#AND the middle seat next to me was open!!

[imujings]

[ot13] 13 ways to say three little words

synopsis. | the words that seventeen use to say i love you.

♯ pairing(s). | seventeen x gn!reader (all separate) ♯ genre(s). | fluff, established relationships ♯ wc. | 1.5k ♯ warnings. | cursing (k.sy), eating habits (j.ww), insecure thoughts (l.jh), crying (x.mh), food mentions (k.mg, c.hs)

jay’s musings. | 🎧 my heart it beats for you - grent perez

001 — 🍒. Before you can even unfasten your seat belt, Seungcheol's door clicks shut and he's on your side of the car, his smile warming you up through the window. You immediately make a noise of protest, seeing the numerous grocery bags lining his arms. He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head as he opens the door for you. "Let me handle it." He knows you’re able to do it yourself, but why should you when he’s there, ready to help in less than a moment’s notice? (That, and he takes pride in the way your eyes savor his biceps.) You can pout all you want, sure, yet the man will just kiss your forehead, telling you that you can help him by unlocking the front door and making yourself comfortable inside.

002 — 🪽. “Come over here, please,” isn't as uncommon of a phase as you think it would be from Jeonghan. He's not one to beg—and would never admit to doing so in front of someone other than you—but there’s something about the way you bundle into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but his sweater, that makes his heart squeeze. His stomach does a cartwheel at your sleepy smile and the words tumble out of his mouth in a soft, lethally desirous whine. When you glance over at his request, the man’s lips are pursed, displeased at the fact that you aren’t currently curled into his side. Unfortunately for you, he won’t say anything more until you giggle and relent to his wishes, falling into his arms as he tells you just how much he’s missed you.

003 — 🦌. Joshua’s beaming smile greets you in your kitchen, his shining eyes drinking in the tiredness of your own. You must’ve woken up from a nap. “I was just thinking about you,” the man says while turning away from the stove with a mug in hand. It’s your favorite hot drink, still steaming with heat. You graciously thank him and soak in the warmth of the beverage. The patter of rain outside does nothing to help you wake up for productivity, and you know for a fact this won’t contribute anything to it, either. Even more so when he’s already guiding you to your cozy living room, his arm circling around your waist and asking what show you want to put on.

004 — 🐈. As the two of you hop into the taxi, hand in hand, Jun’s quiet question reaches your ears. “Sit next to me?” You still don’t really understand why he asks every single time, especially when it’s only you two traveling. But of course, you agree, and he sacrifices the window seat to sit in the middle, head already falling to your shoulder with a sleepy drawl. Your cheek rests against the man’s hairline as you gaze out the window. You’ll wake him up when you reach your destination, huffing that that’s the last time you’ll let him pull a dirty trick like that, but not before you press a soft kiss to his temple and intertwine your fingers with his.

005 — 🐯. When Soonyoung asks you if you had recently switched the brand of shampoo and conditioner you use, you have half the mind to tell him straight up how weird it is that he’s smelling your hair. He barks out a laugh at your comment, saying that it’s not his fault you have a certain aura, scent, and vibe to you that he would notice even the slightest amount of change. His laugh quickly fades when you ask just what the hell he could possibly mean. Face slowly warming at the incredulous way he stares at you, as if you had asked why the sky was blue, the man’s next words make you melt. “What are you talking about? I notice you all the time.”

006 — 🦊. It’s almost two in the afternoon when a takeout bag is placed down on the table next to you, the smell wafting from it suspiciously similar to your favorite food. “Have you eaten today?” Wonwoo’s question has you flinching, eyes blinking up and away from your computer for the first time in what feels like hours. His own eyes soften at your demeanor, pulling out the chair next to you and settling in before beginning to take the food and utensils out. The man doesn't say anything more about the topic, instead opting to give you little updates about his day. As you two eat together, he lets his thigh press against yours, and you indulge yourself—just this once. (Until he, like always, shows up again.)

007 — 🍚. The poem is short and sweet. You had wracked your brain all night trying to find the perfect words to encapsulate how you feel, but as you stand before Jihoon now, your nerves are on fire. You watch as his eyes take in the curves of your handwriting, silent. He probably thought these simple words were unoriginal. Boring. Cheesy. Meaningless. You’re snapped out of your self-deprecating thoughts when the man suddenly coughs loudly, hiding his reddening face beneath his hands. His tone is meek. “Ah, you’re really something, aren’t you?” But he’s grinning, and then his lips crash into yours with a desperation you’ve never felt from him until now.

008 — 🐸. Your vision is blurry, and you aren’t really sure where you are until Minghao’s soft, reassuring voice and soothing hand at your back are processed by your brain. “I’m here, I’m here,” he murmurs. You hiccup and cling to him, your sobs slowly subsiding. It’s a little hard to breathe for a while, but with his help you’re able to lean back against your cushioned couch without feeling like the world is crumbling around you. When the man goes to make you a cup of tea you beg him to stay with you, but he merely shakes his head, wiping away the tears on your streak-stained cheeks. “I’ll be right back, okay? Stay strong now. I believe in you.”

009 — 🐶. Rows of stocked shelves with various yummy foods do nothing to distract you from your goal. You tug on Mingyu’s sleeve and ask him if you two could have a certain food you’ve been craving lately for dinner. An apology is ready to spill right after, knowing he probably already had prior plans for what to cook, but he doesn’t even hesitate before turning into a different aisle where he knows the ingredients lie. You let out a little cheer that confuses and amuses the man all at once. Why are you even entertaining the idea of him saying no? It’s your world, and he’s just living in it. “Of course,” he hums when you thank him profusely. “Whatever you want.”

010 — ⚔️. In the dead of winter, Seoul’s city air is, quite frankly, freezing. The scarf covering your face, along with your mittens and thick winter coat, all feel like thin notebook paper against the biting winter wind. Seokmin, on the other hand, is snugly encased around your arm and giggling all the while during your walk. “You’re so warm!” he laughs, the man’s gloved hands digging into your clothes like you’ll float away if he isn’t careful. He doesn’t even have a hood on, and you scold him for this, to which he just hugs you tighter. A particularly harsh gust of wind threatens to topple you two over and he presses his face to yours, skin surprisingly toasty. “No, I’m okay, really. I mean, how can I be cold when I’m with you like this?”

011 — 🍊. Seungkwan fiddles with the photograph in his hands. “We knew each other too late.” His gaze is almost mournful, and it tears at your heart, resting your head on the man’s shoulder as you murmur that fate has its reasons. He huffs as he slides the photo—one of you and him from an outing, smiling with cheeks pressed against each other—into its placeholder that’s colorfully decorated with stickers and annotations in pen. Closing your shared scrapbook of memories, he lays his head on yours and speaks softly into the silence. “You don’t understand. I wish I could’ve known you longer. I wish I could’ve made more memories with you. I wish I had known you sooner.”

012 — 🐢. Your hand is already on the doorknob when you call out to Hansol that you’ll be going to run some errands. To your delight, the man is at your side immediately. “Okay. I’ll go with you.” He helps you pick out some bright red strawberries for the shortcake you want to try making tomorrow. He gives his opinion on what flowers would look best on your dining room table (spoiler alert: they’re white tulips). He even goes with you to the post office, standing in line for a whopping thirty seconds as you drop off your return package. On the way back to the car, you ask him what he wants to do next. He shrugs with an easy smile. “S’long as it's with you, I’m cool with whatever.”

013 — 🦦. “I knew you could do it!” Chan cheers, strong arms grabbing your waist to lift you up and spin you around. Your laughter is contagious, infecting him with your symptoms of pure adoration and a lightened heart. He places you gently on the ground, letting go for only a moment before his arms are enveloping you again in a hug. His comforting cologne fills your senses and you relax against his hold. Your body feels weightless, somehow, and any heaviness settled on your shoulders is gone as the man’s lips find the crown of your head. All the hard work, all the sleepless, worrisome nights led up to this moment—and you know you’d do it a thousand times over if given the chance to hear his euphoric words again.

#s — @etherealyoungk, @ylangelegy, @shinysobi, @heartepub, @junplusone, @fallminlove, @wheeboo. if you’d like to be notified when new releases drop, don’t hesitate to send in an ask! <3

[rebellum]

Keep your meds that you take as-needed next to where you spend most of your time. Mine are in a drawer right next to my computer.

You're not supposed to store meds in the bathroom because it gets hot and humid in their during showers

If you only occasionally use a cane, get a fold-up one and always carry it in your backpack. You can take it out on public transit, even if you have a seat, so that people don't judge you for sitting down. This is especially important if you're someone socially perceived as a young man.

There's no shame in "giving in" to your illness. Do what you need to do. Eg if you're having intrusive thoughts about a certain object, you don't have to force yourself to practice resisting it or practice moving on from those intrusive thoughts. It's okay to just put it in the other room so that you don't think about it. You dont need to constantly practice resistance, you need to practice active compassion towards yourself.

You can fill a pill bottle with various OTC pills are carry that around in your bag. Like I have a mixed-pill bottle that has advil, naproxen, and Tylenol in it, rather than bottles of those all separately.

This is just general life advice: it's good to buy things that will make everyday life more enjoyable. I know this sounds like "well, DUH" but guys I got a mechanical keyboard for Christmas and it makes me SO happy to use my keyboard. Invest in making your daily tools constantly enjoyable and pretty. Things can be better than 'good enough'

You don't need to be someone else's inspiration. You dont need to be the one pushing societal boundaries. It's okay to do what you want or to hide your illness if that's what makes you feel the most safe and comfortable. [Relevance: I'm a trans POC with mental health issues. I am in a position where I could help to normalise 'weirdness' like stimming, counting out loud, and being open about intrusive thoughts and hallucinations. It would be good to do that, because I'm a fashionable young middle class feminine person, so it would help to remove the association of those behaviours with drug users and unhoused individuals. If those behaviours are more normalized it also helps those people, since they are then seen as doing fewer 'bad' things. But it's scary! I'm an openly trans poc! If i get mistaken for being high I could have to deal with police. I'm not in America, I'm not in as much danger as Black Americans are, but I'm still at a much increased risk of arrest and violence. It's okay if I want to keep my mental health issues and neurodivergence on the down-low and not be some sort of activist.]

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[starlighttsv]

Can you please do a fox where Blakey is hurt or sick and Paige and azzi take care of her

Sick - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: P & A take care of Blakely while she is sick

»»— warnings: poly! sickness, puke, hospitals, i.v, ect..

»»— notes: the internets the one that told me the fever thing and i know the internet lies so idk if that’s all true 🤷‍♀️ i also got carried away writing this but i gave up on proofreading lmao

»»— word count: 3.3k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

azzi and paige both woke up to the bed being cold, which never happens as blakely is always asleep in the middle of the bed between both of them.

so as you can assume they were both equally confused and even more so when they realized it was only 5:30am, when practice wasn’t until 8am and it was a saturday so the three of them didn’t have any classes today.

not to mention - blakely is NOT a morning person! she’ll sleep until 3pm if she doesn’t have anything going on that day

so blakely not being in bed and between them where she’s supposed to be was both confusing and concerning for the two girls

“where’s rosie?” paige rasps out to azzi with her morning voice while sitting up slowly on her elbows, using the nickname her and azzi have called blakely since they met “i don’t know” azzi says confused looking around the room for any sign of blakely

“here, you lay back down, i’m gonna go find her. “ azzi says already getting up starting to walk around the bed and to the door “are you sure? i can help look” paige rasps, slowly waking up more “i got it” azzi says looking back at paige “ok, if you need me, call for me. i’ll still be awake.” paige says laying back down on the bed

azzi nods to what paige said and then walks out of paige’s dorm bedroom and down to the living room / kitchen area thinking maybe blakely just wanted a late snack…nope

azzi looked everywhere for her in the small dorm and didn’t find her girlfriend anywhere - looked everywhere except for the bathroom, which honestly should’ve been the first place she looked

azzi makes her way to the bathroom seeing the door is shut but there is no light on, making her confused even more, rightfully so - blakely’s scared of the dark

azzi knockes on the door and gets no answer back making her slowly open the door and reach her hand in to turn on the light - only to see blakely sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her head resting on the toilet seat looking to be asleep, azzi immediately runs over to blake while yelling for paige not caring about jana and allie still being asleep

“PAIGE! COME HERE!” azzi yells while pulling blakely off of the toilet and letting b rest against her legs, while azzi holds blake there making sure she won’t fall forward and hit her head on the toilet. paige comes running in and sees blake unconscious being held up by azzis legs and azzi of course, with her few day old straightened hair tangled up with puke all in her hair and all on her

“what happened?! is she ok?” paige stresses walking closer to her two girlfriends and kneeling down next to blake “i don’t know i just found her with her head resting on the toilet seat and unconscious” azzi says starting to stress but trying to keep it underwraps

“baby hey, blakely” paige says tapping blakely’s face a few times trying to get her to wake up - which didn’t work because blakely could sleep through anything including earthquakes and tornadoes

paige and azzi both try to wake blakely up and after a few stressful minutes eventually succeeded “hi baby, can you tell us what happened?” paige asks while holding blakely’s cheek - slowly rubbing her thumb over blakely’s cheek bone

blakely doesn’t answer and instead just closes her eyes and leans her face more into paige’s hand and her body more into azzi’s touch - finding their touch comforting

“mama hey, let’s get you in the bath and then we can go to bed alright?” azzi says leaning down some to make her be closer to blakely

blakely just groans in response not wanting to move at all knowing her stomach pain is gonna come back right when she moves

paige just stands up and turns the water on for the bath and azzi starts helping blakely get her clothes off, both ignoring her groans of protest and just continuing with what they were doing

“alright a warm bath with bubbles and a bath bomb is ready for you” paige says coming back over to blakely and azzi - helping azzi into lifting blakely up gently as to not upset her stomach

paige helped blake get her pants off while azzi held her up, and then azzi helped blake get into the tub and sit down.

