#enjoying this boon while he can and taking notes

[geminiwritten]

photos ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: you’re in a perpetually bad mood because you're in love with tyler and he's clueless, but what happens when you 'accidentally' send him some scandalous photos?

notes: two in one week?! that's crazy! but also i decided to write for someone other than bradley bradshaw (tg:m) because my love for him is all consuming... it still is, but i really hope y'all enjoy this little fic! it was so fun to write, and please, give me all the feedback!

warnings: swearing, very horny without being smut but STILL ONLY 18+ PLEASE, drinking, taking and sending of naughty pictures, use of tinder, text / message screenshots, italics, references to the movie 13 Going on 30, some pet names (e.g. babygirl, baby, darlin'), use of the word 'bimbo' but it is regretted, and this is actually pretty wordy but it kind of had to be?

word count: 7251

Lily flops into the lawn chair beside yours. Her dreadlocks are half up and she isn’t wearing the same clothes that you’d seen her in half an hour ago. She must have just showered.

She offers you the packet of gummy bears in her hand as she settles back into the chair. “So, who are we trying to set on fire?”

You turn to face her, dragging your eyes away from said person you’re metaphorically trying to set on fire. “Who do you think?”

She giggles, the packet in her hand rustling as you take a handful of gummy bears. “He’s so clueless.”

“He’s so stupid,” you mutter, before shoving the candy into your mouth.

Tyler Owens, famous Tornado Wrangler and your best friend since you transferred to his high school in sophomore year. You’re not sure why he took a liking to you when you showed up on your first day with untied laces and a torn backpack. You’d been running late and got your backpack caught on a particularly spikey tree branch as you bolted from your parents’ car toward the school’s front steps. You’ve always assumed he felt bad for you, so he offered you his friendship. But to this day, he maintains that wasn’t the case, despite not giving you any other explanation as to why he would have wanted to befriend the weird new kid.

“I wonder what it’s like to have everyone fall all over you all the time,” Lily says, her eyes watching Tyler with curiosity as opposed to your scorching attempt to telepathically light his hat on fire. Or maybe just the leg of his pants. Nothing too crazy, you don’t want him to get hurt. You just want him to stop talking to that gorgeous woman.

You blow a long, tired breath out through your nose. “I wonder what it’s like go after what you want.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you.” Boone appears from behind you, stepping in front of your lawn chair and blocking your view of Tyler. “I’m right here. If you want me, take me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smirk ghosting over your lips. “Oh, Boone. You see right through me. I want you. I need you. Take me right here in this chair.”

Lily giggles at your sarcasm while Boone blinks slowly, trying to process what he just heard. When a full-blown grin splits across your face and laughter bubbles from your lips, he sighs. “You’re such a tease, woman. Don’t play with my heart like that.”

Before you can respond, Tyler steps up beside Boone and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Boone, you sweet idiot, you can’t tell a siren not to sing.”

Your smile is quickly replaced by a scowl. “Siren?”

Tyler nods, turning the full force of his gorgeous grin on you. “Yeah. The beautiful kind with the sweet voices that lure sailors-”

“To their death.” You push to stand and cross your arms. “They’re also not beautiful, they’re half bird. And they eat the sailors. So, you know what? Sounds like they've got men figured out.”

You turn and stomp up the stairs to the second floor of the motel you’re currently staying at. You know you seem a little childish, but you can’t help it. How many years are you going to have to watch Tyler with those fucking buckle bunnies before you break? Granted, there aren’t so many actual buckle bunnies since he quit bull riding, but they’re all the same to you. Drop dead gorgeous women hanging on for a piece of the man you’ve been in love with since junior year.

After a hot shower and a couple of overpriced minibar drinks – three little bottles of various alcohols – you fall onto the motel bed. This place is nicer than most of the other establishments you've stayed at, and the deadbolts on the door are giving you a sense of security you rarely have. Half the time you end up in Tyler’s room because you don’t feel safe behind the flimsy doors of dodgy motels, but you’ve resisted the past few weeks.

You’re just about at your breaking point where Tyler Owens is concerned, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this best friend bullshit.

Your phone dings and draws your attention away from the Friday night movie playing on the small TV screen. You know who it is before you even see the notifications.

Your thumbs hover over your phone screen, poised to type but paralysed because you can’t decide what to say. Tyler is too nice and too fucking oblivious. You’re still too irritated to be nice back to him, so you sigh and smack your phone face down on the bedside table. You grab the remote and turn the volume of the TV down before curling on your side to watch the movie.

As the movie draws to an end and your heavy eyelids start to droop, a cold wave of realisation washes over you. The credits start to roll and you sit up straight, suddenly wide awake. Your eyes dart toward your phone, still sitting on the bedside table, and the bud of an idea begins to bloom at the forefront of your brain.

You tip your head and wonder aloud, “Is that a stupid idea?”

Mark Ruffalo was in love with his best friend – Jennifer Garner – but she didn’t see him that way until it was too late. Maybe you need to force Tyler’s hand? Make him see you that way. You’ve known each other since you were both awkward, hormonally challenged teenagers. You can’t really blame him for not seeing past your horrendous struggle with puberty.

You jump off the bed and strip out of your shirt and sweats, only briefly acknowledging the fact that the shirt actually belongs to Tyler. You open your duffel bag and dig right down to the bottom to retrieve the one set of nice lingerie that you own. You’re not sure you’ve ever actually worn it out, you’ve only ever used it for the exact thing that you’re about to do now.

After changing into the pretty lace set and double-checking the curtains are drawn, you grab your phone and stand in front of the full-length mirror fixed to the motel room’s wall. You’re no Victoria’s Secret model, but you do know how to pose to make yourself look fucking good.

You twist and move in front of the mirror, taking pictures and analysing them before taking some more. You move the lamp and switch the ceiling lights on and off for different shadows and effects on your body. You take off half the set and try the front facing camera for some more risqué poses and teasing photos. By the time you finally decide you should go to bed, you’re actually sweating.

You prop your phone face up on the small bathroom vanity as you brush your teeth and swipe through the photos. You giggle softly to yourself, wondering where you possibly picked up the audacity to think that sending Tyler some sexy photos was a good idea. Looking at them now, your stomach curls anxiously at the idea of sending these images to your best friend – you blame the minibar. Yeah, they’re fucking hot photos, but it’s also an incredibly risky thing to do. There’s a good chance he’s already thought of you in that way and just decided that he’s not interested. What if he saw the pictures and was actually disgusted? It would ruin your friendship and the whole crew's dynamic. You’d have to pack your shit and leave.

Your second thoughts and anxiety still don’t stop you from favouriting the best photos as you crawl back into bed. You can still use those pictures if you ever decide to get over Tyler by getting under someone else. You put your phone on charge and snuggle into a nest of pillows, letting your heavy eyelids fall shut. Maybe tomorrow night you can get drunk and flirt with someone hot and available, and then you can show them your sexy photos.

The next day starts like any other. Dexter and Dani use the motel’s communal barbecue to cook a greasy breakfast while Tyler gets coffees for everyone, and then it’s time to work. There isn’t a lot of promise in today’s blue sky, so you spend half the day at the motel before going for a five-minute drive to the nearest diner for lunch. You insist on riding in the RV instead of Tyler’s truck, but you regret it immediately after seeing his confused hurt-puppy face.

“So, where are we going out tonight?” Boone asks before popping a fry into his mouth.

Tyler shrugs, his green eyes darting up from his burger to look at you across the table. “Any bar around here that looks good.”

“There’s a decent place just around the corner from the motel,” Dexter says. “I’ve been there once before, I think. A year or two ago.”

“There’ll be a tonne of chasers there tonight,” Dani pipes up. “Truckloads of ‘em were pulling into the motel all day, and after such an uneventful Saturday, they’ll be wanting to blow off some steam.”

Tyler nods once. “Good. I need to blow off some steam too.”

You keep your head tipped downward so no one can see you roll your eyes. Yeah, you’re still a little mad at him even though he has no idea why. You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Every time you see his ridiculously gorgeous face, your anger flares. Or is that just pent-up horniness? Maybe if you get laid, you might stop being so mad all the time.

Boone chuckles and nudges Tyler’s side. “Need a blow, do ya, T?”

Warmth flushes across your chest and creeps up your neck. Images of Tyler standing over you flash through your mind, his jeans down around his ankles and his thick length hitting the back of your throat.

Tyler chuckles, but it’s a little wooden. Strained. “You have no idea.”

“Gross,” Lily states, before pretending to gag.

Boone grins. “We’ll find you a lady tonight. Don’t worry.”

Dexter scoffs. “Like he needs help with the ladies.”

You swallow down the green-eyed monster trying to claw up your throat and finally look up from your plate of fries. “Is everyone done? Can we go back now?”

Although you avoid looking at him, Tyler is watching you curiously. His brows are pinched and his lips turned down ever-so-slightly. He knows you, and he definitely knows something is up. If you don’t fix your attitude soon, you’re going to have to explain a lot more than you’d like.

“I was actually going to go to the pharmacy in town,” Dexter says. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“Me too,” Dani adds.

Lily raises one hand in the air. “I’ll tag along too, if that’s okay.”

Tyler pulls his keys out of his back pocket and hands them to Boone. “Then Boone can drive the truck into town and I’ll take the RV.”

You frown. “And me?”

Tyler grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “With me. You said you wanted to go back.”

You roll your lips and nod slowly. Yep, you just played right into his hand.

The group stack their empty plates and gather their things before shuffling out of the diner. You’re the first out the door, dropping your sunglasses from the top of your head to your nose and gazing up at the blue sky. The buttery sun soothes your skin, and you suddenly realise that you can’t remember the last time you went to the beach. You might need to take a break from chasing soon. Who knows, maybe Tyler will kick you off the crew because of your childish attitude. Then you can go to the beach and enjoy sunny weather for once.

“Ready?” The man himself appears beside you, tossing the keys into the air before catching them again.

You don’t reply, you just nod and start walking toward the RV. The others call their goodbyes across the small, gravel parking lot, and you give them a lazy wave as you pull yourself up into the passenger’s seat of the RV’s cabin.

“You wanna drive?” Tyler asks, his southern drawl in full force as he stands in the open door of the driver’s side.

You’re already in the passenger seat, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “You know I hate driving this thing, Ty.”

He chuckles and hoists himself up before pulling the door shut and jamming the keys into the ignition. He takes a moment to adjust all the peripherals before turning the key and easing the big vehicle through the parking lot.

“So,” he says as he turns out of the lot and onto the road. “Want to talk about it?”

You keep your gaze fixed out the windscreen. “Talk about what?”

“Your mood.”

You keep your voice light as you reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes and presses harder on the gas, urging the RV to pick up speed toward your motel. The drive isn’t long, you just have to keep your attitude under control for four more minutes.

“Look,” he starts again, his hands gripping the wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what’s wrong. All I do know is that something is wrong and has been for a while. You know I like giving you your space. We’re all so on top of each other when we’re out on the road, it’s important to remember that we all need a break sometimes. But whenever you want to talk, I’m here. You know that. I’m always here.”

You can’t help it. Your lips move before you can even think about the words that they’re saying. “Except when you’ve got a better offer.”

His head snaps toward you. “What was that?”

Heat blooms in your cheeks and your heart races anxiously as you see the turn for the motel up ahead. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this all because of me?” His head swivels as he tries to read your face while also watching the road. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s not always about you.” Fuck. You’re on a roll today.

Thick silence fills the air of the cabin, and you can’t let yourself look at Tyler because you know you just hurt him. He’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the best guys you know. But he’s oblivious to the way you feel, has been for years, and you can’t help it if your frustration is manifesting in an ugly way.

The RV rocks as it climbs the driveway into the motel. He parks in the same spot as before and you practically fall out the door the second the vehicle is stopped. You don’t look back as you climb the stairs toward your motel room. You slam the door and flop onto the bed, too frustrated to cry and too full of self-pity to think about apologising to Tyler.

You spend the rest of the day in your room. At six o’clock you get a message from Lily asking if you’re still coming out with them, to which you reply with a thumbs up. You’re not mad at Lily, but she at least knows why you’re in a foul mood. However misdirected your anger might be.

You shower and change into that lacey lingerie set from the photos, deciding that tonight it’s going to get its debut outing. You slide into a pair of jeans and your nicest top before adding a touch of makeup to your face and walking out the door. When you’re on the road, you don’t really have a whole lot of nice clothes for going out, but you do feel a little pleased when you see your pretty reflection in the motel windows on your way along the balcony.

“Why don’t you wear those jeans more often?” Boone asks from the bottom of the stairs as you descend.

“Because then you’d be too distracted all the time.”

He grins and offers you his hand for the last few steps. “I’m always distracted by your beauty.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “God, Boone. You’re such a flirt.”

He chuckles and guides you to the bottom of the stairs before letting go of your hand and walking off toward where Dexter is packing up some of the equipment he’d been tinkering with this afternoon. Eventually, everyone meets in the parking lot and the group decide to walk, because the bar is only around the corner.

It’s already pretty busy by the time you get there, but you manage to find a tall bar table that seats all of you while Tyler goes off to get the first round of drinks. Your friends quickly dive into a discussion about what the next week could bring and where you plan to go from here, but your eyes are glued to Tyler.

He’s leaning forward against the bar, a huge grin split across his face as a very gorgeous bartender takes his order. She has a smirk on her lips that says she gets what she wants, and by the way she’s looking at Tyler, you don’t have to guess that he is what she wants tonight.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll to the last page of apps you’ve ignored for almost a year now. Dating apps. You’re not a fan of them, but if anything, they’ve helped you get laid. You open one and enter your log in details before adjusting your location and starting to quickly swipe through a few profiles. You know it’s dumb, and you’re feeling more along the lines of pathetic than horny right now, but you need something to think about that isn’t Tyler fucking Owens.

“Turns out I’ve been here before,” Tyler says as he drops the tray of drinks onto the table. “The bartender said she remembers me.”

Of course she does.

Boone wags his eyebrows suggestively. “The hot bartender?”

Tyler chuckles, but he doesn’t turn to ogle at the bar like the rest of the group. “I guess she could be considered attractive.”

“You guess?” Dani slams her drink back down on the table. “Come on, T. Your standards can’t be that high.”

He shrugs one shoulder and takes a long draw from his beer. “What can I say?”

Before you have the chance to roll your eyes, your phone vibrates in your hand. You lean back and unlock the screen, angling it so that neither Lily nor Boone can see from either side of you. Two messages from a guy name Owen. Of course. It couldn’t be a Jack or a Sam. No, the universe just loves making fun of you too much.

Well, that was easy.

You slide your phone into your back pocket before picking up your drink and draining half of it. You can feel Tyler’s eyes on you, but you ignore him. You keep your gaze fixed on Dexter as he tells an animated story about the last time he was at this bar.

The next time you pull your phone out, you have a few more messages from Owen. He tells you that he’s working late at the local liquor store but can meet up later, which you happily agree to – it seems stupid to pretend that you’re in this for anything other than sex. He then asks for your number, because the store he works at has shitty reception, so you give it to him and wait for his first text to set him up as a new contact. Who knows, maybe the next time you’re in town you could hit him up.

The night wears on and you continue sinking drinks to keep yourself happily buzzed. There are more chasers here just as Dani had predicted, and your group ends up scattered throughout the bar catching up with old friends. You manage to avoid Tyler for most of the night, but it isn’t easy. He watches you like a hawk, analysing every little move you make and practically breathing down your neck every time you slide your phone out of your pocket.

You tap Lily on the shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom and then getting another drink. You want?”

She shakes her head and waves a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

You nod once and turn toward where you think the toilets might be. You pass Dexter, who is chatting with a group of chasers you don’t recognise, and then Dani and Boone, who are giving a dramatic retelling of the last close call you all had.

You find the bathrooms and slip inside. You lock yourself in the first stall, shimmy your jeans down, and sit. Then you pull your phone out to reply to Owen. He’s polite, not too creepy, and seems to have no issue being honest. He’s telling you that he’s excited to meet up, because it’s been a long week and he really needs to get laid. You find yourself smiling at your phone as you reply, telling him that you’re feeling the exact same way.

As you wash your hands and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you start to realise that maybe you’re a little more buzzed than you thought. Not that it’s a problem, because a little liquid courage always helps you out when it comes to one-night-stands, but you might need to start watching what you say. Alcohol can be a very dangerous catalyst for honesty.

When you step out of the bathroom, it feels even more crowded than before. You almost have to shoulder your way to the bar. Once you find a spot, you lean your forearms against the wood and squint to see what draughts they have on tap.

The gorgeous bartender that served Tyler earlier steps toward you. “Hey hon, what can I get ya?”

You try to wear a polite smile as you tell her your drink, but you can’t help feeling that it just looks twisted. She nods and starts pouring. You fish into your jeans’ pockets for cash before dropping it on the bar as she hands you your fresh schooner. The first sip is crisp and delicious, but quickly ruined by what you see across the room.

Nestled in the corner by the front of the bar is Tyler and some blonde bombshell who looks like she just walked out of a rodeo-themed photoshoot for Victoria’s Secret. They’re leaning on one of the tall tables, practically toe to toe, and she’s licking her lips as she watches him tell whatever stupid story he’s telling.

You storm back over to Lily with a scowl, but she’s too invested in her conversation to notice your renewed foul mood. You sit up on the barstool and take another generous sip of beer, letting the bubbly drink cool you from the inside out. Tyler is a grown-ass man. He can do what he wants, make his own decisions, and fuck whatever he pleases. You need to get over it.

After a couple of deep breaths, you’re feeling more sad than angry. But that won’t do either. You need to feel something positive, even if it is only fleeting. So you pull your phone out, lean away from the group of people chatting with Lily, and pull up your photos. Yep, those photos.

Your heart thuds heavily in your chest, your pulse ringing in your ears. This shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking, but it’s been so long since you’ve done something like this. It’s been so long since the last time you tried to get over Tyler Owens.

You choose three of your favourite photos. One is in the mirror, simple and saucy, showcasing the full ensemble. The second one is of you kneeling in front of the mirror, closer than the last and angled so that every curve looks a little extra enticing. The third photo is with the front-facing camera, the phone angled down to get your body instead of your face. You’ve taken off the top part of the set and you’re barely covering your nipples with one arm.

You’re not a vain or particularly conceited person, but you know these photos are good.

You squint and focus on your phone as you select the three photos and tap the ‘share’ symbol in the corner of your dim screen. It’s a little fuzzy through your beer goggles, but you don’t want to turn the brightness up right now, so you persevere. The share options fill the bottom half of the screen, and you carefully tap on the text messages app logo. A ‘New Message’ pops up, the little cursor blinking on the ‘To:’ line. You type carefully, O-W-E-N, and pick the contact that pops up. Then you hit that little send button.

The next few seconds pass in slow motion.

You look up from your phone and your eyes find Tyler across the bar. He’s smiling at the blonde, but then something else summons his attention. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lifts it up to his face. His grin vanishes and his cheeks flush bright red at the same time that your stomach plummets. It falls so fast and so hard, you’re almost sure it’s fallen right out of your ass.

Your eyes go wide, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat as it tries to crawl up. Or is that all the beer you’ve drank tonight? You feel sick. You need to get out of here. Fuck. You need to unsend that fucking text.

“Are you okay?” Lily’s voice is distant even though she’s right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh-” You slip off the barstool. “Gotta go. Feel sick.”

One glance across the bar has your stomach doing another gymnastics routine, flipping and spinning wildly, trying to expel every drop of alcohol you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tyler isn’t with the blonde anymore, he’s weaving his way through the throngs of people toward you.

Luckily, you’re closer to the door than he is. You squeeze through a group of chasers who you kind of recognise, but you don’t give yourself time to get a proper look. You duck out the door and start walking down the street. You don’t want to run, you’re not sure your wobbly legs can manage it right now, and you don’t want to draw attention.

The motel is just around the corner. If you get there in time, you can lock yourself in your room before Tyler catches you. Then you can pack your shit and run. Like really run. Because fuck, there is no coming back from this.

You hear your name called out behind you, but you easily recognise his voice, so you don’t turn around. You keep walking, your footsteps heavy and your breath coming and going in ragged gasps. You open your phone as you round the corner, bringing up your text thread with Tyler that makes your head spin. You sent him those photos. Fuck. He must think you’re insane.

Your eyes narrow on the contact name ‘Owens’ with a little tornado emoji beside it. The universe is definitely laughing at you right now. You hold down on the photo message and look for the ‘unsend’ button. But there isn’t one. There’s a ‘delete’ button, but you know that will only delete it from your side of the chat. He’s got these photos now. There’s no going back.

He calls your name again as you turn into the motel. It’s not far now, you might actually make it.

You book it across the parking lot and start up the stairs to the second-floor rooms. Your fingers fumble for the key in your pocket as you approach your door. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t dare to look back because you know he’s close. You can feel it.

The key slides into the lock and you practically fall into the room. You spin on your heel and try to slam the door shut. It gets most of the way until a booted foot slides across the threshold. The door stills, five inches of light from the outside slicing through the dark motel room. All you can hear is your heavy breathing and the panting from the man holding the door ajar.

You close your eyes and steel your nerves. Maybe it’s time you quit chasing.

You take a deep breath and open the door again. “Yes, Tyler?”

He looks downright feral. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wild, his hair is mussed, and you’re pretty sure his hands are vibrating in fists by his sides.

“What”– his voice is so deep, it’s almost a growl –“the fuck was that?”

You tip your head, feigning innocent curiosity. “Was what?”

His eyes darken and he licks his lips. Like a predator sizing up its prey. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“But I thought that was your favourite game.” You take a step back from the door. “Isn’t that why you’re always hanging out with those buckle bunny bimbos?”

You feel sick as the words leave your lips. You hate being a bitch and you hate that being frustrated and upset makes you one, but you can’t help it. If Tyler is going to have a go at you for accidentally sending him some photos, then you’re going to have a go back. Sure, your oldest and most important childhood friendship is about to blow up. But tit for tat is still important, right?

His eyes narrow and he pushes the door all the way open to step inside. “What are you talking about?”

You decide, for the first time tonight, to think before you speak. So you take your time. You turn and walk toward the bed before flopping down at the foot of it and bending over to unlace your boots.

“It was an accident.” You get one shoe off. “I didn’t mean to send those photos to you.” You get the other shoe off. “So, I’m sorry if your blonde friend saw them and freaked out. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

He pushes the door to swing shut behind his towering frame. “Ruin my night?”

You stand up, because he’s too intimidating right now for you to be sitting down.

“Wait.” His brows pinch and he glances at the floor before looking back at you with something fiery behind his eyes. “You accidentally sent them to me?”

You nod.

“Who the fuck were you trying to send them to?”

The venom in his voice startles you, and you rear back a little. “How is that any of your business?”

He steps closer. “It isn’t, but you’re going to tell me.”

