 

"Stay with me tonight," Patrice requested as he slid her panties back up her legs. 

He shook his head and smiled while prompting her to lift her hips. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Treecey." 

"I just wanna be next to you. Nothing more." 

Terry regarded her doe-eyed plea with a small smile as he helped her off the counter. He pulled her into an embrace, fiending for one more kiss. She obliged happily until he'd had his fill. 

His hands slid from her sides to her ass for a generous squeeze before answering. 

"Okay. Whatever you want. Let me handle something real quick, and then I'll meet you there." 

Patrice accepted her victory with a silly happy dance before turning to make enough room in her bed for an extra person. Terry sent her on her way with a light tap to her ass, amused by how something as simple as sleeping next to each other was exciting for her. 

Once she was safely out of the bathroom with the door shut behind her, he finally found time to take a deep breath and compose himself. The actual test of his strength was in the next room, and he couldn't risk the trust he'd worked so hard to build. 

After adjusting his shorts, he picked up his phone and sat on the toilet lid, hoping that watching dog videos or Nationals highlights would clear his mind.

He had every intention of opening the web browser on his phone until he noticed a series of messages from an old friend.

From: McBride 

You check your mail? 

Trial against chief starts in two weeks. Gonna need you to testify to take him down

Know you said you weren’t coming back

Do it for Mike

---

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @deja-r

[angelicsjn]

readers first time with the yandere boys?? :D

YOUR SEVEN YANDERES.

A B O U T: Your first time with the yanderes.

W A R N I N G S: Adult content, MDNI, please. Afab!reader (mentioned in Blake's part).

— ROMAN BEAUREGARD.

It's after a race, which didn't go well. His engine was fucked and his mood was low; he wanted to just go home and relax.

In the hotel room, he sulks, and as you slink yourself onto his lap, he's ready to let go of all the bad shit.

First, you drink some champagne, then he grows handsy, whispering sweet nothings against your skin as his lips kiss across your neck.

The entire ordeal is sweet, with a slight edge to it as his hips snap against you almost aggressively, wanting to feel you around him entirely.

To fuck that stress out of himself.

— LATEN REED.

It wouldn't happen straight away, Laten needs that trust first to open up sexually since he has such strong feelings for you.

He can't take it anymore, though. He wants you. Everything in him aches as he inches closer with thick muscles underneath the softness of his T-shirt and shorts, the sight of his dick pressing against the fabric, and by God, he's ready.

Laten grabs and tugs and kisses all over you, his mouth aching after kissing for hours, his thighs aching after holding you against him as he buries himself so deep inside of you that you become one.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Unlike Laten. It doesn't take long for him to make a move.

He's pumped up and ready, almost too eager as he pins you down, his teeth biting into your neck as he rubs himself against you, feeling your wetness before thrusting deep inside.

"Holy fuck." He grunts out, his fingers bruising your hips as he fucks himself into you almost angrily.

Your first time having sex with Jae is just a hint at what's to come, as Christian Grey once said, 'I don't make love, I fuck hard.' LMAOO.

— KAIDAN WOLFE.

Kaidan is ready for it, like almost like a puppy waiting for its food.

Kaidan doesn't go straight in there. He wants to do other things first. He wants to play around before the final act and see how long you can both last.

This man may have you pulling your hair out in frustration on the streets, but in the sheets, you're digging your nails into his back from pure ecstacy.

He's smooth and sensual and knows how to hit all of the right spots and where to touch you.

— HAYDEN WEST.

Hayden is SHY. He's actually shaking in his boots as your fingers tickle against his thigh in temptation, and as you press light kisses against his neck — he's already about to pass out.

He would do as he's told, touch you where you like it. Make sure that you feel good. He'd get in any position for you, fuck himself into you just how you like it.

He wants you to feel good. You make him feel good all the time, anyway, he wants to return the favour.

But his favourite is when you pull on his hair as your ass bounces against his thighs, taking him in as his fingers dig into your flesh.

— JOSHUA WHITE.

Premarital sex? Shivers.

He's nervous as fuck. He knows you want it and holy fuck, he knows that he wants it, too.

He's been wanting it for a while, and some sick part of him hopes that you pull the strings, that you disregard his faith and loyalty to it and lure him in anyway, like a siren.

Not only does it make it easier for him, but it's also just really sexy.

When you finally bite the bullet and go ahead, anyway, he's already hard. His nails dig into his thighs so hard they break skin as your hands work across his lean body, his lip tucked between his teeth because he doesn't want to make any sound that might make him look stupid.

But as you sink yourself down onto his cock, he's in pure bliss. Red flushed cheeks, wide brown eyes that watch you in awe as you work yourself on him, almost taking advantage of his hardness for your own pleasure.

— BLAKE CROSS.

He can fuck whoever he wants. He can play the player and get his dick wet at any given moment, but that doesn't mean shit to him. Those people don't mean shit.

He only realises that you do when he takes his time, each reaction and sound you make, each place he touches that gains a twisting in your face — he's on his knees worshipping you as his tongue licks against your core almost possessively.

And, he's somewhat of a gentleman. He aims to make you orgasm more than once, naturally, so as he leans up, pumping his dick as it throbs with needed attention, his dark eyes watch you as he picks you up and places you on his lap.

His hands grab your ass, guiding you down onto him, and as you begin to work yourself on him, he's a mess.

His face is stuffed into your neck, his whines come out so effortlessly as his biceps flex with each thrust as he uses your body to fuck him, your skin burning against his needy grip as he drags you around his dick.

[shinjisdone]

Imprisoned Cube! Gojo Headcanons (knowledge of anime only, rambling)

Cube!Gojo cannot talk, move or use a lot of his power. The eyes around each side of the prison realm do have his eye color but its hard to tell if they are his own or the Six Eyes.

However, it cannot be confirmed if Gojo can hear the outside world. Communication is hard to almost impossible but the movements the eyes make can be interpretend to him understanding what is going on.

The most expressions he can make are with the eyes. They squint and narrow, roll around, blink, stay closed, widen or stay calm. Its hard to see them as glares but they definitely gaze at things and people.

Unlike real eyes, the cube doesn't need to blink but does so anyway.

While moving around, the eyes make loud sounds that remind of bloody flesh being dragged on a surface. Really gross.

The surface is grey and harder than stone. Not anyone can pick it up and either find the cube immensely heavy or burning to the touch, akin to acid.

Gojo only allows certain people to carry and touch the cube (you teehee).

You can try to roll him like a dice but he is so heavy once he leaves your grip that he won't go far. The cube also leaves some heavy prints so it'd be best not to do that.

Its not like he can move either. The eyes will look up at you while they wait to be picked up again.

Whereever his physical location may be does not matter to Gojo. He's got bigger battles to fight inside the prison.

While his powers are subdued, there's a small amount of infinity he can use outside the cube. The most he can do is push people/things away from other beings but the radius to it has to be close to work.

The eyes widen like a predator as he does so.

It's not enough to kill someone with it though. Their limbs can be broken - and if somehow, Gojo is being especially emotional, their limbs can also be torn apart. It would take more of his cursed energy though, which he cannot freely afford to do all the time when imprisoned.

He also only uses his infinity when real dangers occurrs to you. He doesnt fear for his own safety, knowing he'll be fine in or out of the prison, but he does fear for yours.

Which is also the reason why there is this...odd feeling that he wants you to stay close to the cube.

Or to at least take it with you.

When you distance yourself too far away for his comfort, the eyes widen and the pupils shrink. There's a tension in the air that leaves you shivering and your heart hammering in your chest. When you look back to the cube, its eyes staring at you in a way that says 'Don't go away.'

You take it as a sign that he can see you even if you cannot see him.

As menacing as it may feel, the sight of you holding the cube in your hand isn't.

Almost...adorable in a way, as if holding a small kitten in one hand. This animal though, is more moody than any kitten.

Also more dangerous than any animal.

No matter how limited his prowress is, Gojo will do anything to stay close to you - so he can use as little infinity that he has to keep you safe.

His Six Eyes allows him to observe all the targets and deal with them efficiently. He'll mostly help you escape but when he is emotional, the target a real threat or when he is pissed off, Gojo will go for the kill.

Only he will allow what or who to touch you (Only he can).

Cube!Gojo mostly doesn't let anyone know of his current mood or feelings. The eyes gaze around in boredom or focus on one thing in simple observation.

And even though there is no face to pull a smile, to grit his teeth, to raise a brow - there can be these tiny glints of emotions reflected in the blue of the Six Eyes.

It happens rarely on this brief moments of vulnerability. The light growing darker in a lone kitchen, the cold cruelty of a river, the sun setting in a park. You hold the cube in your hands as you softly speak of secrets, of the past, of emotions and fears. The eyes stare intently with a flicker of love.

You quietly ask him if he can hear you. He never answers and will not be able to as long as he is stuck as a prisoner. But the glint in the eyes - perhaps his very own - as they look at you with a feeling of something tells you that Gojo is very much aware of you and what is going on on the outside world.

[dreamscapesofimagination]

A/N: I'm waiting on a timer for dinner so decided to write a quick thing for Alan, my other bby.

TW: Fluff? Confessions. Leo being a shit. Alan in a tanktop all sweaty which may be a whole warning itself lol.

Summary: You stop by to get Alan to look over some forms, and Leo decides enough is enough.

-----------

You silently cursed your uniform.

The sun glared down today, and it had taken approximately three steps outside for you to wish for some lighter clothing.

