#Flannel Long Pyjamas

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Becky wears the Flannel Long Pyjamas in Lipstick Red Plaid from Victoria’s Secret (not available)

[pastorpresent]

insp by this right here, by @septicsoldier13. thank you for the prompt lovely! :))

-

They were short on bills this month.

Logan's shitty job at some scummy bar didn't exactly leave him rolling in cash (not to mention the seventy dollars he was docked for drinking the supply), Wade hadn't made all that much in commission, and Al's disability cheque didn't stretch far.

Rent was covered, so was water and electric, but that left heat unpaid.

Logan figured it wouldn't be a big deal. It was July- and there was a pretty intense heatwave hitting the city currently. They likely wouldn't need the heat for the next month anyway.

The apartment was chilled, but it wasn't cold by any means, which was why he was confused when he got home one evening and Wade was walking around making dinner with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and what looked to be two sweaters on, alongside thick sweatpants.

Logan was sweating just looking at him.

"I know you're pissed I got docked the alcohol money, but aren't you overplaying it a little, bub?"

Wade jumped at his voice, clearly not hearing him enter. The blanket dropped to the kitchen floor, and the merc looked mildly embarrassed.

"I was... cold," he said quietly, and it was... odd. There was no jokes, none of the usual outrageous comebacks, and Wade was just staring at the blanket now crumpled on the floor, almost with a fucking longing expression, and Logan would admit that often the idiots jokes flew right over his head (he wasn't exactly caught up with the last fifty years of media), but he really didn't get this one.

"You were cold? It's not hot in here but it's not cold," Logan pointed out, pretty much over Wade's dramatics.

He'd had a long shift at work, split up about four fights, kicked three people out and chased two couples trying to fuck in the filthy bathroom all between making stupid drinks as his own fingers itched for alcohol.

All to say, he really didn't have the energy for whatever dumb joke this was a part of.

"You're gonna give yourself heatstroke, and you look fucking ridiculous," he deadpanned, and Wade shrugs, doesn't say anything, which makes something heavy settle in Logan's gut.

Whatever, not his problem, right?

He left to go shower.

//

Wade had stripped down into sweats and a single sweater by the time they retire to the couch.

Logan is in his vest and flannel pyjama pants, and he's warm, but he doesn't mention Wade's layers this time.

The TV is on, some shitty episode of some shitty reality show Wade insists he has to watch, and Logan's focusing on it, until he's not.

His attention wanders over to the merc sat on the other end of the couch. It's not uncommon, Logan tends to spend more time watching Wade react to whatever dumb shit is on rather than watch it himself, for reasons he doesn't have the energy to analyse.

Somethings wrong.

Because Wade isn't watching the TV either. His eyes are distant, staring at the floor, and he's shivering violently, teeth practically chattering as he curls in on himself, knees hugged to his chest, and it's like he's...

"You're cold," Logan concludes aloud, but this time the words hold no frustration, because he'd seen Wade be committed to jokes before - but never on this scale. It's not a joke, or some sort of prank at Logan's expense.

Wade nods, and Logan is up and crouching in front of him immediately, sticking a hand against his forehead. Wade practically leans into his body's warmth, shuddering, and jesus christ - the mercs skin is like ice.

"The hell? Are you sick? Can you even get sick?" Logan touched the exposed skin of Wade's wrist, and sure enough - it was freezing.

Wade laughed softly, "I'm always sick, it's just... another side effect," he explained, and it took Logan a minute to recall what the cause of Wade's scars was. The cancer.

"But... your mutation, that stupid programme, I thought it cured you," Logan frowned.

"Not... cured. Just sort of put it on the back burner. It can't kill me, because my body is constantly regenerating the cells it kills, but it's there, and sometimes the symptoms hit a bit harder than usual," Wade explained, looking self conscious, as if this was something Logan would mock him for.

"Why the fuck didn't you say something when we sacrificed the heating this month?"

"We needed it the least-"

"I would've found a fuckin' way if I knew you'd suffer! I'm going straight down there tomorrow, I'll use my tip money to pay it," Logan stated, and Wade's eyes widened.

"No, peanut, you're saving that up for your motorcycle-"

"Fuck that, I'm not having you be uncomfortable in your own home," Logan huffed, "now wait here," he tossed a blanket from the chair over to Wade, then headed to their bedroom.