You scoff. “Is that so?”

He takes a deep, rattly breath. You can see the muscles in his jaw ticking under the pressure of how hard he’s clenching. He’s so close that you can smell him. That intoxicating mix of fresh earth and cedarwood. He smells exactly like the dense air before a storm.

You startle again when he grips your chin, forcing you to stay still as he leans in even closer. “Babygirl,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your skin. “You cannot send me photos like that and then tell me they were meant for another man.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes bouncing between his. They’re hardly green anymore, they’re black. His pupils are so blown, you can only just see a thin ring of colour around them.

“You think you’ve ruined my night?” he asks.

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin doesn’t let you.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words, darlin’.”

His southern drawl sends a shock of electricity right to your core. You can feel the ache building behind your hipbones, pulsing and growing and making you squeeze your thighs together.

“Yes.”

He chuckles, but it’s deep and dark and full of something other than amusement. “The only thing you’ve ruined is my fucking patience.”

You don’t know what to say. Your brain might as well be melting out of your ears as you stare at the hungry face of the man you’ve loved for God knows how long. All you can do is blink at him, wondering when you’ll wake up from this dream.

“Who were you trying to send them to?” he asks again.

“Owen,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper.

He raises his brows. “Who the fuck is Owen?”

“Tinder.”

He lets go of your chin and rises back to his full height. “You were on fucking Tinder?”

Without his face so close and his paralysing touch, you feel a little more in control of yourself. You let your anger simmer and soak through your body, reminding yourself why you took those photos in the first place.

“Why do you care if I’m on Tinder?” you snap. “And why the fuck do you care who I send those photos to?”

“I care because no man on this planet deserves to see those fucking photos,” he growls. “No one is good enough to see you like that.”

You cross your arms and scowl up at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense, Tyler. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to join a nunnery?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you’re not done.

“You can’t just blow up at me about a couple of stupid photos and because I’m on Tinder. Who gives a fuck? I’m an adult woman who can fuck whoever she wants, and you’re a grown-ass man who doesn’t get a fucking say in it! Why don’t you just go back to screwing every woman in Oklahoma and leave me and my personal life alone?”

You’ve never seen Tyler this angry. He looks like one of those huffing bulls he used to ride. His chest is heaving, his knuckles are white, and his expression is angrier than any storm cloud you’ve ever seen – which is saying something.

“Is that really what you think of me?” His voice is surprisingly calm compared to his demeanour.

You nod once, keeping your expression as flat as possible.

He cocks his head, his eyes challenging. “Really? After all the years we’ve known each other, you think that I’m just some man-whore who’s making his way through the state?”

You don’t reply. What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Of course you don’t think of him as a man-whore, but you can’t exactly tell him what you do think of him. You’re not even sure why you’re fighting right now. Shouldn’t you just be embarrassed and apologising? Wasn’t the original plan to pack your shit and get out of here? You should be packing a bag and high tailing it out of this stupid little town.

“When did you take those photos?” he asks suddenly, looking past you.

You glance over your shoulder to follow his gaze, finding the incriminating mirror. You sigh. “Last night.”

“Who did you take them for last night?” His voice is strained, as if he doesn’t really want to ask the question but he has to know.

You look back at him, studying his furious expression and fiery eyes. You’ve never seen Tyler so worked up. He looks like he’s in the boxing ring waiting for another blow, waiting for you to punch him again so he can unleash another torrent of misplaced rage.

Maybe it’s time to surprise him. Hit him where he’s least expecting it.

“You.”

His scowl vanishes and his eyes grow wide. His mouth pops open, like he’s going to reply but there’s no connection between his brain and his voice box. He’s paralysed.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, watching him anxiously. His eyes are scanning your features, looking for something – maybe he’s hoping your joking? He opens his mouth a couple of times, but he still can’t find any words. You let out a soft sigh and decide that you’re already knee deep, you might as well dive in.

“It’s stupid, but yeah, I took them with the intention of sending them to you.” You let your eyes trace the collar of his flannel shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “Then I realised it was a dumb idea, and I didn’t. But then I was messaging this guy tonight and when I went to send them to Owen, I hit your contact name… Owensss.” You emphasise the ‘s’ and swirl your finger, as if mimicking a little tornado.

When you finally look back up at his face, he doesn’t look disgusted or offended. He looks confused.

“Why were you going to send them to me?”

You groan and drop back onto the bed, hiding your face in your hands. “Really, Ty? Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?”

You split your hands and peak up at him, but his expression hasn’t changed.

“Fine.” You huff and stand up again, ignoring the way it makes your head spin. “Tyler fucking Owens, I’m in love with you. I have been since junior year of high school when you asked me to prom instead of any of those other girls who were falling all over you. I’ve been in love with you through every stupid boyfriend I’ve had and every dumb life decision you’ve made, and I was so sick of seeing you with other women that I thought sending you some embarrassing fucking photos would make you change your mind. But I know now that if you felt any special way about me, you would’ve told me by now. So please, just let me pack my shit and get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” he echoes. “Baby, the only place you’re getting is in my fucking bed.”

Before you can even process his words, he swoops forward and crashes his lips against yours. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as he kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your head spins and your knees wobble, but his arms wrap around your waist to hold you up.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, giving and taking as he pleases and making you moan against his mouth. His stubble scratches your chin and your cheeks, and your mind immediately imagines it rasping against your inner thighs. You want to squeeze your legs together, but he shoves his thigh between then, bending his knee so that you’re practically riding his leg as his lips assault yours.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down, desperate for any kind of friction to ease the ache between your legs. When your lips part in a whimper, Tyler’s tongue slips past them, and he tips your head back. His mouth devours every little moan and sigh as you continue to ride his thigh. His hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, and they guide you up and down. You can feel his belt buckle digging into your lower belly, and you can feel his hard length beside it.

“Ty,” you whisper, your lungs aching for air. “Please.”

“Please what, darlin’?”

You almost whine as he drags you slowly up his thigh. “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, his breath hitting your damp and puffy lips. He stops forcing you to move and relaxes his leg, setting you back on your own unsteady feet. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy with him looking at you so intensely after that.

“Okay, but I’ve got a few ground rules.”

Your chest deflates as you let out a long breath. Here it goes. He’s going to tell you that this is a one-time thing, that it can’t be weird in the morning, and that you can’t tell anyone else about it. You feel a little stupid for believing that he would kiss you for any other reason than the fact that he’s horny. You ruined his shot with that blonde bombshell and then sent him those photos, of course he’s horny. It doesn’t matter that you just laid yourself fucking bare. He probably wasn’t even listening to all that. You told him you’re in love with him and he told you to get into his bed. He either didn’t hear you or doesn’t give a shit.

“Hey.” He grips your chin again and forces you to look up at him, at those smouldering eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

You blink twice, unsure what to say.

“Rule number one-”

“Ty-”

He kisses you again, but it’s only quick. “No, let me finish. You had that whole speech before, so it’s my turn.”

You can’t nod because he’s still holding your chin, so you roll lips and wait.

“Good.” He lets go of your chin and puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “Rule number one is that no other person can ever see those fucking photos, you got it?”

You nod, and then he pushes you gently so that you’re sitting on the bed.

“Rule number two, you’re going to send me every single one of those photos that you took.”

Your brows pinch together, and he wedges a leg between your knees to push them apart.

“Rule number three, you’re mine now. Only mine.” He steps in between your legs and cups your head in both hands. “No more Tinder, no more bullshit. I’m the only one that gets to look at you and touch you, and I’m sure and shit the only one who gets to love you. You got that?”

Your mouth parts and he runs his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “You love me?”

He grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “Since the first day you ran into class late. Your hair was all windswept and your cheeks were all red. You looked like you’d just fallen from fucking heaven.”

You can’t help the very unladylike snort of laughter that comes out of you. “Tyler, that is the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”

“But it worked. You’re smiling for the first time in who knows how long.”

He leans down and presses his lips against yours again, but this time it’s gentle. He urges forward and you slowly pull yourself further up the bed, being careful not to let your lips leave his. He crawls on top of you, placing a knee on either side of your thighs where you now lay beneath him.

“I think I’m going to have a hard time not smiling now,” you murmur against his mouth.

He pulls back and hits you with the full force of that gorgeous smirk as he holds himself over you on all fours. “You’re gonna have a hard time not screaming my name in a minute.”

You mirror him with your own cocky grin and press your palm against his hard length, restrained in his jeans. “You sure about that.”

He eyelids flutter shut and his lips pop open, a soft sigh escaping them. When he looks back down at you with dark, hungry eyes, you can feel your own arousal soaking through your panties.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

END.

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so���about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: The Storm Inside Your Mind

Request: Anonymous said: "tyler x reader with panic attacks"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: panic attack tw

A/N: obviously stole some of Kate's trauma for this one... I feel like I've written a few fics where reader has panic attacks now, so sorry if this sounds repetitive at all. But as always, thank you all for the kind words, replies, and comments on my work. It's super encouraging and very appreciated!!

The team isn’t chasing today. Instead, you set up the RV and some tents at a campsite, hoping to enjoy what little time you had left of tornado season. 

Tyler gets a fire going while Boone and Dexter drag the camp chairs around it. There’s only half an hour or so left of daylight, and the crew decides s’mores will do just fine for dinner. 

Boone makes a joke about s’mores meeting all his nutritional food group needs, everyone laughs. Tyler settles into the chair beside you, his knee gently grazing against yours to catch your attention. 

When you look at him, he winks. A silent toss of affection. A sweet reminder that it’s you and him, even amongst the chaos of all your friends. 

The sun sets, casting a thousand shades of pinks and purples through the sky. It’s mesmerizing– the evening is perfect. 

It’s amazing how quickly things can fall apart.

All it takes is one note– 

Dani grabs their guitar and begins strumming softly to no tune in particular. Then Boone shouts out a song request that makes your breath catch. You try to be subtle, but you notice Tyler’s eyes lingering on you, because he can read you just as well as he can read any storm. 

You offer him the best, most reassuring smile that you can– and it must be good enough, because he looks back towards the fire. 

You pick at the skin around your nails, because it’s always been a good distraction. But even that isn’t enough when Dani plays the first note– 

“Took my love and I took it down,” they sing softly. 

And then suddenly, you can’t breathe. All you can hear is your best friend asking you to turn up the volume to her favorite song when it had come on the radio only minutes before everything had gone so, so wrong. 

Normally, you can talk yourself down from these moments, you can practice all the grounding exercises your therapist taught you and move on. But you feel the sense of panic creeping up your throat and it’s strong and fast. You don’t think you can deep breathe your way out of this one without anyone noticing.

In a rush, you stand up from your camp chair and mumble something incoherent about needing to go. It’s not very subtle, but it’s all you can manage before stumbling into the RV– aiming for the bathroom. 

Tyler calls your name, but all you hear is the sound of your friend screaming it over the increasing winds as they reached for you. 

From there it only gets worse– 

It comes in waves– memories of Fleetwood Mac still playing from the radio while you sat in the car and frantically tried to decide which way to run– the realization that no matter where you went, the tornado was going to consume you– knowing that the overpass was the worst place to go, but your alternative was remaining out in the open. Your name tumbling from your friend's lips as she begged you to help pull her up the ramp because her shoes kept slipping. The sound of her scream when the chunk of debris sent her flying into the storm. You losing sight of her body after only a second– 

The bathroom door rattles. “Y/N?” Tyler calls with a knock. “What happened?”

“What happened?” your friend’s dad had asked with tears spilling down his cheeks after the officer told them that their daughter was dead. “What the hell happened?” 

“There’s no storm,” you whisper to yourself. “The skies are clear– there’s no storm.”

Tyler calls your name a second time and knocks harder– the door rattles. You grip the edge of the sink and bite down harshly on your lip to keep yourself from screaming. Because despite the calm conditions outside, the storm inside your mind is here– it’s rattling the door and shaking the RV– it’s creating dark clouds, and causing them swirling around in every corner of your body– winds are flying through your stomach and your chest, the air is heavy, it’s harder to breathe– 

You put your hands over your ears and sink to the floor helplessly. 

“Y/N, answer me,” Tyler’s panicked– you can hear it in his voice. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick this door down–”

You try to inhale– to tell him not to do that– that repairing a door will be expensive. But instead of finding your words, all you can do is choke out a desperate sob. The storm has stolen all your air– it’s sucked it right from your lungs… 

Before you can try again, the entire bathroom shakes when the hinges on the door break loose with a bang. Tyler’s eyes land on you– huddled on the floor, gasping for the breath you can’t find. 

Except– it’s not Tyler. It’s your friend’s dad. He’s come to get you– to kill you like you killed his daughter. 

You attempt to push yourself backwards on the floor, but the bathroom is small and soon, you've only managed to wedge yourself between the toilet and the wall. You try to speak again– to tell him how sorry you are for getting his daughter killed– but you can’t. Clutching desperately at your chest, you heave and heave, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The storm inside your mind causes the clouds to start swirling around chaotically– 

The storm inside your mind rips trees right from the roots– 

The storm inside your mind destroys everything in its path– 

“Baby–” a familiar warm voice cuts through the fog. And then, suddenly, someone grips your knee, causing your entire body to seize. 

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "Hey, it’s me.“

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Tyler’s touch– and when you open your eyes, you see him squatting down to get on your level. 

But your knees– you open your mouth to say, except all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help. 

“Okay, it’s okay. Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.” 

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.” 

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.” 

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like the storm has stolen your lungs– ripped them right out of your chest– 

“Tyler–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–” 

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form. 

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek. 

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please–”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.  

“With me,” he repeats.

Tyler slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along. 

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly.  Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.  

“Good job,” Tyler sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay, we're both safe–” 

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and reach for him. Tyler takes advantage of your gesture and quickly grips under your arms, yanking you from the corner and pulling you forward. He sits back on the floor, back resting against the door frame while he rests you on his lap. As soon as he’s settled, you wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. 

Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you hide your face into his chest. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you. The sound of his heartbeat races in your ear (bum, bum, bum, bum). It reminds you that you’re both here– right now. Not stuck in an underpass, not chasing a tornado. But here– on the floor in the RV bathroom. 

“It’s okay,” Tyler soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now. 

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again. 

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’ve been, running off like that, having a meltdown in front of everyone– you probably scared the shit out of them. And then there’s the door– broken right from the hinges. 

Slowly, you pull back. 

“Are you okay?” Tyler says before you can even open your mouth. He brushes the strands of loose hair from your face.  

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. 

“Baby, you don’t have to run from me when you’re having a panic attack. I’m here for you, you know that.”

“I know,” you whimper. “I know– I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out–”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Tyler says. “You don’t have to apologize. I just– I want you to come to me when you’re struggling. I want to be able to help you.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I can't think clearly when they come. All I could think about was getting away. I didn't want to scare you– I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out all the time. But it–” 

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away. 

“It was the music. That was her favorite song.” You didn’t even have to say your friend’s name for Tyler to know what you were talking about. “I just… I heard that first note and I panicked– I just felt like I had to get away.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “You don’t have to hide from me,” he whispered. “Next time, you drag me to the bathroom with you and we’ll get through it together, okay? I think that’ll save us many doors in the future.”

You exhale a puff of air, your best attempt at laughter. 

“I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes. 

Tyler sighs. “Baby, I drive around and chase tornadoes– shoot some fireworks into the air when I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for you on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

Nodding slowly, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Tyler’s chest. 

Strong, warm arms anchor you to safety. You hold on to Tyler– letting the sound of his heartbeat (bum, bum, bum, bum) block out any noise from the raging storms inside your mind. 

[little-diable]

Broke my heart and called me pretty, won me back and called me his - Tyler Owens (smut)

Watched Twisters again and I simply needed to write another Tyler fic. I listened to "Pretty Slowly" by Benson Boone while writing this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler had ended his engagement to the reader years ago, all for her to chase her dreams. But when he turns up as a guest for her lecture, both find themselves thrown back into the love they still feel for one another.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), ex-lovers to lovers, some angst, lots of fluff tho

Pairing: Tyler Owens x professor!fem!reader (4k words)

“(Y/n)?” Her eyes flickered up from her notes, watching her assistant take a step into her office. With a soft smile playing on her lips, (y/n) waited for Alice to keep on speaking, knowing that she must leave for her upcoming class in a few minutes. 

“There’s been a scheduling problem with your guest for today’s lesson, they sent somebody else. He’s waiting outside for you.” For a second, she only stared at Alice, letting the words sink in before her annoyance and anger could clash through her. Organising guests who were willing to speak to her students has always been a struggle, she spent hours on finding the right people and now she couldn’t help but curse them for not giving her an earlier notice.

“Send him in, thank you, Alice.” (Y/n) began to collect her notes as the elderly woman left the room to fetch whoever was waiting outside, buying herself some time to remain calm. Deep breaths left (y/n), fighting through the uneasiness she couldn’t shake. 

The sound of boots meeting the ground rang in her ears, and suddenly her body began to tense, freezing on the spot almost. Somehow she could feel him before she saw him, instantly knowing who was about to enter her office even though it had been years since they had last seen one another. 

“Would you look at that, I’ve always wondered what your office looks like.” His voice shot shudders down her spine, a reaction she had once been all too familiar with but couldn’t help but curse now. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her eyes wander over his features, fuck he was still as handsome as he had been all those years before. 

“What are you doing here, Tyler?” Her voice didn’t carry much strength, just enough to draw his wandering eyes back to her. Tyler studied her for a moment, keeping his distance while both seemed to get lost in the draw they had felt ever since their first date, knowing that the other was the one - or at least it had always felt like that. 

“Jake gave me a call this morning, told me he couldn’t make it. And since we were in the area anyway, I didn’t mind stepping in.” A scoff clawed through (y/n), followed by the shake of her head. She kept her eyes focused on her things while she rose to her feet, set on getting this over and done with as fast as possible.

“Of course you didn’t mind, the holy saint Tyler Owens just can’t help but present himself at any given chance.” His hand shot out to catch her arm before she could brush past him, forcing (y/n) to stand close to him. 

“Hey, I’m doing you a favour here, least you could do is treat me with some respect.” His voice still had that southern drawl to it she had longed to hear for way too long. She had deleted all his socials, hadn’t talked to any of their shared friends, no matter how many times she had longed to do so - even thinking of him hurt still too much. 

“Respect? I’m amazed you even know what that word means.” Both looked at one another for a moment, caught up in the memories that still haunted them to this day. Perhaps it could have been different. Perhaps they could have still been together if their path hadn’t been forced to an end years ago. 

“I did what was right, you can paint me as the bad guy, but don’t lie to yourself, darling. I did it for you, and I would do it all over again.” She ripped herself out of his grasp and muttered a small “Follow me” before leaving the room. Tears threatened to build in her eyes, forced to remember the day he had broken up with her, weeks after he had asked her to marry him. Deep down she knew that he was speaking the truth, if he hadn’t broken up with her, she wouldn’t have followed her dreams to study overseas to end up where she was now. And yet she hadn’t been able to let go of her hurt to this day.

The sounds of their shoes meeting the cold ground was the only thing that could be heard, nothing but heavy steps that felt like they were moving towards their end once again. Ancient lovers reunited in their last hour on this earth, and with one last chance they were offered to find their way back together. A chance that was now slipping through their fingers. 

“Good afternoon.” Her voice boomed through the big room which was filled with students who all instantly stopped speaking. Tyler kept his distance, waiting near the door while studying her every move. This was what he had hoped for all these years ago. For her to end up right here, doing what she had always dreamt of doing.

Parts of him had cursed himself for ending their engagement, but as much as he had wanted to follow her and help her chase her dream with him by her side, he hadn’t been able to leave. He had broken both their hearts with hurtful words spurred on by the anger he had directed at himself and at the circumstances he hadn’t been able to rip himself free from. 

“This is Tyler Owens, I’m sure some of you may know his channel. He’ll talk to you about storm chasing today, please bear in mind that you’ll get enough time for questions after his talk.” She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to get lost in the eyes she had always tried to look for in every room. Eyes that had once held their shared secrets. Eyes that had watched her grow into a young woman after meeting when they had been mere teenagers. Eyes that still appeared in her dreams whenever her mind needed a reset from the battles she was currently fighting.

The sound of loud claps filled the room, he moved closer with a smile glued to his lips - a smile that slightly began to drop as she mumbled a quiet “I’ll be in my office” while brushing past him.

……

“Hey,” Tyler’s voice filled her office. A soft sigh left (y/n) as she forced herself to look at him, unable to bite down the hurt that had been clawing at her skin since the second he had first entered her office hours ago. “You missed an interesting class.”

“I,” she cleared her throat while shifting around on her seat. “I watched the stream. You were good, they loved you.”

“Well, what can I say? We have a big fan community.” A soft laugh managed to leave her before she could stop the sound, forcing heat to rise in her system. “Will you grab dinner with me? I think we’ve got some catching up to do.” 

She should have said no. She should have kindly told him that she had other plans. But knowing that she’d most likely not see him again for years and years to come felt like a punch to her gut. So all she did was nod her head and grab her purse, ready to leave her office for the day.

No words were spoken between them as he guided her towards his truck, the same one she had seen in his videos. It felt strange being here with him, sitting in the truck that added to this internet persona of his she was a stranger to, barely recognising the man he was now. 

“It’s bigger than I expected it to be.” (Y/n) blurted out the words while she looked around the truck, watching Tyler drive them to the spot he seemed to have in mind. The smirk tugging on his lips told her that she had just shared something she shouldn’t have, letting him in on the knowledge that she was watching his videos every now and then.

“I always wondered if you were watching us. They miss you, you know.” Nothing but a hum managed to pass her lips, unable to speak up as her throat grew tighter. It had been years since she had last seen his crew, the people she had once called her friends and had cut off the second she had left home, unable to think of anything that had something to do with Tyler. Years had passed before (y/n) had allowed herself to get back into all things storm chasing, which also meant catching up with Tyler and his work. 

“I miss them too.” Her eyes flickered down to his right hand which seemed to move in her direction but before Tyler could touch her, he pulled back again, balling a fist that rested on his thigh. It hurt her more than she had thought to see him like that, seemingly struggling just as much as she did with their newfound distance after all these years. And yet they were still bound together, by something neither could put a finger on. 

“Thought we could visit Mary Jane’s, for old times’ sake.” She couldn’t reply, not when one memory after another caught up with her. They had lost count on the amount of times they had chased in that area, grabbing dinner and coffees at Mary Jane’s at any given chance. A bittersweet memory that only worsened the heavy feeling settling on her chest. 

After parking the truck, she watched him round the car to help her down, keeping his hand placed on the small of her back for a second too long. It felt as if Tyler had to force himself to let go, to remember that she no longer was his to touch, even though it only felt right to keep close. 

