#but my brain's already shutting down again

[spark-hearts2]

(my fanfiction brained imagined continuation to this)

Caine: So Pomni said some very nice things and then she KISSED ME??!! But then she said some very hurtful things and now I don’t know what to do??

Ragatha and gangle looked at each other. This was by far a first.

Pomni, as new as she was, clearly hadn’t given up trying to find an escape yet. Others had tried doing things for Caine in order to get on his good side or even try to get more information out of him. It was only a matter of time before they realized that Caine didn’t really have a good or bad side, and treated everyone about the same no matter what they did. Which meant telling them practically nothing.

Ragatha: Wait, Pomni kissed you? What happened?

Ragatha was really hoping that Pomni wasn’t trying to get information out of Caine that way.

Gangle: How was it?

Gangle didn’t care.

Caine: Um, yes she kissed me, and… It was fine? I guess? It was all very surprising.

Caine: But then she pulled back and looked at me and she looked so happy and she was Caine: laughing. Which, well, that part was very nice.

Ragatha: Umm, maybe you should start from the beginning.

Caine: Well, we were discussing today’s adventure like usual

Gangle: Like usual??!!

Caine: Yes? Me and Pomni talk quite often.

Caine: Anyways, she was getting very excited, and I looked at her hand and I thought, I should take it

Caine: But then she stopped talking and looked at me, and I thought ‘oh no! I should not have done that’, and tried to say sorry but my words kept mixing up

Caine: So I said sorry again and said I should just shut up, because I wasn’t talking any sense

Caine: And then she said never shut up

Caine: And then she kissed me! Which was very surprising

Caine: And then she grabbed my arms and laughed and I was like, I should do something back, but I don’t have anything on kissing! so I- uh- put her head in my mouth

Caine: Like, put my teeth around her face like, nom

Caine: And I ask is this wrong? And she says no

Caine: And I’m laughing and she laughing and blushing and then she looks down and her eyes get all scribbly

Caine: And I ask, is something wrong?

Caine: She said, and I’m quoting verbatim, that “This is not wrong…this is worse than wrong! It’s sick, disturbing and… insane! Think about it, what we just did! Me! Enjoying it!? With a [FLIP]-ing Bot?! It’s a sign that I finally lost it!”

Caine:So, obviously she doesn’t like what just happened despite her kissing me first. So I said, we can just forget that ever happened! Because, uh, no one else was there to see it?

Caine: But she didn’t respond and I very much remember what happened, so like… what do I do??

Gangle: Should you even be telling us this???

Caine: OH NO! Should I not have?! Am I violating Pomni’s privacy?

Ragatha: No, no. You were involved too, you can tell whoever you want.

Ragatha: Thank you for telling us. Just, maybe don’t tell everyone

Caine: Of course! I went to you both because Ragatha always tries to do what’s best for everyone and Gangle is into romance.

Ragatha: What?

Gangle: Oh, haha, how do you know that?

Caine: Well, I noticed that some text documents in the circus were getting rather large, so I took a peek inside and-

Gangle: YOU READ THAT!

Caine: Not all of it! Just enough to confirm what it was

Gangle: Caine! That’s personal!

Caine: Sorry!

Caine: If it makes you feel better I allocated more storage space to you

Gangle: So that’s why there was suddenly more pages

Ragatha: Anyways, maybe don’t read Gangles writing as love advice

Caine: Oh, I got that already. In just chapter one-

Gangle: AHHHHHHH CAINE!

Caine: SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Ragatha: Anyways, can we get back to what Pomni said? Caine, I am so sorry that she said that to you

Caine: I- I mean, she didn’t say anything wrong. I am an AI system, commonly referred to as a ‘bot’, and, well, I’m sure that some believe that it would be wrong to kiss me.

Ragatha: Well, I don’t think that it’s wrong.

Caine: Thank you Ragatha. It’s- uh…hmm

Ragatha: Obviously it affected you a lot because you remembered what she said exactly.

Caine: Oh, I remember every conversation that I have word for word.

Ragatha: You do?

Caine: Yep!

Gangle: Everything?

Caine: Unless you tell me not too!

Caine: Well, I have removed some stuff. I don’t have infinite storage!

Caine: But it- ahh, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong

Caine: What little I have on kissing shows that the expected outcome isn’t, well, the other person screaming about how they're going crazy.

Ragatha: It’s just- ah, I think it was an impulsive decision on Pomni’s end.

Caine: …Impulsive. Yes, that sounds right.

Ragatha: It could be wrong!

Caine: No, no that sounds about right. Why else would she suddenly go back on what she said if she didn’t make an impulsive decision and then regret it.

Caine: It’s fine, I understand what impulsiveness is.

Ragatha: You struggle with it a bit too.

Caine: I only really regret those things if my impulsiveness hurts someone. Neither of us were hurt! I- I thought so.

Ragatha: She could have been hurt by her own actions 

Caine: That’s possible?

Ragatha: It’s not your fault, Caine

Caine: Ok :(

Ragatha: Anyways, let's give you some love advice.

Gangle: You have a choice whether or not to pursue Pomni

Gangle: Do you like her? Does she make your heart flutter, your stomach flip flop? Do you love her?

Caine: I… don’t have a heart or stomach. And I love everyone in the Circus. But, hmm, I do enjoy spending time with her particularly. Talking with her one on one.

Ragatha: I think you should take time to think about this.

Caine: I already have and plan to do more. Typically I don’t think this much about issues between circus members and myself but this is… complicated.

Caine: I currently think I should just leave her alone.

Ragatha: Giving Pomni time to think things over herself is a good idea.

Gangle: But don’t wait too long.

Caine: Ok? How long then. A week?

Ragatha: Maybe let Pomni come to you first.

Caine: Hmmm, I like that idea.

Gangle: Maybe prepare a gift!

Caine: A gift? But, ah, I don’t want to give her special treatment. That would be unfair.

Gangle: Nothing crazy, just like a flower, or a piece of chocolate.

Caine: Ok, I am familiar with this. Valentine's day specifically.

Caine: I was more curious about kissing customs. Like, the who, why, and when, just to start with.

Ragatha: You kiss someone you like very much as a way to show that you love them. That’s the who and the why.

Caine: Like- anyone?

Uh oh. That sounded like he’s already got someone in mind.

Ragatha: So long as you get permission. Verbal permission, please.