He headed to Wade's set of drawers first, but pivoted to his own. His hoodies were bigger - more fabric, more warmth, right? Definitely. He didn't just want to see Wade wrapped up in his clothes. That would be fucking dumb, because he wasn't a thirteen year old girl with a school crush.

He grabbed the obnoxiously pink Hello Kitty blanket from their bed too, and then stuck into Al's drawers and grabbed the hot water bottle she used when her back was giving her a hard time. He grabbed one of her heating pads from the medication cupboard too, making a note to buy her some more the next time he did their grocery run.

A few minutes later, items in hand and hot water bottle sufficiently warmed, he reentered the living room.

Wade had the blanket over his lap, but Logan could still see the slight tremble of his shoulders, as much as he was now trying to hide it.

His stomach twisted with guilt for his earlier words.

Logan sat beside him, "lift you're shirt up, just for a minute," he ordered as he opened the heat pad.

"At least buy me dinner first, or I'll kiss and tell. Who am I kidding? If we kiss I'm definitely telling, I'll go on the local news-" Wade's usual tirade of rambling was somewhat comforting, not that Logan would ever tell him that, but even so it's usual flow was lost behind the chattering of teeth.

"Wade," Logan interrupted, trying for exasperated but knowing he probably fell a bit short, "Shirt up, bub," he repeated.

Wade still looked hesitant, staring at him like he'd lost his mind, and Logan sighed, grabbing the hem of the sweater and doing it himself, using his other hand to stick the heat pad on.

"What are you- oh," Wade shivered again, arching his back a little into the heat source.

It only took a second for Logan to reboot his brain, and he quickly dropped Wade's shirt.

"Here," he shoved the hoodie, blanket, and hot water bottle into his lap, and Wade stared at the collection, and the tiny tug of a smile made Logan's heart jump a little in his chest.

"Awh peanut, you're the sweetest," he gushed, and it was supposed to be a tease, he knew that, but there was also something genuine there.

"Just warm yourself up," Logan muttered in response, avoiding his gaze.

He returned back to his seat, occasionally glancing over to Wade. The merc settle back down, both blankets wrapped around him, drowning in Logan's hoodie, the hot water bottle hugged to his chest.

He looked... cute, his nose and eyes visible beneathe the layered cocoon.

Logan did go back to focusing on the show, but he didn't stop his sideways glances, and it didn't take long to notice Wade was still shivering a little.

"Are you still cold?"

"No-"

"Wade," Logan warned, practically growled in his direction, and the younger man sighed.

"It's not... I know I shouldn't be, it's just... weird. It's like it's embedded into my fucking bones, I can't..." Wade trailed off, and he sounded miserable.

"Just come here, you dumbass," Logan said, rushing the words out before he could change his mind.

And if Wade looked at him like he was crazy earlier, now he was regarding him as if he'd grown a second head.

"You've done more than enough, Lo. I just need to get my shit together-"

It wasn't up for debate, and Logan wasn't fucking debating it. He grabbed Wade and yanked him closer, earning a yelp of surprise.

He made quick work of pulling him in close, an arm wrapped around his shoulders and dragging him into his body heat.

"Logan, you really don't need to-"

"Shut up and watch the TV," Logan grumbled, staring pointedly at the screen as to not meet the eyes burning holes into him currently.

Wade did give in eventually. He snuggled down into Logans side, head resting on his shoulder and a sweater-pawed hand coming up to lay on his chest. Logan wrapped an arm around his waist in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

Wade did stop shivering, eventually, and there was a mumbled 'thank you' against his neck.

Logan just squeezed his waist in acknowledgement, and neither made a move to separate.

//

The next time, Logan didn't need Wade to say a damn thing.

It wasn't the bills going unpaid this time, either, because Logan prioritised heat as much as he did the base rent when working out their money these days, and had even spent some of his spare cash on an overly loud but functional portable heater as the weather grew colder.

(Of course Wade's favourite method of warming up remained... him, but Logan really had no qualms with that. He found himself almost a bit jealous when Wade opted for the heater before himself, usually when he was busy, and Logan found himself purposefully dropping whatever he was doing to sit on the couch and drag Wade up against him. He absolutely did not glare at a portable heater, because that would be insane.)