“So, tell me, professor. What did I miss? What did you do the last few years? Your mom didn’t tell me much.” Her focus was ripped from the menu at the mention of her mother. She hadn’t told (y/n) anything about being in touch with Tyler, hadn’t dropped his name once. Every now and then (y/n) had wanted to ask about him, knowing that her mother was most likely at least watching his videos, but something had always held her back. Perhaps she had been too scared to hear of stuff she wouldn’t be able to stomach, wondering if he had moved on, if he had found another woman to spend the rest of his life with. 

“You’re still in touch with her?” The approaching waitress momentarily distracted them both, taking on their orders while (y/n)’s gaze kept flickering back to Tyler. Seeing him again had made everything more complicated, a distraction she hadn’t needed, but as much as she wanted to run and hide from the past, she also couldn’t stop herself from wanting to ask all these questions burning on the tip of her tongue. 

“Well, I call her every Christmas and on her birthday, and she does the same.” An unjustified anger simmered inside of her, drawing a frown onto her features while averting her gaze. It felt unfair that he and her mother had kept in touch, sharing details about their experiences and what they had done over the past years – all while (y/n) had fought so hard for a clean start away from her past. “Hey, look at me, pretty.”

“Don’t call me that, Tyler.” Hurt flashed over his features, a sight that only worsened the pain she felt deep inside of her. 

God, what was she even doing here? There was nothing left to say, nothing but a proper goodbye so she could go back to her day and forget the pain she had tried to bury six feet under. 

“Listen, (y/n).” Tyler reached for her hand before she could pull away, forcing her to keep her focus on him. “I didn’t do it right back then, should have sat you down and told you everything I feared and worried about. I should have given you the chance to make this decision for yourself. But I don’t regret giving you an out, you deserved to experience every dream, everything you have worked so hard for. Don’t blame me for wanting you to live the best possible life you could dream to live.”

“But what if all of those dreams had lost their meaning without you? What if nothing worked the same way without you by my side?” A tear dripped from her eye before she could try to wipe it away. She couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t read what was swimming in his pupils. Nothing but hurt and confusion that made her pull her hand away from his big one. “This was a mistake.”

She pushed herself out of the booth and rushed outside while more tears kept on falling. The shaky exhale leaving her drowned out the sound of Tyler calling for her, catching up with (y/n) before he pulled her against his broad chest. Sobs clawed through her as Tyler’s hand kept stroking up and down her spine, holding her close. 

“I got you, darling, I always will.”

……

“Here, do you need anything else?” It had been hours since her breakdown at the diner. Hours that had been filled with a shared dinner, memories that had been whispered about and eventually a drive back to her place. It had already been late by the time they had left Mary Jane’s, leading her to invite Tyler to stay in her guest room for the night. 

“I’m alright, thank you, darling.” Tyler shot her a smile before he pulled her in for another hug. With a kiss pressed to her hairline, he eventually let go of her, watching (y/n) leave the room after a few hesitant seconds.  

Her heart was racing until she found herself laying restless in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The past hours kept replaying, flashing past her open eyes while wondering if Tyler had managed to fall asleep. Seeing him again had ripped open all old wounds, leaving her confused and torn between too many sensations. For the last years she had tried to move on, had gone on many dates that had led to nothing but a hopeless feeling that she may never get over Tyler and the love she still felt for him. A feeling that had now resurfaced once again. 

With an annoyed sigh clawing through her, (y/n) left her bedroom again, freezing in her step as she found Tyler’s frame standing near the window in her living room, staring down on the city. Slowly, she moved closer, wrapping her arms around herself as she came to a halt next to him. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” His raspy voice made goosebumps rise on her skin, forcing her to shake her head while trying to keep her focus on the lights. A few seconds of silence passed before Tyler wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her against his side. “I missed you, pretty.”

This time she didn’t comment on it, could only push herself further into his embrace to search for his warmth. Wordlessly Tyler pulled her along to her sofa, plopping down on it before she placed her head on his chest, falling back into a routine that felt too familiar. 

“Do you think we would have been married by now if things hadn’t ended?” The question was whispered, rolling off her tongue without giving it much thought. (Y/n) had always wondered about their wedding, how it would have played out, who they would have invited and where it would have taken place. 

“Oh, for sure. I wouldn’t have been able to wait much longer before calling you my wife.” His soft chuckle vibrated through both their bodies, drawing a smile onto her lips. 

“I was so excited for it. It would have been the best day.” Tyler tightened his grip on her waist while pressing another kiss to her hairline. For a moment, neither of them spoke, keeping quiet as their thoughts began to spiral. She felt his muscles tense beneath her, making her wonder what he was about to speak while the night wrapped its comforting veil around them. 

“It can still be the best day.” Her heart skipped a beat, wondering what he meant by that. Her eyes found his, seeing the way he was torn by whatever kept buzzing through his mind. She wasn’t sure what he meant by it, and yet the way he looked at her, filled with something she hadn’t felt in years, left her wondering if he was still talking about the two of them. 

“What are you saying, Tyler?” His hand came up to cup her cheek, feeling her warmth pressing against his hand. Seconds of silence blurred by, making both their hearts race while he fought to find the right words. 

“I won’t ever be able to love anybody the way I love you, and that will never change. And judging by what you told me, it’s the same for you. Marry me, for real this time.” She pushed herself off his chest, rising to her feet with a teary laugh that was torn between excitement and sadness. (Y/n) stared down at him with her fingers buried in her hair, trying to figure out if this was just a joke fate was playing on her. 

“That’s insane, Tyler.” He mimicked her movements to draw her back in, hands resting on her waist. 

“You know what they say, pretty, if you feel it, chase it. And I’m so tired of living this life without you by my side.” Her body forced her to move, to close the distance between them with her lips finding his. Electricity buzzed down her spine, forcing her even closer to deepen the kiss. Kissing Tyler had always been an experience to say the least, two magnets that fit together, an explosion of heat and longing, and yet this felt even better than all these years ago. It felt right, more right than anything else. 

Without breaking the kiss, he picked her up, forcing her legs to find their way around his waist. Tyler carried her back to her bedroom, letting them rest on her mattress with him hovering over her. 

“Do you mean it? Really mean it?” (Y/n) mumbled the question against his lips. His fingers brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, a warm touch that communicated what both felt at that moment, an undying longing that grew stronger with every passing second. 

“Marry me, (y/n).” Another laugh clawed through her, a sound that turned into a moan the second his lips found her neck, kissing their way down to her collarbones. 

“Alright, I will marry you.” Tyler kissed her again as his hands disappeared beneath her shirt to pull it over her head, exposing her naked frame to his wandering eyes. 

“You’re even more gorgeous, fuck. I can’t wait to make you mine again.” Her eyes fluttered close as he tugged on her panties, pushing them down her legs. Tyler’s mouth kissed its way to her aching heat, groaning the second he tasted her again after all these years. With both arms slung around her thighs to keep her close, he ate her out, letting his rough tongue brush through her slit before sucking on her pulsing bundle.

Moans and groans left both, high on the different feelings both were held hostage by. No longer could (y/n) remember if being with Tyler had always felt like that, all she knew was that she never wanted this moment to end. She’d happily be stuck in time like that, forever reunited with the one that had gotten away. 

Tyler let his gaze rest on her pleasure-drunken features, trying not to get too eager while his hardening cock begged for her attention. He’d fuck her all through the night and then some more in the morning, having to burn every passing moment into his mind to fight against the fear of waking up in a few hours from a too good to be true dream.

“Tyler,” his name rolled off her tongue, spurring him on to push her over the edge. (Y/n) had her back arched off the comfortable mattress, hands fisting the blanket while her first orgasm clashed through her like a ship hitting the cold ocean ground. She lost control of the moment, could only give room to her sounds the blinding sensation pushed through her. 

He kept lapping at her folds, prolonging her orgasm while he couldn’t bite down his proud smirk. Tyler still knew her body like the back of his hand, able to map her out even with both eyes closed as if she had always been his. 

“What will it be, darling? What do you want?” Tyler’s voice had grown lower, raspier even while he still lingered between her trembling thighs. He watched her heavily exhale, needing to ground herself before letting her twinkling eyes find his. 

“I need you inside of me, now, Tyler.” Without having to ask twice, he followed her command, getting rid of his shirt and his tight boxers before finding his way back to her. He watched her fish for a condom, helping him roll it down his length as both their hands shook from the anticipation and excitement they couldn’t shake. 

Somehow it reminded her of her first night with Tyler, the first time he had fucked her in the back of his truck in the middle of nowhere. It had been the best night of her life, or so she had always thought - until today at least. 

With his lips pressed against hers, he kept himself close as he pushed into her, slowly. Both groaned at the feeling, no longer used to being connected this intimately. She clung to him with her nails clawed into the soft skin of his back, needing to adjust for a few seconds before a soft “please” managed to leave her. 

They weren’t in a rush, weren’t set on chasing a high within a handful of seconds, but it felt too good to have one another back again, set on giving their all to the other. Every thrust hit her swollen spot, every thrust reminded (y/n) of the way Tyler had always managed to make her feel - as if he was the match setting a petrol station ablaze, a heat so strong it could melt her skin right off her body. 

Forever his, forever hers, a story so complete, neither could manage to put it into words. 

Their bodies met with every faster growing thrust, set on feeling her walls flutter around him while he kissed her breathless. She stared up at him, getting lost in the eyes that were filled with a love so strong, she was sure that neither of them would be able to let go ever again. 

“Atta girl, you’re doing so well for me. I got you.” He pressed a kiss to her neck while he deeply exhaled. Both tried to drag out the moment, hoping that they could stay connected for longer, but their bodies had other plans, needing another high while falling off the edge together.

Tyler’s hand found her right thigh, pulling it closer to her body to hit deeper spots that made both groan. She snuck a hand between their bodies to circle her pulsing bundle, desperate for the relief cumming around him would push through her. Encouraging praises and sweet nothings left Tyler, spurring her on to let go before he could. 

And then (y/n) came again, high on everything he embraced while another moan left her. Tyler fucked her for a few more moments, chasing his own orgasm before he groaned against her warm skin. The feeling buzzing through them both only grew stronger, keeping them united while they tried to catch their breaths.

“Are we really doing this? This is insane.” Her breathless laugh filled the room, leaving Tyler chuckling while he lifted his head off her chest. He looked at her for a moment, pressed a kiss to her slightly swollen lips and then pulled out of her.

“We are, and I can’t wait to finally call you my wife.”

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?"- Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia (Pt.1 !) (Pt.2 Here!) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. ALSO SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 7 IN SILVER Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. I had to break Diasomnia into 2 parts because I exceeded tumblr's character limit. I have favorites I guess :/

This man is a child masquerading as an adult. As in to say that he resists any illogical emotions until they bottle up and explode. The traditional pathway for finding a life partner typically follows: stranger -> acquaintance -> friend -> crush -> lover ->partner. You know, as it normally goes when bonds form.

Sebek....is not a textbook case in this regard. His path is a bit more customizable

stranger -> person he is forced to interact with -> acquaintance of Lord Malleus -> Acquaintance of Lord Malleus that Sebek approves of -> Friend that Lord Malleus approves of -> Repressed Crush -> Acquaintance that Sebek avoids at all costs -> Acknowledged crush -> Acknowledged crush that Lord Malleus approves of -> Respected individual with mitigated interactions -> Courting -> awkward situationship -> lover -> awkward situationship (with better communication) -> spouse

Enough said.

This process isn’t as complicated as it may seem on paper. While there are many steps, Sebek is fortunate enough to have people in his life willing to force commitments onto him. It also helps that he has blind trust in a select few. This makes him a bit naive and easily influenced. A boon in the right hands, and a bane in others.

In short, Sebek is emotionally constipated and only acts when there’s a driving force. Otherwise he just gets frustrated. This is extremely apparent at two stages: ‘repressed crush’ and ‘awkward situationship’. Scratch that. Three stages.

Beginning at ‘repressed crush’ - Sebek realizes that he likes you when you ask about how his training is going. He happened by your dorm during his morning jog, and was more than happy to go off on a tangent of the strict regimen developed to forge a perfect knight.

Except that’s not what you wanted to hear. You were more interested in his health and how he was enjoying himself rather than how his work was benefitting Malleus.

His heart fluttered, as if a shock of electricity thrummed through his body. Having never felt this before, Sebek mistakes it for a lapse in his strength and runs off at a much faster speed than before. Forget a light jog, he had enough energy to run 500 laps around the school track.

Don’t you get it human?! You were distracting him! His body was at rest too long. Now shoo, you’re hindering him from doing his duty.

He represses these budding romantic feelings and ‘misinterprets’ them as deviant behavior. He even goes so far as to blame it on ‘useless hormones’ and convinces himself that it’ll pass. He spares it no thought until his pining becomes apparent to everyone except for himself

Que the driving force. Despite Sebek believing otherwise, he does have friends and his entire love-life can be credited to their affectionate stupidity.

Simply put, Ace takes every chance to seamlessly flirt with you whenever Sebek is around. Not in a subtle way either - he's making some risky comments and trying to eat up every moment of your time. The others in your year are well aware of what he's doing too. Deuce thinks he's being unnecessary, but also agrees that Sebek needs a push so he lets it happen. Epel has his gripes with Sebek, but admires him for his manly tenacity. So he's 100% in support of giving an extra push and even tries to copy Ace. Except... yeah, he's pretty bad at flirting so he gives up after one try. Jack is against it at first, not wanting to hurt your feelings in the process but gets talked into it after seeing you get salty over Sebek being distant. Ortho, bless his innocent soul, thinks of it as a fun experiment. Lil guy just wants everyone to be happy.

You have no idea though, which is great because all of Ace's attempts fail hardcore. Sebek and his chivalrous ways (jealousy) won't stand by if you're being constantly bombarded with 'unwanted' romantic affections.

Nevermind that you don't seem to be taking Ace seriously at all. It is still not proper behavior! It would be a stain to his Lord's image if Sebek knowingly let Malleus' beloved friend endure such a hardship.

Every time Ace makes an attempt, Sebek shuts him down faster than you ever could. You have no idea how he does it, but Sebek is always around when it happens. The timing is honestly creepy....until you catch on to what's happening because the Ramshackle prefect isn't a dumdum.

"So....prefect, how about we go get dinner together tomorrow? Just you and me, what do ya say?" Ace slides into the seat to your right during breakfast. He leans in on his fist, eyeing you with a mischievous grin that crinkles the heart on his cheek. Just as he does, Sebek occupies the seat at your left and pushes Ace back with his palm.

"Do you ever rest?! They will do no such thing, now eat your meal before it runs cold. The chefs worked too hard for their efforts to be wasted by a delinquent!" Sebek answers on your behalf like clockwork. This event was not an uncommon sight to anyone, neither was Sebek failing to control his volume, so no other student paid the show any mind.

Normally you'd let them spit a few words at each other before returning to their own devices. Yet letting this continue just felt cruel, especially knowing that Ace was doing it to get a rise from your friend. Although Sebek wasn't innocent in the matter either

"Alright - Ace, would you knock it off? You don't even like me that way so quit messing with my head. I thought you were better than this," you say in between bites, side-eyeing your friend with a disapproving glare "And you!" you turn to Sebek, "I can answer for myself. Why do you even care? It's not like you're in charge of my love life. Just because someone wants to date me doesn't make them a delinquent...sheesh"

Why...why does he care? Sebek short circuits at your scolding, opening and closing his mouth to rebuttal yet coming up with nothing. Angered by his own turmoil, he grabs his meal and goes to sit with others from his dorm.

Stupid human. How dare you be so haughty and ungrateful? He was just protecting you from....from, what exactly? It's not like you going out with Ace would impact him in any way. It's not like you were in danger or upset with his advances. If anything. he was doing a good job at keeping your relationship professional for the sake of his liege!

Go ahead and date that childish hooligan for all he cares! Sebek won't be there to protect you when you're lost, or lend you a scarf on cold winter days. Ace can be the one to call you before bed every night, and keep your yearbook photo on his desk. Possibly keep his favorite candid photo as a bookmark for his diary, not that Sebek would know anyone that keeps a journal. He can have your birthday written in his calendar with a heart drawn around it, and have your picture in his wristwatch. He can set alarms to know when your classes end and walk you home. He can worry when you're sick and listen to your obnoxious prying....he can receive all your affections, and have your loyalty. Listen to your silly ramblings and receive those random 'i just thought of you' presents that Sebek always has a dilemma over what their purpose serves

You can be Ace's headache, and Sebek's heart will be lighter for it. These attachments he's formed were a lapse in judgement and will never be allowed again.

...

Sebek asks his lord for permission to court you. The next morning Malleus wakes to find the devotee bowed outside his bedroom, forehead attached to the floor and hands laid flat on the ground in reverence. Sebek proceeds to begin a long rant about how he's succumbed to his inner demons, and that he has sinned for letting another in his heart - Malleus cuts him off, happy to see love blossoming and interested to watch it all play out. He tells Sebek to take good care of you, before leaving. Meanwhile Sebek is sobbing at his lord's blessing

Once he's gathered himself, Sebek runs to your dorm and pounds on the door with fervor despite the early hour

Grim shakes you out of sleep, grumbling something about an 'annoying bastard' at the door before flopping back in bed. He shoves two pillows over his ears and tells you to fix the problem. That's when you hear the thumping, it's relentless and somehow sours your mood beyond what you thought possible. Mornings were not meant to exist on the weekend. So with an irritated groan, you slip on a robe over your pajamas and answer the door. A fist pauses in the air, moments from striking you. Sebek freezes momentarily, his body going ridged before coughing into his fist. A light blush dusts his cheeks.

“G-good morning, human. I apologize if I've disturbed your sleep, but I have an important announcement that cannot wait any longer" Sebeck studders, focusing on the door pane instead of your disheveled morning appearance.

“Alright" you sigh, resigning yourself to his whims, "what is it?"

Sebeck bows at the waist. "I am in love with you. Please accept my affections."

And so the motions continued on. A most unconventional pairing - possibly the hottest topic of the school year, in the words of Cater Diamond - was formed. Sebek was cautious of Ace at first, their previous spats leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. When he found out the truth, he was both appalled and grateful. So much that he scorned all his friends for weeks on end for pulling a stunt like that - but also thanking them. He apologizes for calling Ace a delinquent, and his heart changes a bit in response to their 'unique' display of care. Their intentions were good, and in the end it worked out. So he can pardon the indiscretion.

Life goes on until your relationship forms an 'awkward situationship'. The first time is brief. As it is with most cases of young love, the binding force that ties you to them crumbles. On earth it is highschool. In Twisted Wonderland it is NRC. Sebek knows where he's going - to serve the Draconias . The grey area is what you plan to do...because as much as his affections have grown, Sebek isn't willing to give up his dreams for you.

He's astonished when you decide to follow him to Briar Valley. He doesn't even have to breech the topic - arrangements were already being made without his input. You wouldn't be staying at the palace against his Lord's wishes. Instead a small cottage was built at a safe distance from the main city. Close enough for you to visit the castle, and far enough for you to feel comfortable and not out of place.

Seeing you taking his wants into consideration alters Sebek's perception of your relationship. You truly were lovers, and not a passing 'hormonal induced fling'. You loved him, and it's here when he truly begins to consider a forever. It was like the time when he first called your name, no longer calling you by 'prefect' or 'human'. He had done it many times in private, yet doing so to your face altered his brain chemistry. He loved the way your name rolled off his tongue, and the way your attention became his at the call.

Which leads us to the third and final major block-aid. Years have passed, and Sebek's well grown as an established knight for the Draconia family. He works alongside Silver, and many other comrades in arms. Everything is exactly as he dreamed. Malleus has become a beloved, strong king. Sebek is respected, and you are thriving as well. He didn't have much faith in your ability to last alone - it's not that he doubts your abilities, but he did doubt his people. When you first moved to Briar Valley Sebek was well aware that there were many like his past self - fae with a hatred for humans. He worried you would struggle to fit in.

Yet you surprised him. The tensions did exist against your kind, but you managed to card a space for yourself in Briar Valley with ease. You didn't even work in the palace, instead choosing to work towards becoming a children's teacher and work towards helping future generations of fae feel comfortable around humans.

His family adored you - with his mother in particular fawning over how Sebek fell down the same pipeline she did. His father offers you both advice on being an interspecies couple - and Sebek actually found himself listening.

Huh. Character growth. Is this what it's like to mature?

All is perfect, yet not. Sebek is forced to confront this when news travels that a human was attacked on their way to the palace. The dread that coursed through his veins was unlike anything Sebek's felt in his entire life. Under Malleus' rule, humans were slowly becoming more prevalent in Briar Valley. They hadn't mentioned your name specifically, but he jumped the gun.

Against his better judgement, Sebek abandons his post and rushed to the city's clinic. The injured human wasn't you, thank the seven, but the dread lingered. So he ran to the school you taught at and practically barged into your classroom. Luckily it was empty as the day was near end. Sebek hadn't known that yet still behaved recklessly.

He rushed to your side, talking faster than your brain could keep up with while checking over your body. He flipped topics like a teen trying to pick a college major - scolding you for worrying him, blubbering gibberish about how you'd no longer be allowed to walk alone, and myriad of other things.

Sebek was so shook, that he completely forgot about his knightly station. Malleus didn't punish him for abandoning his post. Not like it mattered, considering Sebek was already doing ample damage on his own. The realization hit him like a stone punch to the gut - there was a threat to his liege, and instead of focusing on apprehending the criminal he chose to find you.

Malleus' power or his dismissal of the matter meant little in the overall picture. Sebek failed. He's ashamed beyond belief.

and yet, he can't help but wonder what ight have been. What if you were the one attacked and he chose to stay? He would have failed you in that scenario.

He's surprised to find that the prospect his failure hurts just as much - if not more. His lord is powerful, and there are many to serve him. Your last moments could have been spent in a cold medical bed, surrounded by strangers. Fading away and taking Sebek's dreams with you.

............

Ah. Since when had that word become plural? His dream was always to serve Lord Malleus. Now there are more - he wants a family, and he wants to go to that play you were organizing with the valley's children next weekend. He wants to become a greater knight to protect the city that houses all the people he cares about. Again, plural. Lilia, Silver, his siblings and parents, all the human and fae who are loyal subjects to his most revered. You, and your decedents to come.

It's frightening. How valuable one's life can become. His always belonged to the Draconia bloodline to do with at they pleased - now Sebek's in pieces. Is he truly worthy of being a knight if he cannot give his whole heart?

He doesn't blame you for this. In his youth Sebek might have tossed your relationship aside in a heartbeat - that, or he might've demanded Malleus dismiss him and send him to repent in exile or whatever. Sebek has a problem with embellishing with dramatics.

BUT... he's more mature now. Mature enough to realize that maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.

So, he asks Lilia for advice. At this time the general merely lazes around the castle like a bat on the wall - acting as an advisor and observer. Surely he'd know what to do.