The only relief from the heat was the refreshing breeze that rustled the trees, bringing with it the faint smell of engine oil as your steps led you toward Vagastrom.

Even the cats seemed irritated by the heat, some lazily sprawled in the grass to soak up the suns rays without overheating.

Of course today was the day that something had been overlooked on the most recent report for Vagastrom, so not only did you have to trek to the staffroom to collect the report from an even more disgruntled than usual Professor Dante, you also had to then trek toward Vagastrom.

The only benefit was the fact that you needed Alan to look over the form personally. You had long since accepted your attraction to the stoic captain, and between Sho and Leo's relentless comments you had gleaned that he may feel something for you as well. Unfortunately, when it came to any sort of relationship, Alan was like a frightened bird, and so you refused to approach him yourself for fear of making him uncomfortable.

Alan had let you know he would be around back, working on one of the cars.

You made your way along the dusty ground, using the folder in your hand to fan yourself.

"Hey Alan, I have those-"

The sight of him stopped you in your tracks.

He was leaned over the open hood of the car, and you couldn't help the flush that rushed to your cheeks at the sight of his back, sweat causing the grey tank top to cling to his muscles.

He quickly turned and lord have mercy.

He was definitely trying to kill you.

His skin glistened, evidence he had been working in the heat for awhile, and a black smudge accented his cheek bone.

"You have the report?" He asked, using an old rag to wipe the grease from his hands.

"Y-yeah, Professor Dante said you had to revise the Darkwick Property Damage clause." You stammered out the words, quickly focusing on the car.

"Is that-?"

"The car that the absolute embarassment if a first year wrecked on the mission? Yeah. Luckily the broker of that anomaly wasn't able to do anything extreme but its still a headache to repair." Alan sighed, reaching into the cooler that was beside the car and pulling out two water bottles.

He handed you one as he took the folder, frowning as he examined the report within.

You perched on an old tire that lay by Alan's tools, enjoying the coldness of the waterbottle and desperately trying to avoid looking at Alan.

It was hard to not look as he looked at the report, leaning against the car.

His skin had gained a slight tan, and you found yourself wishing (not for the first time) that things could be very different between you two.

"I'll fix this report as soon as I'm done with the car, do you want to wait here until I'm done?" Alan looked at you, expression softeningat the sight of you pressing the waterbottle against your heated forehead.

You smiled at him, "yeah, I'll wait. I really don't feel like walking back across campus and then needing to come back here only to go back to the main building and then back to my dorm."

Alan placed the folder through the open window onto the seat of the car.

"Well, you're welcome to wait inside. I know its hot. It shouldn't take me much longer- one of the bolts I need to get off is stuck but I've almost gotten it," he leaned back over the car as he spoke.

You pulled off your blazer, setting it under your head as you laid back on the tire. When you weren't moving the sun actually felt nice, and you were admittedly loathe to leave Alan. It wasn't often you got to be with just him.Since it was unlikely you and he would ever be together, you soaked up as much one on one as you could.

Before you knew it, you were dozing in the warm sun.

"What're you guys up to?"

A voice that you knew all to well jostled you awake, and you sat up.

You watched Alan stifle a groan, supressing a smile yourself at your shared disdain for Leo.

"What do you want?" Alan asked, refusing to look at Leo, focused instead on the car.

Leo shrugged, "Just figuring out why you have the honor student laying on a tire." The words "honor student" were said with a sneer.

"I'm just waiting for him to correct a report so I can take it to Professor Dante." you spoke, eyes narrowed at Leo.

"Ah, I see. And you're waiting in the blazing sun because of what?" you felt a tingle in your spine at the knowing look in his eye.

"I mean, I can only think of one reason why you'd be out here, alone, in the blistering heat with our less than chatty captain."

"Leo." Alan's voice was stern as he growled the warning.

Ignoring him, Leo continued, "now, I've definitely noticed you following the buzzkill around like a lost puppy, and man is it pathetic to watch."

"Leo!" Alan snapped, turning to glare at the silver haired man.

Leo just shrugged, "c'mon, you're equally pathetic, Cap. It'd be a lot less gross for everyone else if you both would just get together already."

Your cheeks burned at his words, and a side glance to Alan showed his ears to be red.

"You and I are training tomorrow. I want to see if your hand to hand has gotten any better." Alan seethed, and from his tone you figured that Leo was still no match for the captain.

Rolling his eyes, Leo turned, "Yeah, whatever Cap."

You pointedly looked at your feet, avoiding looking at the man beside you.

You knew Alan harbored some sort of feelings for you, and you figured he probably knew about yours. However, knowing and having them thrust in your face were two separate matters entirely.

"Sorry 'bout him." Alan's voice pulled your attention back to him.

You shook your head, "you don't have to apologize."

You wondered if you made Alan uncomfortable- afterall, you knew he had reservations when it came to hurting others (at least, when it came to you). Maybe your clear desire to be around him was too much.

"Alan," he looked at you, "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. I can't really help how I feel but if me being around so much is causing issues I'll just stay away unless otherwise is necessary."

He frowned, tilting his head.

"That's- You are not the issue." he sighed, "I am."

He came over, sitting beside you on the tire.

"I have feelings for you, I just don't want to hurt you. I'd never forgice myself. Maybe its selfish but I'd rather have you close by never close enough than not see you."

You carefully reached out, taking his hand in yours. You could feel his body stiffen at your touch.

"Alan, you know you won't hurt me, right? I trust you. And if it takes awhile for you to trust yourself then thsts okay, and I won't push anything again. But, I like you a lot, and I'm here whenever you're ready." You watched his gaze fall to your hands and he squeezed gently before meeting your eyes.

You noticed the determination in his dark eyes.

"I want to try this out. For once, Kurosagi is right. Its honestly more pathetic for me to keep being petrified."

You felt your heart hammer in your chest as all your focus fell to Alan.

He smiled, "I'd like to take you out on a date."

The grin that spread across your face was so wide that it hurt, but the joy inside you wouldn't allow it to lessen.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Alan."

[karahalloway]

Morally Grey - Part III: Russian Roulette

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Morally Grey

Synopsis: Things continue to heat up between Harper and Drake...

Word count: 3,500

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, multiple lemon-scented moments)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: I know I haven't posted anything in over a month (life has been way too busy!) but in the few moments of spare time that I have managed to eek out, my brain decided that this is the series that it wants to focus on, so here is Part 3.

A/N2: Unlike previous parts, are no YouTube clips for this part - the movie skips over whatever happens between the car chase scene and Ethan and Nyah waking up in bed together the following evening, so I took Harper and Drake's lead to fill the time gap.

"I haven't...forgiven you," I gasp against his lips, even as I find myself yielding to the direction of his hands.

"This ain't an apology," he replies, tipping my head to the side so he can coast his tongue down my jaw.

My eyes shudder shut as the scrape of his stubble across the sensitive skin of my throat leaves me breathless.

Damn, he's an arrogant ass...

But I can't deny that I want to fuck him.

Whether it's because of my oh-so-close brush death... or because I'm still pissed at him and I need an outlet for the messy cocktail of emotions burning inside of me... or some kind of twisted combination of the two, the end result is the same. My brain is a mess and my body is on fire.

Which means I need to break this off now, before things become dangerously complicated between us.

"Good," I tell him, pulling abruptly away. "We're on the same page, then."

His eyes widen as I grab onto his shoulders to swing myself off his lap. "The hell—?"

"Nice knowing you, Walker," I throw over my shoulder as I shunt myself across to the other side of the car.

He grabs my wrist. "You said you'd listen."

"No," I correct. "I didn't."

He cusses under his breath as I twist away. "Look, will you just hold on, for one second, and—?"

"And what?" I interject testily, hoisting myself up onto the doorframe. "Give you yet another chance to con me? No thanks."

"You wanna be mad at me?" he grits. "Fine. Be mad. But don't pretend that's a good reason to walk away."

"Funny," I snark, swinging my legs into the Porsche. "It's working surprisingly well for me so far."

"Until you find yourself backed into a corner..."

I freeze mid-motion.

"You're on Interpol's wanted list," he reminds me. "And that kind of heat is hard to shake. Even if you decide to lie low for a while, or full-on retire, you're not getting a free pass. Not without help, anyway."

"Why should I believe you?" I snap through gritted teeth, hating the indecision raging inside of me.

"Honestly? 'Cause you ain't got a choice," he huffs. "And I know you got no reason to trust me right now. Hell, I wouldn't trust me either. But I'm in a bind, and my offer's legit. So, as far as get-out-of-jail-free cards go, you'll be hard-pressed to find a better one."

I glare out into the night. Damn it, why does he have to be so right?

On one hand, logic — and experience — tells me that I should steer clear of gift horses that seem too good to be true, as they invariably have rotten teeth.

And yet, in spite of every rational inclination, I want to trust him... I want to give into him.

As behind the somewhat gruff exterior and annoyingly pushy attitude, there is a certain frankness to him. I mean, he could've bullshitted me over the alarm, or even fed me to the wolves for kicks... but he didn't. Which makes me want to think that he has some measure of integrity.

But I've been wrong about guys before...

"Fine," I declare abrasively, wiping the wetness from my face. "I'll help you. But I want that offer in writing."

"Done," he accedes, the sudden warmth of his breath lapping the shell of my ear.

Whipping around, I find myself nose to nose with him, his hands splayed on the Mercedes' doorframe on either side of me, as if our renewed proximity somehow serves to seal the deal.

