eye/beholder

“Pink and frilly…” he echoed, the sheer words coming out of his lips proved to be the antithesis of him. It was hard to picture such a vibrant thing living among his rather beige and colorless apartment. He shook his head with a small laugh in the back of his throat. Rewarming a pot was just as good as cooking an entire grand meal in his eyes. It was all foreign to him, though he wished it wasn’t. He listened to her directions, excellent at following whatever she has to say to him. Devin had done little to nothing, but he felt accomplished watching that chili heat up. He leaned against the counter on the opposite side of her, facing her while taking a swig of his beer. “Maybe breakfast,” he admits, but his voice was unsure at best. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of cooking for someone. It sounded intimate and kind, two things he was rather fond of that he’d never fully admit. To be fair, he had spent such formative years of his life in a prison cell. There wasn’t much cooking to be done in there, especially for a loved one. “My brother was always the cook. He cooked for me and my mom. I’d help when I was younger, but… Haven’t had the luxury of caring for someone like that, I suppose. At least not for a long while."

"It's cute," she assured him even though she knew there wasn't any way that he would wear it. On the off chance he would, she'd bring it over next time because a pink apron was better than none. She watched him cook with a fondness she wouldn't admit. It was a side of the rough and rugged man she hadn't seen much but still had an inkling lived within him. He'd always been selfless with the many occasions he took time out of his day to make sure that her car worked without charging her even though he could have easily demanded the hundreds of dollars that any other mechanic would have demanded from her. "Breakfast is the best meal of the day" It was her favorite but she asked because it was the funnest to cook for someone in her opinion and maybe she was hoping to find out if he had people over that would make cooking for others possible. "Did your brother ever teach you a meal?" She questioned out of curiosity, peering at the stove to make sure it theirs wasn't burning. "Well, if you want to care for someone then I can help." She jumped off the counter with a new sense of purpose. "Do you have your phone? I can download an app and maybe take pictures. I'll get you on a date in no time!" She nudged him with her hip. "We can even do a trial one right now."

Grabbing two beers from the fridge, he opened both of them up with a bottle opener magnet and placed her bottle on the counter near her. Devin went to the sink to properly wash his hands and felt her presence as she rummaged through his kitchen. It was a small one with little space and little storage. It never occurred to him that he needed anything better until then. As he dried his hands with a dish towel, he looked around his own kitchen, unsure where anything was kept or if anything could be of use. “That’s a great question,” he mumbled after opening the second cabinet door. Bingo. Inside was one pot, medium in size at best, but at least something. He set it out for her and tried not to laugh when she asked about an apron. He cleared his throat and gave his kitchen a quick glance. It was his way of saying does it look like I have an apron? “Sorry, hun, no. I’ll put it on my list.” Devin felt like a nuisance standing there in a kitchen clearly designed for one person. “Uh, what can I help with, chef?”

This routine was done a few times beforehand, thus giving her some sort of understanding of his kitchen layout. Silverware, plates, cups, but the cooking items were sparse and placed in crooks she easily overlooked. When he reached for the one cabinet she skipped over, she nodded at the pot. Smaller than expected but nothing she couldn't work around. "That's perfect." Samantha smiled as she stood beside him. "I'll be sure to bring you one from my house. I was gifted a second pink, frilly apron that says kiss the chef. No reason why I shouldn't have it here." Especially since keeping him fed felt like a responsibility and ritual at this point. His offer surprised her and she hoisted herself up on the counter, bringing her beer between her legs to provide him with further counter space. "You can turn the stove top to medium heat and put the chilli in the pot. We're just rewarming it." The garlic bread was for last. "Have you ever cooked for someone, Dev?" She asked out of the blue, eyes fixed on him when she brings her bottle to her lips. "Maybe even breakfast for someone?"