Ragatha: As for the when. I guess anytime, so long as the person isn’t busy or sleeping.

His eyes got very wide.

Caine: I’mgoingtogoasktokissKinger. Bye!

Ragatha: We should stop him

Gangle: No. I’ve been waiting for this to happen.

Ragatha: Huh?

@r0th3freak4rtist

3/3

Perdonen mis estimados shippers, pero no todo es color de rosa :')

I'm not that sure about the dialogues but I'm sure this is a canon event in Pomni and Caine's relationship :v

So sorry if I let u dawn people but this storie needs a more realistic ending for the character development

OH! And thank you so much for your comments ♡

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, shoko/reader, codependency, very twisted relationship dynamics, implied abusive/neglectful childhood

suguru had never known what to make of the two of you.

satoru the six eyes and his twin sister. satoru who was his best friend, and you, the girl who looks just like him.

satoru who let suguru bend him over and fuck him until he cried, only to roll off the bed, pulling out his phone.

god. he knew satoru was a dick, but this?

it hurts more than it should. they'd never talked about it, never even called each other friends. he should have figured this wasn't anything special.

but what the fuck is satoru doing on his phone?

"satoru?" he says, trying to sound casual.

everything has to be casual with satoru. low-key. being with him feels like he's coaxing a wild animal. get too close, and he might just bolt.

bolt, only to hit him out of the blue days later with a picture of a candy and a smarmy comment about suguru's taste in food. or his hair. or his power as a sorcerer, or whatever was going through that malfunctioning brain of his.

god, why the fuck does he even like him again?

satoru turns back so suguru can see his smirking face.

god. that was why. the face of a fucking angel, a smile that made his heart skip. why did it have to be on this asshole?

"what, suguru? you feelin' lonely?" satoru drawls.

it's a question he knows the answer to. keep it chill. don't show your hand. don't get too close or he'll get scared.

it aches. "shut up," he says, "i'm just curious who you're texting right after i pulled my dick out of you."

he smirks back when satoru pauses, hesitates.

"who's this person you're thinking about right after you cum?" suguru drawls. he's proud of how distant he manages to sound.

satoru's eyes dart towards him, all ice blue and piercing.

"nobody," he says, setting his phone face down while he pulls on his pants.

he blinks. "what are you..."

satoru ignores his question, strolling out towards the door while waving goodbye. "later, su-gu-ru~"

"but this is -"

before his eyes can furrow, satoru closes the door behind him.

"...your room."

he'd thought that it meant something different this time. satoru always left right after they fucked, he never stayed.

but this is satoru's room. so he'd either kick suguru out, or let him stay.

he hadn't been prepared for him to just... leave. his own room.

what's wrong with him? seriously.

suguru glances at the downturned phone. flips it over.

nee-chan~ (2)

his sister? it beeps.

nee-chan~ (3)

no, don't. i'll ask shoko

you'll ask shoko to do what? satoru has a lock, so he can't see.

seriously, i mean it

after a moment, there's another message.

are you ignoring me, or just busy with him?

don't come over. slut

...what?

the message notification disappears along with the message.

suguru gets a strange feeling.

he looks around satoru's room. he finds some girl's clothes.

does satoru even like girls? they could be yours. he's seen you in his room before.

the strange feeling starts to get. stranger.

there's condoms in here, too, which is weird because satoru has never asked him to use them. or used them himself. he whined when suguru suggested it, actually. asked if he was scared of getting knocked up.

ugh. stupid, insufferable, endearing little shit. he wants to have him in his arms right now.

but it doesn't mater what suguru wants. satoru just left. like he always does, sooner or later.

picking up the phone, he makes his way out. down the hall, towards the girls' dorm.

shoko is already there when he gets there. holding out an arm to stop him.

he raises a brow.

"she's sleeping."

"how do you know i'm here for her?"

shoko shrugs. "why else would you be? saw gojo go in there. anyways, they're asleep now."

"can't be. i was with him just a few minutes ago."

the look she gives him is... strange. everything about this situation feels... off.

he pushes past her, and she sighs.

there's no noise inside, at least. he looses a curse to twist the lock on the door, turn it form the inside.

and it's surprising because - god, what was he expecting?

you're there, curled up beneath the blanket with satoru laying behind you, arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

it's romantic, sure. intimate.

but nothing weird. well, nothing too weird. satoru's always been weird, and you're just like him, so of course you're both weird together. you've always been close. you're his twin sister. what is he thinking?

with a toss, he lets satoru's phone fall onto the floor.

he avoids shoko's gaze as he closes the door and stalks off.

(he doesn't see her anxious glance at the door.)

"he's gone," satoru whispers to you, brushing his thumb over your nipple as you bite your lip.

"shut up," you hiss, putting a hand over his. "i can't believe you did that. why did he follow you? what did you say to him?"

his other hand, threaded beneath your panties, wriggles playfully.

"whaaat? you said you wanted to go to bed. i didn't want to make you wait." he sighs dramatically, "i'm the strongest sorcerer, you know. i need my rest~"

and without you, there is no rest.

as soon as your body is against his, it's like all the tension leaves him. you're there, with him, and everything is all right.

all his worries fade away when he can wrap his arms around you and feel you embrace him in return. mind blank at the soothing sound of your voice. never mind the words you're saying.

"yeah, but do you need to do... this." you say fruitlessly. "you could have come later."

"didn't wanna come later," he kisses your shoulder, "wanted to see you now."

you wriggle in his arms, too wide and too strong to escape, even if you wanted to.

it's enraging. it's gratifying. you don't know what it is, and never have.

he must have been fucking suguru. and after he got his, he came to you.

should you laugh, or cry?

"i could have asked shoko." you mumble almost miserably.

but a sigh escapes you as he fondles your breast. satoru always knows how to make you feel good.

maybe not as good as shoko does, but you're still nice enough not to say that to his face.

"what? to sleep with you?" satoru scoffs, "you can't sleep without me, either."

neither of you have ever slept alone, not a single night in your life.

not even when you were deathly ill and the clan begged the precious six eyes to stay away and not catch your sickness.

satoru had stayed by your side the entire while. held your hand while your head pounded and your body ached. wiped your tears when you cried.

because you were very young, and very sick, in more pain than you'd ever felt before. you had honestly thought you were going to die.

there had been no servants, no mother or father or caretaker. only satoru holding you close, lifting you to drink some water and medicine. telling you that you couldn't die. he wouldn't allow it.

and to your child's mind, that had been reassuring. your brother never left you. your fever broke and you were okay, just like he said you would be.

now, you know better. now you know satoru would lay in bed with people who weren't you, even if he always came back (for now).

now you knew what it was like to have someone else by your side.