No, this time they'd been invited to a Christmas night out alongside the X-men.

Logan had been reluctant to go, still not all that comfortable seeing the team after previously seeing them all... but Wade had begged, and pleaded, because apparently this was a yearly thing and he'd never been invited before.

That alone had only served to piss Logan off more, but Wade had been so excited - and so he sacrificed their quiet night in for a pub crawl around the city.

He'd already caught Wade shivering a few times in the warmth of their apartment that day, but the merc was quick to deny it, likely thinking (and accurately so) that Logan wasn't going to let him go if he thought he was having a bad day in terms of maintaining his body heat.

He'd watched Wade dress with a frown, "at least stick a shirt on under your sweater. You not got any clean sweats you can wear? Those jeans are too thin," Logan had lectured, and Wade had pouted in that way that typically spelt trouble for the older mutant.

"I don't wanna look stupid! Have you seen what I'm working with here? The least I can do is dress nice," Wade gestured to his face, to his scars, and Logan had to bite his tongue to stop himself from immediately jumping on the defence, because he'd probably call Wade gorgeous or something equally as eyebrow raising in the process.

"Fine, but you bring a jacket," he said, and Wade rolled his eyes but agreed.

They'd been out for a couple of hours. The drinks were flowing (Logan had cut himself off at three beers, which was a personal best), and everything was going... oddly well. Logan felt more at ease around the team than he had since he arrived in this universe, and it was nice.

He was talking to Hank, when Scott came over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Wade's asking for you, Logan," Logan frowned.

Wade had dissapeared a little while ago in order to go dance with Storm, Morph and Jean.

"Where is he?" Logan asked, already on his feet.

"Bathroom. He doesn't look great, dunno if he's had too much to drink," Scott replies, and Logan nods, heavily doubting the explanation.

"Thanks, Scott," he says, before making his way through the crowd and into the bathrooms at the back of the club.

When he enters, Wade is perched against the sinks, shivering violently, his whole body trembling and teeth going so fast he could hear them clinking together. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"W-won't stop, m' cold," Wade whimpered, the embarrassed flush on his cheeks standing out harshly against his pale palour.

Logan's immediate reaction is one of frustration, "I told you that you needed more layers!"

The scolding only earned a small nod, and a sniffle as Wade looked away.

"I'm sorry, I know. I'm just... gonna go home," he said, pushing up from the sinks to leave, but even his legs were shaking, and when he tried to walk the violent trembles knocked him off balance.

Logan was quick to catch him, wrapping his arms around the merc. Wade leaned into his warmth almost instinctively.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Logan said, but his voice held more concern than anger now, as he steadied Wade on his feet.

He didn't expect the mutant to burst into tears.

Logan didn't do great with tears, especially not when it was somebody he genuinely cared about. He very almost ran out of there, went to grab Jean or Storm or even Hank - anyone who was better at this shit than he was, but he had a feeling Wade wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing him in this state.

Shit, did he even want Logan here right now? He might have asked for him earlier, but he clearly wasn't being much help. He'd made him cry, for fucks sake.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I know I should've listened I just- I wanted to just feel slightly normal for once," Wade cried harder, and Logan found himself pulling the shaking merc into his arms again, tucking him against his chest.

"I'm not mad, bub. I get it, I do. I'm just worried about you," Logan sighed, and God, Wade really was like a block of ice on his hold.

"'M sorry," Wade hiccuped, and Logan shushed him softly.

"It's fine, honest. Let's get you home and warmed up, hm?" Logan suggested, running his hands over Wade's arms in an effort to ease the chill.

"Yeah," Wade agreed tiredly, and Logan guided him out the bar, giving Jean an excuse of Wade not handling his alcohol too great (which was at least somewhat true, because the merc was definitely teetering into the emotional drunk category if his display in the bathroom was anything to go off) and hailed them a cab home.

He helped Wade to the couch, burying him in blankets and setting up the heater directly in front of him. When he turned to leave, a hand escaped from the mountain of fleece to curl around his wrist.

"Cuddles? Please?"

Logan was surprised he didn't turn into a puddle on the spot. It was fucking ridiculous. If anyone else dared to grab him like that, make such a request with big devastated puppy dog eyes, he would've sliced them into three even pieces.