“i’m gonna go get her some clothes” azzi mumbles to paige watching blakely immediately put her head on the side of the tub, paige nods signaling that she heard azzi and squats down by the tub, running her hand over blakely’s back “hi baby, i’m gonna wash your hair ok? i’m gonna need you to sit up for me, just for a little bit then you can lay your head back down alright?” paige says in a low tone, knowing that when blakely’s sick she always ends up getting super bad migraines, she doesn’t know if blake has a headache right now or not as blakely’s gone non verbal, so she’s just treating it like she does have a headache just in case.

blakely still doesn’t say anything, she just slowly lifts her head up, allowing paige to wash her hair.

while paige was washing blake’s hair, azzi came back in and set a pile of clothes and a towel on the sink, she then also squated down beside paige and started rubbing blakely’s back

“how are you feeling now baby?” azzi asks lowly but getting no answer in return “mama hey” paige says pausing her scrubbing and trying to make eye contact with blake - blake eventually turning her head slowly

“how are you feeling now?” paige re asks azzi’s question, with blakely only shaking her head side to side as her answer.

“do you think you can keep down medicine?” azzi asks still rubbing blakely’s back - once again blakely just shook her head side to side as a way of saying no

“is there anything you need or want?” paige asks as she’s now rinsing the shampoo out of blakely’s hair

blakely still doesn’t talk and just shakes her head again, paige and azzi look at each other for a minute concerned as blakely has never acted like this while she’s sick - she normally just is clingy and wants attention 24/7, making them realize she’s a lot sicker then she normally gets every once in awhile.

paige and azzi help get blakely clean, dried, and dressed before azzi has blake sit on the toilet so she can braid her hair, and get it out of the way in case blakely throws up again

while azzi was doing that, paige went back to the room and started up the tv, putting it on descendants - one of blakely’s favorite movies, and grabbed 2 small trash cans putting it on either side of the bed, knowing blakely’s still gonna want to be in the middle close to both of them

“alright there we go rosie” paige can hear azzi say from the bathroom down the hall, making her set down the water bottle she had just grabbed onto the night stand, and walk towards the bathroom

“you guys done?” paige asks as she sees blakely shakily walk forward “she’s gonna brush her teeth and then we’re done” azzi says trailing behind blakely in case she loses balance

paige nods in response “i’m gonna go make some coffee, figured we’re gonna be up for a little bit” she finishes while standing up from leaning against the door frame

azzi nods showing that she heard paige but kept her attention on blake. paige then walked to the kitchen making enough coffee for her and azzi, + jana and allie if they wanted any

paige could hear azzi helping blakely back into her bedroom and was trying to hurry with the coffee - just wanting to be with both her girlfriends and be able to comfort her sick girlfriend, so while the coffee was brewing she started preparing the mugs, putting sugar, creamer, all that stuff in and then pouring the coffee and stirring it together, once the coffee was done.

she grabbed those two mugs and carefully walked to her room, seeing azzi and blakely in their normal spots, with b’s head resting on azzi’s chest both watching tiktok off of azzi’s phone

paige just walked to the bed carefully giving azzi her coffee, before getting on the bed and under the covers - moving her free arm to lay behind blakely signaling to both of them to move closer to her - which they both do obviously

once they were all comfortable, azzi pressed play on the movie, blakely letting the sound of her comfort movie lull her to sleep.

sleep didn’t last long. she was able to get an hour & 30 minutes before she woke up gagging, paige immediately sat up from talking to azzi and grabbed the trash can putting it under blakely’s mouth just in time.

azzi rubs blake’s back while paige is whispering soft nothings to blakely - wanting to comfort her as paige knows blakely hates getting sick especially in front of people including her two girlfriends that she’s known for years

“you done?” paige asks after a few minutes of blakely just catching her breath, blakely takes a minute to decide and then nods her head slowly - making paige set the trash can back on the floor and grab the water from earlier, opening it, and handing it to blakely

while she was taking a drink, azzi decided to go get the thermometer and see just how sick blakely is,

“we have to get her fever down now or take her to the hospital. it’s way to high.” azzi says after looking at the thermometer once it beeped

“how high?” paige asks already standing up to try to help “101.2 if it gets to 103 or higher she’s definitely going to the hospital - if we’re not already there. i don’t care if we get in trouble for missing practice.”

“no, no hospital” blakely groans out trying to lay back down but can’t get comfortable. paige and azzi both moved closer and started trying to help blake get more comfortable

once they were done azzi sat at the edge of her side of the bed, putting her hand on top of blakely’s “we won’t take you yet, but if your fever doesn’t go down or it gets higher, we’re gonna have to. you already have a 101 fever baby. we will both be with you, i promise. you won’t be alone ok?” azzi tries to soothingly say as she knows blakely is also petrified of hospitals

blakely doesn’t respond to her and just turns to look at paige, using her doe eyes on her knowing those are paige’s weakness “i’m sorry mama, she’s right. you’re really sick baby”

blakely just huffs and tries to turn over onto her stomach so she doesn’t have to look at them - she struggles for a little bit and paige and azzi obviously voice their opinions but, blakely eventually succeeds in rolling over all by herself

“rosie-“ azzi starts but gets cut off “no” blakely responds back, already knowing what she’s gonna say and not wanting to hear those said words. paige and azzi both make eye contact behind blakely’s back and start lip reading each other - trying to figure what to do

“alright baby, if you don’t want to end up having to go to the hospital then we need to get your fever down by a lot, so cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige says putting her hands on her hips - looking at her stubborn sick girlfriend “neither” blakely grumbles into the pillow

“alright i’ll get the necessities for the hospital” paige said starting to walk out of the bedroom “no hospitals!” blakely yells into the pillow “ok then cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige sasses back

blakely groans into the pillow which ends up in a coughing fit making azzi who’s still sitting in the same spot, start patting her back to try to help her

once she was done coughing paige walked back to the bed laying down in her spot and looking at blakely “rosie look at me” paige says putting her hand on blakely’s back and gently rubbing her lower back while azzi’s still rubbing her upper back

blakely didn’t respond in any way making paige sigh “baby”

“mama, cmon” paige says but ends up more of demanding it, blakely slowly turns her head to look at paige and immediately made eye contact with her piercing blue eyes

“we just want to help you, you know that. we wouldn’t suggest the hospital if we didn’t feel like it was necessary. your fever is at 101.2 right now ok? if we can bring it down and keep it down then we don’t have to go to the hospital but if your fever gets to 103 and up we have to go, it’s not up for discussion.” paige starts and she can see blakely about to complain and starts talking again before blakely has the chance “you know we wouldn’t leave you alone there, i know you do. we’ll be right by your side the whole time ok?” paige says in a soft voice trying to get blakely to understand how serious her fever is.

blakely doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at paige while thinking of a decision while azzi and paige both keep rubbing her back, blakely eventually nods her head “i’ll go if needed” she grumbles out “thank you baby.” paige says leaning in and kissing the top of blakely’s head “do you want to take a ice bath or..?” azzi now asks making blakely groan into the pillow again as she didn’t learn her lesson last time

after blakely’s done with her second coughing fit paige and azzi both manually roll blakely over, so that she can actually breath and so she can’t groan into the pillow anymore

paige and azzi both just stare at blake - wanting an answer, making blakely sigh and look between both of them “rags and ice packs i guess”

paige stands up from the bed saying that she’ll be back and walks out of the bedroom going to the kitchen to get ice packs, while paige is doing that azzi gets up to get cold wet rags

it’s now been almost two hours since azzi took blakely’s temperature and that whole argument. after paige and azzi put wet rags and ice packs all over blakely’s body all three of them ended up watching more movies until they all fell asleep - 2 of them fell asleep on accident and neither of them called geno telling him what’s happening

azzi woke up before the other two and was confused before she looked at the bed and saw her two girlfriends asleep on the bed - realizing that her and paige accidentally fell asleep which was fine until she also remembered the said fact that they didn’t call geno, making her scramble to grab her phone seeing multiple missed calls and unread texts from everyone on the team

azzi quickly sent a message to geno and cd explaining everything - which is what reminded her to check blakely’s temperature

104.3

“paige! paige get up” azzi says while shaking paige making her wake up startled “what? what happened” she groaned out “blakely’s fever is to 104.3, we need to get her to a hospital now” azzi says with urgency making paige sit up and look at blake realizing how pale she looks

both paige and azzi put there crocs on and wake blakely up - that was a mistake

right when they successfully woke blake up she immediately started gagging making azzi rush to put a trash can under her mouth, paige was rubbing her back as a way to comfort blakely but it wasn’t working and blakely couldn’t stop puking

after a few minutes of non stop puking and then dry heaves,blakely was finally able to get a break and during that break azzi put blakeys slides on her and grabbed the clean trash can for the car ride to the hospital

paige carefully picked up blakely knowing that blake would be walking slow to the car and then end up puking again before they made it to the car, so she was going to carry her

blakely lays her head on paige’s shoulder while paige follows behind azzi as she’s the one opening the doors for paige to get through with blake. once they reach paige’s car paige sets blakely in the backseat with azzi sitting back there with her - holding the trash can in front on blakely while paige gets into the drivers seat and takes them to the hospital

once they made it to the hospital they were checked in and seen pretty fast, now blakely’s laying in the hospital bed with an i.v in her hand asleep while paige and azzi sit in the chairs by the hospital bed, each holding one of her hands and watching whatever shows on their hospital rooms tv

the doctor put her on some medicine but still wanted to monitor her over night so they were all going to stay the night at the hospital, paige planned on getting food and going home to get clothes and necessities once blakely woke up so she could also have a say in lunch so they were just waiting on blakely, which after a few more minutes eventually started to slowly wake up

“hey rosie” azzi said with a low voice being the first to notice her waking up, making paige look to her side to also see blakely waking up “good morning mama” paige says even though it’s the late afternoon now, blakely just groans in response - the light in the hospital room blinding her and making her headache worse

azzi seems to understand what’s wrong and gets up to turn the light off, “better?” she asks sitting down in her seat making blakely nod “how are you feeling?” paige asks rubbing her thumb over blakes knuckles “like crap” blakely rasps out before going into another coughing fit

azzi pats blakely’s back while paige holds a bucket under blake’s mouth just in case - eventually she stops coughing and the two of them continue to talk to blakely, mentioning getting stuff from home and food

it’s now the next day, blakely has been released from the hospital with instructions to rest and to take her prescribed medication and she should be good in the next 3-4 days - which paige and azzi where going to make sure blakely listened and did everything she was supposed to do

they had just gotten back to paige’s dorm and azzi was helping blakely up to paige’s room while paige was carrying their shared overnight bag, food to eat now, and a few bags of snacks and soft foods for the next few days

jana and allie were out at practice for today so it was just the three of them for right now. while azzi was helping blakely get comfortable on the bed paige was once again turning the tv onto a disney movie - this time being lemonade mouth

once the movie was on she sat down on her spot of the bed and passed the food around.

after around 25 minutes they eventually found themselves in a cuddling pile with blakely in the middle and paige and azzi hugging onto her, rubbing her stomach, playing with the ends of her hair, or gently kissing blakely’s forehead while whispering soft praises of love to her, with eventually all three of them falling asleep in each others arms

that’s how jana and allie found them 2 hours later

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @ldapper @authentic-girl03

[onlyquinns]

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, fluff!

content: you and quinn share a fun moment despite rough circumstances, mention of hockeyplayer!reader

the sun sets quickly in the orange sky, its last bright rays obscured by the city skyline off in the near distance. your breath comes out in puffs in the frigid air as you watch quinn shoot puck after puck into an old, dingy net placed out on a frozen over lake, probably left out by someone’s parent or a peewee coach. despite having access to roger’s area after hours, quinn always preferred an outdoor rink, the lake being his favorite; it brought nostalgia into the sport he loved, encouraging him to continue going regardless of his team’s standing and reminding him of where he started back on that lake in elementary school.

you can tell he’s upset, incredibly frustrated with his coaches and managers for attempting a rebuild to a team that he held all of his faith in. you watch as he pulls his stick back, lining up for a shot, and swings down at a blinding speed. the puck arcs through the air and ricochets off the net’s paint-peeled bar with a loud clang into the back corner in the opposite side.

quinn lets out a breath and you notice that his stick lay in two pieces, the strength behind his shot having put too much bend to the poor thing.