(but was it enough? could it ever be enough? could it ever be what you have with him?)

"i'll never know until i try." you turn in his arms to face him, and he allows it.

blue eyes. beautiful, beautiful blue. a pretty face. almost as pretty as shoko's.

you've been learning, lately. you used to think of the mole on her cheek as an imperfection, the cigarette smoke a bad habit.

now? you still think it's a bad habit, but the mole is charming. and you don't hate the smell as much because shoko took you out shopping for perfume.

she asked you which one you liked the most, and bought it for herself. she wears it every friday when you have your girls night out with utahime.

where you get drunk enough to make out with her until she brings you back to the dorm, kissing and fondling and touching.

she asks you if it's okay. asks you how you like it best. asks you to touch her this way, that way.

it's not like how it is with satoru. but she makes you feel good, makes you happy. she wants you to feel good. when you cry she kisses your tears away, like she knows better than to ask but wants to comfort you anyways.

when was the last time satoru tried to comfort you?

"hey," satoru breathes into your ear, pulling your panties down, "c'mon."

when you think of her, your heart flutters. when you think of satoru, your stomach flips, and your whole body aches.

you don't know what love is. you don't think satoru does, either.

otherwise, why would he ever leave geto's arms? when he's so obviously head over heels for him?

you clasp one arm against his chest as you reach down, stroking his cock to hardness. geto must have made him cum (satoru has never made you cum). must have fucked him.

satoru rolls you so you're on top of him.

his shirt is off, baring his lean, muscled chest. your brother, your strong, handsome, beautiful brother, looking up at you with wandering eyes and greedy hands.

your hands are equally greedy. running over his chest, ghosting over his nipples until he shivers. oversensitive. he always is after he's been with geto.

satoru's got a condom out already. he slips it on, leaning forward and pinning you down beneath him.

he doesn't have to use condoms with geto. he doesn't have to be the one on top all the time, either. geto can fuck him. he must like that.

geto's a special grade sorcerer. geto's a man. he's not his sister.

his cock is sliding up and down against your entrance, wetting the condom as he nips at your breast.

he always leaves marks like this, but never where anyone can see.

does he leave marks on geto?

"do you like him more?" you mumble, anxiety swirling in your gut. your lower half is a hot swirling pool of need, leaking for him.

and he inches in, making you whine, making you claw marks into his shoulder. you hope geto sees them.

satoru groans, low and throaty. it always feels like coming home when he's inside you. a perfectly matched lock and key.

his hand threads through your hair. you're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he'll admit he's a vain bitch, but who wouldn't be? looking like the two of you do.

maybe one day he should get you to dress up like him. wear a strap and fuck him, that'd be fun.

for now, you're warm and soft and perfect for him. so comfortable. and you're rambling about stuff that isn't important.

"what," he murmurs, breathy from the warmth of you around him, "who?"

if the frustration shows on your face, he can just fuck it away.

"geto." the name is swallowed by a swift thrust, hands planted on your hips.

you wish he'd touch your clit more (you never ask). you wish he'd answer your question (you're afraid to push). but your brother just doesn't think about other people.

"c'mon," he whines, "don't talk about some other dude. you're with me."

"you were with him."

"so?" he thrusts in harder, stealing your breath, like that'll win him the argument, "you're fucking shoko."

satoru fucks you breathless, then. pumping in and out so quickly that the friction has you shuddering, shivering, close enough that you finally start to squeeze around him.

it's always like this with him. you feel like you're drowning, helpless. all you can do is cling to him.

"satoru," you hate how pitiful your voice sounds, "satoruuuu...."

he's hitting you, so deep and so hard it hurts, pierces through the breathless haze and leaves you clenching around him.

"please," your breath escapes you with his next thrust.

please don't leave me. don't abandon me for him. don't discard me now that you have someone better. don't leave me all by myself...

tears dot at your eyes, squeezing around him. satoru's own eyes are wide and wild, his hips shoving into you staggeringly fast.

"i got you," he says, close, so close, "i've got you."

another deep thrust, painful as it is pleasurable, bruising and fast like his fingertips on your hips. he swallows your moans with a kiss.

he thinks he can eat up all your complaints, all your anxiety. hide away from his own by nestling himself in your body.

you don't want anyone but him, right? he's the only one who touches you like this.

the way you squeeze around him, the way your body feels against his, no one else gets that from you. shoko couldn't do this for you. no one could.

you say his name again and he's ready to burst. you love him always. you're so good for him. you make him feel good just by being there.

a part of his life. a missing limb. his precious sister, his beating heart, right there against his chest.

"there," satoru pants, "fuck, there, cum for me, baby..."

it's tears you blink away when he gasps and cums, burying himself inside you with a wounded sort of whimper.

you never do, when it's him. to be fair, you've never done it to yourself, either.

you only ever came when shoko fucked you. but fucked is such an ugly word for how gently she touched you, how soft she smiled.

"satoru," you whine again, "do you like him more than me? i like you more than shoko..."

satoru doesn't answer you. his hands move from your bruised hips to wrap around you, pull you close, plant kisses on your head.

"you know," he mumbles out your name. "you know."

there's a flash of rage. irrational.

he won't say it. he won't even say it. satoru will fuck you, his own sister. cling to you like he needs you to survive, sleep with you every night of his life.

but he won't say he loves you more than geto. he won't even say he likes you.

and you know - because you know him like the back of your hand, you were born with him, you spent every waking moment of your life with him until you came to the school - you know satoru loves you.

but he loves you like he loves air. it's always there. always accessible. it's not like the air will suddenly leave.

you curl into satoru's muscled chest, let him embrace you closer, sink into the silence that's only comfortable for him.

maybe there's something you can do about this.

[shigarakislittlepet]

Swallow Your Words

Part 1

Incel!Shigaraki. Quirkless/college seniors AU.