The thought of some sleazy mechanics flirting with her unsettled him and he had to hope that he was not as bad as them. Sure, she was easy on the eyes and he enjoyed her company (when he wasn’t grumbling about it), but above all, he respected her. He supposed that was the thing that most lacked. The hint of a smile found his lips when she presented food to him. It seemed to always be her form of payment, and he wasn’t objecting in the slightest. He wasn’t much of a cook himself and he hadn’t had anything homemade in ages. “Thanks, I-” Before he could finish, he watched her start to walk inside. He wasn’t anticipating company and his place wasn’t much to look at. Though he initially went to stop her, he knew in his heart that there was no stopping her. He sighed and gave in, following her inside as he continued getting rid of those stubborn stains on him. “You want something to drink?” he offered, opening the fridge to reveal… not much. A few bottles of beer, a nearly expired carton of milk, and some definitely expired orange juice. “There’s uh… Beer or water.”

Samantha was as stubborn as they came. Help wasn't often accepted with ease, especially not without anything to provide in return. Perhaps it was why she enjoyed standing around watching him tinker ( and whine ) with her car. He never dismissed her offer to repay him with whatever baked good was cooling on her kitchen counter. It was a better exchange than cash she didn't have readily available. As their routine went, she beelined for his home with her pot under her arm and only peered back at the sound of his offer. "Beer." The food would need to be re-heated and that would take some time, or so she intended as she selfishly wanted to waste more time in his company. Lucky for her that he hadn't had one of those days that made brought forth more of his stubbornness. "I'm going to need a big pot." She told him as she began to open up her container, pausing to grab her elastic and place her hair in a messy bun. "Where do you keep them? I can see what you have, I'm sure I can make it work." Even if she had to reheat as small amount at a time in a microwave, Sam was all about finding solutions. "Do you have an apron?" Unlikely, but worth an ask.

Her little comment got a smirk out of him, always happy to take it after he dealt it. “Trust me, that aint it. I’ve been trying to get you out of my hair for ages.” It wasn’t completely true, considering he did find reasons to see her more often than he’d admit. Oh, you need a new engine filter… Let me fix that for you before you manage to destroy it. Did the filter really need to be changed? Yes, but not for another few months. Again, he found his reasons to keep her around. He finished cleaning off his hands and tossed his greasy rag off to the side. He knew the burden of financial struggles and didn’t even bother to tease her about that. Ever since he got out, he was doing everything he could just to stay above water. “Hey, I get it. That’s why you bring this hunk of junk to me and not some other mechanic, okay? They’ll rip you off.”

"Ages, huh? I thought I was doing you a favor by keeping you busy and your skills up to date." As if she was doing something good for him each time her car decided to be a menace. Even if she thought of getting a new car, and could afford it, there was a little worry that maybe she wouldn't have an excuse readily available to drop by and see him. Not that she would ever admit such a confession out loud. "Either they're trying to rip me off or flirt with me." The blonde added with a crinkle of her nose because both options were just as bad. The comments were always sleazy and a little too pushy. "Oh, I almost forgot." She opened her back door and pulled out a container. "I made too much chilli." Then she placed another container full of cookies on top of it. "— and of course had to bake dessert." She walked over to him and handed them over. "It's the last I could do." Rather than hand them over, she side stepped and walked past him. "I can warm it up on the stove. It won't take very long."

𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓: f 30+ 𝖕𝖑𝖔𝖙: devin often fixes your muse's car & helps out with pretty much anything they want. total luke & lorelai vibes - he grumbles, complains, and acts like hates helping but he always jumps to do anything for her. 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: love/hate friend

She leaned upon the side of her car, fixated with the lipstick swatches on her hand that she began to smudge. "There would be easier ways to piss you off, devin." The blonde said, dropping her hands on her side. Her car was her bad karma and she was sure that an ex of hers had put some sort of curse on it because it continuously kept failing her. "For all I know, you could be messing around in there and making sure that I have to keep calling you." Her eyes rolled at his last suggestion. "I'm just starting to make money from the weddings that I have booked. I don't have anything saved up."