“quinny, let’s go home,” you call to him, your voice gentle but without the pity that he’s so tired of hearing.

quinn shakes his head, skating over to you in long and graceful strides. he hands you the two broken pieces of his stick, your fingers brushing the coarse fabric of his gloves. “just a few more, baby,” he says, exhausted eyes roaming your face. “can you grab me my other stick from the car?”

you give him a gentle smile and take the broken stick into your hands, “yeah,” you say gently, “is it alright if i get my skates on and join you? i’ll stay out of your way, jus’ wanna skate a bit.”

you watch as the corner of quinn’s lips quirk upward just briefly before he nods and skates away from you, running through skate drills by himself. as you turn your back and make your way over to the back of his car, you listen to the scrape of his blades on the frozen lake, sound filling the darkening night sky.

the back of quinn’s porsche is jam-packed with hockey gear. an old opened gear bag he snagged from the lake house in michigan sits against the wall of the car’s trunk, an old piece of duct tape stuck to it with his name on it in ellen’s faded handwriting from years of childhood hockey practices. next to it are three hockey sticks stuffed haphazardly into the vehicle, the middles of them hanging over the back seats.

you toss the broken stick into the car and snag two sticks, quinn’s extra one and one of your own quinn brought along in the slim chance he could convince you to shoot pucks with him. you dig your cold fingers through the gear bag with a wrinkle of your nose and fish out a pair of hockey gloves in your size and your own skates, the gloves being second-hand from quinn himself when he was younger.

you quickly tie your skates on and walk through the packed down snow to the lake, hockey sticks in your gloved hands. when you approach, quinn skates over to you and takes the sticks before taking your arm into his and guiding you onto the lake—even knowing the two of you started skating at similar ages. you thank him quietly and loosen your grip from his and take your stick.

“race ya’ to the puck,” you tease and shoot off toward the puck before quinn can respond.

quinn chuckles softly at your words and the sound of his blades fills your ears, his body close behind you as you round the net and fish the puck out from the corner. muscle memory kicks in as you handle the puck, your arms aching a little from having quit hockey after your senior year in high school. you look up and smile at quinn as he positions himself in front of the old net, cheeks flushed from the winter air. he drops his chest forward a little and takes in your form, his tired eyes sweeping over the grin on your face, the mottled skin under his eyes adding a sharpness to his features. the frustration in quinn’s chest melts away and his eyes soften under your gaze, a sense of calm and joy warming his body—thats when you take the chance to advance onto him.

you skate in jagged lines toward quinn’s hunched form, stick pushing the puck along the ice. “they advance toward the net,” you announce into the night air, “and…” you draw your stick back and swing down, sending the puck across the ice and toward quinn, “they shoot!” quinn laughs and easily deflects the puck.

“shot on goal stopped by hughes,” he calls toward you as he skates away from the net and you race after him with a giggle.

you settle yourself a few feet away from quinn and stare him down with a grin. quinn’s lips twitch just a little and he quickly skates around you, driving his body closer to the open net.

“hughes skates around y/n and races toward the net!” he calls behind him.

you let out a loud laugh and go after him, “y/n is in pursuit of hughes—“ you watch as quinn draws back his stick and shoots the puck. “—but is unable to stop him; hughes scores!” you hoot and launch yourself into his arms, stick above your head.

quinn laughs, “i thought we were playing against each other,” he says, his chest rising and falling steadily against your heaving one. he squeezes your hips with his hands, eyes drawn to the joyous look on your face.

“we’re teammates now, duh!” you giggle, pressing your forehead to his. “how do you feel?”

quinn smiles softly and cants his lips onto yours in a soft kiss, “better,” he mumbles and smiles wider when you grin into the kiss. “much better.”

all photos from pinterest

[gabbytvclarke]

The dog and the postwoman PART FOUR: Strawberries and Syrup

Part one here! ♥ Part two here! ♥ Part three here!

• Summary: Arthur invites the reader back to his flat for the night while his flatmates are out... • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke and friend!Arthur Hill) • Fluff, and slow burn SMUT • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes, and (sober!!!) sex • Word count: 6,326 words • Note: Reader is on the pill • Note 2: I'm sorry for the middle pic

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“My… my roommates are out of town too, so it would be just us.” He shyly adds, peering down at her with darkened eyes. Interesting.

She cocks her head, a mischievous smile tugs at her lips. "Arthur, what are you implying?" She jabs.

"Oh, um, it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to..." Arthur replies sheepishly, sweat forming at the back of his neck.

"I'm kidding Arthur," she giggles, shaking her head at him, "I'm excited for some y/nTV, regardless of what we do."

"Oh." Arthur lets out the breath he was holding, his fingers still intertwined with hers as they continue walking to his.

"You do have a spare toothbrush and a shower in your hobbit hut, right?" She jokes.

———

"Sorry about the mess." Arthur mumbles as he closes the door behind her. She looks around his home and it's completely... spotless. She gently kicks off her shoes and tries to give Arthur his hoodie back, but he shakes his head and holds up his hand to stop her. "You can borrow that, looks good on you." He says with a warm smile. She giggles out a thank you and folds it on top of her shoes.

"You want another glass of water?" Arthur asks, it then dawns on him that he's never hung out with y/n alone before, outside of a discord call and digital cubic houses anyway. Luckily, he's too drunk for his nerves to completely engulf him.

"Yes please," y/n replies as she makes her way to the lounge area. She tests out which seat is the comfiest and figures it's the larger sofa. Arthur enters with two glasses of water. "Let me know if you want to order food too, I think a few places are still open." He offers kindly.

"Maybe later, I'd like a tour of your home first." She states with a smile. Arthur leads her around the flat. It's a nice place, and y/n can tell he lives with two other women, who she kind of knows through social media. His bedroom is her favourite. It's the perfect mixture of geeky, cozy, and neat. Not as many books as his video backdrop would suggest however.

Arthur stands beside his bed, suddenly feeling heated at the idea of messing up his neat sheets with y/n, but he remains stoic. "Oh!" He lets out, reaching into his drawers and grabbing one of his baggy T shirts and passing it to y/n. "You can change into something comfier if you'd like. I can wait in the lounge." He chirps as he also grabs her some spare pyjama bottoms and socks.

"Thank you Arth." She beams at him as he scurries out the room. She giggles to herself at his wholesomeness; inviting a girl back to his place and then letting her get dressed in privacy. That's Arthur.

He scrolls through Youtube on his TV, looking for something to watch. A more sober Arthur would've cleared his watch history so his homepage isn't flooded with recommendations for y/n's videos. When she enters the room, Arthur can't help himself.

"Y/n, you look adorable!" He calls out to her, smiling from ear to ear. His clothes fit her in such a flattering way. She looks so snug. Plopping down right next to him, she takes a couple sips of water and looks at his huge TV screen with wide eyes. He wonders if she'll make a jab about his video recommendations. "Oh god, I'll watch anything but my own videos!" is all she has to say while laughing. He adores her humbleness as it shimmers once again.

They settle on a video about ghost sightings. Arthur excuses himself to grab a blanket, returning in loungewear as he turns the lights down to add to the ambiance. He looks incredible, his hair extra messing from changing, a baggy black tee and some grey joggers. Does he know what he's doing? He sits next to y/n and instinctively puts an arm around her. The video seems a little lame at first, but the jump scares get the pair really spooked. "That really got you didn't it?" Arthur teases, his voice low and his breath fanning her face. He pulls her even closer to him, "C'mere, I've got you."

It feels right, comfortable. They lean against each other, not uttering a word as they continue watching. Arthur's hand rests on y/n's thigh, just above her knee. Her heartbeat was already rapid before, but it races even further. Arthur starts talking her ear off about his view on ghosts, which she listens to contently, the audio from the TV fading from her focus.

"Oh, the video's finished." Arthur realises midway through a sentence. Ironically, the ChrisMD video they both had starred in is queued up on the autoplay list and they let it load.

"Hm, let's see what the most replayed moments are, shall we?" Arthur says with a smirk, scrolling along and pausing at the spikes. Every moment is when they were both on screen, except for one; when Chip fell over. It's as if Arthur already knew, y/n did not. She sits next to him dumbfounded, her mouth open but curved up at the corners. "If you think that's crazy, now let's read some more comments" Arthur giggles.

"No Arthur, I can't..." Y/n groans as she hides her face in her hands. With one hand pointing the remote at the TV, he scrolls down to the comments so they're in big bold letters. With his spare hand, he pulls y/n's hands away from her shy smile. "Look, look: 'Arthur and y/n keep exchanging glances'!" He reads with a smirk.

"Stop it Arthur!" She chortles, her face burning as she covers her eyes.

But he doesn't: "'O-M-G get y/n and Arthur on more stuff together'"

"Arthur!" She leans over and tries to take the remote. Despite her best efforts, he pulls it further away from her reach, holding it behind him. "Oh this one's great: 'Look at at that eye contact, the tension is crazy'!" His giggles continue as his pitch and volume increase.

Tears are nearly forming in her eyes from laughing so much, she starts trying to climb over Arthur as he falls onto his back on the sofa. She crawls halfway over him and grabs hold of the remote, pinning his hand above his head. Their laughter dies down fast when they realise how intimately close they are; Arthur laying on his back with his legs apart, y/n with one knee resting in between his legs and the other to the right of his body; their faces mere inches from each other.

They exchange a look of intrigue and desire. One of them needs to say something, or do something. Arthur's free hand reaches up to hold her waist. Y/n looks to his lips then straight back into his eyes. "They're right about that tension." She jokes quietly, though her face serious as her eyes darken, watching his pupils dilate.

"Yeah." Arthur whispers, barely audible. His near black eyes focus on her lips. Illuminated by the red glow from the TV, they both slowly lean in until they meet halfway. Their kisses start as small pecks but become something more desperate. He lets out a sigh that fans her face and she smells the Southern Comfort on his breath.

She pulls away. "Arthur... wait." He stops immediately, his hand dropping as he looks intensely up at her, anxiety creeping across his face.

"Is everything OK?" He pants.

"Everything is more than OK," she whispers, equally breathless, "I really want this, but we're drunk. You especially."

Arthur nods slowly. She moves back to sitting next to him hesitantly and intrusively worries that he'll want her to leave, or lose interest in her.

"I'm definitely more sober than you and I really don't want to take advantage," she continues, she gazes into his eyes with genuine care, "can we put a pin in this for now?"

She awaits a response from Arthur, he slowly sits up too.

"You are completely right." He chuckles shyly, adjusting his T shirt over his jogging bottoms. "I guess I got a little carried away there, sorry."

"Do not apologise at all Arthur," she puts her hand on his knee shooting him a genuine smile, "are you... annoyed?"

"Not at all." He puts his arm around her. "Now where were we?" He points the remote back at the TV with a smirk.

"No Arthur!" She giggles. He chuckles as he exits out of the video, handing her the remote.

"You can pick [nickname]. What do you want to do, aside from me that is." He asks with a playful sneer, they both burst into laughter. She's amazed at how unbothered he is, how he can make her feel so wanted and yet can turn it off if she needs it to stop. Ironically, it makes her want him even more, but she needs to hold her ground.

They settle on a documentary about space, one that Isaac had recommended to Arthur before, and they sit in blissful silence as they learn more about the universe. They also decided on pizza, seemingly a pattern with their sleepovers. Arthur keeps pausing the TV to tell y/n a side fact he'd read somewhere, or heard from another documentary. Usually, y/n hates interruptions, but she doesn't mind it with him. This, out of everything, is the moment she realises she's head over heels for the guy.

When the film is over, Arthur stretches and asks y/n if she wants anything. "We can call it a night, or play some Minecraft if you're up for it?" He offers sweetly.

"Actually, I am pretty tired. Would you be OK with me brushing my teeth and hitting the hay?" She asks him, a yawn punctuating her sentence.