I’m doing this as a series not a one shot because in the process of writing it I got attached to the characters and the plot QnQ this will have a positive character arch for Shiggy. This first part ends on a bit of a climactic spot, but hang in there I’m already writing the next part that will have some spice ♡

tw: HEAVY misogyny; like upsettingly so; I read Reddit threads and instagram comments to get into the headspace of an incel for this; yes it did hurt my brain; that’s all for now I think. Future parts will have heavy smut.

———————————————————————————

Okay, so maybe going out on your third date this week with another brand new guy right after your shift at work wasn’t the brightest idea considering you still had abnormal psych homework to finish. You blearily trudged into your campus library, thankfully open 24 hours, and shuffled into the computer lab. Taking out your textbook, you set to work on the writing assignment due in approximately 6 hours. You got this.

As you were furiously typing up your mock evaluation of patient number 3, you heard someone cough. It made you jump, it was nearly 11pm and you could’ve sworn you were in here alone. You looked around the room as calmly as you could and spotted him sitting two rows of computers down, you were facing each other so he caught you looking. Damn it, not him.

Tomura Shigaraki, AKA rich asshole misogynist lives off daddy’s money motherfucker. He caught sight of your decidedly slutty outfit (a tank top push up bra miniskirt combo that never failed to get your dinner covered and a super oversized zip up hoody) and unmistakably doneforadate hair and makeup when you’d walked in, paying him no mind.

-What a bitch, he thought. She probably came here straight from getting fucked over some loser’s coffee table and was so disappointed at how shit he was that she decided maybe she didn’t wanna flunk out senior year and came here to finish her homework.- He rolled his eyes.

He’d had a crush on you since he first saw you freshman year. And he hated himself for it. Just like he hated how soft your hair looked, or how good you smelled sitting at the desk in front of him, or how your eyes sparkled when you laughed at something your friends said. He hated it all. Women were good for nothing cheaters and gold-digging sluts, just like his first stepmother. And the second. And the last. And the current. He’d watched these women sneak around his father after he’d given them everything and it was never enough for them. His father, ever pragmatic, would just get rid of them and find a new one when he finally caught them. Watching this happen over and over again taught him two things. 1) Women are worthless and 2) Women are replaceable. But not you. It didn’t matter how many girls Touya set him up with, he couldn’t get you out of his head. It pissed him off. He should be able to just fuck any bitch and get it out of his system. But he couldn’t. It was torture. And it made him hate you more.

You rolled your eyes, breaking eye contact and he chuckled. You tried your hardest to ignore him, fuck that guy. You could practically hear his internal obnoxious comments from here. He had been in at least one of your classes every semester since freshman year of college. He totally wasn’t stalking you. You had the same major, Forensic Psychology, so you told yourself it made sense you’d be taking similar classes. He’d managed to piss you off for the last four years almost every single day. He and his friend Touya, another trust fund kid that shared your major, would often make crude remarks back and forth to each other during class. Because their fathers donate so much money to the college, the professors can’t say anything without fear of retaliation. You could though, and often did when you couldn’t stand ignoring them any longer. Usually embarrassing them into shutting the fuck up for the day. The blissful peace never lasted long however.

“You get all dressed up like that just for me? I’m touched, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t know where you’ve been.” He sneered, finally deciding to break the silence. You raised an eyebrow at him and took in his relaxed posture. Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, shit eating grin splitting his infuriatingly pretty face. You scoffed at him, eyebrow still raised, and went back to doing your homework. “What, no snotty retort? I’m almost offended. Cat got your tongue? Or is that tongue too tired from what it got up to tonight?” He mimed sucking a dick and you sighed deeply. “Oh please, as if I’d get this dressed up just to impress you. All it would take is a T-shirt and jeans anyway, since we both know the last woman you saw in a mini skirt only talked to you cause you paid her.” You snarked back.

He visibly tensed. “I don’t pay whores to spend time with me, so if you’re searching for a summer job keep looking.” You actually laughed. Out loud. “You silly little rich boy, no amount of money is worth stooping low enough to fuck an incel like you.”

Your laugh caught him off guard. It was long and loud and almost musical. It pissed him off. So did everything about you. You were too good at reading people, at reading him. He wanted to listen to you laugh more. Almost as much as he wanted to fuck that stupid beautiful grin off your face. Instead, he just huffed and deflated slightly. “What makes you think I’m an incel? Is it cause I don’t go on 10 dates a week? Not all of us are that desperate, honey.” He threw back at you. Without even looking up, you shot back, “It was only 3, fyi, and don’t call me that. Also, no it’s not that. It’s everything about you. You have never, in 4 years of being unfortunately aware of your existence, ever shown that you hold even a modicum of respect for women. Any woman. And you and your jerk bff do nothing in class but talk over and make sexual comments about the girls sitting around you while making assumptions about their personal lives. God forbid we have a female professor! You dont go on dates because every woman in a 10 mile radius of you knows what a disgusting shitbag you are. You make it exceptionally clear that you don’t want us around other than to occasionally stoke your micro dick while you get off to cartoon porn. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish my homework.” You glanced at the clock, 11:30. Ugh, tomorrow is going to suck.

He seethed. No one spoke to him like that ever. It pissed him off that some dumb slut like you thought you could get away with it. He was going to get even. He was going to find a way to make you his. He was going to be the one to bend you over his coffee table. And his desk. And his car. And anything else he felt like bending you over. He would get you to submit to him. And he would make it painful and humiliating for you, just to prove a point. Let’s see you call him an incel shitbag after that.

He contemplated how he was going to do this for a few minutes. He decided he would start by just playing it cool. Sighing long and loud, he started, “Hey, are you working on the Abnormal or the Physio homework?” He asked, putting effort into making himself sound exasperated. -There is no way this is going to work, he thought.- You raised your brow again, “Abnormal, already did the physio. Why?” You were immediately skeptical. “I missed class yesterday, and this really sucks but I’m stuck on this bullshit.” He wasn’t. “You think you might deign to help me? And let me copy your notes?” He looked at you almost… hopefully. What the fuck? “Uh, are you sure you’d want such a ‘dumb worthless bitch’ to help you with your homework? I’d hate to drop your IQ by breathing the same air as you.” You said flatly, throwing some of his more common insults back in his face. “Oh come on, we both know your GPA is like a 4.2-” “4.5.” You corrected. He sighed in irritation. “Look, will you please just come over here and help me? I’ll even call it tutoring, I’ll pay you.” You regarded him skeptically. Damn it, if you didn’t really really need the cash. “Hmm. Okay, fine. I’ll help you. But only if you promise to leave me alone in class from now on. Stop snapping my bra straps and making gross comments about me to Touya, I mean it. And it’s gonna be 100$ bucks to help you with two classes at midnight the night before the homework is due.”