"There is nothing wrong with sharing a heart amongst many. If anything, the toughest decisions make us stronger. The more you have to lose, the stronger you will become to protect"

Preach it grandpappy. Lilia wants to see his grandkids so stop the slow burn already.

It's deja vu because Sebek wants to propose as quick as possible. Just like when he confessed, the man nearly runs to your home on impulse. You can thank Lilia for your proposal not taking place at 3am with your door being broke in two (Sebek is much stronger than he was in his teens, and sometimes miscalculates his strength).

Instead, Sebek finds himself anxiously clutching a ring in his pocket the following week. It was the night of a school play you were hosting - one he was looking forward to since you were so proud in your work. Ergo, Sebek felt pride as well by default.

How unfortunate that he can't focus on the show. With his mind reeling so much, it's taking all he has to sit quietly in the audience. His eyes follow your movements as you direct the kids, and for a brief moment you smile at him from the stage.

Zap. Alright. Don't clutch metal when you're a living thunderbolt. Duly noted. If anything the jolt of pain brings him back to reality.

When the play ends, and all the children have gone home with their families, he finds you back stage sweeping confetti. His plan was to congratulate you, and take you to a nice restaurant where he could do this properly.

Except he can't wait. When you turn around from putting the broom away, he's already taken a knee and holding the ring out. Those diligent gold iris' not pulling away for one moment, as he holds the ring out between two fingers and his other hand placed over his heart as if taking an oath.

"Before you say anything - You have sacrificed time and time again for my happiness - my efforts are insignificant in comparison. I have taken your patience for granted like a spoiled juvenile. There was a time when I found this kindness of yours unnecessary. I thought it a distraction - a test of my strength to fulfill my destiny. I see now that I was foolish”

Sebek pauses, grinding his teeth together in regret and anguish.

“I had not known fear until you. I have more to lose now than ever before. Last week I abandoned my post - my purpose- In that moment, all I could think about was if you’d been attacked, then my life would be over. You make me lose all sense of logic and reason…so I demand that you take responsibility and marry me!”

{A gold band with an obsidian base. Gold and silver flakes are sealed atop the obsidian plate using resin. Very practical, yet charming nonetheless. Humans typically wear matching bands, yes? Sebek sees no purpose in getting separate designs since the point is to show proof of partnership. He needs a practical shape that will not interfere with combat, yet also wants it to be an aesthetic choice. Sebek could care less about looks, but if he’s going to give you a ring then it will be the best possible option to match to your worth}

Silver is beautiful like still ocean waters. He's breathtaking - literally and figuratively. With the beauty of a fairytale prince, personality of a wise knight, and deadliness of the deep sea. It's easy to be sucked in when Silver seemingly has no flaws. So easy that at one point there were rumors of him being a living doll, created by the fae to be a perfect solider.

These perceptions all rely on his outward appearance: the knight in shining armor. Albeit so, being so perfect almost makes him unnoticeable. Compared to his rowdy peers with quirks and notable personalities - Silver truly is a doll. Like the complacent child praised for being more mature than their siblings. He is as easily forgotten as he is admired.

Some would say that this is a flaw in itself - because no one is naturally perfect. No one is so complacent and calm at birth. It's simply a desirable flaw. One that hurts him, yet has ben praised by others.

Silver is strong. Silver is diligent. Silver is beautiful. Silver is breathtaking and yet not the showstopper - like gold. Gold brings warmth while silver is cold. Imperfections in gold give it character, and can be seen as art. Imperfections in silver are seen as unsightly scratches.

Silver knows this, yet doesn't want to be gold. He doesn't deserve to be gold.

Silver doesn't deserve anything. He has already taken so much simply by living. He has a world to be grateful for, and not enough time to repay his debts.

He is content being Silver - if he could then he'd be copper. Lesser. Yet he is Silver, a reminder of the blood he carries.

He will remain unremarkable yet dedicated. He will dedicate everything to his family and friends - do whatever he can to break free of his sleeping curse and help others. He will give until he cannot give anymore. Then he will give more, to repay all he has received.

....For as much as he is content with this life, Silver still envies gold.

You are beautiful like a new dawn. Ushering in each day with a vibrant display that commands attention. People instinctively admire you despite the risk of hurting their eyes. You heal the world naturally, and help others simply by existing. People take you for granted, because inevitably the moon will rise, and the cold will inevitably return.

You were bathed in golden light. This Silver noticed the moment he laid eyes on you. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Silver envies gold.

........

You envy Silver. His calm, his family, his dedication despite being limited by his crippling drowsiness. Out of the students from Diasomnia, he was the one you lingered towards more often than not. The freshmen revered him for his skills, and he was a true gentle soul. You at first couldn't believe that he was Lilia's son - how did such a kind boy come from a rambunctious tease? Revelations of his past brought much to light, and now you couldn't think of him being anyone else.

Silver was loved like the first snowfall. He had a family that loved him dearly, no matter how short his time with them would be. He was raised to bring happiness to others, and protect their hearts using his demure temperament.

Silver was modest, and silver glistened when you'd expect him to the least. As the wind caressed his hair during an afternoon siesta, or sparks lit in his eyes while swinging his sword. How the horses nuzzle his side after equestrian practice, showing full trust and affection. Even in the sweat dripping from his brow, shining as he easily finishes a set of push ups.

Yet nothing struck your heart more than the melancholy he'd emit when no one was looking. How quickly he'd fade into the background, only popping in when necessary or if someone gave him note. In these moments Silver gleamed brilliantly, yet a shadow put out his shine.

You thought the melancholy inviting. It felt so natural, so real. Except you believed it balanced dangerously between despair and serene. The larger question being which side would he evidently fall towards.

.........

Silver admires gold.

He couldn't stop the pull. He just couldn't. Not with how you seemingly watch him when no one else does. Who wouldn't feel special? With the way you take note of things he normally wouldn't think of, and recklessly delve into helping others with no regard for yourself. Whether you desire the trouble is beyond him - the matter is that you see every issue through. There isn't a soul who doesn't know of the ramshackle prefect.

Perhaps this is his torment to endure. To get a taste for what he could have been, and willingly be tied to it.

Silver stares into a vanity mirror, his expression neutral despite the growing emotions inside. A slightly tattered sheet is tied around his neck like a bib, covering his front and part of his back. A shiver runs down his spine as you comb through his hair, deftly trimming the edges with a pair of kitchen scissors with the precision of a professional. A shiver runs down his spine every time your fingers linger against his scalp, either from tucking stray strands or combing through layers with your fingertips.

Your expression is stern, eyes intensely focused as you cut around his ear, afraid to nick him in the process. He finds the expression adorable yet bites his tongue. Silver couldn't think those thoughts. Not when you offered to do this out of the kindness of your heart.

Nonetheless, his heart thrums. If it were possible he'd think the organ about to pop out at any moment.

"Finished!" you smile in satisfaction and tussle Silver's soft locks for good measure. In one fell swoop, you undo the knot around his neck and pull the makeshift apron off of him. Silver nods, a slight smile teasing the edge of his lips. He stands from the chair and steps over any hair on the floor, reaching for the broom to clean before you could think to. "Thank you. I no longer need to schedule with a barber. This will save much time," In truth he had no intentions for a haircut. Either himself or his father would trim the ends once they started interfering with his sight, but he was too busy as of late. You were the one to notice how his bangs hindered his vision, and offered to help. Silver couldn't bring himself to deny your kindness. "You really like it? Hehe. Y'know, maybe I should start a shop on campus? I only started doing this since there aren't any affordable salons....maybe with it I can finally afford to fix the guest room!" you cheer and prattle on about all the different possibilities. Occasionally you'll ask for Silver's input, or even give an off hand compliment about how he was the perfect 'test subject'. Your company is intoxicating, he realizes. Talking with you is as easy as drinking water. Before Silver realizes, night has fallen and you've fallen asleep on the couch. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself wandering the Ramshackle door. He compulsively cleans up the mess you'd both left behind during his visit, doing the dishes from dinner and rearranging things here and there. As he does so, Silver notes all the little improvements around the dorm. It feels more like a home than a school building. Then again you do live alone. He wonders how often you host visitors, and if you unknowingly ensnared them just as you've done to him. He covers your shoulders with a blanket and steps outside under the moonlight.

It’s cold.

...............

You wake up the following day to find all the windows shut, your living room clean, and a warm blanket covering your shoulders. Your eyes peer around for silver, yet turn up empty.

Of course. Silver has a dorm to return to and people that would miss him if he returned late.

Shuffling around the silent dorm, the rickey old floorboards creek underneath your weight. In manufactured motions, you brew a cup of tea and pour it into the only well-used cup from the cabinet.

As your cup brews, you sit at the table with the blanket still clutched tight over your shoulders.

The tea goes cold, yet you are warm.

................

Silver loves gold.

but silver and gold don't mix. The question always is: silver or gold? When deciding a piece of jewelry to match your skin tone, people will ask 'silver or gold'? The metals are not meant to mix because they clash. It's an outfit catastrophe.

Yet, Silver cannot help but wonder. As he lays with his head in your lap and the sun and silence coaxing him to slumber - what if an outfit existed to compliment both silver and gold?

"Silver..are you sleeping again?" you tap his cheek with one hand, and his eyes open instinctively. Despite his drowsiness he will always look for you. Yet right now he's never regretted the magnetic pull more. With the sun casting a golden overcast, you peer down at him from above with tender eyes typically reserved for one's child. Your glow is breathtaking, and he cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach that he is unworthy. With such gentle hands combing across his scalp and eyes that look upon him so tenderly - he is afraid to steal your warmth. And yet… "You are beautiful," Silver lets it slip, his hand reaching to brush against your jaw as if under a spell. He feels unnervingly calm. Not in his usual way, where he is constantly observing and playing a game of mental chess. This is a true calm, and he knows now that this is a point of no return.

Silver is beautiful like a still ocean. You are beautiful like the rising sun. When combined, a perfect image is formed just waiting for an artist to stumble upon it.

Against his wishes, the world has granted the child of dawn another gift. The gift of true love. 'True love's kiss will break the curse' and while it is childish to believe so in this case, Silver does so wholeheartedly.

When with you, the days pass like minutes. He wants nothing more than to forgo need for sleep, if only to work harder towards becoming a man worthy.

Silver envies gold for it's effortless demand for love, yet he no longer wants to be gold. He no longer wishes he were born copper.

Gold loves silver, so Silver he will be.

And with time, both Silver and Gold will be ground to dust regardless.

He thinks of this on a winter evening while holding a ring up into the moonlight. It's cold outside, yet he doesn't mind. The chill atop his nose does nothing but tinge it a lovely rosy color.

He looks through the windowpane into a home masquerading as a school building. His reflection is familiar yet changing rapidly in comparison to his family. The years have aged him, yet not by much. Silver is stronger, his soft jaw a bit sharper. His bangs have grown long again, it would soon be time for a cut. Perhaps he'd enlist a 'barber' after relocating back to the castle in briar valley.

Inside you sit at the couch, sipping from a well-used mug with Grim on your lap and watching cartoons. Silver's bag rests on the armchair, unzipped with nightly necessities spilling out the side. A slightly newer baby blue mug sits on the coffee table, with steam evaporating into the air as it waits to be used.

Silver smiles, walking towards the door and walking inside. Heat warms his cheeks and he is calm.

"I know I am unworthy of you, the thought plagues me to this very moment. Yet I cannot help but love you - like wishing on a star yet knowing deep in the depths of your heart that miracles are made not granted. I've received many, so I would know. My father gifted me life through love - and with you I understand how it is possible. I cannot imagine life without you. I promise this, I will cherish you and protect you for as long as you allow it. Would you marry me?"

Months later a ceremony is held in a secluded forest, in the yard of a cottage where a child first learned love. As an adult, he joins his most precious in matrimony, offering his sword to be sworn faithful.

You are beautiful like the first breech of daylight - and for once, Silver is happy to be a man of dawn.

Silver and gold.

Silver and gold.

Everyone wishes for silver and gold.

How do you measure it's worth?

Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.

{A ring forged from a silver band, gold leaf embellishments, and a moss agate core. Enough said.}

[icycoldninja]

Hello! I'm wondering if you could write the Sparda Boys + Lady (If you write for her, feel free to ignore if you don't) with a Dhampir S/O?

I don't do Lady but I do write for the boys. Enjoy 💜

Sparda boys + V x Dhampir Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is amazed. He's the spawn of a demon and a human, and you're the child of a human and a vampire? So cool.

-Won't stop bombarding you with questions regarding your abilities like an overly curious child.

-Will challenge you to duels and races to see if your Dhampire strength and speed can outmatch his demonic stamina.

-Constantly testing your senses of smell and sight by doing stupid things like dropping a pin in the middle of the road at 2:00 AM to see if you could hear it, or by taping really tiny notes to trees outside to see if you can see them.

-Has absolutely no problem being your living blood bank, to be leeches off of whenever you need it.

-He'll extend his arm, leg, and even neck to you. It doesn't matter, Dante will let you drink from him anywhere, for as long as you need. He loves the feeling of being drained dry. Don't read into that

■ Vergil ■

-Quite impressed, as Dhampirs have a great deal of POWER.

-Wants to test your strength in every way possible, from arm wrestling to actual, physical wrestling in which you end up suplexing each other onto the floor.

-Sword duels are also common, during which your true strength is displayed. It's exhilarating, finding a good match, and as a result, duels become as commonplace as your daily workouts.

-Your heightened senses are a boon during devil hunting missions since you can sense them anywhere, no matter what they may be doing.

-Has absolutely no qualms about you feeding on him since he secretly enjoys it. The man will never admit it, but he can't get over the feeling of having your fangs sink into his flesh.

-Bonus points if you bite him on the neck. It makes him feel like you're in a cheesy Wattpad vampire-romance story where he's the lovestruck human and you're the baddie vampire.

□ Nero □

-Nero was honestly scared at first. He always thought of vampires as mythical creatures (ironic, given his dad and uncle are half demons) and never thought he'd end up dating the child of one. But here you are in all your spooky glory.

-Looks up Dhampir on Wikipedia (like I did lol) and asks you questions to see if their information is true. If it isn't, he logs in and changes the page.

-Takes you on devil hunting missions so you can help him beat up demons with your remarkable strength. After seeing you in action, Nero has to admit, you're almost stronger than him. Almost.

-Is very curious to see if you can turn into a bat.

-Is also astounded when he learns you feed on blood, but doesn't want to be your personal blood bank. It's not that he's afraid, no, it's just the thought of having another part of his body ripped away from him is stressing, to say the least.

-To compromise, he brings you animals and occasionally fat demons for you to feast upon. Enjoy!

● V ●

-V was pleasantly surprised to learn you were a Dhanpire. He'd read about them in stories once or twice, but he never even imagined getting to meet one in real life.

-Now that he has, he's curious, are the stories really true? What are vampires like? Do you have the ability to turn others into vampires? Did your father turn your mother into a vampire after you were born? Are vampires really goth? Would he pass for a real-life vampire?

-Depending on your answers, V may decide to write a discourse on vampires, Dhampires, and everything in between, though what he'll do with it is a mystery.

-Very much enjoys it when you put your super strength to use by toting him around the house all the time. You're his personal transport, and he loves it.

-To repay you, he'll offer up his blood for you to feast on, even if there isn't all that much left in him to begin with.

-Loves to cuddle you while you feed; being nestled in your embrace while his blood is drained from his body makes him feel so relaxed for some reason. He expected it to hurt, but it doesn't. It feels strangely good.

[chilling-seavey]

Aint That a Shame (cs55)

↳ Timeless: F1 Grid Masterlist

↳ Summary: A crime occurred at the local drive-in: a young woman murdered behind the roaring soundtrack of the newest film. Carlos, the town's best detective, is on the case.

↳ Title Song: Aint That a Shame by Pat Boone (1955)

↳ Word Count: 2.0k

↳ A/N: This is the one and only time I will write for Carlos (thanks to him being the only driver with a number in my favourite decade lol) so enjoy it while it lasts. (Basically for @thatgirlmj hehe)

↳ Warnings: Smoking, descriptions of a murder and a body and a crime scene, written with the film noir detective style in mind.

April 1955

It wasn’t the ideal night to go to the drive-in, Carlos deducted, as he stepped out of his car to the steady drizzle of rain and the unappealing squish of mud under his polished black shoes. He pulled his fedora farther down over his brows to shield his face from the heavy raindrops and then pulled a packet of smokes from his jacket pocket, set a cigarette between his teeth, and cupped his hand around the end to protect the flame of his lighter as he lit up.

Taking a long first drag of his cigarette, he pocketed his lighter and peered over the sea of parked vehicles, all lined up facing the projector screen where on which a screening of The Fast and the Furious played. The lead pair took up the frame in the front seat of a sports car in black and white, movie magic wind blowing through their hair, their dialogue inaudible. Upon first skim of the drive-in, Carlos didn’t notice anything out of sorts. 

“Detective?”

He turned at the call of his name, finding a young man no older than eighteen standing behind him with an umbrella. The boy wore a striped uniform polo embroidered with the name of the drive-in theatre on the left breast pocket and his eyes appeared blank and almost dreamlike. Stunned, Carlos silently noted. 

“If you follow me, I can show you where she was found.”

With nothing more than a curt nod, Carlos followed the young man through the rain in the direction of the building at the rear of the property. Atop the building’s roof, a large neon sign reading ‘Snack Bar’ was illuminated in red and yellow. 

The muddy grass squelched under Carlos’ every step and he let the warmth of his cigarette ward off the chill of the rain. Around the back of the snack bar building, a small crowd was gathered, a few umbrellas dotted atop the heads, and an undercurrent of concerned whispers were carried by the rainy wind. Upon his arrival, the crowd parted to let him by, a dozen pairs of eyes following his every move as he sauntered towards the reason for their interest. 

There, laying in the rain soaked ground behind the snack bar, was a young woman no older than twenty, deceased. Her eyes were wide open and staring eerily up at the rain, limbs draped out in whatever dramatic manner in which she had fallen, her hair matted with mud and splayed out in a tangled mess around her hair. About an arm's length away, her purse was drenched and lodged in the grass, a lipstick and a small hand mirror having fallen out of the bag. Most ominously, there was no sign of an obvious wound on the body, no sign of blood. 

Carlos crouched down beside her, cigarette perched between his teeth, and he reached down to press two fingers under her jaw to check for a pulse. As expected, nothing. 

“Dead,” he declared the obvious.

The crowd around him gasped and murmurs rose. 

Carlos rose to his feet and plucked the cigarette from his lips, flicking it to the mud and stamping it out with the toe of his boot. He addressed the patrons with a tone of clipped authority, “Alright, folks, show's over. Back to your cars and keep your eyes on the screen. This ain't the kind of picture you wanna be part of—it's a crime scene.”

The crowd, made up of innocent bystanders who had happened to stumble across the scene on their way to the restrooms, slowly and reluctantly made their way back around the snack bar and towards the sea of cars bathed in the light of the movie screen. Only three people remained, employees of the drive-in who were all dressed in matching striped uniform polos; one, the young man who had shown Carlos over, and two women of around the same age who were sharing an umbrella. 

“Which of you here found her?” Carlos addressed them as he pulled a notebook from his pocket, unbothered with how the rain stained the pages. 

One of the young women raised a trembling hand, her face pale even in the shadows that lingered in the darkness behind the snack bar. Her co-worker rubbed her back comfortingly, holding the umbrella over the both of them. 

“Let’s start from the top—tell me exactly what you found.”

The woman shifted on her feet and her mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water, trying to find the words. When she finally started to speak, she was so soft that her words were washed away by the rain.

Carlos interjected, taking a step closer, “Can’t hear you, doll. Speak up, will ya?”

“I was taking out the trash,” she repeated, louder, pointing towards the dumpster farther down the brick wall of the snack bar, “standard stuff after intermission. I tripped over her…her hand, see?”

Upon looking back down at the body of the deceased, sure enough, there was a muddy smeared footprint on her forearm.

“Scared me to bits, I tell you,” the young woman continued.

“She was screaming like a banshee,” her friend added, “Had us all out here in a jiffy, wondering what all the chaos was about.”

“Got me thinking what would have happened if I had come out only a few minutes earlier,” the woman said, her eyes staring, shocked and unblinking down to the body at their feet. “Would it have been—”

Her words cut off as she smothered a sob and her friend pulled her closer to comfort her. 

Carlos scribbled down her report, assuring her with a steadfast, “Relax, doll. Long as I’m here, nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

He pulled his flashlight out of his jacket pocket and crouched down beside the body, illuminating the scene with a click of a button. The sharp white light shone in the lifeless eyes of the deceased woman and made the raindrops sparkle around them. Without touching her, he scanned the light over her features and down her body, looking for clues or a sign of struggle or, ideally, a wound. 

Around her neck, a faint purple bruising was starting to blossom across her pale skin. He tucked the flashlight between his cheek and his shoulder and wrote down in his notebook;

Asphyxiation? 

Carlos stood up again, pocketing his notebook, and then shining the bright flashlight into the faces of the far-too-underpaid-for-this employees, "Nobody comes, nobody goes from this drive-in till I say so. Got it?"

The three nodded. 

He clicked off the flashlight, plunging them into near-darkness. “Good. Now, somebody get me a Coke.”

The interior of the snack bar was a pleasant refuge from the rain, the sound of the downpour pattering heavily on the roof. Carlos’ lighter clinked closed, his cigarette lit once more, and brought to his lips with a twirl of hazy smoke. Beside him, his glass bottle of Coca-Cola sat to the side with a red and white straw bobbing from the open top while, in front of him, the victim’s purse was laid out across the counter, its items organized into piles of relevancy. 

Lipstick, compact mirror, hair brush, some barretts, loose change, a picture of her and some young man, a matchbook, her ID, and a strangely empty wallet. 

At first glance, Carlos thought it to be a robbery gone wrong; the purse had been strewn aside with enough force to appear like it had been snatched and the empty wallet sure gave that same impression. But the photograph lingered in his hand and he stared at the lovebirds as he took another drag of his cigarette. He flipped the small image over, reading the cursive writing on the back:

Maggie & Beau, 1955

“The boyfriend,” Carlos wondered aloud to himself, staring into the captured eyes of the couple in the photograph in his hand, “probably her date for the night—bit of fun at the passion pit. Funny he ain’t reporting her missing yet. Not even breathin’ down my neck for answers.”

Upon his request, the employees brought him their guest book where the list of all tickets purchased were logged. Carlos’ finger skimmed down the page, finally landing on the name ‘Beau Langley’ who had purchased two tickets to the drive-in that very night. Carlos dropped the photograph onto the page beside it, back side up, locking in his first suspect with the confirmation of a name. 