"Of course I don't mind y/n, I'll get you a spare toothbrush out." He heads to the bathroom. Y/n piles up a couple of cushions and lays the blanket ready on the sofa, before joining Arthur in the bathroom. "I got a spare towel and flannel out for you too in case you wanted a shower tomorrow morning, feel free to use my soap." He smiles, deciding to brush his teeth then and there too.

"You really are something Arthur." Y/n says with a delighted sigh.

"Something good I hope," He mumbles in response, his toothbrush still in his mouth and foamy toothpaste all over his smile. She can't help but grin at him as she nods. Once they’re both minty fresh, y/n starts making her way to the sofa. “Wait, what’re you doing?” He asks.

“Going to sleep Arth,” she replies with a confused chuckle.

“Oh no, you can take my bed. You’re not sleeping on a sofa!” He politely informs her. He rushes to her side, almost to guide her back to his room.

“Arthur, you’ve made me feel more than welcome tonight, you deserve to sleep in your own bed!” Y/n sweetly replies. They reach his room.

“Well, that settles it, we’ll have to share it,” Arthur shrugs, his face then getting more serious, “only if you want to though.”

She feigns thinking hard. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?" She then asks.

"Which ever isn't the side you want." He replies with a soft voice.

She rushes to the lounge area to grab her phone, charger, and water. Randomly picking the left side, she climbs in and sighs out another yawn. "Wow, your bed is really comfy," she exclaims, lightly jiggling herself up and down, "and bouncy!"

Arthur laughs at her cuteness. "It is bouncy..." He trails off, his mind going to darker places. He can just about see through his T shirt on her, noticing the way her breasts jiggle and has to tear his eyes away before she notices. And before he gets too excited again. "You OK Arth?" She asks sweetly, seemingly not noticing.

"Oh, um, I'm fine..." He answers, a little too immediate, yet too hesitant at the same time. "But I... usually only sleep in boxers and a tee. Would that be OK?" He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, slowly getting more sober by the minute at the thought of actually laying next to the girl of his dreams in his own bed.

"That's totally fine, I was about to ask you if I can do pretty much the same thing. I can't stand the feeling of loose fabric on my legs in bed." She giggles.

"Right? It's so uncomfortable!" Arthur yells, still not sober enough to control his volume apparently. He clears his throat and slowly pulls his joggers down, revealing fitted boxers underneath. Y/n pretends to check a phone notification that doesn't exist, as an excuse not to stare, before removing Arthur's pyjama bottoms from under the quilt, folding them, and dropping them on the floor beside her. He adjusts his LED lights to a dim shade of purple, very cozy and reminiscent of his old Tiktok videos.

He slides in next to her, realising that he's not used to one particular side of his bed, but he'll make an exception for her. He's sure he'll be accustomed to the right side one day. Preferably forever. He lays on his back with one hand under his head, the other on his phone. Adjusting his screen brightness and volume as to not disturb y/n. Meanwhile, she lays on her side, away from Arthur, in an attempt to get comfortable. She then rolls over to face him.

"I've got a question for you." She whispers.

"What's that then?" He asks with a side smile, his voice quiet as he turns his head to lock eyes with her.

"Big spoon or little spoon?" She asks.

He chuckles at her cuteness, he wasn’t sure whether the question was going to be serious or not. “I like both.”

“Good answer. What’s your preference for tonight though?” She replies.

Arthur pauses to think, twice tonight he’s been flustered. He doesn’t really want to feel like that again while up against her. He only thinks for a few seconds, but his mind is out to get him tonight. It travels to how her cheeks would feel when he slams into them, all thanks to Becky pointing out y/n’s ass is at the pub golf. He stiffens at just the thought. “L-little spoon tonight.” Smart reply. He doesn’t want her to feel it. Not yet.

He rolls to his right and the bed shifts as she joins him, her arm reaches round his torso and he silently begs that she doesn’t shift her hand down a couple of inches. Her body flushes against him and she feels so warm, so encompassing. He feels safe, but she’s made him feel that way since they first exchanged words.

Now her mind plays dirty. She thinks about that kiss on the sofa, his desperate sigh. His stubble scratching against her skin just the right amount. The way his hand slid up to her waist. The way his eyes undressed her. She wonders what the morning will bring when:

“What are your plans for tomorrow again?” Arthur mumbles.

“Oh, nothing.” She replies, still a little distracted.

“Wrong. You’re spending the day with me.” He replies, almost smooth until he hiccups at the end. She lets out a sleepy laugh and pulls him closer.

“Sounds good to me Arth.” She whispers.

“I look forward to it.” His velvet voice replies. He locks his phone and yawns, setting on his bedside table. “Good night, my little gem.”

She was asleep before she could reply.

———

A faint hissing sound ushers her awake. She frowns as she remembers she’s not in her own bed. She’s facing the wall, not the direction she remembers falling asleep in. Swallowing the morning dryness out of her throat, she rolls over to find the bed empty. “Arthur?” She asks quietly. No response.

She gets up and gives herself a good stretch. She checks her phone to see nothing from him. Her body still not 100% awake yet, she exits his room to find a glorious sight: Arthur in the kitchen area, with just a towel around his waist and messy bed hair. He catches her out the corner of his eye.

“Good morning sleepy.” He chirps, beaming at her. She dreads to think how she looks.

“G’morning Arthur.” She replies with a smile, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. “Have you been up long?”

“Nah, about 15 minutes I’d say. Just had a shower and then started breakfast.” He replies, concentrating on the frying pan he’s using. “There’s plenty of hot water left for you by the way.”

“Thank you Arth, what are you making?” She joins him in the kitchen, curious and hungry.

“I’m making us some pancakes. It felt like a pancake morning.” He replies, looking happier than ever. “Although they’re not looking too nice.”

"They smell delicious though." She grins as she stands next to him, watching him struggle to scoop up the half cooked batter to flip it. "Here, let me help." Arthur steps aside and lets her take the utensils. His eyes travel from her concentrating smile, down to his T shirt she's still wearing, the further down to her gorgeous bare legs. He adjusts his towel, just in case.

"I don't think there's enough oil here." She mumbles, pouring a little more in and fixing the pancake. "I can do the rest of these if you need to make yourself more decent". She gestures to his towel and gets a better look at his muscles. Her eyes linger for a moment at his perfect six pack and broad shoulders. She takes what she thinks is a subtle sigh, but Arthur can sense her getting flustered.

"You don't think I look decent?" He teases, cocking his head.

"Oh! That's not what... You look incredible, I mean-" She stammers, her eyes going wide.

Arthur squints his eyes shut as he laughs. "I'm kidding! I'll get changed." Y/n stares ahead in disbelief at herself as Arthur walks away. Before he's out of sight, she can see the back of his neck turning red.

"Sorry for starting breakfast and then leaving it for you." Arthur says sheepishly as he rejoins her in the kitchen. He takes a seat up at the counter as she flops the last pancake onto his plate and slides it to him. His eyes pop at the presentation.

"It's really no problem at all, it's better than you burning the place down." She quips as she sits next to him and they dig in. He laughs but interrupts himself with a hum of appreciation, loving their breakfast collaboration.

Y/n breaks the silence. "I hope you don't mind, but I opened a window. It got a bit smokey in here."

Arthur finishes his mouthful, "Don't you mean steamy?" He jokes, smirking at her and bouncing his thick eyebrows. Y/n laughs, covering her mouth as to not spit out her food. She shakes her head at him.

"Don't try and deny it, you were definitely checking me out earlier." He added, cockily. Her mouth widens but she still dons a smile.

"It's not my fault you were wearing nothing but a slutty little towel." She jabs back playfully. Arthur's jaw then drops, he puts his finger in the syrup and swipes it over her lips. Shovelling the last bit of his pancake in his mouth, he rushes out of his chair to avoid any counter attacks. "Oh you're in big trouble Frederick." She grumbles with a grin.

"Don't threaten me with a good time y/n!" He giggles as he starts backing away from her. She hops out of her chair with the whipped cream can in hand, she runs after him but he's much faster. She presses the lid as hard as she can and cream sprays everywhere, including the back of Arthur's hoodie and joggers. He pauses and turns around, a look of surprise on his face.

"That's what you get when you mess with me, towel boy." She smirks, throwing the can in the air and catching it like a cowboy.

"That's it!" Arthur calls as he sprints after her this time. As they both rush past the table, Arthur grabs a strawberry as his weapon of choice. She runs to the lounge area, shrieking as he clambers over the sofa and catches her. He wraps one arm around her and tries pressing the strawberry to her mouth with the other. "Open wide," he mumbles mischievously, but it sounded a little too sexy to y/n. Two can play at that game.

As she wriggles around trying to get out of his grip, she grinds her ass against his crotch. She hears his breath hitch from behind her as he stops for a brief moment, before continuing his attack. "You naughty girl." He murmurs in a low, definitely seductive tone, a pitch deeper than she's ever heard from him. "Get here now."

He manages to turn her to face him amongst the play fighting, a mix of syrup and strawberry juice on her lips. He holds her flush against him with her arms pinned to her side. "Don't you look delicious." He whispers with a smirk. She can feel his phone digging against her and it's just enough stimulation to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. He leans in and licks a slow deliberate line across the corner of her mouth.

"Mmm," he hums, his eyes getting heavy, "I bet that's not the only place you taste good." She can't believe what she's hearing, her breaths get shallower as she instinctively licks her own lips. The mix does taste nice to be fair. He peers into her eyes and chuckles before his phone rings. From the kitchen counter. Oh, she thinks.

"To be continued," Arthur quips, recognising the set ringtone. "It's my manager." He heads to answer it, a little out of breath himself.

"I'm just gonna go shower and freshen up." She excuses herself, just before he accepts the call.

She washes off the mini breakfast she was wearing on her face as she stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face is bright red, and not from the strawberry. Arthur's muffled voice from the other room envelopes her as her thoughts take her to his deeper voice from earlier. A sudden wave of shyness engulfs her, that that side of him had been dwelling all this time, but she can't say she's surprised. He's always had a certain cheekiness to, of course that would extend to his bedroom antics. She spots the folded up towel placed beside the sink, where Arthur showed her, but now it has a spare pair of joggers and hoodie on top. He's so considerate. Just as well, the shirt she slept in had food all over it anyway.

———

His phone call didn't last long at all. Arthur awaits y/n's return in the lounge, adjusting his excitement in his waistband and taking a deep breath. Without her beautiful presence, nerves begin to wash over him. He just hopes that he didn't freak her out too much with his playfulness. He then gets a funny thought, and reaches for the TV remote with a smirk.

A few minutes later, y/n emerges from the bathroom wearing a new, but equally cute, outfit. Just seeing her again calms him. She approaches him with an ice breaker prepared. "Everything alright with your manager?" She asks sweetly.

"Yeah," Arthur replies, eyeing y/n up and down, amazed at how she pulls off any outfit, "just double checking my upload schedule, nothing serious." She takes a seat next to him and gets herself comfortable.

"That's good, what are we watch-" She stops mid sentence as she looks at the TV, her mouth hanging open. "Are you serious?" The TV is paused on their pub golf video again, and Arthur chuckles as he scrolls back down to the comments.

"I thought we'd continue our light reading." Arthur sniggers, finding another comment about the pair. "'Arthur wants that cookie so bad hashtag y/nTV'"

"Not this again!" Y/n cries out, laughing. Arthur turns the TV off and throws the remote on the floor. He leans over and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Don't be such a baby!" He whispers teasingly. She can hear his smirk as his breath tickles her neck. Round two of the play fight begins. She pushes at him and reaches for his armpits, surprised to figure out he's also ticklish. He shrieks out little 'no's and pleas as he falls onto his back on the floor, y/n tumbling down with him. Luckily the blanket from the night before was crumpled up there, so they were cushioned.

Y/n near straddles him, her knees resting either side of his hips, as she holds herself up. His hands intertwine with hers in a desperate attempt to defend himself. She shifts her weight forwards, pinning his hands either side of his head. They both catch their breaths as Arthur looks down at their bodies, before locking eyes with y/n. He cocks his head with a grin. "Have we been here before?" He chuckles, his face heating up. Y/n bites her lips between her teeth, feeling her lower belly tense before shyly smiling.

"I think we can remove that pin now." Arthur whispers, before leaning upward and capturing her lips in a kiss. It’s not long before the kisses grow passionate and needy again. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, a silent request for entry, which she grants. Without the blaring music from the karaoke bar, y/n can hear everything. Every hum of enjoyment or needy whimper coming from him, like little melodies.

Letting go of his hands, she uses one to keep herself steady as the other cups Arthur's cheek. His now free hands raise to hold her at her waist, sliding his fingers under the fabric of his hoodie and lightly grazing his nails up and down her sides. The sensations begin driving her wild, leading her to accidentally let out a soft moan into his lips as her body lowers even more, flush against his.