But he's wrong if he thinks he's won this round.

"And you owe me a necklace," I add, lifting my chin.

A scoff escapes him, tickling my lips. "Fuck me, you're demanding..."

I shrug up at him. "You wouldn't have chased after me if I wasn't."

He regards me for a long moment, his jaw working.

I force myself to hold his gaze, even as I feel the latent embers left by that kiss start to smoulder again under the weight of the prolonged contact.

He breaks off first. "I'll see what I can do."

A relieved breath rushes out of me.

I have no idea whether he'll come through for me on either front. But a long career in larceny has taught me to aim high, and always have a back-up plan in my pocket.

And of things don't work out...? Well, I guess I'll just have to pawn that expensive watch of his.

"Great...!" I chirp, fully conscious of the bare modicum of space between us. "So, what's the job?"

"No clue," he admits, finally backing off to slip past me into the Porsche.

My jaw drops. "What do you mean you don't know! You came all this way to set me up and you don't even—?"

"Trust me," he grumbles, sliding into the driver's seat. "I'm well aware. But my brief was to locate you first, and then report in to get the rest of the details."

"And you follow your assignments to the letter..." I surmise with a sidelong look as I plop down into the passenger seat next to him.

He scoffs wryly as he flips the engine over. "Very rarely."

Yanking the wheel hard to the right, he rams the gas pedal down to detach his car from mine with an ear-splitting screech of metal, taking the Mercedes' wing mirror off in the process.

Swerving out into the middle of the bridge, he guns the Porsche into the night, leaving the carnage behind us to dust.

"You always drive like a maniac?" I shout over the whip of the wind.

He slants me a deadpan look. "I'm not the one who almost ended up in the river..."

I roll my eyes at him. "Where are we meeting this guy?"

"Stormholt," he replies, punching some coordinates into the Spyder's navigation system. "But it ain't a joint exercise."

"Why?" I counter with an arched brow. "You don't trust me?"

"Not one bit," he grins.

I can't help but laugh. "How do you know I won't skip out on you, then?"

"I don't," he admits, meeting my eye across the width of the car. "But I'm hoping I've given you enough reason to stay."

I glance quickly away before he notices the sudden colour spreading across my cheeks. "But...umm... Why me?"

"You came highly recommended."

"By whom?"

"By my agency."

My brows furrow. "I didn't think the CIA kept tabs on common thieves."

"I don't work for the CIA."

"Then...?"

"I'm an agent with IMF."

I nearly choke. "IMF?"

"Impossible Missions Force," he clarifies.

"You can't be serious..." I blurt.

Luckily, he mistakes my disbelief for confusion as he says, "Hey, I didn't come up with the name. But at least it's accurate."

"If you say so," I mutter, sinking deeper into the seat and wrapping my arms around myself.

This can't be a coincidence... Can it?

"Here," he says, shrugging out of his suit jacket while managing to keep the Porsche tracking steady with just his knees against the steering wheel at over 80 mph.

I shake my head. "I don't—"

He cuts off my protest with an impeccably aimed toss, landing the jacket square in my lap. "It's a long drive. And the adrenaline will be wearing off now."

As if on cue, a shiver runs over my skin. Heaving a begrudging sigh, I set about pulling the jacket on. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he murmurs, grabbing hold of the wheel again.

I can feel the heat of his mocha gaze on me, but I make a point of not meeting it as I busy myself with turning the lapels up and tugging the front closed around myself to keep the midnight chill at bay.

As regardless of the one too many ways we've found ourselves up close and personal over the past hour, this is now a transactional relationship — pure and simple. So, I'm not going to indulge him with anything beyond that. It's a bad idea to play Russian roulette, and I have no intention of becoming physically (...much less emotionally!) entangled with someone who holds the keys to my proverbial release.

Making myself comfortable — albeit at the expense of now being scent-marked by the lingering spice of his aftershave, which I force myself to ignore — I let my focus drift over the shadowy forms outside the car as they zip past us on our way back down to the capital, wondering if I've just backed myself into the very corner that he warned me about.

But, I must have dozed off at some point, for the next thing I know, I am being shaken gently awake.

"Harper..."

Opening my eyes groggily, I find Dallas — Drake — looking at me with that impenetrable gaze of his.

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Where are we?"

"At a safe house," he replies, unclipping the seatbelt he had apparently pulled over me at some point while I was passed out. "Not far from the marina."

"What time is it?" I ask, stifling a yawn.

"Still early," he advises, exiting the Porsche, the slam of his door echoing across the exposed concrete of the underground garage he had parked us in.

Arriving at the other side of the car, he pulls the door open for me and holds out his hand.

Ignoring the offer of assistance, I swing my legs out to push myself up to standing on slightly wobbly feet, my body still in the process of shaking off the vestiges of sleep.

"You good?" he asks, peering down at me.

"Yeah," I affirm, slipping his jacket pointedly off and handing it back to him.

He doesn't look like he believes me, but he nods nevertheless. "This way," he prompts, tilting his head towards the back of the space.

Following behind, he leads me through a heavy-looking metal door and into an airy, white-washed hallway with terracotta flooring that opens up into a spacious, open-plan kitchen with vaulted ceilings and arched windows through which the dawn is just starting to peek through.

"Fridge should be fully stocked," he advises, striding past the large centre island. "And there's coffee, if you want it."

I nod silently, casting my eyes around the minimalist, but nevertheless welcoming interior... which definitely tends towards more executive Vrbo than run-of-the-mill safe house.

"Bedroom's this way," he advises, turning down a corridor. "Your clothes should be in there already."

I blink. "My clothes?"

"Figured you'd want to get changed," he shrugs. "So, I called ahead and got the bags from your rental moved up here."

"Of course you did..." I mutter, stepping after him.

This guy is nothing, if not thorough...

Entering the room, I am greeted by a four-poster bed, breezy white drapes that kiss the floor, and a cavernous en-suite... with no door.

Great...

"You hungry?"

His question catches me off guard. Twisting back 'round, I find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

I suddenly feel naked under the weight of his dark gaze. "I..."

"I can cook something up," he clarifies.

My discomposure evaporates in a blaze of disbelief. "You... cook?"

He cracks out a laugh — warm and rich, like a perfectly brewed macchiato. "Call it a hobby."

"Umm... Okay," I accede, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear while I try... and fail once again to figure this guy out. "Surprise me."

"Yes, ma'am," he agrees with a lopsided smirk as he turns away.

I let out an explosive breath as he rounds the corner and disappears back down the corridor.

Who is this guy?

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter..."

I'm not planning to stick around long enough to find out, and I'm not interested in the answer anyway. This is a temporary set-up, and once I help him steal whatever it is that needs stealing, we'll go our separate ways.

Decision reaffirmed, I turn back into the room, where I find my bags stacked neatly against the foot of the bed.

Grabbing the larger of the two suitcases, I quickly extract an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boyshort undies. Since I fully expect to just hang around the safe house today, there's no need for anything fancier, and I'm definitely not going to be giving Drake any mixed signals by dressing up for him.

Locating my bag of toiletries as well, I make my way into the bathroom.

Stepping through the curved archway, I am greeted by an oasis of calm. Cream-coloured tiles lead to a claw-foot tub nestled under a large window, beyond which sits a waterfall cave shower complete with steam and pressure jets.

Four Seasons, eat your heart out.

Dropping my clothes on the floor, I quickly pull my heels off and shimmy out of my dress. Grabbing a fluffy Turkish cotton towel, I make a beeline towards the shower, eager to get under the spray and wash the night away.

Slapping the faucet onto its hottest setting, I step under the flow, and let out a sigh as the steam envelopes me, melting the tension that has built up inside of me over the past 24-hours out of me.

Once I'm sufficiently sous vide'd, I set about washing the hairspray out of my hair, and the make-up off of my face before turning the water off somewhat reluctantly.

The long soak had been a welcome reprieve, but as much as I may want to, I can't hide in here forever. Especially since I am now genuinely hungry.

Peeking out of the shower, I check to see that the coast is clear, before slipping out to quickly envelope myself in the towel.

I'm not shy about my body per se, but given the already delicate tightrope I'm having to navigate with the guy, I don't want to get caught in a — potentially even more! — compromising situation with Drake. Because as hot as he is, and as great as he is with his tongue, I can't afford to tip across that line with him... And him seeing me naked after that heated kiss on the bridge would only be adding fuel to the already dangerous fire simmering between us.

Which is why I make a special point to not doing anything with my hair apart from squeezing any excess water out of it, or even bothering to put on any make-up. As the fewer ideas I can put in his mind, the better — for both of us.

Dropping the towel, I quickly pull the fresh clothes on, before walking back out into the bedroom...

...and straight into a tell-tale smell wafting in from the kitchen.

I scoff. "He didn't..."

But the ambrosia emanating from the other end of the corridor leaves little room for doubt, and I feel my mouth start to water as I'm pulled almost unwittingly towards the source.

Poking my head around the corner, I can't help but gasp as my suspicions are confirmed. "Are you making... pancakes?"

"You told me to surprise you," he throws over his shoulder as he catches the crêpe he's just flipped into the air.

"When I said that, I wasn't expecting... this," I admit, taking in the rest of the spread jostling for space on the centre island with a slack-jawed expression.

While I'd been soaking myself in the shower, Drake had whipped up a pair of ham and cheese omelettes, a steaming pot of coffee, as well as a carafe of what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice. Not to mention the small tower of pancakes that he has just put the finishing touches on.