The backroom of the snack bar smelt like stale cigarettes and burnt popcorn and the weak fluorescent lighting along the ceiling flickered. Carlos, his face shadowed by his low-pulled fedora, stood with his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, staring down at the young man sitting at the metal table in the centre of the room. 

“Listen, pal, I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull, but I was just waitin’ for Maggie to come back from the ladies’ room. Now you’re tellin’ me she’s dead?”

The obvious edge of the boyfriend’s voice and his obvious disrespect for authority had Carlos sauntering closer, addressing him with a silky suave, “Dead as a doornail, and you’re the last one to see her alive. So unless you’ve got a real good excuse, you’re gonna want to start talkin’.”

Beau narrowed his eyes up at him and leaned back in the rickety folding chair, kicking his feet up on the edge of the staff table, crossing one ankle over the over and tucking his hands behind his head, “I don’t know what to tell ya, Mister Hot Shot Detective. I’m just a guy tryin’ to enjoy a night out with his bird, and now I’m sittin�� here with a bullseye on my back. You wanna throw accusations my way, go right ahead. But don’t expect me to roll over just ‘cause you wear a badge.”

Carlos eyed him for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them like a rope ready to snap.

The boyfriend cocked an eyebrow, his voice dripping with challenge, “Your silence ain’t exactly puttin’ me at ease, pal. Don’t tell me—you don’t even have a theory, do ya?”

Carlos chuckled lowly, rumbling from his chest, and he perched himself on the edge of the metal table, right beside the boyfriend’s feet. He folded his hands on his lap and answered with a cool certainty, “Oh, I already solved the case, bucko.”

Beau shot him an inquiring gaze, taunting and challenging. 

Carlos didn’t wait for him to interject before he continued in a smooth explanation, offering him an opportunity, “You and the dame had words, she knew somethin’ she shouldn’t. Next thing, she’s in the mud, and you’re actin’ jumpy. You wanna tell me why?”

With a dramatic scoff, Beau shrugged him off, “Oh, please. Where’s your proof?”

Carlos reached forward, fingers pinching the edge of the boyfriend’s collar, drawing attention to the lipstick stain on the crisp fabric as he spoke.

“Maggie’s shade was Candy Pink,” Carlos muttered, his eyes never leaving the stain. “But this here’s Racing Red. Looks like someone’s been a little too busy with someone else. She found out. Confronted you. You felt cornered, didn’t ya? Arguments get heated, and one thing leads to another…”

Beau’s lip curled into a sneer, leaning forward just a touch, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, pal.”

Carlos didn’t flinch, his gaze moving down to the boyfriend’s shoes. “Oh, I know a lot more than you think,” Carlos said, pinching the hem of Beau’s slacks between thumb and forefinger, “You see, a good boy who spent the night in the car watching the film sure as hell doesn’t come out with muddy shoes and soiled pant hems like that.”

“Cut!”

Carlos and the young man at the table turned towards the large film camera in the corner of the set. The director walked over, well-worn script in hand and a pair of spectacles perched on his nose and Carlos rose from the table to reset position. 

“Great work, Carlos. Gave me chills, really.” he praised, angling the script towards his lead actor, “I’m just wanting to change the script from ‘a good boy’ to ‘a respectable man’. Think it’ll hit harder.”

“You got it,” Carlos nodded, adjusting his fedora on his head. The young man dropped his feet from the table again as the director called across the set, “Take it from the top! Aaaand, action!”

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[spacedustmantis]

*cough cough* *pulling up notes* *squinting at notes* *realising i don't have bad vision* *unsquinting at the notes* *reading the notes*

how does the life series work in the FUCK I FORGOT THE AU NAME THIS WAS ALLL FOR NAUGHT

i am so glad you asked!!

alright so. the series of events goes like this:

one day grian, as he so often does, gets bored

in his defense immortality gets boring quick and he's been doing this for a While

so, he descends onto a random planet, one that in grian's opinion could do with a little entertainment. he draws up the rules of this game he's planning, pays a carefully selected bunch of cold-hearted, skilled, desperate-for-money workers and has them build a huge fucking arena, kidnap the planet's best fighters, and work on this project full time once it gets rolling

amongst the workers are a few incredibly talented medics, people who, with the right tech, could bring you back from death's door

grian personally installs chips into every contestant's brain that activate as soon as the person is not yet dead, but good as, and then put the body in a temporary stasis, so that it may be transported beneath the arena and the medics can do their work to send them back up fully restored so they can join the fray once more

the whole event is recorded via multiple cameras following around every contestant, edited down into a thrilling reality tv show, and broadcasted weekly for a good few years, which is how long it takes for the game to come to its conclusion

naturally there are a few quirks to this game

every contestant originally gets three lives, three times they get to enjoy the experience of dying, but soon enough a few of them figure out how to hack the chips. they can't seem to alter their function whatsoever, but they do figure out how to change the number of lives the chip grants you, and they also figure out that if the system clocks too many (or too few) lives granted overall in comparison to how many deaths there have been in total, it sends alarm bells ringing. and so there is an underground life trading ring that forms about seven months into the fight

somewhere in the arena there is whispered to be a strange stone statue that, if you play your cards right, bestows gifts to those who complete the tasks it gives them

there is an illness spreading through the arena, like a common cold, just much more destructive. it is known as "red fever" to some, to others it's simply "the bloodlust"

occasionally, caused by apparently nothing at all except coincidence, or some weird glitch in the system, or what certain people might call fate, two contestants get bound together on a metaphysical level. they share pain and wounds and death. they share all the bad, and none of the good

the overarching story roughly follows 3rd life (mostly bc that season works best as a mechs style retelling), with monopoly mountain and dogwarts as the two main factions that crystallize after a few months, but small story elements of each season are dotted around the plot, like one man who managed to defeat all his enemies by taking advantage of the secret keepers boons and playing dirty, or a woman who ran in solitude with only the company of her wolves and who against all odds was the last one standing - until the man she was bound to blew himself up, and her with it.

ultimately two people survive (these people are not grian and scar, but are played by them on stage). and then one person survives. and then the winner of the life game throws himself off of a cliff

of course, grian is not the biggest fan of watching as other people slaughter each other while he sits and does nothing, so naturally he joins the fight. no one knows or would even guess that the scrawny guy who maybe likes explosions a touch too much could be the same individual as The Spectator, the mysterious figure who is behind running the Life Game, not even the staff that has been hired to set it all up. grian, alongside committing murder, also keeps an eye on the game's development as well as the numbers the show gets online.

after a few months he runs into joel, whom he knows is one of the fan favorites, and sticks with him for a while. after joel dies his final death - shot through the heart by scott - he mechanizes him, and, after discovering that mechanizing joel also mechanized the man he was bound to, takes him and etho back to the xisuma to join the crew.

[narrators-journal]

21 & 24 Ryomina? I love how you write them btw <3

Holy SHIT. This bastard was originally going to be sooo much longer, but ended up editing it down because I. Just did not have it in me to write a long, detailed set up without it feeling bloated, at least to me. Regardless, tho! I hope you enjoy this lil ditty, and I hope it’s good and spicy for ya, I had a good amount of fun writing it, and I like the concept, even if I had to dumb it down for my own sanity, and for the sake of not writing another 4-5 page monster. Not when the other asks I have, and any future ask, risks being that long too.

As for this ask, tho, I think in the original draft, before I cut so much of the opening, I kinda accidentally tied this to one of my aus? And that’s pretty amusing lol. It’s not a necessity, u can read it as normal or within the universe of Winter is a Lovely Season for Romance and Funerals. It’s up to you. Also! A little side note that I forgot to clarify in the rules! I will be taking kinktober asks through out the month! The ask box doesn’t close until November 1st!

Kinktober prompt list: Here Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Mirror sex, pretty explicitly nonconsensual use of aphrodisiacs. Yeah, this one’s dark. Yandere behavior, implied hostage situation. That should be it this time.

“Look at you, funeral lily.” Ryoji Mochizuki hummed to the beautiful, midnight-haired man in the full body mirror. A soft smile on his face while he watched his arms snake around Minato’s waist to gently sway with him and watch his dull eyes follow his own hips in his reflection. And, of course, to run his palm over the skin of his bare thigh until he could slide it upwards to grope the meat of his ass and feel the smaller man shudder against him. “You’re so beautiful. I really am blessed in a dark way to have you here with me.” He purred with a nip to the wildcard’s offered throat.

Which, Minato let him do with nothing but a low whine stirred up with the embers of lust that Ryoji stoked with each gentle kiss and squeeze. So, it didn’t take long for the brunette’s own lust to warm his skin and pull himself off of the midnight-haired man to go find the portable bottle of lubricant that he kept in his bathroom’s medicine cabinet. Though, he was back to his spot in front of the full body mirror.

Where, he pushed the smaller man forward until he had to support himself against the wall that the mirror was hung on before he dripped thick lube onto his fingers and pressed the pads of his fingers against the wildcard’s hole to earn a low moan. A noise that swiftly found its way down to the god’s erection and was followed by the sweet moan that slipped out when Ryoji slipped his fingers into Minato. “Good boy, Mina. You’re so obedient.” He hummed, one hand kept on the wildcard’s hip to keep him in place while the other prepped him with slow, teasing thrusts. The drugs in Minato’s system a helpful leg up in the slow breakdown of Minato’s usually sleepy expression into a lustful mess of need. Something that Ryoji happily drank in through the reflection of his lover’s body in the mirror. A small boon to the quickly maddening excitement that built up in Ryoji’s belly, but more than enough to make him retract his fingers to instead replace it with his cock. “You’re so gorgeous, Funeral Lily…” Ryoji panted into Minato’s ear while he kept his sapphire eyes locked onto the wildcard’s drug-dulled eyes through his reflection. “If only you adored me half as much as I do you...” He continued, his voice a husky growl that made the wildcard tighten up wonderfully around his length. But, Ryoji knew how shallow that excitement was in contrast to the way the god’s cock twitched and throbbed. As much as the god wanted to think that his lover truly enjoyed when his voice slipped into the more feral depths, he knew that the arousal that glowed in those beautiful storm clouds was fake.

Each gasp and moan wasn’t born from the midnight-haired man’s love of the way Ryoji’s cock slammed into him, or the bite of his nails into the man’s hips. It was from the ecstasy-esque drug that Ryoji put into the wildcard’s orange juice. Which, would’ve been a wound to the brunette’s ego, if the darker parts of the god’s psyche didn’t get some twisted pleasure out of the wildcard’s lack of autonomy.

So, even though the squeeze of Minato’s muscles was utterly thoughtless, every weak whimper of, “Ryoji…” from the dark-haired man’s gasping mouth was still enough to tighten the coil in the tall brunette’s belly. Especially when just enough despair slipped into his words or the reflected expression through the drug’s effects to make the god think that, while not a lot, Minato was still somewhat aware of his touches. Of the stimulation that flooded his body with each wet slap of the god’s hips against his ass.

A thought that made the god moan louder and tighten his grip on the blue-haired man’s hips before he buried his face into the man’s neck as he spoke again. His voice laced with a dark growl as he reiterated. “Mina~ I...I love you so much, funeral lily. So, so much.” despite the painful ache of the tight coil in Ryoji’s belly, more to himself than the eager maid. The vibration of his husky voice over the man’s smooth, pale skin matched with another needy moan from his lover. That same need visible when Ryoji’s sapphire eyes looked back to the mirror to watch as each of his thrusts jostled his lover’s body against the silver-coated glass of the fullbody mirror.

Until, all too quickly for the god’s liking, the blue-haired man’s groggy voice piped back up in a whimper. “M-Mochi...I’m gonna cum…” Ryoji only able to grunt in acknowledgment with how tight the coil in his belly had gotten at that point. Though, the spring refused to come undone inside of the tight warmth of the wildcard’s ass, even when the shorter man’s orgasm raked through his body.

Yet, that didn’t stop Ryoji’s thrusts, or loosen his grip on his lover’s hips. And, when Minato began to squirm from overstimulation, the god simply sped up. With his best attempts to string together coherent comforts to sooth the drugged man’s pained noises. Though, it was hard for the god to tell if his lover really understood him or not through the frustration and need that stacked up against the dam.

Though, beyond the surface level, Ryoji didn’t really care how his thrusts made Minato dig his nails into the mirror’s frame and whine. All he really cared about in that moment was the chase for his own bliss. Until, finally, that dam cracked, and the brunette’s pleasure crashed through to flood him with the blissful heat of release.

A heat that lingered on the god’s skin for a long moment while he admired the bliss-drunk expression in his lover’s reflection, and the heave of his chest. “Alright, now we can bathe.” Ryoji hummed as he pulled out and straightened. A hand ran through his hair as he smiled at the drugged up wildcard, who could only muster a small, “Yaaaay…” as he let the god half herd, and half carry him to the now-cold bath that had been left to patiently wait for them.

[robotic-rin]

Be Still, My Indelible Friend

(Yes Man x Reader)

Summary: You’ve been in love with Yes Man for a long time. Like, an embarrassing amount of time. It doesn’t help that his assertiveness upgrade has made him an unbearable tease to you. All you know is, fighting for your Independent New Vegas together was hard, but redefining your ever-shifting relationship in the peace that follows might just be harder.

Word Count: 12,716

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: robot/human sex galore, praise kink, degradation kink, afab reader (no gendered terms are used), tried to limit my use of (y/n) but it is in there, subbing/bottoming for yes man’s character development, sorry for giving yes man a dick (no i am not), this is literally what happens after the wild card ending todd told me himself guys

Author’s Notes: shoutout to bill cipher for inadvertently providing me with a nickname for courier six that’s more cute and personable than just “courier” imo. anyways hope y’all enjoy fucking the robot. this was supposed to be pwp but i love yes man so much that it’s a genuine problem so there’s just a lot of feelings in here as well. also you canonically slept with benny in this one bc i think it’s hilarious and always do but it’s only mentioned briefly so you can just close your eyes to that aspect if you don’t like it. anyways y’all saw the tags, so if you’re down with all that stuff and are 18+, come on in!

So, it turns out that running an Independent New Vegas wasn’t nearly the full-time gig that you and Yes Man had been expecting when you threw General Oliver off of that dam. Sure, there were important meetings and heavy decisions to be made, but for the most part, the Strip ran itself, with the rest of New Vegas following suit. The two of you replacing Mr. House was showing to have its pros and cons, but it was at least preferable to being led by the corrupt alternatives. Only time would tell if your good intentions, instincts, and hatred of answering to any authority figures would be enough to keep New Vegas thriving, but for now, its leaders were left with plenty of extra time on their hands. One thing that you knew for certain was that Yes Man had been using his newfound time and personal freedom to upgrade himself, sometimes disappearing for days at a time on the hunt for some new part or informational chip that he would use to improve his capabilities. Mr. House’s network held more information on Securitron upgrades than you ever would’ve guessed, and Yes Man wasn’t going to let those resources go to waste. He’d already unlocked so many new and helpful abilities, but he was beginning to show the emerging quality of perfectionism as of late, so too much was never enough.

“You do know we have a Securitron army at our disposal, right?” you’d ask him teasingly on multiple occasions. “I think becoming the best version of yourself is great, but I don’t want you to burn yourself out over it.”

And in response, Yes Man would always bark out a mechanical laugh. “I really do appreciate the concern, but I think one day, you might be grateful that I’ve prepared myself for every possible situation, Sixer.” And that would be the end of that.

Things continue on in this way for awhile, and you often find yourself missing that big, silly Securitron when he’s not around. Realistically, you have plenty of companions to spend time with and keep you company at the Lucky 38 when Yes Man is out. And you do often busy yourself with hosting fun nights for all of them to attend, taking advantage of the current peaceful situation. Laughing with Veronica, drinking with Boone, getting dirty looks from Arcade when you two drink a bit too much, it’s always great fun. And while you do truly love and cherish the time you’re able to spend with your close friends, you always inexplicably find yourself longing to talk to Yes Man about your day, to feel the warmth of his processors and hear his mechanisms whirring beneath his metal exterior when you get close enough to him. Thinking about this for too long only ever seems to end in you feeling flushed and embarrassed, so you try to dismiss the thoughts whenever they manage to weasel themselves into your head. Unfortunately for you, this is starting to happen all too often.

You find yourself in this exact predicament now, as you relax in the private cocktail lounge level of your home at the Lucky 38. You’d just been on an exciting adventure with Cass earlier that day: getting into a shady deal, being double-crossed, fighting back for your lives. It was a pretty standard day as far as your life goes, but as you sit at the picturesque bar, you again find yourself yearning to share the tale with Yes Man. He’s such a good listener, always interested in how your escapades bring you so close to death, and yet always end with you finding a way out. You love hearing about his adventures through the Mojave as well, how his eyes will get extra big and his volume rises as he retells tales of how he was just rolling through the desert, minding his own business, and then suddenly had to whip out his missiles in a split second to stop the Powder Gangers that often try to jump out ambush him for spare parts. He’s an unexpectedly talented storyteller now that he can talk about his own experiences more, and you could listen to that sweet, energetic voice talk about anything for hours on end. Time spent with Yes Man was always precious to you, and the memory of it leaves you feeling incredibly lonely at the moment.

Sighing to yourself in the barstool, you continue to slouch as you swish the drink you’d just fixed around in its glass. The lights of New Vegas twinkle mesmerizingly against the evening sunset sky outside of your huge windows, but your mind is elsewhere. That big, goofy grin that he gets when he first sees me after we’ve been apart…that self-satisfied inflection that his voice gets when he knows he’s teasing me good…the faces he might make if I could get him all riled up and flustered. You slam your drink down on the counter after that last one, metaphorically severing the thread of that thought. Thinking like that led to dangerous places that had proven to result in you feeling simultaneously guilty and extremely aroused. After all, he was a Securitron, probably incapable of feeling whatever it is your brain wanted from him in a situation like that. Almost definitely incapable of experiencing sexual gratification. More than that, he was your friend, and thinking of him in that way made you feel bad. Would he assume you thought of him as no better than that mindless pleasure bot down at the Atomic Wrangler? You could never think so lowly of him, but it didn’t stop you from feeling bad for quietly desiring him. He would probably never speak to me again if he knew. Or worse, he would, and I’d have to hold a normal adult conversation with a Yes Man who knows how bad I want him. You swiftly down the rest of your drink.

As if on cue with your chugging, all of the lights in the bar area suddenly turned off, shrouding the entire visible lounge in near-darkness. Funny, I’ve never blacked out after one drink before, you muse to yourself. You may not have the best judgement to be calmly cracking jokes to yourself in your mind in this precarious position, but you don’t get to where you’re at in life without having a certain disregard for your own safety. If it’s an assassin, it’s an assassin. We’ll cross that bridge when it’s holding a knife to my throat.

You feel a heavy presence approach from behind your barstool, but make no move to spin around and catch them. You stay still, waiting to see how this shakes out on autopilot. They’re so close behind you that you swear you can feel their breath on your neck.

“Drinking without me, Sixer?” a familiar, attractive voice purrs directly behind you, causing a full-body shiver to swiftly wrack your frame.

You quickly conceal your initial reaction and whip around in your barstool with faux irritation. “Don’t do that, Yes Man!”

The large Securitron now directly in front of you has on a sheepish grin, towering over you and yet looking so innocent. “I’m sorry (Y/N), I really didn’t mean to scare you too bad. It’s just pretty tempting when you have full control of a casino and you see an opportunity! Plus, you seemed pretty lost in thought there.” The low lights slowly come back on at his invisible command.

“That assertiveness update has made you a real pain to me, y’know, your best friend in the whole Mojave!” You cross your arms and try to keep up your grumpy bit, but the involuntary grin on your face gives your true feelings away. He’s just too cute to actually be mad at, and you can’t blame him for using his newfound assertiveness to pull the occasional prank on you. If anything, it endears you to him even more to finally be able to see his playful, uninhibited personality. Before he’d self-updated, he’d had to grit his teeth and smile through your (occasional) poor decisions more than once, and you could only imagine it was torture. Your assumptions were reinforced when he completely tore you a new one right after his update when you suggested taming Deathclaws to help guard the Strip. You’d only meant that one as a joke (mostly), but you had simply sat there and let him rip your idea to shreds in stunned silence when it happened. With all that pent-up aggression, he seemed to have needed it. Besides, it was kinda helpful to have someone so grounded to reign in your…out-of-the-box ideas.

“Me, a pain? Aw, and I thought you were the big, bad Courier who ruled all of New Vegas with me? I guess I must be mistaken, since someone like that couldn’t possibly be this ruffled by some light ribbing.” His cheeky, cooing sarcasm and lidded eyes were gonna be the death of you one day, you knew it. Getting a fully animated face was one of his newer updates, and it made communication that much easier for him, but it simultaneously made holding conversations while looking at his adorable expressions that much harder for you. All he had to do now was flash you a lopsided grin and you would conveniently lose your entire train of thought.

You scrunch up your nose. “Watch out bud, I’m starting to feel a mysterious headache coming on. Top right side of my forehead, specifically.”

“I am never gonna live that one down, am I?”

You let out a snicker at his quick response. When you look back up, it’s with an unmistakably affectionate gaze. “I missed you, Yes Man.”

“I-“ You seem to catch him off-guard with that one after the back-and-forth teasing, as his screen display fills up with a simulated grey blush and his eyes dart away from your form. He straightens up from where he had been relaxing against the side of the bar, coming to a rest at his full height and with a shy smile on his face. “Oh gosh, you know I missed you too, Sixer. It’s lonely out there, rolling through miles of desert shrubbery by yourself. But hey, I can listen to the radio tunes while I think about New Vegas. And us.” He pauses briefly after adding that last bit, but resumes before you can interject. “I think I’m finally starting to get to a point where I can feel comfortable relaxing with you as a co-ruler of New Vegas. I’m very good at imagining every way things can go wrong, but it feels like I’ve reinforced our position with heavy steel at this point. It makes me really proud to think about!”

“I’m so glad to hear that, Yes Man!” You hop up from your barstool cheerily, standing in front of his chassis and only just coming up to the middle of his screen, eyes level with the bottom of it. Don’t think about how tall and powerful and imposing he is next to you. Don’t think about how he could just pick you up and do whatever he wanted to you with his big, strong robot arms. Don’t think about how you would never stop him in a million years and you’re thinking about it STOP STOP STOP. “…I, er, hope you can finally get to actually enjoy ruling New Vegas now. Not that there’s even too much to do! But it does come with its perks, and a wonderful sense of calm to boot.”

He cocks his head at this, which ends up just slightly rotating his entire upper half since he’s so rectangular. “Oh, really? What kind of perks have you been enjoying here on the Strip while I travel day and night through the desert to secure our power?”

You stick out your tongue at him like a child, causing him to giggle adorably. “Oh come on, you act like I haven’t been going out on missions too!” you huff indignantly. “I just know balance, unlike you, Mr. Workaholic.”