He pulls away from her, panting slightly, his lips wet and puffy. That sound, it was music to his ears. He looks up at her with blown out pupils, his eyelids low. She in turn, can't take her eyes off him either. He wraps one arm around her torso and threads his other hand up through her hair, resting it on the back of her head, and pushes her down to continue their kissing. Soon after, he rolls the pair of them over, kneeling between her legs as he lowers himself. A gasps escapes her lips for the brief moment they separate, knowing it can't be his phone in his pocket. But her breath is cut off again by his hungry lips. He begins kissing across her jaw until he lands under her ear, exhaling a low hum and sending shivers down her spine. "I'm gonna spoil you so good." He whispers in her ear before softly biting at her neck, that deeper voice making its return. She can't help but whimper in response, instinctively bucking her hips up against his tented joggers. "Fuck, y/n..." he groans. He's magnetised back to her lips as they kiss some more.

Arthur pulls away, needing to take a breath. "Do we... need a condom?" He asks, checking for consent. She looks up at him with soft, dark eyes.

"I'm on the pill and yes, I really want this." She purrs as combs her fingers through his wavy hair, knowing him all too well. Arthur sighs as his eyes roll back with relief, he leans further back on his knees to remove his T shirt. A small gasps escapes y/n's lips as Arthur leans back over her and lets her run her fingers over his chiselled abs. "Holy shit..." She whispers under her breath, and he hums contently under her gentle touch, his tent twitching as he watches her reaction. His fingers toy with the bottom of the hoodie.

"Let's make this fair shall we?" He teases, tugging on it a little. He leans back again as she sits up, shyly removing the hoodie knowing full well her bra's still in the bedroom with the rest of her clothes. She watches his eyes darken as they lock straight on to her chest, his mouth falls open. He raises a hand ready and then pauses, looking at her face.

"You don't need to hesitate," She whispers, "you can do what you want with me, Arthur." She's fully under his seductive spell and just like that, he manoeuvres further down her body and dives in. His lips wrap round her left nipple, while his hand gently massages the other breast. She throws her head back and moans his name in hushed tones. As he continues nipping and suckling, he presses his head against her chest to gently lay her flat on her back again. He then switches his lips to her right nipple as his hands slide down her sides and rest at the waistband of the jogging bottoms. He exhales a moan against her nipple as he hooks his fingers under the fabric, before pulling away and looking up at her through his heavy eyelids.

She peers down at him as he peppers kisses down her belly whilst edging the joggers down, pulling down her underwear with them. Feeling a little shyer, y/n giggles as she raises her hips to help him further. He moves to her side to allow her to remove the joggers with her feet and kick them away. She naturally bends her legs and keeps them together. Arthur chuckles as he kneels by her feet, his callused hands sliding up her calfs and resting on her knees before spreading them open.

"Oh my goodness..." He whispers in delight, the naked goddess before him being even more gorgeous than his imagination. "You're so fucking beautiful." He wraps his big hands round her thighs and pulls her closer, her body sliding along the soft blanket with ease. He shifts back as he lays himself flat on his stomach, meeting her gaze as he dips his head lower.

"Arthur, you don't have to-" She tries, but is cut off when Arthur presses a wet kiss to her inner thigh. He looks down at her pussy.

"But I'm hungry." His licks a stripe up from her hole to her clit, his eyes dart back up to hers as she arches her back and gasps. He flicks his tongue over it again and again, grunting through his nose as he watches her through furrowed eyebrows, her whimpers cheering him on. He grips her thighs tighter as he buries his head more, his attention now on her entrance as his tongue darts inside. She moans his name as he tongue-fucks her, his nose bumping her clit. She watches him in complete bliss as his eyes are fluttered shut, his hands clasped round her thighs.

Sensing her body's growing tension, he focuses back on her clit, suckling on it in a rhythm that matches her heavy breathing. As she approaches orgasm, she can't even find the words to tell him, she just grips his soft fringe and rocks her hips a little in time with his sucking. He moans through his nose as his dark eyes burn into hers and she releases. Her legs shake and she can't help but call his name as he continues the pace that he can tell works for her. As her breathing steadies, he pulls away and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He climbs to his feet and stands by her head, reaching a hand out. "Come on gorgeous." He says with a side smile. Y/n moves to her knees, face to face with his achingly stretched out joggers. She reaches for his waistband.

“No darling.” He coos, reaching a hand to her cheek. “We can do that another time, but right now, I need to be in that pussy.” His fingers intertwine with hers as he leads her to the bedroom, the dopiest smile growing on his face as he turns to look at her en route. She’s still cooling down from her orgasm, but he can see she’s excited for what’s next.

When they reach his room, y/n takes charge a little. Still wanting to return the favour somehow, she pushes him onto his bed. He lets out a little ‘oof’ as he’s taken aback, a grin creeping on his pussy drunk face. She chuckles as she climbs on top of him. Naturally, he reaches up to play with her breasts again. “These are magnificent-" he praises before she cuts him off with another kiss. She tastes herself on his tongue which only turns her on more.

She grinds her hips against him, eliciting soft whimpers from him into her mouth. He reaches down to remove his bottoms, now dampened from her wet pussy, and she shifts to the side to allow him. She watches hungrily as his cock springs free, slapping his lower abs. He’s a little bigger than what she’s experienced in the past, but she’s willing to take the challenge. She straddles him again as his cock lays against his torso. She grinds her pussy up and down his length to tease him as his hands grip at her waist. Already it feels so good and he’s not even inside her yet.

“Please y/n.” He begs between desperate breaths. She holds herself higher on her knees as she positions him at her entrance. She lowers herself just enough to make contact, just enough for him to feel how warm she is. He whines quietly through his nose as his hands slide down to her hips and giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His eyebrows knit together as he looks down as his cock, fighting the urge to slam her down.

She watches his face change as she sinks down on him, taking him in completely. They both let out a loud moan in near perfect harmony. He throws his head back with pleasure as he lightly digs his nails into her hips. After taking a couple of seconds to adjust to his size, she begins rocking her hips back and forth.

“Fuck, y/n,” Arthur pants, “you feel, fuck, incredible.” He watches as she works on him, her boobs jiggling as she switches to bouncing on him to roughen things up. His groans grow louder as his mouth hangs wide, watching her with total bliss. His cock is the perfect size, hitting all the right places and stretching her walls just the right amount. She leans forward to kiss him as she rides him.

He interrupts their kissing to whisper her name through gritted teeth against her lips, while he cups her face. He can feel her walls tightening and her whimpers growing more intense. He wraps his arms around her and pins her chest against his before thrusting up into her at incredible speed. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, unable to keep her composure as her second orgasm takes her by storm. He fucks her hard and fast through it and gradually slows down as she recovers. He stills inside her as she catches her breath, planting thankful kisses down his neck.

He keeps her pinned against him as he rolls them both over, still inside her as he kneels between her legs. “Think you can handle some more?” He asks, his voice almost a growl. She stares up at him, completely drunk in lust as she simply nods her head. “Good.” He murmurs as he begins rocking his hips into her, starting off slower and gentler, before pinning her down by the backs of her thighs and pounding her hard. He bites his lip and frowns as he concentrates on slamming that spot in her, feral grunts leaving him. Watching her enjoyment only keeps him energised as he fucks her savagely, but he wants his lips on hers again.

He shifts his weight onto his elbows, unable to pound her as rough but he rocks his hips at a faster and deeper pace. He presses his forehead to hers as he begins moaning louder, her own noises sounding like heaven. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good y/n.” He grumbles. He captures her lips in another heated kiss as he feels her walls tightening once again. “You wanna cum together baby?” He whispers. She groans out an ‘uh-huh’ in response, unable to speak from the sheer pleasure.

He leans to one elbow, using his free hand to cup her jaw as his own orgasm approaches. Despite them tingling, she raises her legs more to allow him to thrust even deeper. Her nails draw sensual stripes down his back.

“Arthur, I’m gonna-”

“Me too y/n. I, FUCK-”

He roars out a guttural moan as he releases into her, her tight walls milking him as they orgasm together. She wraps her arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to her as possible as they groan each other’s names. He kisses her as the wave dies down in their storm of passion.

Leaning away from her, he peers down at her affectionately as he catches his breath.

“Oh my god Arthur.” She exclaims, her voice raspy. He pecks another kiss to her lips before pulling out of her and rolling to her side.

“Wow.” Is all he can muster on his beaming lips. Still panting, he gets up to grab her a towel and begins running a bath for them both.

“Arthur, that was… incredible.” She whispers with a huge smile on her face.

“‘Was’? I'm not finished with you yet.”

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

A/n: my first smut piece. Honestly writing this got me kicking my feet, not gonna lie. The support has been amazing, I appreciate everyone's kind words and making me feel so welcome here. ♥♥♥ I'm not sure if a part 5 is needed, maybe an insta AU hard launch to round it off? ♥ Taglist: @ooostarwarsfandom501st @themdera @rougetv @essieswurld @darleneslane - Gabby xo

[shybluebirdninja]

Fury Roadtrip

Summary: Logan insists on being your road trip navigator, but his terrible sense of direction gets you both lost in the middle of nowhere with a very angry llama.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note                : fluff

It all started with Logan’s damn confidence. He had that “I'm-always-right-even-when-I'm-wrong” swagger, and it was extra obnoxious when he was in the passenger seat.

“Babe, I’m tellin’ ya, you missed the turn back there.”

You glance at him, eyebrow raised. “Logan, we’re following the GPS. I’m literally doing exactly what it says.”

He crosses his arms, grunting. “GPS is full of shit. I know the backroads better than this piece of tech.”

You almost laugh but bite your lip. Logan, your Logan, who spent most of his life in the Canadian wilderness, was trying to tell you he had the lay of the land down in the middle of nowhere Arizona. Sure, the man had sharp instincts when it came to sniffing out danger, but his sense of direction? Absolute garbage.

“Okay, darling,” you say, dripping with sarcasm, “why don’t you tell me where we’re supposed to go, huh? Since you know these backroads so well.”

He cracks his knuckles, like he’s preparing for battle. “Take the next left.”

You squint at the road ahead, seeing nothing but desert stretching for miles. “Left where, exactly? The cactus? Or are we about to drive through some tumbleweeds?”

Logan doesn’t hesitate, just taps the window with a claw. “Left. Right here.”

You sigh but humor him. It’s Logan. You love the guy, claws and all. If he wants to play navigator, you’ll let him play. So, you make the turn. The moment the car veers off the asphalt, the tires hit sand. Great, now you're on some sketchy dirt road that isn't even on the GPS.

“This feels wrong,” you mutter, gripping the wheel tighter. “Really, really wrong.”

Logan chuckles like he knows better. “Trust me, babe. I’ve been around longer than this damn map.”

Right. You loved Logan, but sometimes you really wanted to strangle him. Five minutes go by, then ten. The road—if you could even call it that—narrows down to nothing but rocks and dust, and the car’s bouncing like it's about to break apart.

“Logan,” you hiss, glancing at him, “are you sure this isn’t, I don’t know, a wolverine death trap?”

He shrugs, looking out the window like this is all normal. “Relax, honey. Just a bit of off-roading.”

Then you hear it.

“Mrrrahhh!”

“What the hell was that?” you ask, wide-eyed.

Logan turns his head slowly, and through the window, standing on a rocky ridge, is a llama. A very angry llama. You don’t know why or how you know it’s pissed off, but you can tell from the way it’s glaring at your car like it’s about to throw hooves.

“Mrrrahhh!” It screeches again, taking a threatening step down the ridge.

“Logan,” you say, voice tight, “why is there a llama staring at us like it wants to fight?”

Logan, unfazed as ever, leans back in his seat. “Llama’s just mindin’ its business.”

“Mindin’ its business? It looks like it’s about to spit in my face!”

Before you can react, the llama starts to move—no, it starts charging down the slope, heading straight for the car. You slam your hand on the horn, but it only makes the llama angrier. It’s now full-on sprinting at you, and suddenly this road trip has turned into a showdown you didn’t sign up for.

“Logan!” you shout, eyes wide, panic setting in. “Do something! You’re the one who got us lost here with this demon llama!”

But Logan’s just staring at the thing with his usual nonchalance, like this happens to him every day. “It’s just a llama, babe. You’re actin’ like it’s a freakin’ Sabretooth.”

“Well, maybe it is a Sabretooth in disguise because it’s coming at us like it’s about to murder us!”

Logan grumbles, opening the car door and stepping out. “Fine, I’ll handle it.”

You watch, dumbfounded, as Logan walks toward the llama like it’s nothing. He stands there, arms crossed, waiting for the thing to get close. For a moment, you think he’s going to have some sort of epic standoff with this angry furball. You almost expect some Old Western music to play in the background.

“Mrrrahhh!” The llama slows down, huffing and puffing, clearly rethinking its life choices as it gets closer to Logan.