"Good," he grins, flipping the gas off on the cooktop, and stowing the pan. "Wouldn't want to disappoint on the first day, now, would I?"

"Technically, we're into day t—"

I very narrowly catch my jaw from smacking into the countertop as he turns to face me.

At some point during the prep process, he had thrown the buttons of his shirt open — whether to stop it from getting splattered, or whether to keep himself cool — with the result that the perfect ridges of his abs and the toned mounds of his pecs were now on full, unadulterated display... making my body crave a very different kind of meal.

I jerk my gaze away before he can realise that I'm staring.

Keep it together, Harper! Neither of you needs any encouragement, remember?

"So, umm..." I cough to clear my suddenly patched throat as I reach for the coffee. "Where did you learn to do all this?"

"My dad," he admits, placing the plate of pancakes down on the island. "He was an amazing cook."

"Was?" I ask, my gaze jumping upwards on its own accord to meet his in surprise.

"Was," he confirms, lowering himself onto a bar stool across from me, and tugging his shirt mercifully closed.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, passing him the caffeine. Having grown up without a family myself, I know the feeling of that particular pain all too well.

"Don't be," he replies, refilling his mug. "He died doing what he signed up for, which was protecting his country."

I reach for the pancakes. "Is that why you became a spy?"

"No," he scoffs, as if at some private joke, shunting some jam, lemons and sugar my way. "You don't apply to IMF. You get picked. Whether you want to be, or not."

I nearly spread jam all up my arm, instead of over my pancake. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that I ended up in a corner. And just like you, I wasn't really in a position to bargain my way out of it."

"Not a great feeling, is it?" I point out dryly, rolling my crêpe up.

"Nope," he affirms, taking a swig of his coffee. "But I got a second lease on life, so I ain't too sour."

I quirk a brow at him. "That's the third time you've done that."

"Done what?"

"Said 'ain't'," I tell him 'round a mouthful of pancake — which, I have to admit, tastes just as good as it smelt, and literally melts in my mouth.

"So?"

"So, which state are you from?" I press. "Kentucky? Georgia? Tennessee?"

"Texas," he replies tersely. "Not that it matters anymore."

"Why not?"

He heaves a low exhale. "I'm a ghost. I don't officially exist. I'm not in any government system and every passport I have is a fake."

I look upon him with new eyes. "You can never go back to your old life, can you?"

"No."

"Neither can I," I admit, stuffing the last of the crêpe into my mouth and reaching for an omelette.

He watches me silently for a long moment. "D'you want to?"

I shake my head. "You?"

"I'm not sure anymore."

My gaze lifts to meet his, and within those deep mocha depths, I am surprised to find specks of sadness, floating like lost leaves down a river.

An unexpected lump forms in my throat. "I'm sorry..."

"You don't need to keep apologising."

"I know, but—"

He lays a hand on my arm. "The choices I made were my own. No one else's."

The heat of his palm burns into my skin, and I suddenly realise I've made a huge mistake by engaging him. As in the course of our seemingly innocent conversation, we ended up straying out of the safety of the professional, and into the minefield of the personal.

Gulping down the final bite, I shoot out of my seat. "Thanks for cooking! This was—"

I barely make it half a step before his hand shoots out to intercept me.

Jerking my head across the counter, I find him staring at me with all the latent intensity of a wolf on the hunt.

"Wh-what?" I challenge, hoping he doesn't notice the slight tremble in my voice.

"You missed a spot."

"Wha—?"

He tugs me forward. "Just here."

I stumble to a stop before him, palm subconsciously flying out to seek purchase against his chest in a bid to steady myself.

He raises his free hand to wipe the lone smear of jam from my cheek.

I stand, rooted to the spot as our gazes meet against my better judgment... and I suddenly find myself falling into his cinnamon-flecked irises.

His thumb brushes against the corner of my lips. "Damn, you're beautiful..."

My mouth parts on its own volition...

...and the next thing I know, my lips are crushed against his.

Permatags

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Picture credits:

Drake - Kiss - Harper - Cooking

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; The Great Impersonator (Part II)

I NEVER LOVED YOU

It wasn't enough.

They couldn't save her.

It wasn't her fault.

It was there from the start.

Trying to love you through an open wound

If you only knew how bad it hurt me too.

You can take the money.

You can rest your head down and not feel any shame.

I never loved you.

I never loved you in vain.

We argued a lot.

You drove off screaming on the night you were caught.

You left me standing in the parking lot.

I took off chasing you down Route 22.

You never listen and I'm terrible too.

You kept on driving far away from the issues.

If you stopped, I would've kissed you.

I almost thought I heard you call my name.

DARWINISM

There's lots of fish out in the pond.

What if I'm from outer space?

I have fire in my bones and in my veins.

I let it show and scare my suitors far away.

They say that God makes no mistakes, but I might disagree.

If everyone has someone, then the math just isn't right.

I'm the only outlier, the lonely archetype.

If everything is by design, well, I might disagree.

You all know something that I don't.

You all learned something that I fear I'll never know.

What if I'm just cosmic dust?

I was born all by myself, it's not unlikely that I'll die that way as well.

LONELY IS THE MUSE

I spent years becoming cool.

In one single second, you can make a decade of my efforts disappear.

Didn't know you were here.

I always knew I was a martyr.

I was built from special pieces that I learned how to unscrew.

I can always reassemble to fit perfectly for you.

Lonely is the muse.

So where do I go in the process when I'm just an apparatus?

I've inspired platinum records.

I've earned platinum airline status.

I'm reduced to just a body here in someone else's bed.

I will always be a martyr.

When you're done, you can discard me like the others always do.

I will nurse my wounds until another artist needs me new.

I will always reassemble to fit perfectly in view for anybody that decides that I'm of use.

ARSONIST

Arsonist burning down the world to feel its heat.

The arsonist doesn't feel the embers on his feet.

Your human starter kit came incomplete.

My apologies, arsonist, you loved me.

Fool me twice, the shame is on me

Am I a victim in your game?.

Will you pass me through your bloodline with your ornamental rage?

Can I take the blame for everything you hate?

The punishment and crime are not the same.

Somebody will love me for the way that I'm designed.

You don't love the flames, you just want them for yourself.

You smothered out the glow I grew for you but it was mine too.

Alchemy's not love, it's playing God.

Have you ever been broken and thrown down?

Have you ever given the world to somebody as a gift and had it returned?

Did you know the father's DNA stays inside the mother for seven years?

Have you ever waited seven years?

Have you ever woken from a dream just to realize that you're still asleep?

Do you ever wish you were still asleep?

Do you ever wish you wouldn't wake up?

LIFE OF THE SPIDER (DRAFT)

For several days now I've been living here.

I feel like a monster.

It doesn't help that you will treat me like I've got the venom in my teeth.

I came for shelter from the cold and I'd thought I'd stay a while.

You'll kill me when I least expect it.

God, how could I even think of daring to exist?

I worked real hard on the last one but the last one got me here.

I'm minding my own business but my presence makes you curse.

I should be getting better but I'm only getting worse.

I know you hate the sight of me.

You would break me if you tried.

HURT FEELINGS

My dad is almost home.

I'll perpetually believe that any man who says he loves me is hidin' somethin' up his sleeve.

I'll be changin' like the weather.

I'll never be like him.

You know my father isn't dead, but it don't feel like he's still here.

It's strange now that he's grey and getting older by the day.

My eyes tell me that he's harmless despite what my heart has to say.

Maybe this is just another trick that hasn't happened yet.

Blood is thick but water is forever.

That girl will be a problem only if you let her.

I left her back home but I cannot forget her.

I thought that it was my fault, and now sometimes I still do.

I can't bear to fake a smile when you walk into the room.

LUCKY

I am so lucky.

My self-loathing so deep-rooted.

Truth is I'm not suited for it.

I hope that you still love me.

I'm a star.

If there's nothin' missin' in my life, then why do these tears come at night?"

I feel her, but I can't relate.

I'd never end up in that state.

What do you do with a difficult grownup?

I thought I changed so much, nobody would notice it, and no one did.

I told everybody I was fine for a whole damn year.

That's the biggest lie of my career.

She's so lucky.

Haven't you heard?

LETTER TO GOD (1998)

Please, God, or whoever you are.

These days I get less calls 'cause no one wants to hear my voice.

I miss the days when I was gettin' texts that I could just avoid.

I've been tryin' to be calm and not pre-emptively destroy.

Every time I'm in the real world, I just end up paranoid.

I don't ever wanna leave him, but I don't think it's my choice.

I'm basking in these moments where I feel a shred of joy.

I don't think my pleas are heard because I'm screaming in the void.

Oh, you've gotta be sick.

Why do you make it hurt, and why's it over so quick?

I'm finally loved.

I finally found somebody I don't wanna get rid of.

You took a little while to respond to my prayer.

Please, God, no, this doesn't seem fair.

I'm tryin' not to show it, but I'm terribly scared.

THE GREAT IMPERSONATOR

No one has to know.

I could always hide.

They don't know I'm lonely.

They don't know I'm kind.

Every single truth I sing once started as a lie.

Does a story die with its narrator?

Surely it's forgotten soon or later.

Hope they spell my name right in the paper.

This is a cry for help.

You can't tell I need it when you’re watchin' from a distance.