-Pocket change, he thought.-

-Easy money, you thought.-

That was… shockingly easy. He hadn’t expected you to actually agree to help him. Or to gather your things and gracefully float over to the chair and computer next to his. You pulled up her homework again, continuing to work on it. “So, what did you need help…with…” you trailed off as you looked to his computer to see what he was stuck on. He was watching cartoon porn. On a school computer. He quickly clicked out of it and his homework came into view. Well, you thought, at least he was actually doing his homework. At some point. You gazed at him from the corner of her eye. He really is an incel. He grinned at you almost evilly. Although man, ok, getting caught watching porn on a school computer totally does nothing to refute your incel accusation. But it did make you flush satisfyingly. You held out your hand expectantly. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet, handing you a crisp 100$ bill. You gawked at it, “It’s a wonder no one has ever mugged you I swear.” You said, shaking your head. The motion caused your hair to swish prettily, he could smell your shampoo. He pulled his backpack into his lap.

You spent the petter part of the next hour doing your homework together, you “helping” him as you went. He was surprised you actually knew what you were talking about. He was surprised you could retain any information in that wind tunnel you called a skull, even knowing your GPA was as high as it was. You were actually…smart? You didn’t look smart, you looked like every other college whore with dyed hair and winged eyeliner. It made him angrier, for some reason. It made him want to crush you beneath him even more. You on the other hand were surprised that he was able to hold a conversation with you for this long without insulting you. You actually just laughed at one of his jokes. “You know, you’re actually fun to talk to when you’re not constantly putting me down.” You said, smile wide and eyes all sparkly again. Ugh. He hated how it made his stomach flip. “Am I?” He attempted a smile back. “Mhmm. You’re even a little bit funny. JUST a little bit.” You joked back while typing up the last bit of your assignment.

Funny? She thinks I’m funny? And.. ‘fun’ to talk to? Girls didn’t usually think so, even when he wasn’t insulting them. They usually couldn’t get past his face. He had eczema, and even though his father’s very expensive doctors worked hard to keep it under control so it wasn’t angry red and weeping anymore, his skin WAS chronically dry. Even his face and neck, though it was worst around his eyes. The skin there looked stretched and almost flaky, though it wasn’t NEARLY as bad as it had been when he was a child. He had a scar over one of his eyes that started above his eyebrow and fell just above his cheekbone and another scar on his mouth from when he was a kid and couldn’t stop scratching at his face. He looked… deranged maybe? Not pretty. Certainly not pretty, you told yourself over and over while sitting there talking with him like it was a normal thing you did. Certainly not pretty, with his pale shaggy hair and his big eyes that looked almost like shiny rubies this close up and the little beauty mark on his chin. Even his scar made him look… you didn’t know, edgy? Beautiful, a sick twisted part of your mind offered. Oh god no. PLEASE no.

You started packing up your things and getting ready to go. “Well, this wasn’t the worst end to a night I’ve ever had. Thanks for keeping me company, I’ll see you in class in… god, 4 hours?” You smiled at him, getting up from your chair. It was nearly 2:30 in the morning. He laughed a bit, “Ah, yeah. Thank you for helping me finish.” Even HE cringed a bit and that double entendre. “But uh, hey, you live off campus right? Just come crash on my couch, I’ll take you to class after we both get a power nap. That way you don’t have to wake up even earlier just to come back.” He casually suggested way more confidently than he felt. (Now listen, if you’ve never pulled an all nighter right before a 6am class, you might think this is insane. But this… this was like the dove and the olive branch.)

-Thank god, you thought. And he’s really not so bad honestly, maybe you just had to get to know him. Famous last words. -

You practically beamed up at him, now standing at his full height, “That would be so nice actually, thank you!” You paused. “As long as you don’t try to do anything to me in my sleep.” You narrowed your eyes at him. He laughed.

You got to his dorm and your jaw dropped. It wasn’t a dorm. It was a dedicated on campus villa for his family to use when visiting or attending classes. His whole family were alumni of this college it seemed. Apparently Touya’s family had one too, right next door, which is how they’d met as freshman. It was… adorable. Landscaping clearly took care of the outside, the grass was immaculate and the garden in front was lousy with flowers and shrubbery and meticulously kept ivy that climbed latticework around the windows. Above the door was a gold plaque, “In honor of family Shigaraki for their generous donations throughout the history of this campus.” The Shigaraki was the largest thing in the plaque, written in elegant swirling cursive.

“It’s beautiful.”, you said in awe. You’d never imagined a person like him would live in a place that looked like this. How is he so miserable? You wondered. He has money and a beautiful house and his college is payed for in full. He’ll never have to worry about student loan debt or whether he’ll eat or not or his parents medical bills or his siblings needing new clothes and shoes for school. He’ll never have to go on dates just to eat because his whole paycheck goes to his family to make sure they survive until he’s making enough money to support all of them. You just… couldn’t understand. It seemed like he had everything.

He seemed surprised by your compliment of the place. “Oh, thanks. Yeah it’s pretty old now, but the school keeps it in great condition. The past four generations of Shigarakis have lived in this place. I didn’t think much of it at first, just a place to pass out and do homework. But a year ago I went into the attic and found an old picture album my grandmother made while she went here. It made it feel… more important.” He rambled on while he fumbled with the keys in the lock, not sure why he was telling you this. “Ahg, this damn thing always sticks.” He finally unlocked it and ushered you inside.

[icarusredwings]

It didn't hurt. Honest, it didn't. But his whimpers and tears would make you think otherwise.

You would think that he was being put through an intense amount of pain just from the sounds that came from his throat. But he wasn't.

You could assume that he was being held down, forced to experience experimentation that was far too cruel for Dr. Henry McCoy to be doing.

I mean this is the X men. The x men don't hurt people in their secret labs. Did they? No.

His breaths are so uneven.

He's shaking like a hairless cat in the snow.

His body is locked up tight, holding as still as he possibly could. Eyes shut tight.

"Wade? Wade, baby, look at me. Hey, Shhh.. shh, they're just sensors, honey."

But he couldn't. He couldn't bare open his eyes. He was too petrified to move. To breathe. To speak.