“See?” Logan says, turning back to you with a smirk. “Told ya. They back down once you show ‘em who’s boss.”

But just as those words leave his mouth, the llama spits. A giant, green glob of llama spit flies through the air, nailing Logan square in the face.

You lose it. You’re doubled over in the driver’s seat, laughing so hard you’re crying. “Oh my God, Logan! It just—” You can’t even finish your sentence, you’re laughing too hard. “It spit on you!”

Logan wipes his face, his eyes narrowing as he glares at the llama. “You son of a—”

“Told you!” you choke out between gasps, barely able to breathe. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Logan stomps back to the car, furious, muttering curses under his breath. He slams the door and glares out the window, completely ignoring the fact that you’re still dying from laughter.

“Not. A. Word,” he growls, crossing his arms.

You manage to catch your breath and wipe your eyes, but the giggles still bubble up. “Oh, come on, babe. Admit it. Your sense of direction sucks.”

Logan just grunts. You, meanwhile, start the car, turning back onto the dirt road as you try to find a way out of the middle of nowhere.

“Next time,” you say, smirking, “I’m in charge of navigation.”

[winchesterwild78]

Daddy’s Girl pt 5

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: Angst, mentions of attempted sexual assault, panic attack, nightmares

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This chapter will feature a few time jumps. We wanted to capture Dean as a dad at different stages of his daughter’s life.

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The next morning I woke up early. Dean was sleeping next to me. Soft snores came from his lips. One hand resting under his head and the other across his chest.

I slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen. Making coffee I heard the sound of feet behind me.

Charlie walked in. His sandy brown hair was a mess from sleep and he rubbed his eyes. As he got older he looked more and more like Dean.

“Good morning baby. How did you sleep?” “Okay I guess. I thought I heard you leave in the middle of the night.”

“I did. I went to get dad. Everything is okay. He’s just sleeping now.” He nodded and I turned back to continue getting things out to make breakfast.

I heard Charlie gasp softly. I turned around and saw Delilah standing there with a bruise to the side of her face.

“What happened?” He was out of his seat and by her side. “Don’t worry about it.” He scoffed, “Mom, did you see her face?” I nodded, “Yes, and it’s been handled.”

“What does that mean? What happened?” I walked over to him and touched his shoulder, “Honey, your sister had a bit of an issue last night but Dad dealt with it.”

Charlie shook his head but kept his eyes on Delilah. She walked over to me, “How’s dad? Is he still mad at me?” I turned and looked at her, “Delilah Rose, your dad is not mad at you and he wasn’t mad at you last night. He’s okay. He’s sleeping it off. The charges were dropped.”

Charlie looked up from his plate, “What charges?!” Delilah sighed, “I made a stupid mistake last night and snuck out. I met a boy and he tried to attack me. When I told him no and he wouldn't stop I bit and kicked him. He slapped me and left me on the side of the road. Dad came and got me and then went out and beat the kid up. Mom had to go get him from jail last night. There, happy?! Now you know every fucking thing I did that made dad hate me.”

Charlie gasped and as soon as she said “dad hates me” Dean walked in the kitchen. Her eyes flicked up to his and she started crying and ran out of the room.

He ran his fingers through his hair and followed her. Knocking on her door he opened it to find her in a ball on her bed crying. He was by her side in an instant. Pulling her into his arms, “Hey, shh. I don’t nor could I ever hate you. Last night was not your fault. I made the decision to get drunk and beat him up. I’d do it all over again too. Sober even, cause he deserved a lot more than what he got. Please don’t ever think I hate you or I blame you for anything. I don’t.”

“Daddy, I was so scared. I really thought he was going to take what he wanted. All I could think about was how disappointed you and mom would be that I snuck out. I was almost raped and all I could think about was me sneaking out.”

“Honey, that was your mind’s way of protecting you from what was happening. It’s completely normal. I’m so glad you’re safe.” Dean saw the bruise on her face and felt the anger returning. He lightly brushed her cheek, “If you want we can press charges against him for assault and battery.”

“I’ll think about it.” Delilah said snuggling closer to Dean. “Daddy, I really don’t think I can go to school today. Especially with this on my face.” She said as she pointed to her bruise.

“It’s okay baby girl, you can stay home. Let’s play hooky and hang out binging whatever show you want to watch and gorging ourselves on junk food.”

She smiled, “Don’t forget the pie.” He smiled, “That’s my girl. I’ll see if mom wants to go with me to the store. Delilah?” “Yes, daddy?” “None of last night was your fault. I don’t care if you were wearing a sheer dress, he had no right to put his hands on you and when you said no and stop, he should have.” She nodded, “Thank you, daddy.’ He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

I decided to let Charlie and Delilah stay home from school. Charlie was so upset when he heard what happened to Delilah. “Mom, why would someone do that? I can’t believe Jaxon would do that to Delilah. I’m glad dad kicked his butt.”

I touched his arm, “Some people are just evil. Dad and Uncle Sam dealt with it for years. Delilah will be okay. It’s going to take some time, but she will be. She needs all of us to love and support her through this.”

He nodded and said he would do whatever he needed to keep his sister safe.

Dean walked in the kitchen and said he was going to head to the store and get some snacks for a day in. “Y/N, do you want to ride with me?” Charlie looked at Dean and said, “Dad, can I go?” Dean looked at me and I nodded. “Sure bud. Go get dressed and I’ll meet you in the garage.” Charlie nodded and took off.

I walked over to Dean and kissed him. “How’s our girl?” “She’s okay. She’s staying home and we are going to binge watch some movies or tv shows and eat junk. I asked if she wanted to press charges and she said she’d think about it.”

I nodded, “Okay. Thank you for taking Charlie with you. I think he’s feeling a little down; he couldn't protect her either.” Dean hugged me, “We will help her get through this. Are you okay?” I nodded, tears pricked my eyes. “I hate that she had to go through this. I feel so helpless right now. She’s hurting and there isn’t anything I can do except be there to hold her when she cries. I wish I had gone with you last night, because I want to kick that kid’s ass too. I don’t think the cops would have been able to pull me off of him.”

Dean smirked, “That’s my mama bear.” Charlie came back into the kitchen, “I’m ready, dad. I know you said to meet you in the garage, but I heard you in here.”

Dean kissed me again and they left. I walked to Delilah’s room and knocked, “Baby, can I come in?” “Yeah.”

“Baby, I need to look at the marks on you, just to make sure they are healing and I don’t need to treat them. Your dad and Charlie are gone, so it’s just us girls.”

Bubbles was curled up in a ball at the foot of Delilah’s bed. “Since when does she sleep in here?” I chuckled. “She came in here last night after I got home and hasn’t left.”

I reached down and petted her head. “She’s always loved you. She probably sensed you needed her.” Delilah smiled and looked at Bubbles, “Yeah, she’s a good girl.”

“Okay, sweetie, you take your time.” Delilah nodded and lifted up her shirt. I swallowed hard looking at the bruises and handprints on her body. She had a scratch on the left side of her chest, closest to her collarbone, a hand print bruise around her neck, a bruise on her face where he slapped her, and small bruises dotted her torso.

“Well it looks like all of this will heal. The scratch is just on the surface, and the bruises will disappear over the next few weeks. The emotional scars will be there longer. I think we should reach out to a family counselor about this. They can help you and help us process this. What do you think?”

Delilah shrugged, “I guess. I’m just not ready to talk about it right now.” I nodded, “I understand. Just know when you are, we are here.”

About twenty minutes later Dean and Charlie came in and were laughing, exchanging playful banter. It was so good to see them smile. They had bags of snacks and of course pie.

“Hey sis, we got you chocolate pie.” Delilah came into the kitchen and smiled. She hugged Charlie and then Dean. “Hey, why don’t you two go pick out a movie or a show. Dad and I will get the snacks ready and bring them in.”

They nodded and left. Dean looked at me, he knew something was wrong. “Y/N, are you okay?” I shook my head, “No, not really. I checked her over and she’s covered in bruises. Dean, she has a handprint on her neck. I think we need to look into therapy for her and us.”

Dean took my hand and pulled me close, “I agree. This is something that’s going to take awhile to work through. We will do whatever we can to help her. Now, let’s go veg out and eat some junk, and pie.” He winked and I laughed.

We grabbed all the food and some drinks and took them to the Dean cave.

Delilah and Charlie were building a pillow and blanket area on the floor. It was something we’d done since they were little.

Dean sat the food and drinks down and took a seat on the couch. I sat beside him as the kids sat on the floor.

Delilah and Charlie picked a movie together. Dean offered me his arm and I snuggled to his side. He kissed the top of my head and I smiled up at him.

Delilah looked back at us and smiled.

Dean’s arm draped over my shoulder and his fingers drew lazy patterns on my arm.

His touch still sends shivers through my body. We were watching the movie and about halfway through the second one I noticed Delilah and Charlie had fallen asleep. I nudged Dean and he chuckled.

“Want to go to our bedroom for some entertainment of our own?” He wiggled his eyebrows. I giggled and bit my lip. “I don’t know. The kids might wake up. We wouldn’t want to scar them for life.”

Dean stuck out his bottom lip. I stood and grabbed the food to carry it into the kitchen. “Aww don’t pout. Meet me in our bedroom in 5 minutes.” I laughed as I walked out.

Dean leaped off the couch and went to our room. When I opened our door he was laying on the bed with his arms behind his head. His shirt off and his jeans unbuttoned.

I stood at the door and looked at him laying on the bed. I couldn’t help but bite my lip and clench my thighs together. Damn I’m a very lucky woman.

“Like what you see, Mrs Winchester?” He smirked. “Eh, it’s alright.” I giggled.

“Alright? I’ll show you alright.” He leaped off the bed and pulled me in his arms. Backing me into the bed we both fell and he landed on top of me.

Dean started kissing my lips and his hand trailed up my body. I arched my back into him and moaned his name.

I felt his arousal pushing into my leg and it turned me on more. “Dean, I need you baby. I can be quiet, but I need you so bad.” His hand slipped under my shirt and I sat up to help him remove it.

His lips kissed down my neck and to the top of my breasts. Dean reached around and unclasped my bra and pulled it off. My breasts free from the confines of the fabric.

Dean licked and sucked my breasts. Taking his time with each nipple. My hands instinctively went in his hair. Dean was kissing down my torso, over every stretchmark and scar when there was a frantic knock at the door.

“Mom, dad, it’s Delilah. Something’s wrong!” Charlie was calling through the door.

Dean sprang out of bed and I grabbed my shirt. He swung open the door and ran towards the Dean Cave. When he got in there, Delilah was curled in a ball, breathing coming in gasps as tears fell.

She was having a panic attack. Dean ran to her side and held her. “It’s okay baby. Daddy’s here. Come on sweetie, breathe with me. In and out, slowly. Come on pumpkin, I need you to breathe with me.”

Dean took Delilah’s hands and placed them on his chest. He looked her in her eyes and held her gaze, “That’s right sweetie, in and out. You’ve got this. You’re safe.”

Charlie was beside himself. I pulled him into my arms, “It’s okay baby. Thank you for getting us. She’s having a panic attack, daddy will get her through it. He knows what to do. She’s going to be okay. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” “No! I’m not leaving her. She needs me.”

Charlie went to Delilah’s side and placed his hand on her shoulder, “I’m here D. You’re okay.”

Eventually Delilah’s breathing evened out and her crying stopped. Dean held her longer, rubbing her back and reassuring her. “Daddy, I’m so sorry.” Dean held her tighter, “You have nothing to be sorry for. This happens. Uncle Sammy and Mom get panic attacks. It’s okay.”

She nodded and held Dean’s shirt a little tighter.

Later that night I found it hard to sleep. I was so worried about her. I tossed and turned. Dean held me tighter, “Y/N, she’s going to be okay. We will make sure of it.” “Dean, I’m so worried about her.”

He kissed my head, “I know. I am too.” There was a soft knock on the door. “Come in.” Dean said. The door creaked open and it was Delilah. “Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?” I asked. She shook her head no. “I’m scared to go to sleep. Daddy, um, do you think you could come sing to me? Like you used to when I was little?”

Dean smiled, “Of course I can.” She smiled a little and nodded, walking back in her room. Dean kissed my lips, “I’ll be back later. I love you.” “I love you too.”

Delilah had crawled back in her bed and Dean sat on the side of her bed. He started to sing and she snuggled close to him like she did when she was little. He sat beside her, holding her and singing to her. He didn’t care about anything other than making his baby girl feel safe again.

Dean had stopped singing when the soft snores came from her lips. He looked down at his baby girl and his heart was broken. For her to have gone through everything she had, it was like a knife through his soul.

His main job is to protect his family, and he failed to do it. Well, that’s what he felt.