“Hey, I’m a planner! It’s a good quality, or so I’ve heard. Anyway, you were telling me about the perks?” He’s not gonna drop that one. You distantly wonder why, but can’t seem to come up with a satisfying answer.

“Well…since all of the major casinos answer to us, I’ve definitely gotten preferential treatment there. Like, the other day, I was winning so many caps at the Gomorrah Blackjack table, I would’ve totally been kicked out before! But the dealer just had to grit his teeth and offer me another drink. I eventually stopped because I didn’t wanna completely clean the Omertas out, but it was hilarious to see how far they let me go. Little stuff like that, I’ve noticed. Not to mention plenty of people trying to buy you drinks and chat you up everywhere you go. The allure of power, I guess.”

Yes Man has been uncharacteristically quiet and reserved as you were saying all of this, especially near the end, and it’s starting to freak you out a little bit. Not his usual quiet attentive listening, but staring off behind you, looking detached and almost…in turmoil? That didn’t seem right. “I mean, I know those perks probably don’t make a big difference to a Securitron like you,” you say, trying to subtly pinpoint the issue. “But maybe you could see if you could entice a bot maintenance expert into setting up shop on the Strip or Freeside? With all of the Securitrons we have now, it wouldn’t hurt. I know there’s definitely experts like that out there looking for work.” His face and body language remained static. You’re really getting worried that you’ve offended him somehow. Yes Man doesn’t have thin skin by any means, but his assertiveness now allows him to show his true feelings, and on more than one occasion, he’s had a sour expression on his face without even realizing. His programming used to monitor displays of negative emotions automatically, so he’s still getting used to having to manually choose to politely navigate scenarios if he so wishes.

Finally, he speaks up, still not meeting your gaze. “Did you…do anything else at Gomorrah?”

Your eyes widen in realization. This bot was not asking you for a play-by-play of your time at the sex casino. “Uh…I had a few drinks, played some slots? Nothing too wild.” You couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out where Yes Man was going with this.

He nods slowly, facial expression unmoving. “So…you don’t use their other services?” Ok, so he’s going there.

“Heh, uh, no, I don’t…”

“Not that I mean to pry or anything!” He finally turns back towards you, clicking his claws together nervously with a shy expression on his face. “I mean, I just know that when you first came to The Tops, well, you did kinda immediately have sex with the man who shot you in the head not even two weeks prior. It doesn’t quite make sense to me, but hey, what do I know about that sort of thing? But now that Benny’s out of the picture, I guess I was just curious if you…kept that sort of fast and loose activity up. With anyone.”

Your legs feel locked and immovable. You’re somewhere between a dream and a nightmare, what with Yes Man asking you such personal questions about your sex life. Before answering, you make sure to take a moment to compose yourself and reel in your fantasies before they run too wild. He’s probably just asking because he’s concerned about me. Just like Arcade chewing me out for sleeping with Benny like a moron. I could get stabbed in the back if I were to carelessly sleep around the Strip, so it makes sense that he’d wanna look out for me. He’s kind and pragmatic like that.

“If you’re asking me if I’m seeing anyone right now, I’m not. Casually or seriously. Benny was, ah- well, a fluke. I don’t usually do things like that, and I’m not dumb enough to have sex with just anyone that comes into New Vegas now that I’m one of its rulers. I only really trust you and my other close friends, but I feel totally platonically towards all of them anyways.”

“…And what about me?”

“I, uh, er- huh?”

Now it was your turn to be fully caught off-guard. Your head had whipped around at light speed to fully look at Yes Man, your eyes wide as discs as they scan his expression for clues. All you see are the nervous but determined eyes that you’ve come to feel so warmly towards.

“You said you feel platonically towards your companions. What do you feel when you look at me, Sixer?” Yes Man’s voice comes out almost a whisper, a far cry from his loud, chipper usual voice. Despite his current shy demeanor and soft voice, it seems as though Yes Man’s assertiveness upgrade also gave him the courage to push on with the subject, instead of quickly backpedaling like he might’ve done in the past.

His earnest eyes feel as though they’re painfully boring into your own as his words set into your brain fully. Your head was swimming as it tried to process the fact that Yes Man was very directly asking you if you liked him platonically or…not. This is what I get for pushing away thoughts of being with Yes Man. He’s literally asking me if I want to be with him romantically, and I have absolutely nothing prepared in my head to say about the idea. Damned if I had, damned if I hadn’t. This must be some sort of ironic punishment from the universe. You swallow the dryness in your throat and bring your hand gently up to his warm screen. You make the split-second decision to just speak kindly and platonically from the heart towards your beloved friend, say something assure him that you care about him just the same as your other companions.

“The truth is, I’ve been in love with you for a long time now, Yes Man. More than platonically. You’re the most important person in the world to me by far.” Awesome. That is not what I was supposed to say at all. Please tell me I did not just tell him that out loud with my voice and mouth.

By the look on Yes Man’s face, you did in fact say that out loud, and you also did not give him the answer that he was expecting. His face was looking at you slightly slack-jawed, with the biggest, roundest eyes you’d ever seen him make. From your personal island of extreme embarrassment, you send out a prayer that the emotion currently on his face is positive surprise and not delayed disgusted shock. Those emotions tend to look similar in their early stages. Your hand remains frozen in place, cupping his screen. You’re incapable of moving it at this point, but he hasn’t shaken it away yet, which you take as your one possible positive sign. Or he’s just in shock. That’s also possible.

“I…hm. Well…well, that was not what I thought you would say.” RED ALERT. RED ALERT. THAT DOES NOT SOUND LIKE THE START OF A LOVE CONFESSION. THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA. GO HOLE UP IN AN VAULT FOR ETERNITY WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

Before he can continue, you pull your hand away and quickly squeak out your own interjection with a voice crack. “Actually, forget about it! Sorry, I must be talking silly from this drink. Let’s just forget I ever said anythi-“

“(Y/N).”

The sternness in Yes Man’s voice is jarring enough to pull you back into the moment. He had never spoken to you in that tone before, and to so roughly say your own name in it…he has your full attention and he knows it.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to take back anything,” he soothes softly, gaze softening. “You can say how you feel. I would never think lesser of you for it.” He lifts one of his robotic claws to cup your cheek, mirroring your moments from moments before. “Do you really love me like that, Sixer?”

It’s now or never. You could deny your true feelings to the death and return to a life of imagining Yes Man’s arms wrapped around you at night, or you could take the plunge and see where the two of you end up.

“I do,” you whisper. Down the rabbit hole I go.

“W-wow.” His entire frame seems to shake slightly at this revelation. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“Well, I didn’t think Benny would be talking to you like that.” Your ability to joke at a time like this somehow takes you both by surprise simultaneously, and the two of you burst into shaky laughter at the absurdity of your current situation together. It’s sweet and cathartic to laugh and lean into each other after the thick tension that had been permeating the air just moments before. This is how you enjoy being with Yes Man.

“Ok, tell me the truth- do you only have feelings for me because I orchestrated your attempted murder? Be honest, because this seems to be turning into a recurring theme for you.”

You feel your face burn red hot at his ability to make fun of you so accurately at any time. “It is NOT!”

“Are you sure? Dangerous men seem to get you hot under the collar, Sixer. No shame in it, of course. It’s just kind of cute.”

The adorable shit-eating grin that is currently spreading across his face is not helping your blushing situation. He can get you flustered with just a single look, and that’s on days where you didn’t suddenly confess your undying love to him.

“You’d better stop teasing me! I just opened up my heart to you, jerk.” Your threats don’t hold much weight when you have one hand covering your mouth and cheeks in a pitiful attempt to hide the blush and embarrassed expression that are beginning to envelop your entire face.

Yes Man lets out a sharp laugh at your obvious predicament, and then seems to be struck with an idea that makes him look quite proud of himself. He leans down towards you, inches from your face.

“Why don’t you see if you can make me, Sixer?”

That was it. That was your last straw. He was getting too cocky for his own good, and you’re determined to knock him down a peg and make him feel as flustered as you are right now (not to mention, seeing Yes Man being so directly cocky and teasing you like this was getting you more hot and bothered by the second). You’d show him.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you push yourself against his chassis and grab both sides of his boxy face roughly. With how close you are, you’re rewarded with a great view of his dominant expression immediately changing to one of wide-eyed surprise as you press your lips to his screen, right where his animated mouth is. You close your eyes after making contact, but hear a reassuring soft groan from Yes Man as you continue to softly kiss him. It feels wholly different from kissing a human, but still very pleasant. His screen is warm and gently shocks your lips at one point, causing you to make a slight squeak yourself. Not wanting to push him, you draw back after a moment and open your eyes to see the most beautiful sight that your eyes have ever been graced with.

Yes Man is leaning back against the bar, eyes half-lidded in love and lips slightly parted, as though you really had just been traditionally locking lips with him. His lidded gaze fixed directly on you is penetrating, and you feel something stir deep inside of you at the intensity of it. He’s so unbearably lovely, and he looks to be thinking the exact same of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that to you for a really long time,” you admit sheepishly, still catching your breath. You move back, allowing room for Yes Man to stop leaning against the bar, but he doesn’t seem capable of moving at this moment. “All joking aside, the reason I fell in love with you is that I got to know you and learned that you’re a good, charming, kind person. You’ve had to deal with some of the most insufferable people in the Mojave, but you still found a way to trust and open up to me. Now that you’ve become more assertive, I get to work with you as a fully equal partner and see what you’re like when you only have yourself to answer to. You’re smart, really funny, a fantastic strategist, a great listener, and you genuinely care for me even when I’m being stupid. You don’t need me and have the ability to rule New Vegas on your own if you felt like it, but I’ve never once been worried that you would drop me.”

“Hey, I do need you,” he reassures you, finally bringing himself fully upright and moving in to grip your shoulders lovingly. “Besides, what’s the point of ruling New Vegas if you don’t have someone to share it with?”

Your eyes practically sparkle as you look into his. “So…does that mean you really do feel the same way about me, then?”

“Oh, (Y/N)…how could I not fall in love with you?” He presses what you assume is a kiss to your forehead. “I mean, I didn’t realize that’s what it was at first. Like you said, I really can’t stand most of the humans I’ve had to meet out here. But you’ve been different from the beginning. I was so used to Benny, who treated me like an exploitable tool, not as a person. But from the moment I met you, you spoke to me differently. You listened to what I had to say, you supported me when I said I planned to upgrade myself to be more assertive, despite the fact that you would be losing a blindly obedient henchman. It didn’t matter to you, in fact, you were excited for me to become my own person. I was never a tool to you, ruling New Vegas was always a two-person job in your eyes. And you wanted the real me to rule with you. It was so impactful, I had to convince myself that you weren’t somehow getting ready to trick and betray me! Just how my silly mind works, I guess. Supporting me like that through my change, that was the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me. And to this day, you’ve only been upstaging your own kindness. You really are my best friend in the world, Sixer, and…I’m in love with you too.”

Oh, you should’ve put a fainting couch in this lounge because you’re about to swoon. Never in your life would you have expected to get such an earnest love confession from Yes Man. And who’d have thought he’d have such a way with words? You wrap your arms around him wordlessly, tears threatening to spill over from an overabundance of emotion. Your arms can’t fully wrap around his wide body, but you’re still able to hold on tightly and bury your face into his chassis. You have a moment where you berate your past self for ever believing that robots were cold and lifeless, because right now, Yes Man is warm as a gentle sunbeam through the window on a cool day and more full of life than anyone you’ve ever met. After a moment of holding each other in silence, you finally speak up.

“I didn’t know robots could be so sappy,” you choke out, still overwhelmed.

Yes Man chuckles warmly at your usual silliness. “Only this robot, darling.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Oh, and on top of all of those sweet emotional reasons for loving you, I also find you incredibly attractive! So you’ve really excelled in all possible fields here by my parameters. Congratulations!”

“Oh, I honestly wasn’t sure if you were able to feel physical attraction, but I’m glad to hear it!”

Yes Man cocks an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten who originally programmed me? I can feel every kind of attraction. Strongly. Sometimes distractingly so.”

“Am I to assume that includes…sexual?” Might as well keep digging myself deeper with how my luck is going today.

“Distractingly so,” Yes Man repeats at a growl, ever so slightly tightening his affectionate grip on you. Oh boy.

“Huh.” You swallow. “Maybe you can show me how that works sometime. Since we’re both on the same page now. If you wanted to, that is.”

“Heh!” Yes Man’s blushy grin returns, then he pauses briefly, as if thinking. When he looks back up, he has a more concentrated look in his eye. “Well…I could always show you now. If you wanted.” He’s speaking again in that newly unlocked, low, almost sensual vocal register, which has already proven to do things to you without much effort on his part. You’re simultaneously worried and ecstatic to see what he could do to you if he actually started saying filthy things in that tone of voice. You accidentally spend so long getting lost in his sexy voice that you almost forget to check yes on his invitation to have sex.

“Well, if you’re ready to do it now, there’s nothing I’d love more. But it’s totally up to you, I don’t want you to ever feel pressured.” You know in your mind that Yes Man has the power to say no to anything ever since his update and he hasn’t been afraid to use it so far, but you still err on the side of caution when it comes to reminding him that he always has full autonomy, especially in a situation like this. You want this, but you want him to truly want it more.

At first, he looks almost taken aback in gentle surprise at your consideration, but immediately reverts to a sly smile. “Heh, good answer, Sixer. I’d love nothing more.” His voice shifts from deep and low to become a bit faster, like he can’t fully contain his feelings of excitement. “Boy, I can’t wait to show you what upgrades I’ve made. I was thinking of you when I did it, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually get to use it with you. On you. Whatever.”

You grin at his words, feeling your own excitement growing as well. “Oh, so not all of those mechanical upgrades you got were to reinforce our power over the Strip?” The two of you begin slowly heading to the lounge area of the bar level, closer to the windows and full of more open space.

Yes Man chuckles softly. “Well, most of them were! But I’m allowed a bit of…self-indulgence. Sometimes.” He looks at you hungrily again, his eyes moving up and down your body. You do wish you’d dressed better for this unexpected occasion, but you’re grateful that you at least got cleaned up well after today’s mission. Yes Man doesn’t seem to notice your insecurities about being underdressed though, eyeing you up like you’re one of those pre-war poster stars in their sexy little getups. His eyes trained so closely on your form are starting to make you feel funny again.

“You’re staring.” Your breath catches in your throat as you say it, daring him to do anything. You’re not even sure what.

“Sorry, is it too much?” Yes Man questions meekly, looking a little embarrassed for being called out, but not very sorry.

“No, it’s just…intense. I’ve always imagined you looking at me like that, but now that it’s happening, it’s like staring at the sun.” You never want to look at anything else again.

“I see. I wonder what else you’ve imagined me doing to you?” He cocks an animated brow at you, finding his boldness again now that he knows you’re comfortable. “Because if you’re anything like me, you’ve put a good amount of hours into those fantasies. I’ve wondered what fucking a human might feel like, how it would be to hold down your smaller, soft body. How we’d both be warm, but in different ways. I wanted to know, so bad. I wanted to know what it would be like to fuck you in particular. It’s been really eating me up inside, Sixer.”

“O-oh…” Hearing those words out of Yes Man’s mouth is gonna kill you, you’re sure of it. You feel yourself starting to shake with anticipation a bit. “Y-yeah, I’ve wondered the same thing. About Securitrons though, obviously, not humans. You, in particular. I wanna see the faces you make when you fuck me. And the nasty things you might say to me while you do it. I want you to make me feel small and weak, but in like, a good, sexy way. I like the idea of you having the power, at least the first time.” You lean in to give him another, briefer kiss on his screen, making him close his eyes and laugh lightly.

“Wow, I never took you as the type to hand your lover the reins so fast, heh. Not that I’m complaining.”

“That’s because I’m not, really. You’re the only one who’s brought this side out of me before, Yes Man. There’s no one else in the Wasteland that I’d feel completely safe giving all of the power to in sex. I trust you with all of me.” It felt so natural to heap all of this praise on him. You had already praised him plenty before in platonic settings, and you’d never lied to him. He deserved to feel in control, and special. After all his time spent being under the begrudging control of others, it seemed that letting him take the wheel during sex just felt right to you for your first time. There could always be time to shake things up later if you so wished.

“O-oh, I love you, (Y/N),” Yes Man stutters, looking as though he’s already seeing stars. Eyes practically sparking, he brings his arms roughly but lovingly around your body in a tight embrace. You hear his cooling fans kick on and giggle.

“Hm, feeling warm?”

“Mmph, not as warm as I’m gonna be making you feel.”

With those words, you hear a sound like air inside of a machine decompressing from his body. You draw your eyes downward, to the area below his chassis but above his wheel attachment. There, you see the source of the sound: a covering hatch of some sort has popped open, revealing a makeshift dick. It doesn’t look poorly made at all, and resembles the human equivalent pretty well, at least visually. Physically, you could tell that this would be a fully different experience. I am gonna be so sore tomorrow. Totally worth it, though.

Yes Man shifts uneasily. “Um, do you like it? I hope it’ll work for you, that is to say, I figured this setup would appeal to you and work best, and Mick and Ralph gave me the parts to assemble and program it to pleasure me too, it’s fully sanitized, made for comfort, and it has lots of features I can add if you-“ Yes Man halts his rambling to gasp as you begin running a finger down his cock, from tip to base. “Mmph…” He squirms under your touch as you explore his new attachment, as if committing the entire thing to your memory. It’s mostly white and silver and soft to the touch but holds firm with pressure, like silicone or something similar. It’s sizable, but not unreasonably so. It was just like Yes Man to pick out a dick by balancing his desire to please you with his natural pragmatism. It really suited him in every way. “W-well, I’m glad you seem to be enjoying yourself down there.” Yes Man’s voice, cut off by small whimpers, swiftly pulls you out of your dick-exploring mental rabbit hole. You hadn’t even realized how close your face had gotten to it as you’d run your fingers along its length.

“Sorry, it’s just…a great cock. Awesome work. For real.”

Yes Man manages to bark out a laugh through his barrage of soft moans. “The things you say never fail to hit me like a bus, but thank you.”

“Well, I live to serve.”

“Do you now?” Yes Man’s eyes seem to light up at this turn of phrase. “Why don’t you start by putting that pretty mouth to work on me then, Sixer? Go on.” He lightly thrusts his dick closer to your face as if to punctuate his command (request?).

You fully drop to your knees without another thought. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” Your voice comes out more wobbly than you’d prefer this early in the game, but you don’t have much more time to dwell on this before you’ve taken Yes Man’s cock into your mouth. You’re determined to give this bot the best and presumably first blowjob of his life, so you take it slow at the beginning. You swirl your tongue over the tip, then begin to lick slow and deliberate stripes up the sides of his length. It tastes like clean metal, despite being much more malleable in texture. It twitches in response to your tongue, a neat feature that you hadn’t expected it to have.

“Ahh…y-yeah, (Y/N), ough, just like that…oh jeez…” You’ve barely begun and Yes Man is already moaning your praises. He grabs at your hair with his big Securitron claws, purposefully gentle but also with a bit of pull to them. The poor guy was getting head and had no leverage at all, causing him to simply grip your hair tighter and rock his hips gently as you continued your slow tongue onslaught.

After you’ve decided he’s had enough, you try to bite the bullet and take his whole cock in your mouth. It’ll be a miracle if I can fit all of him in my mouth at once. Let’s start praying. You quickly bury your thumbs into your closed fists to try and turn off your gag reflex. You heard from a friend that this worked once, and you’re willing to try anything right now if it leads to you successfully deepthroating this charming robot. You bob up and down on his dick, challenging yourself to go a bit further down each time. Through your heavy concentration, you can tell that Yes Man is at least enjoying himself through the increased volume of his moans. He’s practically whining incoherent praise as you continue to push further down with each lift and fall of your head, and you’re getting most of him in your mouth with this method. Deciding to go for the gold, you hollow your cheeks and push your nose all the way down until his entire dick is within your mouth, feeling it ever-so-slightly touch the back of your throat and making you pop off of his length as you gag around him. So much for the thumb trick.

“Oh, Sixer, you did amazing. That was…wow. I’ve never felt anything like it. You really know what you’re doing, huh?” Yes Man’s strained voice makes you look up at him for the first time since you began sucking his cock. His pupils are so big as he looks down at you, face flushed with grayscale color and animated teeth gritted in overwhelming pleasure, heat coming off of him in waves as his body tries to ventilate. You’re grateful that he seemed to like your blowjob so much, it was far from perfect but he didn’t seem to notice at all. And pleasing him so much was starting to get you wet too, you noticed hazily.

“Glad you enjoyed, Yes Man. But I’m guessing you wanna wait to cum until you’re inside of me?” As you say this, his face somehow flushes even more than before, the same face he would always give you when you’d do something impulsive at a meeting with the Three Families of the Strip that you two hadn’t discussed beforehand. Shocked and somewhat scolding, but in a way that betrayed how endeared to you he had become. Looks like I hit the nail on the head there.

“Y-yeah, you read my mind, (Y/N). But c’mere, I wanna see you first. You were so good and selfless to me, after all…”

“Well I-“ Before you can fully respond, he’s picking you up with his claws by the waist as if you weigh nothing. He lifts your previously-crouched form until you’re right in front of him, feet dangling ever so slightly off the ground. Normally, you would look up at his face just a bit when standing right next to him, but right now, he’s holding you perfectly at his eye level and giving you a knowing smirk, like he knows something you don’t. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s making you insanely horny right now, you would describe him as “infuriatingly overconfident.”

“Wow, you sure look pretty trapped in the air like this. But I bet you’d look even better with less of these pesky clothes on!” He sets your feet on the ground so he can remove one of his claws to rub at the material of your top, the other claw resting reassuringly on your hip. “Say, you aren’t attached to this shirt, are you?” You shake your head no quickly, and Yes Man reacts immediately by tearing through the fabric with one fell swoop of his claw. You’re surprised with the gentleness in which it falls off of you, now in shreds on the floor. He looks up at your face with a glint in his eye. “Well, now it’s not attached to you, either.”

You groan out loud. “You’re one to make fun of me for badly-timed jokes.” You meant for this phrase to come across as playfully snarky, but your voice warbles as the cool air hits your chest and you become fully aware of how exposed you are. Yes Man is a Securitron who doesn’t wear clothes, so the only moment of bashfulness in regards to you seeing him “naked” was when his dick first appeared out of its casing. For you, however, it seems that Yes Man wouldn’t be content unless he unwraps all of you bit by bit like a Christmas present, and he’s in no rush at all. You silently curse and thank him for being such a gentleman in bed.

Yes Man leans in inquisitively, raking over your exposed torso with his eyes as if he’s committing it to his memory banks. Actually, he really might be doing that. After a moment of irreverent silence, he reaches a claw forward to stroke a particularly big scar on your chest, tracing it from start to finish. You shiver under his feather-light touch, almost ticklish with how careful he’s being.