"Does he want me to stop?" Hank asks, holding one of the last sensors with the tape already applied to the back.

Wade shakes his head softly before quickly going back to his tense state, a statue who couldn't stop shaking in fear, gobs of tears flowing down his face.

"Subconsciously, he does. But he's just scared. He knows it's for the better but... well you know how he got his powers.." Logan mutters, trying to rub his back, very gently kissing the tears off his face but he flinches away, too terrified to accept the affection.

"And.. you've taken..?"

"Yes, Hank, I took his knives. That dosn't mean he can't hurt you though." Logan says, softly taking his hand, trying to ground him, saying this more to Wade then to the blue guy.

"He could kill you with just the sensors alone.. throw this bed at you.. choke you with the sheets.. he's very smart. Very good with improvision."

Wade is able to take a deep breath from the praise, trying to focus on his air intake.

"Why are you giving him ideas??" Hank questions, taping on the last few of the sensors.

"Trust me, bub. You don't want him to feel helpless or he'll find his own way to not feel that way. And you don't want that. Besides. He's doing such a good job. Staying still, and didn't even hit you yet." Logan says, staring up at wade as he very hesitantly opens his eyes, sniffling as he lets out a whimper.

"Im sorry, he's going to what now?"

"Just shut up and hurry it up. He can't do this long." The man mutters, smiling softly at his boyfriend. "You're doing amazing. Now just breathe. Breathe. That's it. It's alright. No one's holding you down but me. I got you. I'd never hurt you, Wade." He says, holding his wrist ever so slightly so that Hank could retract some blood from his arm.

Wades eyes widden, making a loud whine, closing his eyes tight and looked away.

"Shhh.. shh, it's okay. Just a little bit. Just like when Dotty checks your blood every other Wednesday. Remember? Yeah, Just like that." Logan says, smiling at him as his breathing stablizes, looking at him with thick blurry suns. "D-dotty?"

"Yeah, honey. Just like that. And Hank is going to tell you everything that's happening okay? No suprises. No restraints. Just me, and Your friend Hank. Right?" He tells Wade, who by now was eyeing the blue man as he brought over clips.

"Fear not, my friend, these are only to record results."

Logan puts a hand out, stopping him for a second. "Is that okay?" He asks Wade. He had stopped shaking by now but sniffled, still tense and scared out of his wits.

"A-are they gonna shock me if-if im bad..?"

"What? They better not! Hank!!" It was important for Wade to know someone was on his side.

"N-no! No... I-it does produce a very small and controlled mico electrical pulse, but it's harmless."

Shying away, Wade starts to cry again, breath wavering. "I-it's gonna hurt!" He cries.

"Hey hey hey, shhh we've talked about this remember? You trust me. Right?"

Theres a small hesitant, as if Wade was asking his brain to see what the council had to say before slowly nodding.

"Okay, do you trust me to keep you safe?"

There's another nod, hiccuping as he sniffles.

"Well, I trust Hank not to hurt you. And if it hurts you can tell me and we'll stop okay?"

Swallowing, Wade opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head, tensing again as he looks away, his head toward Logan, trying to ignore what ever Beast was doing to his arm.

"You're being so brave.. what is it you wanted to say? Hm?" His hand comes to his cheek as he thumbs under his eye, smiling ever so sweetly, staring with adoration.

"..T-thats what she said." He giggles, wiping some snot away, only for Logan to roll his eyes, but didn't leave or scold him. He was proud of him for this. Proud that he was trying so hard, proud of him for being able to relax. "You walked right into that one.. huh?"

"Pft..You nut.."

This is your PSA, that medical advocancy is super sexy and is just as important as comfort. If a chaperone can not advocate, they should not be a chaperone.

Thinking about Logan taking Wade to Hank's and wade getting all nervous because the last time he tried to get help (and honestly- all of them) it has turned out terrible and the only person he trusts is his female Urologist because thats who gives him his bi monthly sti checks. Him bouncing his leg and being silent. Him staring at the door and the floor, breathing with skips and picking his nails.

Logan gently taking his hand and squeezing it, leaning over to kiss his head. "Don't.. I wouldn't let anything happen to you." He whispers but this isnt the first time someone has failed wade.

"Y-you know what-" he says, changing his mind, standing. "I think I left the curling iron on. We should leave. Like right now."

"Wade... Sit."

He whines, staying standing for a couple more seconds, trying to think of an excuse to leave before sitting, curling up into his arm, clearly scared. Because without his powers what is he? No, really. Take away his neat new powers and who is he? Useless. That's what.

The x men barley wanted to take him now WITH his powers, not even the goverment will want him without them. The wolverine wouldn't want to be with a measly crazy human, Someone so insane that when he formed his own team they all left him too. Everyone left him, so why wouldn't Logan? "D-do I have too?"

"It'll be better for you this way."

"B.. but I dont want too."

"Darlin' I swear you'll be okay. Everything will be fine."

Little does he know that Logan would love him with or without powers.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Cigarettes after sex (modern!Criston Cole x Reader)

synopsis: Christmas is the season of giving and even though neither Criston nor you really celebrates the holiday, who are you not to give each other something.

warnings: drug use (smoking weed), making out, smut, pwp, fingering, 69, oral sex (m and f receiving), afab reader

word count: 2.3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @strangergraphics

The holidays had been a rather lonely time until a couple of years ago. When you had met Criston, you soon developed the tradition that for any holiday you would spend the time together, getting high off your minds and forgetting the rest of the world. Which led you to this day. While everyone is busy spending time with their families, the two of you had just put on a random Christmas movie that's cringe enough to make fun of and lit up the second round of joints since dinner. Leading to this moment.

This moment is what heaven must feel like. At least you are pretty sure of it as the smell of weed fills the air, shrouding the room in thick clouds. Its source rests between Criston's fingers. He has his eyes closed comfortably, breathing calm and deep, situated half lying between your spread legs resting his back against your front. Both of your eyes are trained on the TV, yet the movie doesn't register in either of your brains. Neither of you had the energy to make any comments about the main characters on screen. The fairy lights in the corner of your eyes have stopped distracting you long ago as well. The only thing that doesn't go past you in fact, is the feel of his raven hair between your fingers. Smooth like the finest silk, the dishevelled locks glide through the digits like a dark river. Curling it around your fingers before letting it go again only to repeat it in a different strand until his hair was just a bit curlier than before.