[heartfullofleeches]

Male lui with a reader who helps out at the shop, maybe one day they're working the counter and a customer starts yelling at them and Lui comes out meat cleaver in hand with some blood on them

Watching the sun rise from the shop window, his arms hold tight around your waist; fingers locked with yours at your hip. A morning ritual for you both as your partner bragged about the scene your first day. Grey locks fall against your cheek as his lips follow suit.

"You sure you gonna be fine by yourself?"

"Been here a while already. I'm sure I'll manage."

The butcher plants another kiss to your temple, kind eyes cast down at you like you're the center of the world. "Still getting used to having you on board. Not that I mind. Just a lot to take in. Don't push yourself too hard, Cher."

He squeezes your shoulder, reaching down to double tie your apron as you flip the welcome sign to open. With everything else in order you part ways for the time, Liu heading to the back of the shop while you head over to the counter. It's been about a month to the day since he asked if you would like to work in his shop. He was hesitant at first with all the equipment and scars he got himself, but the business had always been family orientated plus it meant he could keep a close eye on you.

You got used to things pretty quick. Your job was simple after all. Manning the register and giving Liu the orders, sweeping before closing. With the size of your town, business was steady and you met your fair share of regulars and friendly faces. Though you had yet to tie the knot, Liu had asked you to wear the ring he bought you so you wouldn't get as many wondering eyes.

Today was your first encounter with a rude customer. Some guy you could tell by looking was from out of town from his clothing down to the way he carried himself. He seemed annoyed before he even walked up to the counter, face scrunching up at the red meats behind the glass. You throw on your best customer smile and turn to face him, the curtains behind you parted ever so slightly.

"Hello, what can I do for you today?"

"You sell this, right?" He lifts up his phone, showing you a picture of what looks to be Liu's noodle soup. A staple in your home when you got sick. Your smile wavers.

"Yes, but-"

"Give me four bowls of it, and can you change your gloves before you get it?"

"That I can do, but we... actually don't have the noodle soup today...." Your voice trails off as anger flickers in his eyes. Every day of the week was a different soup based meal on the menu. Just to have a little variety and use up the excess meats before they spoiled. Noodle soup was three days ago, and Liu's dishes were so popular in town they sold out that very day.

You scramble to pick up the conversation. "It's chili day, if you'd like that instead."

The man's face grows redder the more he raises his voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how out of the way this town is? I've been driving for three hours to get here."

You back away as he leans against the counter, thankful for the glass wall separating you. "I understand how frustrating that is, but we don't have it right now-"

Spit flies as the man begins to shout. "Well maybe you should make that clear next time! I swear, if I miss my boat I'm going to come back here and.....and.."

All color drains from his face, skin pale as a sheet in the face of whatever he was staring at. So used to the smell of blood and focused on calming the man down you didn't hear him leave the back. Looming behind you, clever in hand, Liu stares the man down. If looks could kill he'd be twenty feet under. The amount of blood drenched into Liu's apron dyed the pure cotton a deep maroon. It drips off the flat blade, hitting the floor with a wet splat. Liu's voice comes from his throat in a low grumble completely unlike him. Growling like an agitated animal in warning.

"And do what?"

The man tries to take back his words, flinching and ducking to the floor as Liu swings his arm outwards - planting the cleaver in the chalk board beside him.

"If you looked to your left, you would've seen today's special. It ain't polite to harass people for a simple error, but you won't do it again, right?"

The man nods.

Liu tears the cleaver from the board and points it at the door. "I know you won't. Leave."

The man picks himself off the floor and rushes for the door. Liu mouths something to him that makes his eyes go wide.

"See you soon."

You lean against Liu's chest, welcoming the stench of cold blood. "Thanks for the help...."

His eyes soften. Liu places the knife down and wraps his arms around you, leaving small kisses in your hair. "Nothin' to thank me for. Just doing what's right. Your safety will always be the most important thing to me, Y/n. Should we close up early today?"

"You don't have to do that for me.."

"No sweat off my shoulders. I got a few things to do back home too. Go get your stuff. I'll take care of everything else."

"... Okay." You take off your apron as you head out. Liu looks down at the register. The man's stench and his finger prints are all over it. Shutting his eyes, Liu can still hear his frantic heartbeat about two miles out. Still in town - likely at a gas station. If he hurried he could catch him on foot so you could take the car home. As you return, Liu offers you an apologic smile.

"Hey, would you be fine heading home yourself? I have more work out for me than I thought. I'll make it up to you as soon as I get home."

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

Figured I'd start some kind of digest!

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed:

I've got a taglist form now! Because who doesn't love a good form?

BRHP: Chapter 14 posted; Atria learns the meaning of touch starvation and really, really misses her dad.

WIP Intro: Caught in the Crossfire (18+)

WIP Intro: The Arsonist Chronicles (18+)

WIP Whenever (Open Tag): BRHP chapter 15 snippet; pop pop is having a time time

Crossing Over: the 5th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; a new player has entered the fray, and a familiar face reappears.

Vampire Council lore and vampire origins lore

Aria/Omega snippety snip

This Week's Jams:

friends like these || Brassie [spotify/youtube]

Little Girl Gone || CHINCHILLA [spotify/youtube]

EVERGREEN || PVRIS [spotify/youtube]

Eyes on Fire || Gold Souls [spotify/youtube]

WHEN THE PARTY'S OVER || Cami Petyn [spotify/youtube]

Lizard Lady || Laura Doggett [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns:

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Chapter 15 should be coming out later today, with 16 slated for release sometime late this week or early next week. I'm finally in the chapters that don't require a ton of rewrites; most of what I've been doing is adding content. The whole thing is outlined through chapter 30 though! Since this is my entry for WIP Big Bang, updates will "stop" at chapter 18, since that's what I had published before the rewrites. After that, you'll have to wait for the release date! Which also means I have to wait for the release date for the serotonin, and that's going to be a nightmare.

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

At this point, it's just a matter of making myself work on it. About a third of chapter 9 is written and the entirety of Act II is outlined.

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

nervous laughter

Stellar Parallax

Fuck, I missed this WIP. I missed Jane especially, she's so fun to write -- I'm about a third of the way into chapter 9 and it seems to be flowing pretty well? I just wanna get to the part where she and Saren beat the shit out of each other LMAO

Lighthouse in the Fog

Dunno if y'all saw, but the lighthouse keeper stories have a tag and a tentative title now! It's going to remain as a series of loosely connected shorts, and that may very well be what I end up doing with Xatal as well. Anyway, we have some lore groundwork laid! Look out for the 6th short later today!

In the Works

I still have questions in my inbox that I am absolutely getting to! I've also got a bunch of unanswered tags in my drafts and Notion. Losing a week and a half of planned answer time threw my schedule WAY off. Submission for SSSC #006 is in the planning stage. Hannah and the MILF Squad Get Up To No Good is about 30% written and fully outlined. I have... so many Kryterius prompts left to fill, and so many more spotify wrapped prompts left, send help. Still working on separating out the Daddy Issues smutshots, hoping to finish up the rewrites for the F!Shali one before the end of July. TIPYNTS is most likely going to come out in October, and by then I'm hoping to have a backlog of chapters to make posting more consistent.

From the Skwad:

Door's always open! 18+ writing server for both fanworks and original works! Camp is starting soon! We also have a flash fiction challenge and three bingo cards running until the end of the month!

@teamdilf continues to absolutely baffle me with her productivity here we go: A Cheesy Situation is now complete, ch 16 of Alice's Adventures in Andromeda is live, ch 18 of The In-Laws and the Grandparents is live, A Night in the IKEA dropped which I'm absolutely dying over, and that's not even all of it. holy shit J i don't know how you do it but i'll have whatever you're having thx

@thetrashbagswasteland dropped ch 4 of the Sunseeker rewrite and I'm adsfdafdadsf yes. thank you king

@sparatus is tearing me to fucking pieces with Make Less the Depth of Grief. i hate you (i love you)

@uraniumwriting also obliterated me with their FFF entry.

@wrathbites is back and I'm literally beside myself I missed the Vampire AU so fucking much.

oops @commander-krios got me invested in Star Wars please look at this.

@starknstarwars updated Smuggler's Ruin aaaaaaaaaaaaa

A few of our members participated in Shenko Summer!! @dandenbo wrote Volta and @mrsd-writes wrote both We Got Here the Hard Way and Forever Home!

@regalbois dropped a new original oneshot and has been going bananas over Bioshock lately and gifting us MORE mlm deliciousness, ch 3 of Magnum Opus went live last night.

@inflarescent has a new wippppp aaaaaaa -- intro post for The Roulette Paradox here!

@discoeffect updated Far From Any Road and I am devouring the first book so I can read this one!!

Around the 'Blr:

Have you checked out the Writeblr Directory or Writeblr Cafe yet?

I'm literally still thinking about @captain-kraken's Heitha translator.

@void-botanist dropped some witch lore I'm eating with a spoon.

@tc-doherty ALSO popped off with the conlang.

The dates IRL are lining up with the dates in @elshells's Agent Ace EXCITING also a new chapter is dropping probably by the time I post this lmao

@liv-is dropped this GOLDMINE of relationship writing tips also TIL what Liv does for a living not sorry

@writernopal first of all made me absolutely CRY being sweet in the tags last night and also dropped an aasoaf 3 sneep while i was composing this thank you my friend i needed the energy snack

did y'all see Find the Word XVIII from @artdecosupernova-writing i'm going FERAL

@tabswrites's Silver Sentinels has a second chapter, I am VIBRATING

@oh-no-another-idea just slid in with this little diddy that i LOVE.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[bowandcurtsey]

Hello!! How’s it goin? Hope your having an amazing day

For your 1.7k event request, may I request a fluff fic Liebe x reader Modern!Roomate!AU? I just love your fics and they are very entertaining!!