◝ → closed    for @snfully ( continued from here ).

she watches him closely and nods her head when he finally seems to snap out of it and admits the initial shock, though pleased that it seems to melt away into something more pleasant. she nods her head at him, lifting her school lanyard with her room key attached to it. "i do go to school here. i heard a rumor that you were a professor but i didn't know if that was true or not." she told him, looking him up and down. he'd been attractive back then and she had a small crush on him, but he'd aged better than she could have imagined. "i was going to go to my room to change and then go out for a drink. did you want to catch up?" it felt odd saying but she wanted to be seen as an adult.

alex allowed himself to be led away from the front of the house without protest. it didn't take a genius to work out why she was relocating them just out of sight. he felt like a dirty little secret, and he'd have been lying if he'd said it didn't hurt. he looked down at his arm where she was touching him. it was a small gesture, presumably not meant to be affectionate in any way, and yet he couldn't help but think about how it was the first time they'd touched in god knows how long. he was surprised when she pulled him into a hug. he hadn't expected it and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around her waist. "i know." he murmured into her hair. "i'm sorry."

she could feel her heart skip a beat and then pound against her chest as his arms wrapped around her. the feeling she'd once had were still very present and she was left almost forgetting about who was waiting for her in that house. her fingers curled into the material of his jacket as her hug tightened. "no," she breathed out, cheek pressed against his chest. "i'm the one who's sorry." here she was, with someone else, rather than on her own, waiting for him. pulling back just enough to look up at him, her hand rose to brush her thumb along his cheek. "do you hate me?" maybe it would be easier if he did. then she wouldn't have to deal with the guilt and the emotions that came with him being out and free. "i'm sorry."

open to : f, 21 - 25. plot : based. not the tinder match option. meeting at her birthday party or a mutual event. muse : aston gallagher . 32. research associate professor of physics.

she turns with faux shock on her expression even though she'd been eyeing him since the moment he arrived. he was her first crush. "i usually hear how much i've grown up." she tells him with a smile as she takes a sip of her drink. "i hope that isn't disappointed on your face but more surprise?"

     "Would you prefer me to be one of those dishonest fuckasses?" The answer was an easy, resounding yes in his experience. Women always wanted him to be easier and less crass, and they always went for those fuckboys anyway. At least Mason was upfront. Some day there would be a woman worth chasing and up until present his stance had remained because no one had come along and piqued his interest in a way that drove him to it. Thus far, she was proving to be a little different, a little challenging to his principles. A smirk toyed on the ruffian's lips as she shamelessly let her hands wander his flesh. He'd allowed it, wasn't so much of a brute that he didn't appreciate the softness of a gorgeous woman's hands on him, Mason felt she had started this for a reason. "If you wanted more of me you could've just said so." His voice a tires on gravel sound, their closeness offered him a whiff of yesterday's shampoo and last night's perfume. The scent of him and their sex was still on her, and Mason's smirk only deepened at the thought of her being claimed. "She was dumped in the Mediterranean somewhere." Though he shrugged, the arms dealer made the brother of the husband she'd cheated on and subsequent next in command pay dearly for that. Mason was a conundrum at best. He'd always hated violence against women. Which stemmed back to something he never ever talked about. "Hmm, and you're the one groping me as you say that. Alright, darlin'."

"I don't have an issue with your honesty." It was refreshing because she was used to lies and deceit. It was nice to know where someone stood for once, and to be spoken to as if she could take it rather than someone who should be protected. It was one of the reasons he'd peaked her interest and she'd chosen to stay longer with him than she should have. The initial plan had been to steal a gun rather than ask nicely, hoping he'd take pity on her. The brunette would have vanished in the middle of the night, found her husband, and by the time that Mason put the pieces together - it would have been done. But rather she'd stayed because it had been long since she'd been touched and wanted, claimed and desired. "I never had an issue with round two but I remember you specifically saying that you don't do that. Are you getting soft on me? Am I rubbing off on you?" The brunette teased, thumb dragging across a nearby scar before her hand returned to her lap. Her gaze flicked back to him at the ease in which he spoke, not surprised or fearful because she knew and understood cruel men. There was no confusion as to who or what he was and what sort of violence he could bring on her. "A nice resting spot." She hummed with a wink before letting out a small breathe in order to get her own heart rate to slow down.