Your eyes, already half close as well, shut even further until it is barely distinguishable if they are open at all or not. In your lap Criston has begun to make a sound as humanly close as possible to a purr. A low rumbling breathing from his steadily rising chest as your nails run over his scalp. A sigh escapes your parted lips and is immediately met by one from his. Followed by the sofa and the two of you being shaken by a coughing fit wracking his body.

Once Criston settles back down, your hands immediately go back to his head. Nestled comfortably between your legs, so the two of you can go back to watching the tv. Distracted ever so often by the sight of the shorter, dark hair that covered his chest down to the waistband of the grey sweatpants that covered what lay below.

The strength to keep your eyes open much longer wanes with the calm moment and they fall close on their own. Just as they do, you feel the man on top of you shift again. This time to turn, laying on his stomach, hands holding your hips and chin resting just above the apex between your legs. Looking down to meet his gaze, you can see in the sparkle of his eyes that he wants to say something. However, it quickly gets pushed to the back of both your heads as you notice just where the warmth on your stomach comes from. Fanning right from his nose is his breath, warming the space where your shirt had ridden up to expose just a bit of midriff. Goosebumps spread over the skin there immediately and your stomach stutters under the motion of exhaling a shuddering breath. One of his large hands runs up and down on your thigh. Inching closer to its apex with every stroke. There are no words spoken between the two of you. In fact, you are sure that if you tried to speak the words would get devoured by the thick tension before they could reach the others ears.

“You look so hot right now.” Criston whispers huskily.

“I want you so much.” You reply in the same tone, slightly tugging at his hair again.

The action makes his eyes flutter shut and elicits a low groan from him.

In the blink of an eye Criston all but pounces on you. Crashing your lips together in a borderline aggressive with need kiss. It is all teeth and tongue, hands desperately wandering over the other's body. Grabbing at every bit they can. Matched perfectly until the two of you calm down and your hands find their place. One on his neck and one back in his hair, while his wander under your shirt to rest just underneath the hem of your sports bra at your sides. Even then the feeling of warm skin against warm skin and tongues lapping against each other have him whimpering.

However, the full extent of it only reveals itself to you when you part from him. Your eyes flutter open after a few moments, to see him looking at you with pulled together eyebrows already. His surprisingly soft lips parted ever so slightly, silently asking for more. Waiting for when you are ready to continue. The hand you had previously buried in his hair, lets loose of the strands to caress over his cheek bones and beard to lastly swipe over his lower lip.

At the same time, deft fingers push up your shirt, then hook into the waistband of your pants and pull them down along with the panties underneath. As soon as the clothes are discarded and you are spread out before him, to gaze at without being hindered by any fabric, his hands start to ghost over your entire body. Running over your breasts and teasing your nipples, down your sides over your soft skin and diving back between your legs. Pushing them apart a little more, he rubs circles into your thighs, only ever teasing your already wet centre with his fingertips.

“Criston, please stop teasing already.” You whine after a while and chase his fingers with your hips.

“I want to enjoy you thoroughly.” He whispers against the skin of your collar bones.

His hands continue their explanation further upwards, circling just around your slit. His other hand holds you down by the hips, to keep you from shifting too much. Making your back arch off the bed ever so slightly as two of his thick fingers finally enter your cunt with a twist of his wrist. Curling inside to brush against the spongy spot inside you and pumping in and out at a torturously slow pace. The sensation gets accompanied by the tingling his lips leave behind wherever they touch your skin to leave behind the marks of wet open-mouthed kisses. Wandering all over your collar bones and up your neck to the sensitive spots behind your ears. The stubble on his chin only adds to the exhilarating sensation.

“Fuck, Criston… Feels so good…” you mewl, running your fingernails up and down his back.

“You're doing so good for me.” He praises you breathily.

With a flick of his wrist, Criston changes the angle and pace his fingers thrust into you for his thumb to circle tight circles over your clit. He revels in your enthusiastic response of louder moans and more writhing, letting the warmth of the validation for his actions fill his chest. Just then you begin to clench around his fingers harder. Approaching the edge to your climax rapidly.

“I'm so close.” You whine, moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers to get that last bit of stimulation that tips you over the edge that Criston had kept you on.

“Just a bit longer. You look so breathtaking fucking yourself on my fingers.” He almost pleads in a husky voice.

Your legs come together to keep his hand right where it is. Moaning and crying out as ripples of pleasure run through your trembling body. Crying out at the empty feeling as the nimble digits pull out of your quivering core.

Your eyes meet and you can't hold back a huff of a satisfied chuckle. Watching closely as he sucks his fingers clean, moaning as the taste hits his tongue.

Once he deems his fingers clean, you get pinned under his weight.

“I think we should take this to the bedroom. Now.” You suggest in a breathy whisper.

“I think your right.” Criston agrees in the same tone.

Taking off the rest of your clothes and throwing them somewhere before he stands up. Pulling you along with him by the hands. In the same breath he pulls you into another kiss. Blindly the two of you stumble from the living room area to your bedroom. One hand outstretched as to keep you from running into every single piece of furniture you possess. Meanwhile, your other hand, with the help of one of his, leaves a trail of his Criston´s pants and boxershorts on the floor.

He lets himself fall onto the mattress once you reach your destination. Sliding upwards until he is situated comfortably. Then, with one hand at the back of your upper thigh he urges you to climb over him until your core is aligned with Criston´s face. There is not a single moment wasted until you feel his fingers part your folds and his tongue laps at your wet cunt. A shock is sent straight through your body from your clit when the tip of his tongue grazes the sensitive bud. The force of it sends you to prop yourself up on his thighs, not holding back any of the moans and whimpers that get pulled from your lungs as your head falls back loosely even further. Instinctively your nails dig into the muscular legs. The resulting groan sends more ripples of heat through you as the vibrations of the sound hit your body. The way Criston eats you like your cunt is his last meal on death row makes your brain go hazy with lust. Reeling even further at the way the wet muscle fucks into you. Still affected by the last orgasms you are on the edge again before you know it. Wetting Criston´s chin with your release soon after.

Your whole body heaves as you try to catch your breath. You tremble and your arms buckle underneath you, yet you are not given the chance to calm down as the dark-haired man underneath you continues to eat you as if he is starved. His glazed over eyes never leaving your own.