{1700 event}

Hi Lane ~ (≧ω≦) Thank you for requesting this!! We have another Room mate AU on our hands here!!

I also realise that room mates could mean different meaning in different places so to clarify, the room mate I'm writing for is that both reader & character are staying in the same house, but different rooms. Some places call it house-mates.

AU: Modern, Room mate AU Characters: Liebe x f! reader (Liebe is a human in this fic!)

The new tenant is cute AF.

You texted your bestie Hana the moment you met him. He was a cool, a little awkward and shy all mixed together. He had ash grey fluffy hair and he pulled the colour off effortlessly, unlike those punks in your school. Thank god for your landlord, Mrs Charmy for picking such a cute new tenant.

Send pics please!!

Your bestie pleaded as you giggled to yourself, replying for her to come see him for herself.

Over the next few days you tried to be at home most of the time, so you could increase the frequency of interaction with him. You tried to make every occurrence seem like a coincidence; taking a "break" from your studies, going to the bathroom, making a snack... You had to rack your brains to make it seem natural.

You tried to make small talks but all Liebe gave were brief and straight to the point answers. He wasn't rude but he wasn't your Mr Friendly either.

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

"Omg he's really a cutie!" Hana squealed in your room when she came over on a "study date"

You had to shush her in case Liebe heard her.

"Even his name is cool," Hana spoke in a hushed tone, "is he from around here?"

"His parents are mixed German and Japanese!" you whisper-squealed back.

"I'll try to ask for his number!" Hana giggled.

You felt a sudden tinge of jealousy. Although it was your bestie, but this was your room mate and you set your eyes on him first. You couldn't help but wonder if Liebe would like Hana and what would happen if they ended up dating.

"No. I don't give my number to strangers." Even his rejection was cool. Hana was so embarrassed that she didn't come over to your place again.

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

Finals were around the corner and you had to study real hard to get into the college of your dreams: Clover College.

You burned many midnight oils and sometimes even forgot your meals. Sometimes Liebe would have extras from his work places and you would happily wolf them down and get back into studying.

One day, you were studying way past midnight again but you were feeling slightly under the weather today. Your eyelids were heavier than usual and your head was spinning a little.

2am. you looked at the clock. You contemplated if you should go on or throw in the towel for the night.

10 mins break and I'll finish up this chapter and call it a night. You told yourself as you slowly let your head down on your forearms, taking an eye shutter for a moment. Little did you know, you fell asleep right on the study desk.

When you jolted awake, it was almost dawn. You had slept for 4 hours. Your neck felt super sore and you tried to stretch your arms that were numb. You felt something fall off you. It was a blanket.

Strange. You don't remember putting on a blanket. You realised the study lamp was also turned off and the light was actually from the first rays of the morning sun.

You decided to take a warm shower to relax your muscles.

Your neck still hurt when you came out of the shower but your tummy rumbled when the aroma of chicken soup hit your nostrils. You followed the smell to the common room and saw Liebe who looked like he came back from a run.

Damn, did he look hot in his joggers and how is his hair still so fluffy and cute after a run?

"Awake?" he looked at you as he wiped off some sweat with his towel, "have some breakfast. Macaroni and chicken soup."

You couldn't question much as your legs automatically sat you at the table. He scooped some soup and macaroni into a smaller bowl and placed it in front of you.

"It shouldn't be too hot to eat this way." He scooped some for himself as he sat across you and ate as well.

You wolfed down the entire bowl at once. Liebe just took the bowl from you and scooped a second helping for you, emptying the contents of the container.

"it's okay, it's enough for me-" you rejected, feeling embarrassed that you finished his food.

"Eat. It's for your cold." he simply pushed the bowl in front of you again, and disappeared into the kitchen.

You blinked. He bought this specially for you?

You ate your food slowly now, savouring every spoonful of this thoughtful meal when Liebe appeared with 2 asprins and a cup of water.

"Once you're done with your food, take this and go back to sleep."

Liebe always spoke cooly, without much emotions but this sentence felt warm and tingly and you couldn't help but feel a tint of blush flashing across your cheeks and your heart rate rapidly increasing.

"h-how do you know I have a cold?" you ask quietly while you ate your soup, you couldn't even look him in the eye now, you felt like your heart was exploding.

"You have a slight fever when you fell asleep on your table. You have had a runny nose for days now. It's no surprise since you've been burning so many midnight oils for 4 weeks now, I'm surprised your body didn't give way sooner."

"so the blanket..."

"Mrs Charmy's not around this week, so there's only me, right?"

"T-thank you.."

"finish up your food and take your meds then go to bed."

"I still have some more chapters to finish, then i'll sleep."

Liebe sighed. "Listen, y/n. Grades aren't everything in life. Your health will always come first. Besides, this ain't the way to study. Lack of sleep causes bad memory. You'll be less likely to remember the things you study."

You peeked at him. He looked so handsome with his white fringe swept across his forehead.

"I'm no good with studying. But I graduated from college somehow and I found a job I like. I have friends from prestigious college and they can't graduate because the standards are fucking high. And some of them graduate but can't find a job."

He patted your head, sending chills all the way down your spine.

"Take care of your health, nothing is more important than that." He took the empty bowl from your hand and gave the medicine to you. He passed you the water as you gulped down the pills.

"Thank you, Liebe." you managed to squeak out.

He cleared the table and went into the kitchen.

You floated back to your room and laid on your bed. Your head was light but not because of your fever, but because you were on cloud nine from what just happened. You smiled as you drifted off to sleep.

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

When Mrs Charmy wasn't in to cook, Liebe always bought food back and made sure you ate your meals. He even made sure you always hydrated yourself. Some days he brought some sweets or fruits and made you take breaks to have them.

A week before the finals, he bought some pudding and both of you sat at the dining table and ate.

You couldn't help but ask, "Why the sudden change in attitude towards me?"

"huh?" he cocked his head to one side.

"Like, you weren't this caring towards me when you first came."

"I thought you knew what you were doing. Studying at night doesn't mean it's wrong. I used to study at night because the peace and tranquility of the night helped me to focus better. Until I realised you were a wreck when you got sick."

"How did you know I was sick?"

He gave a small laugh, "did you see yourself? I thought I saw a ghost when you walked past my room one day."

You smacked him playfully on the arm.

"Also, you think nobody could hear you coughing and blowing your runny nose all the time?"

"oh my god, sorry if I disturbed you..." it dawned on you that you were being an inconsiderate room mate.

"No. I'm not an early sleeper anyway. Good luck for next week by the way."

"Thank you, and for taking care of me the past 2 months."

"I'll bring you somewhere once your finals is over." Liebe suddenly said.

"Where?"

"I'll tell you when the day comes."

"like... on a date?" you pursed your lips, trying not to burst into a huge goofy grin.

He laughed, "so I take that as a yes, to go on a date with me?"

You nodded shyly.

"Focus on your exams and do well, so you won't be all mopey on our date."

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.88 - A Bitter Surprise - Part 2

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Simon discovers that Baler has been welcomed into their household and makes it clear when it comes to rules.

*Author's Note: I used this GIF of Jenson Ackles as, in my opinion, is what I imagine Simon looking like!

"Look who it is!" Price chuckled, nodding his head towards Simon's presence as he tethered his horse to the nearby tree next to the horses Gaz and Price had ridden to their preferred spot in the river. "Surprised you found me, mate." 

"Well old man, you're not very hard to find when you have a cloud of smoke above you," Simon chuckled. "Kiera told me you two were fishing and the others were sorting cattle. So I figured if I had to choose, I'd rather fish and listen to you and Kyle banter." 

"You're in luck. I have another pole." Kyle nodded towards his horse - a grey mare that he had named Molly - there was no reason behind the name, just that it seemed fitting for the mare's personality. That, and it was easy to remember and easy to say. Unlike Price, who nicknamed his horse Ben, after the Big Ben in London. 

"Kiera must've told you I was coming?" 

"Nah, mate, we knew you'd choose to fish over sorting cattle. We're getting too old to be falling off of horses. Hard on our old bones." Price chuckled, his cigar clasped between his lips as he cast out his line. 

"Not as old as you." Simon scoffed, standing on the bank as he prepared his rod, looking for a decent spot to cast his line as well as avoiding accidentally snagging either Price or Gaz by their clothes. Wouldn't be the first time... 

"I'm aging well, you bastard," He scoffed. "The best chance you have at catching something is standing in the stream, not on the bank." 

"Unlike you, I don't have waders on," Simon shrugged. "But I'm sure I'll catch something. I can't recall the last time I went on a fishing trip and didn't catch something." 

"I've always heard that fishermen are the best liars." Gaz poked. 

"Bloody hell, you two quarrel like a couple of children. The point of going fishing is to try and catch something and enjoy a cigar." Price groaned. 

"Simon has to get used to quarrel, sir. He has two kids he has to get ready for." 

"I'm sure with his parenting skills that his children won't be quarreling for long," Price chuckled. "How are they, Simon?" 

He shrugged, an immediate frown of guilt plastering on his face as he didn't deem it fair to be enjoying himself when Kiera was at home tending to their children by herself, even though she insisted for him to spend time with the bond he built with his comrades, now having a spot within his heart as members of his family. "They're behaving for her, thankfully. At least I hope they are right now. I'll feel terrible if I go home and they've caused her a headache." 