     Talking now, their breakup made even less sense. They had both been happy yet they tore their relationship down and walked away. Why? Sometimes Tana laid awake aa night and wondered exactly that. What had been the real reason for their demise? Often she thought it was her and the inability she had to share certain aspects of her past. Opening up to Peter and The Troubles, why she and her mother fled Ireland and changed names and lived constantly looking over their shoulders was a bit much to tell anyone. Plus, there was always the constant fear of the danger she was potentially putting him in. It wasn't likely retaliation would be coming now, but it was difficult to take that leap without incredible fear.

It wasn't that he'd ever been unhappy with her, or even that he'd fell out of love. Their communication lacked, that was for certain, and he'd even asked to go to therapy. There were just moments where he felt further away from her than he wanted with no real idea of how to bridge that gap. It was hard to miss someone while they laid next to you. The frustration and the inability to communicate that he needed more had him running away like a coward. He'd packed his bags, regretted his act almost immediately, but kept forward in the hopes that maybe it would be okay. Perhaps this longing was only temporary.

     "Maybe I do." Didn't he realize that every client was different and had their own needs? There was a rhyme and reason to why things were done the way they were, this wasn't just so that she could have a handsome tagalong. "Look, Angel, you're exceptionally smart and pick up details the average security wouldn't. When you're hanging out in the car waiting on me I'm betting that you're noticing every little thing that happens around you. You don't think that's not for a reason?" With her head leant to the side, Alara reguarded him, wondered if he'd pick up what she was putting down. "Like last week, when that same man walked by the vehicle three separate times and you noticed he was making mental notes of what he observed. Even the license plate. You're not there for no reason." The wink added a little color to her cheeks and had her mind travelling other places, at least for as long as the moment lasted. "I don't pay for it, babe." The theif fired back.

The male listened to her with arms folded over his chest. There was no doubt that he'd picked up things while sat in the car for forty-five minutes. But his skills were of better use if he was with her. Certainly he knew that he wasn't trusted from the jump and it was why he was left behind while she went and handled whatever business she needed to attend to, but he'd done the waiting around part and he was well over it. "I'd be of better use protecting you. My job is to pick up threats. I can only do that halfway if you only give me so much information." And by that, he meant by keeping him outside without any knowledge of where and what she was doing. He inched closer to him, feeling his own heart beat louder but he was focused on her. "I'm not any ordinary guy that falls on his knees for any pretty girl, Alara." He rose his hand, brushing hair away from her face.

Her lips lifted into a smirk as she regarded out the window. "You really know how to make a girl feel special." Her words dripped with sarcasm. The initial goal hadn't been to sleep with him but one thing led to another and there were no regrets. Frankly, she wouldn't be opposed to a round two, either. Though she wouldn't tempt fate by being the one to suggest such a thing. She'd pursued him initially and it was his turn to work if he wanted to see her again, though she knew better than to hold her breath for that. He didn't seem like the type to chase anything. She was surprised that he seemed more than adamant on having her hands on him, and she didn't shy away from letting them wander over his skin until the jagged one she'd pressed her lips earlier to was felt beneath her manicured fingers. Go fish. She continued to feel around, following his guidance while peering over at his features until she settled on another. Higher up, ribcage area, enough to cause severe damage. "She must have been a piece of work." The brunette hummed as her hand splayed over his chest. Her gaze rolled and she couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "I suppose you're not hard headed and nothing but a victim to these stubborn women?" Hard to believe. He seemed pretty stuck in his ways with no desire or want to change them for anyone. She respected it but it made her doubt that the women he slept with were the ones who were hardheaded. "Maybe you're not as good a teacher as you think." The grin vanished at his own question, then. The brunette swallowed hard as she shifted in her seat, looking back at him. "I hardly believe that you need to know the reason of each person you distribute guns to. Am I just special?" Perhaps he wanted her word that she wouldn't turn it on him as soon as she got it. The idea of hiring someone had come to mind a few times, but the satisfaction wouldn't be the same. She wanted, no, needed to see the life drain from him. "I need to do it myself. I want him to know I did it." She looked back at him. "I'm going to kill my ex-husband and I can't have it tracked back to me. Is that good enough, baby?"