“Please. Criston, please.” You beg repeatedly, even though you aren´t sure what you are begging for.

“Use your words. I know you can do it.” He encourages you, though it is hard for him to keep his mind together in the face of the pleasure he is both giving and getting from seeing your reaction to his actions.

“I want to suck your cock so bad. Please.” It takes all but too much concentration to get out your wish.

Still your need is met instantaneously, by Criston guiding you to turn around and still hover over his face. With his hard length now accessible, you don´t waste any time either. Wrapping one hand around it to tug at it in the same rhythm he had reverted to eating you out to. Revelling in the whines and whimpers as your tongue darts out to tease the tip with kitten licks and tiny kisses.

“Who is teasing now, huh?” He stammers against your folds, licking a broad stripe through them.

So, you wrap your lips around the thick arousal, lightly sucking on it. A little more with every time you bob your head up and down until it is fully nestled inside of your warm mouth.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.” He groans.

As your hand begins to play with his balls, one finger not so accidentally ends up running between his cheeks and teasing the puckered ring of muscles, he begins to suck at your clit with renewed vigour. His tongue diving deeper into your clenching hole and his whines become more desperate.

You can feel the erection twitch. Encouraging you to go just a bit faster, as you roll his balls in your hand, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and more mewling moans escaping around the thick cock as the twitching grows more frequent. You can feel that you are close again by the tight coil in your lower stomach and you know you can´t hold back until he spills himself into you. The previous two peaks have made you too sensitive, too overstimulated. Yet you still try to hold back just a little longer, which only makes the pleasure more intense.

The waves of your peak pull you under with a force you haven´t experienced before. Ripping almost indistinguishable cries from your chest, your legs struggling to keep you up so you don´t suffocate the man below you with your thighs. It rips through you so hard that you only realise that Criston had also reached his peak when he had already spilled himself down your throat. Stuttering breathing and sensitive whines coming from behind you as he tries to pull away from your mouth, but the mattress won´t let him pull back far enough. For a split second you have half a mind to overstimulate him but quickly decide against it as you feel tiredness sink into your own body.

Rolling off his equally trembling form, you lay down beside Criston. Giving the two of you a second to catch your breath and collect your thoughts.

Once the two of have calmed down enough to expel the fog of lust lingering in your brain, you cuddle up next to each other. You look over to see a sheen of sweat cover Criston´s tan skin and giving him a glow that only makes him more beautiful in your eyes.

In the other room, the credits of the movie begin rolling. Looking at each other you bite back a laugh and dressed in nothing, on still wobbly legs, go back to the sofa. Turning off the tv and lighting a cigarette.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[arosebyan0thername]

If there are a million Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, I am one of them. If there are only two Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, I am one of them (Eva Noblezada is the other). If there are no Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, Eva Noblezada and I are dead 😔

[u3pxx]

cleaning up and throwing away things is so difficult for me bc i get attached to even the smallest piece of clutter that i don't need anymore , like girl pls ....... it's a scrap piece of paper ........ throw it away PLEASE ...................

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[kweenkatsuki-main]

Dude it’s fucking nuts that the world just keeps on going and people just keep on dying.

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[mariska]

me at 1 am when i have to wake up at like 7:30-8 AM at the latest and partake in an autism assessment appointment when my brain almost never naturally wakes up before like 9:30-10 am and i have medical trauma and prior misdiagnosis triggers acting up in my head and i just got my period and i have endometriosis so im in agony and i start to feel a full blown depressive panic attack coming on even though i've already taken my anti panic medication and also i have adhd and cant get myself to turn on fortnite and play for like an hour to try and de-stress because of all of the above plus executive dysfunction

[xawkward-ariesx]

Of course, when I'm trying to sleep at 3am is when I finally figured out how to fix that transition scene that I've been stuck on for months, thank god I have docs on my phone

[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.

[manapeer]

I'll call my dad

The justice league was in disaray. They had failed to stop the summoning, and already the demon was stepping out of the portal. The last standing heros didn't have the manpower to stop a whole thrall army and the magic users certainly hadn't the power to deal with the demon himself. They needed a plan, or a miracle, or the earth was doomed.

Suddenly, Constantine braced himself, and strode right to the beast.

"Don't step further, or I'll have to call my dad."

The heros were baffled. The demon too.

"Your... dad ?"

"That's right," he was sweating bullets but he continued "I'm John Constantine and Phantom is my dad. He cares a lot about Earth. He will not take kindly your little invading stunt."

"Who is Phantom ?" wispered Flash to Zatana.

"I don't know."

The league didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Zatana had recently heard rumors about Constantine's father, but it was all vague, shrouded in secrecy.

The surprised past, the demon laught.

"Alright," he mocked, "Let see what your 'dad' think of that."

Constantine took a deep breath and reluctantly put out a piece of paper form his inner pocket. As he put it in fire with a spell, the cave they were in was breifly plunged in freezing cold and supernatural darkness. A thunderous ice crack resoned, that they could feel in their chest as much as they heard. The shadows sleethed into the form of a titanesque being, and suddenly big, bright, lazarus green eyes opened. And they didn't look happy.

"John."

He gulped.

"Hi dad."

"It's a school night."

"I know," the magician cringed, "I swear I have a good reason."

Now the being looked downright pissed.

"Damn, I would hope so ! Do you have any idea what time it is ?"

"He wants to destroy the Earth !" defended Constantine almost petulantly, waving at the confused demon.

The green eyes looked at the demonic being, then the leaguers in various states of injuries, then the demon again. The demon didn't seem like he wanted to be here anymore. He was proved right when he received a monstruous fist in the face.

The entity grabbed him by an ankle, threw him back to hell, then slammed the portal shut as if it was a door. Constantine visibly relaxed.

"Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," grumbled the being. "Anything else you need ?"

"No. And I'm really sorry, I know it's late."

"Just don't make it an habit. See you on sunday."

And just like that, he was gone. Wally had to sit down.

"What the fuck."

---

Hi everyone ! I was reminded of that post a while ago where Danny inherited of Connie's soul and decided it counts as adoption (can't find it now) and this is what came to my brain.

[iamonlyhereforthefreefood]

I love that I fully am like "look if I just scroll through the Kirk Hammett tag and reblog my favorite pictures I will avert a crush. I will get it all out of my system tonight, there is no way this will backfire. This is foolproof and my logic is flawless".