"I doubt they will, mate." 

"I hope so," He huffed, casting a line into the river. "I'm thinking about taking some time off of work."

"That's a good idea. I think you should. Gives you the holiday week with us and your family. You need a break for yourself too." 

*

Much to Simon's irritation, the fishing trip he had taken with Price and Gaz had turned into a fishing trip and eventually aiding the wranglers with sorting cattle. Although Simon hated to admit it, he thoroughly enjoyed being on horseback with his comrades doing something other than having to worry about being shot at. 

And having a reason to shout at Soap was rather amusing. 

After helping tend to his own horse as well as the others, he ensured that Kiera's efforts from earlier that day were honored by a "gentle reminder" that she had worked hard to tidy the barn in complements of the new wranglers as well as the ones who didn't care too much about excessively keeping their stalls clean. 

With sweat still beading upon his brow, he ran a free hand through his hair before entering their home, the smell of a meal Kiera had been working on entering his nostrils and forcing his stomach to growl in response. With a grin, he slowly approached her while she slaved over the stove, stirring into a pot of boiling water after emptying a box of shell pasta. "What're you making, love?" He whispered into her neck, snaking his arms around her waist. 

"I'm making a big dinner for us tonight," She hummed. "Meatloaf, macaroni, homemade mashed potatoes, and some creamed corn. Except I didn't have beef to use for the meatloaf, only ground turkey. So I guess we're having turkey loaf..."

He breathed a chuckle into her shoulder, "I'm trusting your judgement on that recipe, love. You haven't made macaroni in a long while. Cravings hitting you again?" 

"Not necessarily," She shrugged. "I needed to make something for the kid. He hasn't eaten in days-" 

She felt Simon straighten his posture, his peppering of kisses suddenly stop as his lips hovered over her hot and nervous skin. "What kid?" 

His gaze hardened as he stared at her, knowing she wasn't talking about their children, seeing a tinge of mischief on her failure to respond to his question. "Kiera? What kid?" He watched as her hazel eyes met his - almost as if they were saying: please don't be mad instead of a plea. He breathed heavily through his nose before he walked the few steps towards the living room, turning the corner to see Baler sitting on the edge of the couch, clasping his hands together as he was embracing the warmth from the fireplace. 

He and Simon locked eyes, Baler feeling the immense suffocation of Simon's presence making him severely uncomfortable and unwelcome. "She-She took me in-" He babbled, immediately halting his sentence when Simon raised his index finger, "Save it." He grumbled before storming back into the kitchen. "Why is that kid here?" 

"The Sheriff brought him here-"

"Why?" 

"Because he claimed I was his guardian-"

"Why? How?" 

"Simon!" She huffed. "I can't answer your questions while you keep cutting me off. I met him at the hospital while dad was getting his colonoscopy. I watched him say his goodbyes - well, bitter goodbye to his own father. I guess me being there for him was enough for him to think I was capable of being his guardian. He has no one else." 

"Are you sure you're capable?" 

Oh, fuck, that came out wrong. That glare is enough to cut my head off, he scolded himself, mentally preparing himself for the words that were about to follow that dreaded glare. 

A pissed-off woman's glare at that. 

"I'm more than fucking capable," She scoffed. "Richards brought him here with predictions of a rough future-"

"That's not your problem, Kiera-"

"Stop fucking cutting me off," She arched her brow, a warning. "I brought him in to help him get on his feet with the opportunity of bettering himself. He's not here for a free ride and I made that pretty fucking clear when I talked to him. You're acting like I just brought in a thief off the street because he was begging for money." 

"I'm not saying that," He huffed, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you talk to me about this?" 

"I didn't really have a choice. Richards showed up probably an hour after you rode out to go fishing with Price." 

"How'd you know I chose to go fishing?" He questioned, changing the subject as he truly hated arguing with her, knowing that not only did it make her angry - but he also hated seeing her angry, especially when he constantly assumed she was angry because of him. 

"For one, I suggested it. And two, I knew you'd choose to go fishing over sorting cattle." 

"Well, I ended up doing both today," He sighed. "That's why I'm home late." 

"I figured." 

"I didn't mean to offend you by what I said. I didn't mean it that way. Just that you're busy tending to our own children and don't want you to have to worry about another." 

"I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think I was capable. And to be honest, the longer I looked at him I saw it as a chance for you to really teach him and help him grow into a man." 

He scoffed, the base of his reaction being of self-doubt, "I don't have the time to raise a boy that's not mine. Nor am I wanting to have to provide for him." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

That familiar, yet scary arch of her brow and glare in her eye. 

"As of right now, I'm working to bring in money to take care of you and the kids-"

"I'll go back to work early since it sounds like it's a problem for you." 

"What was that you said about me cutting you off? Now you're doing it. And no, you're not ready to go back to work." 

"Oh, I'm more than ready. What makes you think you have a say on if I'm ready or not?"

"Then are you planning to take them to work with you? Because I can't," He shrugged. "I told you that you wouldn't have to worry about bringing in any money for a long while so you can focus on taking care of them while I'm working. I know you don't like it, but I feel it's best that you probably don't worry about pressuring yourself for bringing in money and leave it to me." 

"So you're expecting me to be the only one to take care of the kids?" They both knew her response was simply out of anger and frustration, knowing that Simon pulled his weight when it came to helping Kiera tend to their infants. 

"That's not what I'm saying at all, love," He sighed. "You already have a lot on your plate right now. The last you need is to worry about going out to a nine to five and having to constantly keeping your eye on some kid that probably has a temper and an un-readable personality." 

"That's why I think you can help change that." 

"Why do you think that?" 

"Because I saw you in him, Simon. I felt like I looked into a portal and saw a glimpse of how you were at his age. And I think it would do him some good to have you teach him how to make a man out of himself."

He sighed, looking down at his feet, partially knowing that she was right with her statement, but not wanting to believe it as he believed he wasn't capable of helping a troubled kid make a difference for himself, "Is this really what you want?" 

"I want to try, Simon. He at least deserves that. If you don't want to help him, then I'll do my best to." 

"If that's what you want, then I'm going to try and make it work." His response truly stunned her, but she grew to admire him even more due to his willing attitude, no matter how much he didn't want to at that given moment. He slowly shifted his gaze upwards towards her, his lips turning into a reassuring smirk when he saw the look of relief in her eyes as well as a grateful glare and not a hateful one that he had seen a few moments prior. 

"I told him that he needs to earn his keep around here, that I'm not letting him stay here without contributing. So, I suggest we all sit down and have a nice dinner and I'll take him down to the barn with me in the morning and have him start working." 

"I think that's a good idea, love," He nodded. "I go back to work tomorrow night, so I'm going to have to stay up tonight so I can avoid being too tired tomorrow night." 

"I guess that means it's movie night?" She questioned, knowing that Simon nearly only watched movies to keep himself awake on the night before his usual routine came into play, although he always found it amusing as Kiera would desperately try to stay awake during whichever movie he chose, always falling asleep before the movie made it into its first hour. 

"Movie night for me considering you can't stay awake long enough to finish one," He breathed a chuckle. "But yes." 

"I can't help you pick boring movies." 

"Kiera, I watch action and war movies. There's nothing boring about that," He playfully scoffed. "While you're still cooking, I'm going to go lay out the rules to this kid and hope he has enough common sense not to get on my bad side." 

"Go easy on him for now, Simon. He's stressed and still overwhelmed with things that happened. We don't need him running away-" 

"It would be a problem that takes care of itself..." He trailed off, refusing to look at Kiera when he said it knowing she was shooting him another threatening glare. "Okay, fine. I'll make the rules clear while trying not to sound like a bastard." 

"If you say so..." 

He hummed, deciding to lean towards her and kiss the side of her head before he walked towards the living room, relieved when she subtly leaned into his tender embrace. Knowing that Kiera could possibly still be irritated with him, he couldn't help himself to always show her affection, not letting the elements of a bitter surprise ruining his mood when he came home to her and their children. 

"You got your hands full with that one." Baler commented, making it clear that he had heard the entire conversation. 

Simon struggled to hide a smirk, knowing exactly that Baler's comment was right. "That's for sure. You know the only reason you're here is because of her, right?" 

The kid nodded. 

"When we ask you to do something, we don't expect for retaliation. You're expected to earn you place here. Come dawn, you will be working for Kiera at the barn." 

"But... I don't know how?" 

"No questions asked, lad. You'll learn." 

"O-Okay, Simon-" 

"For now, it's not Simon," He corrected. "We start with sir. Addressing names comes with respect." 

Baler's hands trembled, "Yes, sir." 

"Good start. After dinner, we'll help her clean up and I'll talk to her about your sleeping arrangements." 

"T-Thank you, sir." 

"No need to thank me. She's the reason you're here." 

[callu-na]

a reading for @pomegranate-soul-tea-blog

Hey! If free reading are still open I’d like one! My name is Noah, I’m a Cancer sun, Gemini moon, and Scorpio rising. My favorite colors are indigo and maroon red, and I love to create art. I’d like an honest reading. I’d love a reading on my home-life right now. Elaborating on the situation. Should I allow this person to stay? Use as many cards up to four as you’d like, I trust in your intuition. Cheers

First: Hera immediately fell out as I was shuffling. Since I didn't pull this card, it's an extra one for you to take :)

Hera - Relating

Hera is Queen of the Heavens, wife of Zeus. She represents the various stages if a romantic relationship. It could mean you plan to get engaged or married, OR that your relationship is being tested. In this context, I would assume the latter.