All he could do at this moment was to sing to her and hold her.

Dean got comfortable on the bed and pulled Delilah close. Flashes of her life played in his mind like a silent film.

This young woman was and will always be his little girl. From the moment she was born a deeper protective instinct kicked in.

She and Charlie were his legacy, and as he saw it, his greatest achievement. Now, she was lying broken in his arms. The kind of broken that leaves scars on your soul. The kind of broken he knew all too well.

I walked to the door and saw Delilah hold on to Dean’s shirt like she did as a frightened child, and I saw Dean’s strong, protective arms wrapped around his little girl.

My heart ached for her pain, but was full of so much love for him. I knew when I married him he would be an amazing husband and father, but nothing could prepare me for just how amazing he truly is.

I quietly walked over and Dean looked at me with a lazy smile. I leaned down, kissed his lips and threw a blanket over him.

“I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, sweetheart.”

I turned to walk away but stopped to look at them one last time. “Dean?”

He looked at me, “Hmm?” “I want you to know I’d choose you over and over again. Thank you for loving me and loving them. You were an amazing hunter, but you were born to be a father. She will never forget how her daddy is the one man she can always count on to make her feel safe and loved.”

Tears pricked his eyes, “Thank you, Y/N. I really needed to hear that.” I nodded, said I love you one more time and softly closed the door.

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[leaawrites]

Spoil me

Noel Gallagher x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Noel takes her out to go shopping after he finished up his new album.

Warnings: fluffy, angst, swearing, (this is part four to a series, can be read as a standalone though)

Wordcount: 0.8k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Masterlist

Sitting on the sofa, switching between the different programs on the telly, she bore herself to death. Wishing for Noel to get out of his little home studio and entertain her in one way or another.

Just as she switched back to the news and groaning when they showed the same thing as a week prior, she heard the door to Noel’s studio opening. The man walking out with a grin on his face as he stepped over to her and kissed her before telling her, “get ready, we’re going out.”

“What? Where are we going?” She asked, although already standing up and walking to the closet to change out of her joggers.

“I just finished the album, and we’re gonna celebrate a little,” he said, pulling her closer in the middle of the stairs. Looking happier than ever before.

“You just finished it? That’s great, Noel. I told you, you shouldn’t pressure yourself. It’ll be great, I can feel it.” Throwing her arms around his shoulders, Noel chuckled into her neck.

“Darling, you’ve already heard every song beside the last one.”

“Still, I’ve never heard it fully. Front to back,” she insisted before continuing her way up.

“So, where are we going? How should I dress?” She asked, flicking through her rows of clothes. Looking over the stacks of tops and bottoms. Trying to remember what looked good together.

“Casual’s alright. It’s nothing too crazy,” Noel shrugged, a smile spreading on his face as he saw the glimmer of curiosity lingering in her eyes.

“Casual my ass,” she muttered as she found herself in front of the Chanel Store. Looking down the road she could make out all kinds of high fashion logos and Noel standing next to her with an excited smile on his face.

“C’mon let’s go.” He urged her inside, pulling her from the space where she seemed to be stuck in inside the store.

“Why do you seem more excited than me?” She asked with a giggle as she saw him looking at her again.

“Let’s just let me spoil you for once, love,” he insisted, walking further inside.

The whole day was spent with spending money. His money. Even when she would insist on buying something he’d have his card out faster than her already paying for a new dress or shoes or a bag.

“I can’t believe you,” she muttered as they walked out of the last store, for the first time registering just how many bags Noel was carrying for her. “You’re insane.”

“Darling, I’m not the one with expensive taste.” A familiar smirk crept on his lips.

“Right,” she said, pulling him into a kiss to make it disappear from his face. “Liam’s the one buying Gucci parkas.”

“He’s a slut for anything half decent,” Noel insisted as they walked back to the car.

Putting the bags in the trunk and climbing inside, Noel looked at her in the driver seat.

“You know we have a driver, right? You don’t always have to drive everywhere.” Looking at her like he was unsure if this was new information he just dumped on her.

Though the bored look on her face told him otherwise as she checked the rear view.

“I like driving, is that a crime?” She asked, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets of London.

“No, not at all. Was just wondering if you knew,” he said, raising his hands in surrender and laughing at her tone.

“I know and I don’t care.”

Opening the door to their house, they were both packed fully. Designer bags hanging from their arms, laughing as they stumbled through the door after Noel almost didn’t get it open.

Letting them rest by the entrance for now, they both sank down on the sofa rather messily. Legs tangled together and breaths heavy from the ‘work-out’.

“Why do you not like me spoiling you?” Noel broke the silence first, looking over at her.

“It’s not like I don’t like it, I just- I don’t know,” she answered, rolling over and laying her head on his chest.

“I think you do know, darling.” His fingers gently moved through her hair, a gentle sigh of contempt leaving her lips as she closed her eyes.

“I feel like a gold-digger of some sorts if you pay for all my stuff. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

“I’m not.” He gently leaned down, leaving a kiss on the top of her head. His lips lingering on her hair for a second longer. “Don’t worry, I’m not thinking that.”

Grateful for the reassurance, she nodded her head. Though her eyes always trailed over to the bags by the door and the uneasy feeling came back more intense with every glance their way.

[boomerang109]

can i just say I’ve had the best flying karma on this trip like ever 🥳🥳

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.

[scionshtola]

i went to sleep early and didn’t even get any rest bc i was having college stress dreams

[screampied]

First time f!reader face sitting on kento

sitting on nanami’s face for the first time ★

warnings. fem! reader, face sitting + riding, hair pulling, praise, talking you through it, pussy drunk nanami, mdni.

“but—” each of your shy protests only makes nanami’s smile widen as he’s gleefully entrapped between your thighs. you’re hovering, just a few more inches and you’d take your seat right on his face. a thumb of his caress the demure curvature of your hips whilst you’re stammering up what to say next. “but what if you can’t breathe? i- i don’t wanna crush you, ‘ken.”

he brings a damp kiss near the outline of your panties that were lazily tugged towards the side. “honey,” and his entire voice was smooth, lingering with pure silk. mousy, mahogany eyes of his meets yours and he’s so delicate with his fingers. he then drags it to make it roam near your exposed folds, bringing a chaste kiss towards your entrance. “i promise, that’s not gonna happen. ‘m gonna be able to breathe.”

you swallow thickly, feeling a surging pulse within you from how kind he delivered his words—you furrow a brow, pouty expression and all before adding another concern onto your worries, “but-”

“but, i love you,” he chimes in with a soft smile, a thumb running down your sopping slit to make your legs judder. another kiss gets planted against your cunt before he’s just pawing at your thighs to take its inevitable seat on his face. “and i want you,” he continues, watching as you were biting back your own sweet, melodic whimpers. “so allow me,” he purrs, brushing his wedding ring against your swollen folds before giving it a teasing lick. “sit on my face, sweetheart. i got you, ‘n don’t worry about making a mess. i’ll take care of that later, okay?”

a whine spews from your wet parted lips before you finally fall into his lewd embrace— nanami watches with lit eyes as you’re gradually lowering yourself onto his mouth.

“atta girl, my sweet baby,” he coos, and another raw gasp sneaks it way past your lips. once you’re sat all the way down, a few warm breaths from his nose aerates against your sensitive skin. with long fluttering lashes, nanami’s tongue starts to greet your pussy was a striping slurp.

you’re already moaning, trying not to crush him with your drifting weight too hard but that was the very least of his worries. you taste sweet, syrupy slick coats the stubble that’s growing against his chiseled jaw before he lays his tongue flat.

“k-kento,” you’d whine, a fervor making the entire lower parts of your thighs ache already,

with swaying hips, you dig frigid fingers through his hair. whilst your digits comb right through his well kept strands, your maw starts to pry open.

its dangling, cute little pants run out of your lips as you hear the sloppy squelches he’s making against your cunt. his favorite meal, nanami cranes his head a bit to the left,

then, right,

then left.

he repeats this same exactly technique—laid out tip of his tongue prodding against your most tender spots.

nanami was a respectful pussy eater, respectful with a tiny sprinkle of sloppy. momentarily, your lustrous slick starts to coat a sheet right across his mouth. his jaw feels a few tingles every few seconds and a grunt escapes out of him. it was throaty, something as simple as nanami’s groans against your thighs never failed to make you throb again.

pretty browned eyes of his were half lidded—on the verge of closing to sink into pure bliss.

the soft plush of your thighs wraps around him and he’s never felt any more happier. “such a sweet girl,” he murmurs in a raspy tone, bringing a thumb back towards the middle part of your clit. he swipes against the pulsating nub to watch you spasm all on his face. the grip your legs had around his face drove him crazy,

you drove him crazy.

nanami was quite precise—he makes sure to not miss a single spot. with his tongue swirling in and out of your puffy folds, you feel his sucking on your clit accelerate.

a coquettish smile ceases against both sides of his lips before gifting the outer part with yet another kiss. nanami was a simple man—he’d have you suffocate him with his thighs any day.

a trailing string of spit glistens on his lips as he pulls back to breathe—caramel eyes, perfectly dilated in all gives you a hungry stare. “kentoo,” was all you could mutter out, the jerking of your hips approaching quicker.

he finds it cute on how you just couldn’t hold still, just squirming within his firm grasp. you knew with a tongue like his, you weren’t gonna last. it wasn’t rocket science, with the way you steadily oscillate your hips back and forth against his mouth—it snatches another booming groan from him. nanami feels the tent in his pants arise before a right hand of his squeezes your ass. “you’re so good, s-so nasty kento,” you huff, hands still in his hair. tips of your fingers tangle within the musses of his blond, parted hair. as he’s briefly moving his head side to side, enlarged umber pupils locks with yours. “gonna c-cumm.”

“but sweetheart,” he smooches a single kiss towards the inside of your entrance. it’s slick could have been used as exemplary lip gloss against his lips. his tongue effortlessly laps beneath your swollen folds, blowing near the very front of it to watch you squirm. a thumb of his trawls down the puckering opening before air seeps into his thin nostrils. “can’t help but be a little nasty for my wife,” and he’s smothering your entire arousal with many kisses— you feel the pang of a throb kindly erupt within you before your thighs shatter into a million pieces. “especially when she’s this wet for me…goddd just listen to it, listen to her.”

you’re whimpering, jerking against his face and the same sheepish smile that yanks against both sides of his lips remains imprints itself there. his features, the more you stare, the more you wanna ruin his face with your syrupy slick even more. nanami lolls out his clean pink tongue, spiraling the tip against your labia before you hear the sloshes your own cunt produces.

it’s fucking sloppy.. indeed it was, your stomach was in knots and that’s when he brings a hand to give it a light spank.

“oh my,” he seductively purrs, your immediate reaction was to mewl out his name and you only contribute further to the rising boner aching in his pants, stashed away devastatingly in his buckled up work jeans. you’re pulsing right in front of his eyes— pretty pretty pussy, he could stare at it all day. his tongue knows the entire layout, laying flat against your jittery folds before you finally came.

nanami’s brows furrow, a playful smile compressing on his lips as you’re losing yourself. a hand of his rubs in a circular rotation against your sweet. he relishes in your pleasure, unstable hips of yours practically gives out to where he’s holding you upright with a strong hand.

the small jaded like material of his wedding ring brushes against your skin before you whine. with your throat becoming insignificantly dry. your hips stutter and you’re met with the most kindest eyes.

“oh, you’re so gorgeous when you’re a mess for me, my love,” and he’s gentle now. the squashy tips of his fingers tenderly caress against your pussy, gifting it a final kiss as he watches you heave for more full breaths. “ah, such a good girl,” he hums before sliding his tongue across his lips, savoring your slick. “but tell me, i must know. how was it, baby? is this—is this something you’d want me to do more of? allow you to sit on my face?”

he sits up, you’re still straddling his face before replying in a shrilling, “y-yes, please,” and he’s caught by surprise once you give his smooth strands a thirsty tug. with a bottom lip poking out, you whine. “again, ‘ken. can you do it again, please?”

“anything for my wife,” he presses a wet kiss against the crevices of your thigh. you moan, sliding yourself back against his mouth and he shoots you a look of pure softhearted slyness.

“although,” he whispers, stopping himself from digging in. your pouty expression grows, wanting him to just dig in. nanami’s voice pitches a deep huskily low, still soft and sweet before he gives your pussy a gentle passionate kiss just like he does just for you on a daily. after all— in nanami’s mind, your other lips deserved attention too.

with a mere whisper, feverish breath fanning against your sopping opening, he flashes you a devious grin. “how about this time, let’s see if i can make my messy wife squirt.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

In Ghost’s eyes, the first time you smiled up at him was the moment you became his and his alone.

So what if everyone apart from you knew it?