“Oh, Sixer…you’re so beautiful. Seeing you here and now is better than anything I could’ve ever imagined.” You whimper at his praise, every word causing you to heat up even more, making you hardly notice the cool air anymore. “Hang on, I wanna try something. Let me know if you don’t like it, ok?” With that, he hoists you up so that you’re sitting on a medium-height center table, but only on the very edge. To keep you from sliding forwards and off of the table, Yes Man puts his entire body as a barricade in front of you, leaving you in the compromising position of sitting precariously on the edge of the table with Yes Man’s erect cock inches away from your own clothed crotch. As if to add to your predicament, he uses one claw to ensnare both of your wrists and hold your arms up above your head, stretching your torso out and leaving no way to hide or involuntarily scrunch up at his incoming touches. He smiles at his handiwork, and probably the view too. “Well? Comfortable?”

“Y-yeah, feels amazing…”

“Good. And hey, if I say or do something you don’t like, I want you to tell me right away. You made me happy, now I wanna make you happy. Green, yellow, red safeword system work for you?” His eyes meet yours without hesitation to show his concern for you, and the validity of his willingness to please you of his own accord.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Damn, looks like he really has done his research. Wonder what else he’s picked up from his learning.

Yes Man grins mischievously. “Fantastic. Now then, back to playing with your cute little trapped body. Where was I?”

“Well, last I remember, you-mm!” You cut yourself off with a whimper as his free claw grazes your nipple, cool metal against your hot skin. “Aah, hey, be careful, those are sensitive…”

Yes Man snorts at your flustered face. “Yeah, I know. I read that this can be a good way to…warm a human up. How about it? Warm yet?” As if to punctuate his question, he gently pinches your other nipple with his claw, careful to apply just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. Delightfully unable to squirm away, your body elects to arch your back and moan instead. As soon as it comes out, you snap your jaw shut a bit too late to muffle the embarrassing sound. You immediately see Yes Man washed over with a visible mix of giddiness and lust at your strong reaction, so happy to be pleasing you and so needy himself. “Wow, sounds like my reading material was right. You really seem to be enjoying yourself. Well, let’s see what other sounds I can get you to make just from this.” He’s got your number now. With you still helpless in his grasp, he continues his movements, switching around his tactics to keep an air of unpredictability as he alternates between ghosting his claws across your chest and stomach, stroking your nipples, and surprising you with a rougher tug or twist every so often. Your body twitches and tries to involuntarily scrunch up against his light touches, but you quickly find that you truly are trapped in place for him to play with as he pleases. Between how wonderfully stuck you are in his strong robotic restraints and how good his touches feel, you’re in heaven. If Yes Man wants to hear what sounds you can make, you’ll give him enough to fill up his audio logs for a month.

“Mm, ah, Yes Man, please!” Every time his claw flicks over your nipples, it sends electric shocks of arousal down towards your pussy. If you weren’t wet before, you definitely are now. In a desperate search for friction, you move the only way you can and grind your clothed pussy against the only thing in your vicinity, his dick, causing the Securitron to shudder. His face moves quickly between shock, then lust, and then visibly switches gears to a new look entirely, one that’s much darker and almost experimental.

“Hmm. You…are impatient. Y’know, Six, I try to take my time pleasuring you, and you just grind up against me like a little whore. You gotta agree, that’s a bit pathetic, huh?” At his words alone, you let out another moan and grind against him again. You can’t decide which is better, Yes Man praising you or Yes Man degrading you. They both sound so good in his voice, so earnest and turned on that it doubles the obscenity of his words, and your body easily gives away how much it affects you. He lets a small triumphant smile slip through his disciplinary persona as he sees that his risky new approach paid off, then quickly shakes it off. “Golly, you’ve got such little self-control that you’ll just dry hump me for even a fraction of stimulation? You must be even more of a needy slut than I thought.” Now these are some words and phrases that could not have been spoken to you without that assertiveness upgrade, aka the best thing that’s ever happened to either of you as far as you’re concerned right now.

“I-I’m a slut for you, Yes Man.” You look up at him from the table with lidded eyes, hoping your provocative words and body language get the idea across that he needs to take off your pants right this second or you may just die.

Yes Man’s eyes are the size of saucers as his face contorts at your words as though he were in pain. “Sixer, if you say things like that, I’m gonna cum right here and now before we’ve even really gotten started.” His voice has an almost pleading tone to it; he’s being genuine, and it’s nice to know that you still have some power over him with just your words here. Maybe next time he’d think to gag you. Message received, he releases your arms and shimmies your pants and underwear off in a single pull, tossing them aside carelessly.

Now fully naked, you shiver under Yes Man’s gaze as he admires your newly-exposed bottom half, claw between your knees so that your legs are spread out fairly wide apart, leaving nothing to the imagination anymore. Strangely enough, you feel too aroused to really feel any ounce of self-consciousness, Yes Man’s kind praises shifting into teasing reprimands replaying in your head. It was such a quick switch that your head was practically spinning in the best way. In the beginning, a piece of you had been slightly worried that he’d feel awkward or not know what to do as the one in control, but that worry was hardly a memory anymore at this point. Yes Man was taking to his role naturally and loving every second of it, and so were you.

Not one to keep you waiting no matter how mean he played at being, Yes Man begins slowly stroking your hips and inner thigh, coaxing you to lay down across the table. “Alright, now be honest, how many times have you thought about calling yourself my whore like that while I fucked you?” One of his claws barely ghosts over your pussy, causing you to buck up in search of pressure that isn’t there to meet you. “I bet you touched yourself up in your penthouse and called out my name as you came. It’s a shock I never heard you, considering how loud and shameless you are.”

“F-fuck…” Your head drops down to lay back on the table, unable to look at the robot between your legs. His words alone were almost enough to get you off. You had, in fact, done exactly what he was saying before, and him calling you out on it causes your skin to prickle with horny embarrassment.

Yes Man chuckles from deep back in his voice box, and continues drawing teasing circles on your inner thighs as he speaks. “Hmm, I’ll take that as a yes, then. But y’know what? It’s ok, because I would constantly imagine fucking you, too. ‘Course, I couldn’t exactly touch myself back when I first started having these thoughts, so you left me a pretty sexually frustrated mess with no outlet whenever you did something attractive. Which you do a lot, by the way. It’s reeeally distracting.” He punctuates this by pressing his wandering claw right against your naked clit, causing you to gasp at the sudden pressure. “But things are different now, hm? Now we both get to feel good with each other. And watching you squirm is gonna make me feel soooo good…” With that, he begins moving his claw in small, light circles around your clit. His large Securitron claw certainly makes for a unique feeling, but he’s being so gentle and methodical that it’s a good kind of unique.

“Oh, Yes Man, y-yeah, yes…” You roll your hips in times with his touches, chasing the immensely pleasurable feeling that he’s so kindly giving to you and then some.

“H-heh, feels kinda great to have to crying out for me like this. It’s nice to be needed so badly, and by someone as lovely as you.” He’s looking at you so affectionately that there may as well be tiny hearts in his eyes, almost flustered more at seeing you receive pleasure than receiving it himself. “Hey, I’m gonna try something, so tell me if it’s too uncomfortable, ok?”

“Ok,” you whisper, barely a breath in your throat left to make words with. At this, he removes his claw from your clit and instead angles it at your entrance, cautiously pushing one big finger (claw?) into you. You bury your face in your hands and pant at the realization that this Securitron has his heart set on fingering you, even if he had to get creative to do it. It certainly wasn’t bad, but just one section of his claw was the equivalent of putting 2-3 human fingers in there, so it was quite a surprise to say the least. He moves it farther into you, and you realize that he was clever enough to angle it so that when he flexes his claw, the tip of it directly hits your G-spot just as it would if a human did the come-hither motion on you. As he hits that sensitive spot, you let out a shaky moan and your hips snap up towards the sensation of their own accord like a person possessed.

“Ah, by all means, I’d say that was a success. Going off just your reaction, at least.” Yes Man grins and continues to repeat the same motion that got him such a big reaction, making your head spin. “Oh gosh, you’re so pretty like this. Every moment, you outdo yourself without even trying and make me want you even more. O-oh, you drive me crazy, (Y/N).” Little animated sweat beads are gathering on his face as he rambles on, not letting up on his movements. “Heh, it’s times like this that really make you wish you had a tongue. ‘Course, if I did, I may not even end up fucking you. I’d be too wrapped up in tasting you to even remember myself, heh. I bet you taste so sweet dripping for me like this, I’d have to live between your legs. You’d never get me outta there.”

“Mm, I’d never try to…” You’re surprised that you’re even able to muster these words, considering how absolutely lost in the sauce you are right now. If someone broke into the Lucky 38 right now, they could probably steal everything in this room and you wouldn’t even notice until they tried to take the table you were laying on. You could feel pressure building in your lower stomach, causing your eyes to flutter closed and your upper body to stiffen. All at once, the pleasure is gone as Yes Man’s claw is abruptly removed from your pussy. Your eyes shoot open to investigate why he’s stopped, and you guess that your current expression must be very sad and pleading, as it causes Yes Man to chuckle darkly.

“Awww, Sixer, don’t look at me like that. You and I both know you were getting a bit too close there.” He grins, turning his attention to his now-drenched claw. He opens and closes them to spread out your wetness, paying attention to how it stretches and sticks to him. “Perks of being a robot, I am very…perceptive.” As he opens his claw, a line of your wetness interconnects his individual fingers, causing him to bite his animated lip to hold back a groan. “See, I never realized this part of you could be so…enticing. Nobody ever mentioned this. It’s kinda entrancing to have such a mess of you on my claws.”

You giggle, face red hot. “I could say the same for you, you seem to be leaking a bit.”

Instinctively, Yes Man looks down swiftly at this comment, only to realize that the part of him leaking is the tip of his dick, swollen and begging for attention. Because of his placement, it had spilled out onto your thigh, coating you with whatever Yes Man’s upgrade was using as his bodily fluids, clear and sticky and already messy. It seems that getting you off made him all the more insatiable, and it was honestly really hot to see how you affected him.

“Heh, hadn’t even noticed that, to be honest with ya!” He turns his full attention to your face, leaning forward to hang right above you and cupping your cheek with his clean claw. “Permission to fuck you til you can’t remember your own name?” He winks at his own cheeky comment.

You are awash with both arousal and pure fondness for Yes Man, an interesting combination, but not unwelcome. “Permission granted. Permission granted a million times over. Please, please fuck me, Yes Man.”

“Sixer…” You don’t have to tell him twice. In a flash, he had turned his body fully upright and was lining up his cock with your entrance. He glances at you seriously one more time. “Don’t forget, stoplight system. I want you to just enjoy yourself tonight.”

You smile and put a tender hand up to his screen. “Same to you, big guy.”

Affection in his eyes, Yes Man pushes his cock into you, slowly at first as he stretches you out. It’s not an uncomfortably tight fit, but you’re definitely filled well by him. He whimpers above you as he bottoms out, obviously holding back for your sake in the beginning. You shift a bit around his dick, adjusting to the feeling of having him inside you. After a moment, your breathing evens out and you begin rocking your hips against him, showing without words the pace you’d like to start at. Not too fast, you’d build up to that. For now, Yes Man seems to pick up on your silent speed request and takes the reins to begin moving carefully, dragging himself in and out of you at a steady rate.

“Mmph….you feel so so so good around me, Sixer…….fuck, you’re amazing,” Yes Man pants through his steady machinations. “S-so wet just for me…you’re everything I’ve ever fantasized about and more.”

There he goes with the praise again, he is gonna be the death of me. Spurned on by his words, you begin rocking your hips harder against the Securitron, pulling him all the way out before pushing him back in with a forceful squelching sound. The sound of Yes Man fucking you is obscene, which only makes you want it more and more.

“Fuck, Yes Man, I need more, please. Don’t stop, don’t stop…” Your soft moans fill the air every time his cock drags along your G-spot, every thrust bringing you a bit closer to where you had been before. “And don’t stop talking.” The last words were out of your mouth before you’d even realized what you were asking for. Apparently, your subconscious really enjoyed listening to Yes Man’s ramblings.

“Oho, so you like hearing me talk all about how perfect you are? How good your pussy feels? Or do you want me to call you my little whore again? Your call, Sixer.” He looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, not slowing his thrusting at all as he grills you on your preferences. He probably loves watching you try to form coherent answers as he fucks you senseless. Bit of a cruel streak in this one, but not unwelcome. Maybe this is payback for the times I ignored his advice before he could tell me how foolish I was being. Well, if Yes Man was going to indulge the part of himself that wanted to watch you squirm, far be it from you to protest.

“Any. All. It’s all good, just please. Please keep talking.” Those are the only words you can pick out of your brain at the moment, hips rocking up harder to meet Yes Man’s. The sound of his metal chassis meeting your flesh with every thrust was certainly a new one, and definitely one that you’d be hearing in all of your sexual fantasies from here on out. It was just so unique to the experience of fucking him and him alone, bringing you extra pleasure in how delightfully different sex with Yes Man is compared to other humans.

Yes Man barks out a laugh at your utter inability to form more than basic commands, then does as he’s told. “Mm, it’s easy to talk about you when you’re doing so good for me. You’ve been practically gagging for my cock for weeks, and now here you are getting absolutely ruined and taking it soooo well. I wonder what everyone in New Vegas would think if they knew how desperate their ruler was for my dick. If they knew that their leaders of the Strip were absolutely fucking each other senseless up in their big casino. What would your companions think if they came in and saw me fucking you on the table out in the open like this?”

They probably wouldn’t be very surprised, a distant part of your brain chimes in helpfully. Instead of saying this, you simply whimper in response, his pace speeding up a bit as you do.

“Personally, I-I wouldn’t hate it if all of New Vegas knew you were mine like this. I bet you’d like it if everyone saw the faces I’ve gotten you to make for me, huh? They’re so lovely, they just deserve to be plastered across a billboard. Like this one right now…so needy, so pretty, so perfect…”

“Y-Yes Man…” With your face flushed, lips parted slightly, and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, you imagine that you probably are making an extremely pornographic expression right now. Of course, you aren’t exactly alone on this, considering that Yes Man is towering over your smaller frame with blown-out pupils and his tongue starting to loll out from how hard he’s working. You could almost swear that you see little hearts in his eyes for real this time, but can’t be certain due to how fast he’s rocking your body. Well he’s one to talk, looking like he’s drunk on my pussy right now. Not that I mind. You’re getting close to the edge again with every thrust, and you can feel your orgasm rising in you, spreading out in tingles across your body as it prepares to overtake you. You close your eyes and practically squeal as you approach the precipice, but suddenly and without warning, you find yourself completely empty and lacking any stimulation at all. You whine desperately, confused as to why everything disappeared all at once, almost incoherent in your horny daze. Blinking, you look up into Yes Man’s intense gaze inches away from your own face. He has a look in his eye again, that look when he’s about to try something new that’s got him really excited, even as he tries to keep his cool.

“Beg for it.” Those three little words send a jolt of painful arousal through your pussy, and you practically wail pitifully in frustration. This damn robot was edging you and now trying to make you beg him for release, and you want to feel indignant but the thought of it was almost as good as actually being fucked. Yes Man’s face breaks out into what can only be described as an evil grin as he watches your face shift through various emotions. “Go on Sixer, beg for me to let you cum. I don’t think you really want to, but go ahead and try to prove me wrong. If you do it nicely, maybe I’ll think about letting you.” A mix of shame and need causes your face to burn hot at his explicit words as you consider your nonexistent options. There was no way out; if you want to cum, you’d better swallow your pride and beg him for it.

“F-fuck, Yes Man…please…please let me cum.” Embarrassment prickles on your skin, the humiliation of having to plead for release causing you arousal that you didn’t know your body would react with. Hey, new kink unlocked.

Yes Man leans upwards away from you, making a big show of looking down at his claws as though they’re much more interesting than the pleading horny mess lying in front of him (though the twitches of his dick give away his true feelings on the matter). “Oh come on now Sixer, I think you can do much better than that! I know you’re not one to beg often based on our time together, but this is me. You can do better for your favorite Securitron in the Mojave, I think. Try again. Unless, of course, you’re alright with me just leaving you here all worked up and with no outlet. Trust me, speaking from experience, it’s a bad time.” He punctuates this with a salacious grin at your predicament. It’s abundantly clear that he is absolutely loving every second of this, devouring your reactions and letting it fuel his mean streak even more.

Mentally stuck in a rut, you let out almost a growl in a mix of frustration and overwhelming lust at this command. He’s right that you can do better, but your stubbornness really doesn’t wanna cooperate on this one. Yes Man looks idly bemused above you, making it clear that he’ll wait as long as he needs for you to really grovel at his feet (wheel?) for your orgasm in earnest. If you weren’t so deeply into this, you’d be slightly shocked at how quickly his penchant for sadism popped up, and from him of all people. With the threat of being left to finish by yourself in the air, you prepare to swallow any self-respect and dignity you may have had left.

“Yes Man, please, I need it so bad, I need you inside me. You’re so big and fill me up so perfectly, you’re the only one who could fuck me this good, I’m begging you, pleasepleaseplease let me cum!” Just the act of begging for such filthy things so desperately is enough to make your hips buck up into the air, searching so hard for any friction. It’s all so much and not nearly enough at the same time, and you pray that your words were enough to convince him.

Yes Man is seems lost in irreverent silence for a moment, then finally responds by roughly grabbing your thighs, his eyes lidded and loving and starstruck in every way. “Good little courier.” Without wasting a moment, he begins pounding into you again at a pace that no human could ever hope to match, holding back nothing, or so you thought. As one last surprise, his dick begins to vibrate within you, sending pulses out through your cunt and up to your clit. You practically scream in pleasure, grabbing onto his back with nails on metal, searching for any sort of grip on him as he ruthlessly fucks you.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to choke out, sweat making your hair begin to stick to your head from exertion.

“M-me too…” Yes Man’s voice begins glitching out, choppy and mechanical as his animated face looks beyond lost in pleasure. The lights begin flickering in the room, and you distantly remember that Yes Man is connected to the entire power grid of the casinos on the Strip due to one of his upgrades. His thrusts lose their mechanical precision and become erratic, snapping up and down sloppily but still with power as he begins to lose control of himself. But he apparently still has enough control to grab your chin with the claw that’s not bracing himself against the table and turn your face to look right at his. Once again, it’s like looking right into the hot Mojave sun, passionate enough to scald. His eyes are somehow both glazed over in lust and laser-focused on your facial features, looking at you as though you were his one and only. And you are. “Cum for me, darling.”

Fuck. With a sound in between a gasp and a whine, your body pulls you over the edge and sends you crashing into a powerful orgasm that wracks your entire body violently. Your pussy tightens around Yes Man’s cock, spasming in absolute pleasure and lasting for a good little while on its own as he continues to fuck you through it. In the middle of your own ecstasy, Yes Man snaps against you one final time and pushes himself all the way inside you with a glitched-out moan as he reaches his climax as well, releasing his robotic cum inside of you all at once, filling you up completely. At the exact same moment, all of the lights on the floor go out at once, leaving you with only the light of the newly-risen moon from outside. For just a moment, he holds right there, still fully inside of you, panting and shaking and feeling as warm as a heater despite his cooling fans being louder than you’ve ever heard them. The two of you just sit there together and bask in the feeling, for seconds or minutes or hours, you can’t tell anymore. But eventually, he pulls himself out, fluids leaking out of you as he does, and leans up against the table to steady himself. His dick slowly retracts back into its compartment and seals itself up as if it were never there.

He looks down to check on you, eyes full of contentment and concern. “Not to ruin the moment, Sixer, because that was fantastic, but I do think we may have blown the Strip’s power grid.”

Still recovering, you let out a wheeze of a laugh from where you lay still on the table, cunt pulsing with ebbing pleasure. “Well, shit.” Sure enough, you glance out the giant windows and realize why the moon is your only light source: the Strip has gone fully dark. I’m definitely gonna be hearing about this tomorrow.

“Oh, but don’t you worry about it too much, I should be able to reboot it remotely. And hey, if anything, take it as a boost to your ego. I mean, you felt so good at the end there that I nearly force restarted too, heh.” Yes Man blushes and clicks his claws together with a sheepish grin. He has some nerve to act so cutesy just minutes after making me beg for his cock.

You chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t collapse on top of me right before I came, but that does boost my ego a bit.”

Yes Man’s eyes glimmer. “Aw, I’m sure you could take it. You’ve taken worse, after all.”

Absentmindedly, you wonder whether he’s talking about his dick or the gunshot wound again. Either way, he ain’t wrong. You move to sit up, despite your body screaming at you to just keep ragdolling limply on the furniture.

“Wait, don’t move!” Before you can protest, Yes Man is right in front of you and quickly but gently scoops you up bridal style, encasing your tired body in his big arms. From your new vantage point, you see what he was so concerned about: the part of the table near one of the legs that he’d been gripping to brace himself had completely splintered and now looked just about ready to completely collapse. Yes Man gives you a bashful look, as if thinking he’ll be scolded by you for destroying the furniture with his superhuman strength in the heat of the moment. “Uh, we might need a new table.”

You laugh at the sight, leaning your forehead against his screen. “Ya think so?” You can’t resist giving him a few sweet little kisses all over his face, prompting him to snort and lean into the ruthless barrage. Suddenly, the lights flicker back on above you, as well as outside the window.

“Hey, looks like the power’s all fixed and back online! Well then, shall I…take you upstairs? You look a little tired after that one, not gonna lie to ya.”

“I would love that.” Without another word, Yes Man tightens his grip and whirs the two of you into the now-functional elevator, setting it to take you up to the penthouse where you sleep. Thankfully, it looks like nobody else is in right now to see you naked and looking absolutely fucked out by Yes Man, or question what happened to the power. You’re certain you can come up with a non-suspicious answer to that one by tomorrow, when your critical thinking skills eventually return to your brain.

Yes Man gently places you on top of your bed, carefully brushing some loose hair out of your face with his claw after you’re settled. “Feeling ok, Sixer?” He smiles softly at you from where he stands at your bedside.

“Yeah,” you breathe, meeting his doting gaze. “A bit sore, but I’ll live. Might just need a lil recovery time before we do this again.”

“Again?” Yes Man’s eyes widen, as though he had truly not considered the fact that this would be a repeatable event.

You giggle at his expression, putting your hand up to cup the very edge of his screen, where the smooth surface meets the harder metal of the rest of his face. “Yes Man, there is no way you could fuck me that well and not have me trying to jump your bones as soon as my body will physically allow me to.”

Yes Man’s frame erupts into laughter, unable to contain his full laughs at your words. “Boy, (Y/N), how did I manage to fall in love with such a dweeb? But also like, an alluring dweeb? You are a confusing little human, and God, do I love you, really I do.”