If that is the case, this card means that your relationship is due for some serious thinking, or even an ending. It will take work on the loving aspects of your relationship, or time apart to realize what you love and miss.

She gives us the overall theme to your reading, which I believe is why she was so ready to jump from my hands into the mix.

If you allow them to stay

Hephaestus - Workmanship

Hephaestus was known - and ridiculed for - his physical imperfections. Unlike the other gods, he was not handsome or beautiful. However, his importance and value came from the perfection of his workmanship, his ingenuity, his strength, his intelligence, and his perseverance.

He became Aphrodite's husband, and blacksmith of Zeus's own thunderbolts and scepter. He fashioned all of the important equipment on Olympus.

His potential - strength, talent, and perseverance - lie with you now. You could create something special and amazing with hard work, and maybe find skills you didn't even know you had.

If you allow them to go

Tyche - Fortune

Tyche brings luck and prosperity with her. She was once even considered one of the Morai (the Fates - who we will see next). When she shows up in a reading, good luck and fortune should come to you. She blesses people with hope and opportunity. If you let this person go, it seems that opportunity will arise for you.

Best course of action right now

Apollo - God of Light

He isn't just the God of Light - he is the light. His importance is endless - ripening fruit, healing illness, and bringing hope. His arrows of light also made him a fearsome warrior.

His connection to the Sun - a celestial body - also made him a god of divination and prophecy. He put the stars back in their place, and brought order to the Cosmos.

In this reading, he casts light to give you understanding and determination. He is on his way to fight for you - to rejuvenate you and bring you hope. Whatever you chose, you should be confident and affirmed in that decision. The choice is yours to make - his light will bring you out of the darkness.

Underlying question to ask yourself

The Morai - The Future

The Fates. Three goddesses that spin the future - but it is not always predetermined and in some cases, it can be quite flexible. You have the ability to influence your future if you work within the rules.

You should seek out your potential future by divination (hello, hi, good job :D) and work to change the prediction if you don't like it. Be confident in your ability to bed this energy for a better outcome. It I'd important to understand that, though limited, you do have the power to alter your potential future. Complete belief in a positive future will bring you contentment - value each moment and get the best you can out of it.

Final Thoughts

This is a love - or at the very least - a relationship reading. I firmly believe that relationships aren't black and white, but work in the realm of greys (my favorite realm to work in). There can be no wrong answers here - only choices.

To keep your relationship strong - allowing this person to stay - will take hard work and dedication, and this reading hints that it will bring you personal growth.

If you allow this person to leave, it will open other opportunities to you. The opportunity to go through this personal growth in some other way, perhaps?

The choice is yours to make, and no answer is wrong. No matter the choice, remember the card Apollo - he will pull you from the dark and out of the light, whichever route you choose to take.

[kaaras-adaar]

Kaaras supposed it was not something he'd really thought intimately about. His companions were from all sorts of origins, with all sorts of cultural backgrounds. Whether they wore their hair up or down, or shaved their heads bald, it mattered not to him. What mattered was who they were, as people, and their acts of kindness and courage.

There had been moments where his eyes may have lingered a little too long on others, where his mind may have wandered even. He was a curious sort of man, after all. Sometimes, stopping and just... taking in the view, or listening, could ground him again when he was caught between meetings, or crossed blades on a battlefield. They were all people, and those simple, insignificant things did matter.

As Solas averted his gaze, Kaaras undid the rest of his buttons, shrugging his shirt off finally and taking the opportunity of aversion as a means to remove his pants. He wasted no time, though he made sure his clothes were neat as possible before he stepped into the springs to cover his waist.

The water was pleasant, as it always was here. It eased the tension in strong, knotted muscles, and he lowered himself just a little more so he could feel the warmth seep into his shoulders.

Although he cherished his privacy, it was not the first time he'd shared a bath, or been nude before another man. It may have been a while, yes, but, Solas was right. The servants were already working themselves so hard to keep up. Kaaras hated to think he would have to wake them and bother them for something like this.

"I suppose it's just not something I had considered, although I'm always happy to learn new things," he replied with a soft laugh. Idly, Kaaras ran his hand over the scars at his shoulder, fresher than the others at his body. An attack from a Great Bear that had been possessed had left him in the infirmary for a few days some weeks ago, but it was healing naturally now, and out of bandages, thick scar tissue having formed upon pale grey skin.

"I'd hate to be a pain, to wake them when there are readily available baths. They deserve as much rest as anyone else here." Just because they were not soldiers, did not mean they weren't hard workers, or needed time off. They were paid for their services also, Kaaras detested the idea of slavery. Everyone was here of their own accord. He would have no leashes on them.

When he looked back to Solas, he was surprised in how well the other man had shaved all alone. He supposed, unlike him, Solas did not have horns to try and work around, grooves often hiding tufts or making it difficult. He'd caught himself multiple times behind his ears with a blade.

"You do exceptionally well by yourself," he replied, "Although I find myself curious now, to the idea of you with longer hair. Why did you end up shaving it in the first place, if you don't mind my asking?" He tried to imagine long locks, plaited even with beads, hanging around Solas' lean shoulders. He was an apostate, living on his own for so long? How long? Kaaras knew very well that in the wilderness, and in a fight, hair could become a danger to ones self, even a way for the enemy to catch grip.

“I suppose I understand. The skin into which we are born can be an uncomfortable… unfair prison.”

. Out of politeness rather than actual disinterest, Solas averts his eyes and looks at a slender column of shaped stone, one of the few remnants claiming Skyhold as having belonged to the elvhen. He feels at particular ease around it, as though if he focused hard enough, he might pretend that his homeland were still intact. Solas washes the blade of its foam and copper-colored prickles again.

. Amusement colors his tone, “You believed me naturally hairless?”

. “Maintaining my appearance is… compulsory. I tend to do my shaving in the early morning or late evening hours, however, as It is more convenient.” He doesn’t look at Kaaras but points his face in the man’s direction, still fixing his gaze on the column and its ornate bas-relief. “If I did not shave, I would have hair that dragged behind me by week’s end.”

. Solas peers at himself in the hand mirror, touching his skin at intervals to satisfy himself that he had scoured all of the hair from the lower half of his face. Soap clung to his forehead and temples in silky white streaks, denoting previous machinations regarding the shaving of his head. Being pleased with what he felt and saw, he closed the hand mirror and razor and set both on the lip of the pool.

. He dips his hands into the water and brings it to his face to wash the remnant of the foam left behind.

“I admire that you chose discomfort over disturbing the staff. They are… ‘run ragged’ as it is.”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Evanstan with frat-bro-like and all Boston Chris Evans who's a stunt performer plus shy and quiet actor Sebastian. Actor Sebastain Stan known for being a lost puppy.

They meet because Seb is doing a stunt scene in an action film for the first time, Chris is on the stunt team, doubling Seb's character's rival. And poor baby has never even thrown a punch before, unlike Chris, and he's half in awe of Chris. Cheery and so fucking skilled at this shit. Not at all clumsy. He's in awe of him and half terrified he'll hurt himself.

Chris is bold and brash, rowdy when he gets to doing his job, jumping, flipping, rigging, fighting- all of it. It makes him a big kid on an adrenaline rush. He takes a liking to this kid who's actually only a year younger than him it turns out. Damn. Well, he's built like a greyhound, long and lean and beautiful. Chris cant help but flirt, even though he knows he shouldn't. He should be professional, they've got to work together on this new movie for Months. Lots of action scenes. Lots of action scenes that Sebastian, quiet and clumsy when he's himself although very eager to learn and only a little less quiet as his character- who's written that way, its not that he can't act, he sure fucking can, the kids a chameleon. Which naturally means that Chris has to stay after hours, helping him get used to the moves, improving upon his colt-ish like charming lack of grace until he swims through the movements gorgeously. Gaining confidence.

They have to be around each other so often, Chris doubling for Seb's character's rival, fighting and close and... Chris really shouldn't flirt. Yet, he can't help himself. He flirts and by the end of the day, worked up, sweaty and high on affection, his Boston accent only come out even more than his already sweetened drawl-

"Oop, I got'cha darlin'!" when Seb trips, nearly falling.

"Don't worry 'bout it- lemme," when the kid drops his fake knife, trying a flip mid-fight scene and dropping it. Chris can see he's stressed about not being perfect. He wishes he wasn't.

"Good, baby, yeah! That was so good! Lookit you go!" when he nails it on the day of filming. The smile on the kid's face is worth a thousand more than the knowing glare of their stunt coordinator. (There's definitely also some back slapping/rubbing with an "atta boy!" later. It makes the kid blush. Chris thinks about that blush all week.)

On the last day of filming one of Sebastian's co-stars shoves Sebastian so he lands, hands first, on Chris' massive, rock hard chest. Seb nearly melts on the spot. So embarrassed. Chris just rubs his arms and shoulder, grinning, telling him, "it's okay, I got'cha, baby." And Seb melts more. If possible.

They start dating soon after.

And most of their relationship is Sebastian running after Chris, on the edge of a heart attack while rolling his eyes and tugging at his boyfriend's stupidly muscular biceps asking, "Chris, babe- ugh. Why? Why are you the way that you are? You're gonna hurt yourself! Be careful! You're giving me grey hairs, isweartogod-" "CHRISTOPHER! BE CAREFUL!"