Didn’t make it any less of a fact, as far as he was concerned.

Still though, he wanted to learn more about just who his pretty little wife was, including anything that might make letting you know about your marriage a little easier. And so like the good soldier he is, he goes about it as though it were a reconnaissance mission.

He asks you how you take your coffees and teas, holding his breath as he watches you take the first sip of whichever drink he’s made you that day, pride swelling in his chest when you tell him it’s perfect, even better than when you make it.

The first time he’d done so, your eyes widened in surprise when he put his large, gloved hands over yours where they were wrapped around the mug, leaning forward and bringing the rim to his lips where he took a sip for himself, eyes locked with yours. You were unsure of what to think or say, but he apparently decided for you that this was okay, returning the warm drink to your mouth where he encouraged you to take another sip.

You figured that it was alright, he did make the tea for you after all, right?

You even laughed when he started only serving you in a mug with ‘Mrs.’ printed across the side, certain that it hadn’t been in any of the common room’s cupboards before.

He eyes the book peeking out of your bag one morning as you tuck it away, purchasing his own copy the very same day, curious to know what you like reading. You’re pleasantly surprised, if not a tad confused, when you find the next two books in the trilogy sat atop your desk soon after, a small note written in chicken scratch lain on top reads ‘To : Wife’. He’ll make a point of commenting on the novel if he sees you holding it, slipping in tid bits of information to impress you show he’s read it as well, likes the same things you like.

He’ll joke about how the food on the dining hall is always subpar, trying to casually find out what you like eating, subtly pulling out his phone and typing anything new into his notes app where he’s been keeping track of all your likes and dislikes. He just wants to get things right with you, be good for you, prove he can be the husband you need. You’re already perfect in his eyes, his sweet little soulmate who just doesn’t know it yet.

Though this was the first military base you’d ever worked on, you couldn’t recall anyone having ever warned you about the way Lieutenants apparently like to haze the new hires, never mind the fact that everyone else was apparently in on it.

No one bats an eye when you go to take the empty seat next to him in a briefing, and he wraps his strong arms around you to instead plop you down onto his muscular thighs, carrying on with the task at hand as though this is perfectly normal and professional. Even the Captain hardly glances at the interaction, so you figure it’s okay, some strange form of team bonding?

Not a soul comments on the way the Lieutenant insists on being the one to cut up your food and feed you bites during meals in the dining hall, pretending as though they don’t hear him telling you about how “my wife works hard enough, don’t need to be liftin’ a finger wit’ me around, love.”

They know to move out of the way if you’re approaching a closed door, knowing if the Lieutenant is anywhere near, he’ll be rushing to open the door for you before you can even attempt to do it yourself.

Even Soap has stopped complaining aloud and only rolls his eyes when Ghost drops anything and everything he’s doing- whether it’s spotting the Sergeant in the gym, being out on a morning run, hell even being in the middle of a shower- to send you a good morning text at six o clock on the dot. Every. Single. Morning.

No, you never exactly anticipated this sort of a running gag from a hardened military base, but you’re not exactly complaining either.

Not when you find your heart fluttering every time your fake work husband dotes on you like he really would marry you at the drop of a hat.

Besides, it’s all just playful, innocent fun, right?

Especially when everyone begins to apparently forget your name and instead refers to you only as Mrs Riley.

And when the Captain tells you that your requested time off for a honeymoon has been approved, something which you definitely don’t remember requesting, well that’s all just fun too, right?

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

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

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

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

masterlist | twisters masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I got you.

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

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

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

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

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

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

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

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

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

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, right, that part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

She glances down at your bare legs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shakes her head and waves you off.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really, mom?"

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

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

...

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

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

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

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

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

"Hi", you echo.

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

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

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

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

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

He looks almost bashful for a second.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

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

"Thanks", you mutter.

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

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

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

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

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

Right into your kiss.

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

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

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[teamred]

any other way

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | 1.8k

SUMMARY | in which your good friend, wade, ditches your planned movie night, but his roommate offers to watch one with you instead. however, logan ends up falling asleep on your shoulder.

WARNINGS | drinking, kissing, swearing, gets a little steamy/handsy

RATING | teen+

NOTES | it's funny... i've been a big x-men fan for a while, but i never really fell for logan until d&w. if this pops off, maybe i'll write more for him!!!

///

“Wade, hurry up and let me in! A girl can only hold freshly popped popcorn for so—oh.” 

Instead of your dear, annoying friend, it’s his gorgeous, rugged roommate who answers the apartment door instead. Your eyes sweep over him, taking a liking to how his brown plaid button-up drapes over his white tank top. His clothing choices compliment his sturdy frame and strong pecs. His facial hair is perfectly groomed and—  

And it doesn’t help that you have just the teeniest, tiniest crush on him. 

“Logan, hey!” you exclaim, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were going to be here for movie night too.” 

“Wade’s not here, bub,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms and a sympathetic half-smile.

“What?! That little shit said he’d be free tonight…”  You sigh, shaking your head. “Well, it’s all good. I’ll just—” 

“Did you want to watch a movie with me instead?” Logan offers. You think you hear a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “Since you came out all this way?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you’re—”

“Darlin’,” he interrupts with a soft chuckle. Your heart stumbles at the sound. “I have never been more free on a Saturday night. You’re welcome to join me, but only if you’re comfortable with it.” 

Now your heart is melting over his kindness. You smile warmly. “I always feel comfortable around you, Logan.” 

He returns the smile and gestures for you to come in, offering to take the popcorn and if you want anything as you remove your shoes.

“I got it, but thank you. A beer would be good,” you reply, settling in on one end of the couch in the living room. You glance around curiously. “Is Blind Al not home either?” 

“Yeah,” Logan calls from the nearby kitchen, bending towards the open fridge to grab the drinks. “She’s getting, in her own words, ‘turned up’ at the casino tonight.”

You snicker as you browse through streaming services to pick a movie for tonight. Logan returns with a beer in each hand and you’re surprised when he takes the middle seat next to you. You catch a whiff of his scent and it is intoxicating–a blend of woody notes, perhaps leather and pine. 

“So what’s the movie for tonight?” Logan asks, taking a sip from his bottle. 

“Well, be honest with me here: Wade promised that we could watch this new movie that just released a few days ago, but it’s a romantic movie, so—” 

“Of course,” he cuts in with a roll of his eyes, tossing a kernel into his mouth. “That’s his favourite genre.” 

You deflate a little. “Okay, with that tone, I’m assuming I will have to change the movie choice.” 

“No! Don’t change it because of me,” Logan quickly interjects. “We can watch whatever you want. I’m genuinely content to just sit here and do something other than watching reruns I’ve seen a million times before.” 

You study him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he reassures you, nodding and flashing another smile. You will yourself to calm your racing heart and focus on finding the movie. Once you select it, you press play and relax into the couch cushions. 

Out of nowhere, Logan places his arm around you, his hand slightly hovering above your shoulders. You stiffen at the unexpected move, unsure why he’s doing it. But then he quickly pulls back, shuffling a bit away from you.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. “It’s out of habit when I watch stuff.”

“You can leave your arm there,” you blurt out. You don’t even register the words coming out of your mouth. Where was this boldness coming from? 

He quirks an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you nod fervently, rushing to grab your beer to steady your nerves. Taking a long sip, you try to force your body to relax again. 

The first few minutes of the movie starts quite slow, but your eyes are glued to the screen to ensure you don’t miss the exposition. Just as you reach for the popcorn, so does Logan, and the back of your hands brush against each other. 

“Sorry,” you both mumble, glancing at each other in awkwardness and something hanging in the air. He juts his chin out with a subtle smirk, gesturing you to go first. You grab a handful, and as he follows suit, his fingers graze against yours, causing you to shiver. 

The air in the room is electric, and you wonder if the tension is just in your head or if Logan feels it too. The movie continues, but your thoughts are consumed by the warmth of his body so close to yours and the possibility of what might happen next. 

Later into the movie, you freeze as you feel Logan leaning in closer. You turn your head, ready for what might happen–

But then, he goes completely lax, slouching into your shoulder and resting his head in a comfortable position. 

“I should’ve chosen a different movie…” you think, shaking your head. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with this gorgeous being asleep on your shoulder (and the movie doesn’t seem to be that great anyway). Towards the end of the movie, your attention drifts completely and you indulge in how Logan sleeps. His soft snoring. The gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder as he dreams. The steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes in and out. 

Suddenly, Logan stirs and lifts his head, almost snorting up air cutely. He blinks groggily. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, gorgeous. Did I sleep through the movie?” 

You hesitate, hung up on the fact that he called you gorgeous. Your cheeks prickle as you search for the right words to say.

“Yeah, you did,” you whisper with a small smile. “But it’s fine. It wasn’t that great anyway.” 

“Mm, figures,” he mumbles. “Did you wanna watch another movie or—” 

As he straightens up, you instinctively lean towards him, closing the gap between you two. Your noses practically touch.

“Or did you wanna do…” Logan’s voice is low and gravelly. You hold your breath and hold his gaze. “...something else?” 

You barely nod, and he drags you into a searing kiss. His hands cup your cheek and neck with urgency. Soon enough, his tongue dips into your mouth, sending a jolt to your core. 

Logan cradles your body and carefully positions you lower onto the couch. The weight of his body pressed up against you sends you into overdrive. His hands dive underneath your shirt, exploring your soft skin. The pressure of his body against yours leaves you breathless. Not only the pressure of his body, but also his—

“Winner winner, chicken dinner!” 

Wade’s booming voice cuts through the front door like a tornado, forcing both of you to scramble away faster than opposing magnets. However, it’s too late; Wade has witnessed everything. 

“Oh, my God, Blind Al, my plan worked! It fucking worked!” Wade squeals, jumping up and down. 

“Oh, no. Are they butt-ass naked on the couch? Times like these, I’m grateful to be blind.” 

“No, they’re thankfully fully clothed. But they were just dry humping the shit out of each other though.” 

“You ditched movie night on purpose, you asshole!” you screech. 

“Hey, you should be thanking me,” Wade retorts with a wink. “You and Wolvie always have had palpable sexual tension every time you were in a room together. Hell, even Laura agreed it’d be a good idea to set you two up.” 

Logan and you exchange a sheepish smile, acknowledging the truth in Wade's words. 

“Blind Al and I will just be basking in our casino winnings with a few drinks and then we’ll be out of your hair in a few. And then you two can carry on and fuck each other freely on the couch.” 

“But keep it down, please,” Blind Al adds with a hint of desperation.

“I probably should get going now,” you chime in, eager to avoid the awkwardness. Logan quickly follows behind, walking you to the front door. 

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says in sincerity.

You wave him off. “You never have to apologize for them. They’re like family; I’m used to them.” 

“I didn’t know where the night was heading, but—” He turns around to check over his shoulder, lowering his voice and leaning in slightly. “—I’m glad Wade set us up.” 

“Heard that!” Wade calls out from inside the apartment. 

“Damn it,” Logan mutters, making you giggle. “Anyways, would you let me take you out on a proper date tomorrow night?” 

You beam as you reply, “I’d love that.” 

“Great, I’ll call you later.” 

Logan steps outside of the apartment and closes the door behind him, pulling you in by your waist for another kiss. Innocent at first, but then he presses you up against the wall and his hands grips at your waist, extracting a few moans from you.

“Either get back inside or just go home with her rather than wall-fucking her outside of the apartment!” Wade’s muffled voice echoes through the thin walls. 

Logan retreats slightly, his breath warm against your cheek. He keeps his voice low. “And not trying to put pressure on our date tomorrow, but if—”

“If things get heated, let’s go back to my place,” you finish his thought with a soft promise. 

His eyes light up with a relieved smile. “You read my mind. Thank you.” 

You smile into one last kiss, the world fading away as you savor the sensation of Logan’s mouth on yours.

Until Wade pops his head out through the door like a whack-a-mole you’re dying to hit. “Okay, seriously. I will offer you my bedroom, if you’re really that horny, you guys.” He calls out your name. “Also, did you know he can smell how horny you are?” 

“I—what?” you stammer, blinking in confusion.

“Wade, shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps with gritted teeth. He faces you again with a gentle smile. “Have a good night, gorgeous. I’ll call you as soon as you get back home.” 

Logan’s a man of his word, almost calling immediately as you stepped foot in your apartment (with Wade providing unnecessary commentary in the background, as always). 

Later, as you get ready for bed, you can’t help but admit how grateful you were for Wade’s set-up. If it wasn’t for him, neither of you would’ve made a move; it would’ve progressed at a glacial pace. 

Lying in bed and looking up at your bedroom ceiling, you think to yourself how tonight truly was perfect, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Smiling, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow’s date might bring. 

ENDING NOTES | thank you so much for reading and giving some love! part two can be read here!