“I love you too, Yes Man.” You turn to press a kiss to the claw that had been resting on your shoulder. “And you love me because I’m the only one who can match your energy in the prestigious field of alluring dweebism, as it’s known professionally.” Your hand reaches up to playfully spin the little circular antenna on his head.

Yes Man snorts at your nonsense. “Hey, don’t spin me. I’m not your top.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Once again, his laughter fills the air like an electronic melody. “Well, you got me there.” An uncertain silence falls over the room for a moment, him standing next to your boneless-feeling body on the bed, as if unsure where you want him to be after the change in your dynamic tonight. Before he can question himself, you speak first.

“Hey. Stay with me? I know you probably can’t actually lay on the bed without it breaking, but I’d love it if you stayed by me for a bit. I wanna be close to you.”

Yes Man lets out a soft mechanical sigh, looking so contented and loving that you feel butterflies again. “Of course I will. Anything for you, my darling.” As if to show an act of reassurance, he engages his brake and settles down in his frame, chassis pressed up against the edge of the bed right near your face, claw held comfortingly against your cheek. You never would’ve expected a metal Securitron claw to feel as tender as it did right now, but here you are, wanting nothing more than his robotic touch as you drift off into sleep from exhaustion. Yes Man has your back, now and forever, and not only that, but he loves you more than words can say, and the feeling is mutual. The mix of his protective presence and these thoughts is enough to lull you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Author’s Notes: benny in hell watching you fuck yes man: ?!?!?! djdjfkd anyways i listened to a lotta hozier while writing this and have no idea if it will appeal to anyone except me. but if you did enjoy then i’m glad to hear it! this was the first fanfic i’ve written in years and also the first smut i’ve ever written and i’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out :D thanks for reading!

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within (Part Two)  Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: Following the events of the first part, a severely injured Y/N lies in a coma while a heartbroken Tyler waits by her side, wondering if she will ever wake up.

Warnings: Hospital, Reader is in a coma, Fluff, Sad Tyler, Slightly angsty.                                              

Notes: I didn't expect so many people to read the first part, let alone want a second, so thank you—it means a lot. I rushed to write this to avoid making you wait any longer, lol. I'm currently accepting writing prompts for Jake Seresin, Tyler Owens, and Glen Powell.

Enjoy byeeee!

Two weeks have slipped by in a blur of sterile hospital corridors and the endless hum of medical machines. Each passing day is a battle against time, unrelenting in its indifference, and Tyler's world has shrunk to the confines of your hospital room.

Tyler sits by your side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but refusing to close. He's lost count of the hours he's spent watching the rise and fall of your chest, willing you to wake up. The constant beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator are his only companions.

The rest of the storm-chasing team visits regularly, each holding onto hope in their own way. Boone leaves a fresh bouquet of wildflowers on the bedside table every other day, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the clinical white of the room. Dani brings her laptop, working quietly in the corner, refusing to leave until Tyler is forced to rest. Dexter makes sure Tyler eats, even if it means feeding him himself. And Lilly, with her unwavering optimism, often slips into the chair opposite Tyler, regaling him with stories and laughs to keep the darkness at bay.

One evening, as the crimson hues of the setting sun penetrate the blinds, Tyler is gently persuaded by Lilly to step outside the room, if only for a few minutes. The fresh air at the hospital's small garden is a reprieve he didn’t know he needed. He takes deep breaths, trying to shake off the weight that's settled on his shoulders.

As he walks back towards your room, he overhears a hushed conversation between two nurses. "It's been two weeks, and she's still fighting. It's remarkable," he hears one of them say. A glimmer of hope ignites in his chest. You're a fighter; you always have been.

Pushing open the door to your room, Tyler's heart skips a beat. One of the doctors, Dr. Emerson, is standing by your bed, reviewing the latest results. Tyler rushes in, anxiety and hope warring on his face.

"Any changes, Doc?" Tyler asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Dr. Emerson turns to him, a small, comforting smile on her face. "Her vitals are steadily improving. The brain activity shows promising signs. She's still in a coma, but these are good indicators. It’s just a matter of time."

With those reassuring words, Dr. Emerson gives Tyler a gentle nod before turning to leave the room, the other doctor following closely behind. The soft click of the closing door lingers in the air, marking the transition from clinical observation to personal vigil.

Tyler takes his seat beside you, gently holding your hand. "Hey, beautiful," he begins, his voice soft but steady. "I know you can hear me. I thought I'd share some stories, like old times."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Remember the first storm we chased together? God, we were terrified but so exhilarated," he chuckles. "The sky was this angry shade of gray, and the wind was howling like it was possessed. We had no idea what we were doing, but we felt invincible."

Tyler's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he continues. "You kept yelling at me to keep the camera steady while you took notes. I think I was too busy being amazed by how fearless you were. The tornado touched down so close, and we got caught in the downdraft. But you... you never lost your cool. You guided us out of there like it was just another day at the office."

He squeezes your hand gently, hoping for any sign of acknowledgment. "Then there was that time in Kansas. Do you remember? We were staying at that run-down motel, and the power went out during the middle of the night. We ended up sitting in the car, wrapped in blankets, watching the lightning storm. You said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

The corners of Tyler's lips lift into a sad smile as he recounts more memories. "You were always the brave one, Y/N. Like that time we drove into the eye of the storm. Literally. Everyone told us it was too dangerous, but you convinced us, and we did it. And I'll never forget the look on your face when we made it out in one piece."

A silence hangs in the air for a moment, the only sounds coming from the steady beeps and hums of the medical equipment.

"I'm not gonna lie, Y/N. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my life. Seeing you like this... it's killing me. But I know you're fighting. You always do," Tyler says, voice cracking with emotion.

Tyler leans closer, his head resting on the side of your bed. He speaks softly, almost to himself. "You know, Dani was telling me about how you kept her sane during her first storm chase. She said she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. And Boone, he's a mess without you bossing him around. Dexter too. None of us are the same without you."

He looks at your serene face, a fresh wave of determination washing over him. "But we all believe in you. We know you're coming back to us. And when you do, we'll be ready with stories and laughs and everything that's been missing."

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over the room, Tyler continues to talk. He recounts every little detail of your adventures together, from the funniest moments to the most heart-stopping ones, painting a vivid picture with his words.

The world is a foggy blur as consciousness slowly begins to seep back into your mind. The silence in the room is broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the medical machines. Your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to open them, a sense of disorientation clouding your thoughts.

As your eyes finally flutter open, the dim light of the room gradually sharpens into focus. The first thing you see is Tyler, slumped in the chair beside your hospital bed. His hand grips yours tightly, as if even in sleep, he cannot let go. His face is etched with lines of stress and fatigue, evidence of the nights he has spent by your side.

For a few moments, you simply watch him. Even in his exhausted state, there’s an undeniable tenderness in the way he holds your hand. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble that has grown from days of neglecting himself. Deep down, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wells up within you. You realize now more than ever just how much he means to you.

Gradually, you muster the strength to give his hand a weak squeeze, something to pull him from the depths of his weariness. His eyes flutter open slowly, confusion briefly crossing his features before they lock onto yours. Instantly, his face transforms—a mix of shock, awe, and profound relief.

"Y/N..." he breathes, his voice shaky and filled with emotion. Tears pool in his eyes, and you can see him fighting to hold them back, but it’s a losing battle. As the realization washes over him, that you’re finally awake, his tears begin to fall freely. "You’re... you’re awake. Thank God, you’re awake."

A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you manage a small smile. "Tyler," you rasp, the single word carrying all the emotions you can't yet express.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing fervent kisses to your knuckles. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so much," he chokes out, his voice breaking with raw emotion. "I thought... I thought I’d lost you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the things I said. I was scared and I handled it all wrong."

You can feel the wetness of his tears on your hand, and it breaks your heart to see him in such pain. Gathering what strength you can, you shake your head slightly. "No, Tyler. We both did things we regret. I pushed you away when I should have let you in. But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward."

He nods, his teary eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll fix this. Together," he vows, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

Your smile grows a bit stronger, as you grip his hand with a bit more strength. "Together," you echo, the word binding the two of you in a promise of unity and hope.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Tyler repeats fervently, his tears now mingling with a relieved laugh.

You can't help but let out a light giggle, the sound so sweet to Tyler’s ears. "I love you, I love you, I love you," you reply, your heart feeling lighter for the first time in a long while.

Tyler chuckles softly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "I think the doctors are going to start charging me rent for how long I've been here."

You laugh weakly, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, as long as you don't start claiming squatter's rights. We might have to evict you."

His laughter mingles with yours, the room now filled with a warmth and happiness that seemed impossible just moments ago. "Deal. I'll leave when you do," he declares, his voice brimming with love and commitment.

The path to recovery will undoubtedly be long and arduous, but for now, the hardest part is over. The heavy cloud of uncertainty has lifted, replaced by a glimmering beacon of hope. The room, once cold and sterile, now feels warm, filled with the palpable power of your mutual love and commitment.

As the rhythmic beeping of the machines continues to fill the background, you and Tyler share a moment of silent understanding, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them hand in hand. "I love you," he whispers once more, the promise of these words a soothing balm to your soul.

"I love you," you whisper back, sealing the bond that will carry you through the days to come.

[myinterestschangewithmypersonali]

benson boone at coachella: a thurough investigation

maybe this will be enough for the queen fan club to accept me

first of all: i have very mixed feelings about this performance. actually, i guess i can say i did not enjoy the performance overall. other than when bri came out. That was beautiful and i may have cried. First: the good. benson’s stylist definitely understood the assignment. he somehow managed to perfectly encapsulate every era of freddie mercury. starting with the cape at the beginning, a classic freddie look. then, he takes it off to reveal his freddie-inspired leotard witha deep v. combined with his long hair, mustache, and wide belt, it seems to represent all major eras of freddie. i also love the homage to queens excessive and exuberant use of light in their shows. every beat lights up the world, and i think that was perfectly captured here. then there was the one and only brian may. grandpa bri is thriving, and he sounded amazing (though i think he could have done without that other guitarist it made him sound like he didn’t know the music)

i did love that he performed the opera section live, something the band never did, but i wish he didn’t try to hit roger’s notes, his voice doesn’t carry the same tonal energy as roger.

now the bad.

i can’t say that i enjoyed bensons singing. for lack of better words, it was to zhushy, too slurred and sluggish, and while i don’t want an exact copy of freddie, the energy needs to be there, and it just wasn’t. the choir felt flat and could not capture the charm and blend of the voices of roger freddie and brian.

beyond the lack of energy in his voice and singing, it was clear that the emphasis would never be as focused on the instruments and their workings as they were in queen. I fought the drums lacking, but simply who could compare to roger? And for me, it is so strikingly clear that the pianist was not inspired by freddie in the slightest. it left me feeling empty, like something was missing. i have a hypothesis. when queen performed, the only instruments hooked directly to the sound were the guitar and the bass. now everything is pumped straight to the speakers and blasted, which i think contributes to a lot of the loss of heart.

i could go on but i’ve written an essay already.

[areeis]

Cold [spoilers/blood]

Notes below [DD/DDDA/DD2 spoilers]

Pawns will yell at you and each other to be careful not to catch a cold in DD2. In DD1/DDDA it's funny when they run into deeper water unprompted or to gather something and then complain about getting drenched. So it's honestly sad that getting a cold is not a mechanic in game, because I think for pawns it would be hilarious. As Arisen you could just rest and then return to quests later, but I think pawns would just want to power through, not wanting to disappoint their Arisen, while at the same time not having a clue about cold etiquette or illnesses in general. And why would they? As pawns they could and probably also would just return to the rift on their own. I would also assume a lot of Arisen would take this offer and just brine them to quickly return to whatever they're doing. This obviously goes against what I think Spectre would be like otherwise, but here he really doesn't know better. Please forgive him for directly sneezing at Ryoken lol I don't think Ryoken's way of making Spectre rest is the right way necessarily, but it's definitely a more human way and the way I think he'd decide on. I also wanted to draw Spectre as a sad and wet dog type here lol so I think Ryoken will take good care of him. It's probably his first time having to deal with something like this and I think he's enjoying it a little, too. While mage pawns are casting it's impossible to make out what they're saying, so for Spectre casting 'ice boon' here (you know, it would've helped) I just used his overlayed dialogue of his announcement as a casting chant. I hope it comes across. I like the DD1/DDDA saurians a lot more than the DD2 ones but even there they're one of my favourite creatures. In DD1/DDDA it's so funny and cute how they zoom and run off after you cut off their tail and they're more believable as a territorial animal than just a random monster to defeat, too. I like that you get a cave where they nest in both games, one that you can visit multiple times, too. Other variants of saurians may exist, but in both games the plain starter kind are my faves. The gear is once more taken from the one they had in DD1/DDDA, I really like it a lot.

[frostfall-matches]

[ matchmaking... ]

@blissfullyapillow : [ match report ready ]

your match is…

✦ Diavolo

-> [ Despite his title and what one might expect of it, Diavolo is quite pleasant and friendly! ] It truly does not matter how formal or reserved you might initially come off, because he’s still going to approach you with enthusiasm. That said, he might come off as a bit… overbearing and overwhelming at first. And probably not what you’d expect from the future king of the Devildom. In any case, he is not at all daunted if it takes a while to get to know you, either. He eventually got close to Lucifer, after all, and you come off as far nicer and sweeter than him (despite your RBF).

-> [ He is a very good balance of empathetic and rational. ] Diavolo is kind, fair, and compassionate - willing to see things from the perspective of others, willing to put effort into making things better for others. But he is also very level-headed and wise, which is a boon to his current position. As his partner, you get the best of this balance of his; he is happy to comfort you and reassure you if needed, but he can also give you thoughtful and tempered advice if you’re feeling lost or frustrated. He is truly a great sounding board - perhaps a bit biased since he’s fond of you, but he will be tactfully honest when he needs to be.

-> [ Arrogant at times, perhaps - but definitely not lazy, rude, or unambitious. ] Meaning he generally doesn’t embody traits you tend to dislike in others. His arrogance only rears its head at times; typically when he feels the need to show off or make use of his title. It isn’t often, though. He’s definitely confident and self-secure; but he has enough humbleness on a day-to-day basis that it’s not irritating or frustrating for you. On a similar note, he truly adores your different sides - he loves the you that is intelligent, passionate, and resilient; he also loves the you who is clingy, goofs off, and gets emotional.

-> [ He makes an attempt to participate in your hobbies with you. ] Diavolo feels that sharing hobbies and interests is a good way to connect and bond. Video games are so interesting to him, but he really struggles when it comes to figuring them out. You’re pretty patient, though, so you’re happy to show him the ropes if he seems interested in whatever you’re playing. He probably doesn’t read terribly often, but enjoys picking up a book here and there in his downtime. He’d love it if you gave him book recommendations, and he’ll keep an eye out on books that might suit your preferred genres.

-> [ Diavolo often plans out very romantic dates. ] Seriously, more often than not he pulls out all the stops, simply because he has the means to do so. The perks of being the heir to the Devildom… In any case, casual dates aren’t really a thing with him, unless you count going out and grabbing some coffee together or sitting down for a quick tea in the afternoons. Fancy restaurants, stargazing in the gardens with snacks and wine, day trips out of the city.. If you ever want a calm, cozy indoor date, you should probably drop him a hint. Or even plan a night in with him - he’d love it, and he effortlessly makes it just as sweet and romantic as any other date with you.

-> [ He often tends to be busy as the future king of the Devildom, but he makes spending time with you a major priority outside of work. ] It is extremely important that he has time for you in his life - because there’s no point in entertaining a relationship if he’s not going to be there for you. Of course, you’re sensible enough to know that his work tends to eat up a fair amount of his time and energy. But you can’t help but appreciate when he does prioritize you, when he makes sure to spend the time with you truly focusing on you.

-> [ Definitely a bit goofy, and also has his moments where he’s unintentionally funny. ] Diavolo is such a pleasant guy that half the time he laughs right along with you even if he’s not quite sure what you’re laughing at. Might be a bit confused when he finds out it was just some funny noise that set you into a fit of giggles, but hey, who is he to judge? There’s nothing wrong with embracing joy and laughter whenever you can. He does have a solid sense of humor, though, and does enjoy sending silly texts back and forth with you, emojis and stickers and all.

-> [ Diavolo is your biggest fan and supporter! ] Honestly, what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t support you? But he’s almost overbearingly vocal about how he’s so proud of you (and it honestly makes you melt). Strongly encourages you to pursue any of your interests or passions - and if he can help in any way at all, you can count on it. Not that you want to take advantage of his resources and connections, but he insists. Consider it a gift, from him to you, for putting up with him. For him, it’s rewarding enough to see you indulge in your passions and to live life the way you want.

[sailxdia]

AHHHHH You're playing ace attorney, I'm so excited! You already have some great takes and observations! I won't reblog anything you've posted yet because I don't want anyone in the notes to spoil you, I'm having fun seeing you guess!

you'll get the Edgeworth backstory in this game

Some of the dystopian elements are built out of a satire of the japanese justice system which uuuh, is a lot more like this than we'd all like

Dick Gumshoe is best boy.

Don't be afraid to look at a guide/walkthrough some of the "logic" the game wants out of the player, especially in the early games is really obtuse.

The pun names only get worse XD

--😼🔪

I did say that one post post made me decide to go for it. Always nice to have an excuse to try out new games, and this one doesn’t require grinding so I mean a good boon there 😆

I’m really glad you’re enjoying my live blogging. Writing whatever thing comes out of my head while I play is kind of nice.

*) On that I’m SO excited I’ll get that backstory this soon. I am beyond 👀 for it. Just to have so much hints of how juicie it must be so early I have all my eyes and ears waiting for the reveal.

*) Yeeaaah though Japan has a bad justice system. I’ve been watching a lot of live action shows from Showa and just seeing how they treat the police even back then it’s like … all I wish is your country could finally fix that but in general I wish the police everywhere weren’t giant shits.

*) Dick is like a poor dog or something! Like he looks like he looks up to Edgeworth so much. totally idolises the man and wants nothing more than to do good by him. The guy is a lost puppy and is trying his best. He seems just as raised by the culture as Edgeworth is and they are both just doing their part in being in a bad mess of a system while wanting nothing but the best it’s so sad D : he trying so hard. He’s obviously comic relief but also he genuinely seems like that cop that’d try his best to help a crying kid who lost their balloon or help out a lost kitten just, innocent man in a bad world.

I know I’m overly cutieing him but it’s just he has such a giant soft heart it feels like and I don’t have good words. he’s a puppy for Edgeworth and also his attack dog against crime. He’s got a soft heart but a heavy hand. I want to see him grow since he seems to be a new-ish detective. I want to see him get more into his detective feet. Like he’s 30, but I can’t think of him having been head of the department for that long and suddenly being head is so much different than following your superiors’ orders all the time.

*) AND NO I’m glad you told me to, because a guide just told me I was right in what I wanted to do. I just have to press everything before I can do what I wanted to??? Which I would never have naturally tried especially when the game is actively having Write say there’s ’nothing to press on’. I feel freed now that I can continue again : D

*) THE PUNS ARE AMAZING I’m so glad to hear they went all in because IT SO WIMSEY in the MURDER game Give me some more WIMSEY MURDEr

I obviously just want excuses to ramble anything my brain tells me while i play this 🤣 I’m so new to these characters but they are written with such complexity it’s like a real living world. I swear it’s like a lot of modern games barely have half this level of writing.

[evasive-anon]

PROJECT HALF-A FIELD TEAM THETA

Masterpost.

For authorized personnel only. Detailed information on assignees for Mission GZ-001.

FIELD TEAM THETA PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION

Agent L L comes from a family of war heroes, with all her relatives either retiring due to great injuries sustained in battle or losing their lives in the line of duty. She is pragmatic about the costs of battle but holds romantic notions about sacrificing for comrades or in battle. L has exceptional leadership skills. Her ability to take charge and make decisive decisions in high-stress situations boosts team morale. L has a track record of shouldering too much responsibility. While her leadership is invaluable, she hesitates to delegate tasks, leading to burnout. Risk Assessment Moderate to High. Agent L's strong sense of duty and notions of self-sacrifice may lead her to take unnecessary risks. Vigilance is required to balance her dedication with prudent decision-making. Agent M Agent M grew up in the middle-American suburbs with two working parents. His stable home life and proximity to an Air Force base fostered his interest in flying from a young age. He is married to his high school sweetheart. M is known for pragmatic problem-solving. His calm and cool approach to challenges have earned him a positive reputation in the department.  M is also cautious to a fault. His pragmatic nature makes him overly cautious, he falters when he needs to take risks, hindering swift decision-making. Risk Assessment Low to Moderate. While Agent M's caution can be beneficial, it may also result in missed opportunities or delays in critical situations.  Agent N N is unwilling to disclose any details regarding her childhood or life prior to her professional work, but she is so passionate in stories of her previous travels and work that it would be easy to not even notice the missing years.  N has exceptional social skills. Her innate ability to connect with people and build strong interpersonal relationships enhances team dynamics. N exhibits perfectionist tendencies. Her high standards for herself lead to frustration when faced with the unpredictable. Risk Assessment Moderate. Agent N's perfectionism may introduce occasional challenges, but her gregariousness and ability to build rapport with others mitigate potential issues.

Agent O O's career was propelled by an unwavering fascination with the mysteries of undiscovered life forms, traveling to the great depths of the sea and now beyond our dimension to seek his goal. Beyond his scientific pursuits, O enjoys a fulfilling family life, happily married with two children. O is exceptionally hard working and dutiful. His diligence and reliability ensure that he consistently goes above and beyond to meet mission objectives. O is also blindly obedient. His inclination to follow orders without question, while stemming from a dutiful nature, hinders critical thinking and adaptability during unexpected situations. Risk Assessment Moderate. O's hardworking nature can be a boon but efforts are needed to temper his blind obedience so it does not compromise the team's effectiveness in unpredictable scenarios.

Agent P P was a child prodigy, her early experiments with homemade gadgets foreshadowed her future in scientific breakthroughs. Born to a family of scientists, her innate curiosity was encouraged and she received her first P.H.D. by age 16. Her life’s purpose is the pursuit of knowledge.  P has a passion for innovative solutions. Her fervent dedication to her work results in groundbreaking advancements. P suffers from tunnel vision. Her intense focus on her projects lead to oversight of broader team dynamics, requiring periodic reminders to consider the team's holistic goals. Risk Assessment High. P's passion is an asset, but heightened awareness and team communication are crucial to mitigate potential risks associated with her research. See attached reports for more information. Note: The personal histories, psych evaluations, and risk assessments are brief summaries and may not encompass the full personal and professional profiles of each agent. GHOST INVESTIGATION WARD QUARTERLY REPORT 002 FIELD TEAM THETA DOSSIER