Wade was making him soft. He didn't feel as repulsed by that thought as he probably should've.

"In a minute, bub. Let me go get you some stuff first, alright?"

Wade nodded, letting go reluctantly.

Logan made quick work of gathering the usual. It had become almost a routine at this point.

He made Wade a hot chocolate too, knowing how much the merc adored the sugary drink. He was only making it to warm him up though, obviously.

When he returned, Wade had burrowed completely beneath the blanket pile, and Logan had to immediately shut down the adorable that his unhelpful, traitorous brain supplied.

He put the hot chocolate on the table, and the smell had Wade popping his head out, staring at the drink.

"You made me hot chocolate?"

"Don't get used to it," Logan replied, and shoved a pair of his own sweatpants and his own hoodie against Wade's chest.

"Get these on."

"These are yours y'know," Wade said, running a hand over the sweatpants.

"Yours are dirty," Logan shrugged.

They were. Apart from a black pair at the bottom of his closet, but Logan was prepared to swear under oath that he'd never seen them before in his life.

Wade made quick work of getting changed. Logan turned to face the wall, and while Wade didn't say anything, Logan could feel the assholes smirk.

Once he was done, Logan joined him on the couch, climbing beneathe the layers of blankets despite the fact that he tended to run pretty hot. He could get closer to Wade this way.

He stuck the heat pad on his neck, the hot water bottle against his stomach (Wade's very own one now, with hello kitty sewn onto the cover - early Christmas gift from Logan) and wrapped him up in his arms, until Wade's entire body weight was resting against him, sprawled against his chest.

"Logan?" Wade asked after a while of silence, the only sound being the TV and humming of the heater.

"Hm?"

"You're the best wolverine," Wade said softly, and Logan glanced down at the merc, snuggled against his chest, eyes half lidded. He'd stopped shivering.

"Only for you, bub," he hummed in response, very almost kissing the top of his head, but settling on running a hand through it instead.

Wade made a happy sound, and Logan was just glad no one was around to see the stupid smile it put on his face.

[walkinthrudaisies]

Primadonna Girl

dean winchester x fem!reader

1.1k | fluff

summary: you and dean couldn’t be anymore different. but that’s why he loves you so much.

*loosely based on the song Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds

sam couldn’t help but smile anytime he saw you and dean together.

the two of you couldn’t have been anymore different. yet, you two somehow ended up in a relationship. a year and a half long relationship that is.

dean winchester had always been rough around the edges. even as a young boy, people would look at dean and know to not get in his way, to not get him angry or the outcome wouldn’t be pleasant. his wardrobe always consisted of leather jackets, flannels, and big boots. something some people would find intimidating.

that had followed him into his teen years, and most importantly, as an adult. growing up with a berating father who saw you as nothing but a soldier didn’t help, and dean was sometimes jealous of sam for how level headed he was.

the thing was, you couldn’t be anymore opposite. growing up, you were as bubbly as a shaked can of soda. always laughing, smile on your face 24/7, and a knack for anything feminine.

you were a girl after all, and you couldn’t help but love anything that had to do with lace or dangling bows from wherever you could place them.

the narrative that a girl being hyper feminine and — for lack of better words — girly in nature was dumb or didn’t amount to much always made you angry. a girl could do anything a man could do if she was wearing slouchy jeans and a flannel or platform shoes and a skirt. it wasn’t how you presented yourself, it was your integrity, and how hard your drive to help people was.

crossing paths with the winchester brothers was never on your bucket list. you had heard too many stories of how those boys started more than one apocalypse, how they had a way of ending up in hell every other month. with your knowledge, you didn’t want anything to do with that.

if it wasn’t for you running into them on a case, you would have never given them a second thought. but you’d realized how dedicated the two were, how kind and how they were all around sweet boys. so you stayed. bonding with sam over your love for books and how you were both severely lactose intolerant.

dean on the other hand, he was harder to crack than his giant of a brother. the first couple of months the man did nothing but berate you. finding any chance he could to make a jab in your direction. you honestly thought he hated your guts, only for sam to finally admit that this was how his brother acted when he really liked a girl.

that same night, you confronted him. spewing multitudes on how treating a girl like that just because you have feelings for her is something a middle schooler would do. what you were not expecting was for dean to wrap his arms around your waist and press his lips roughly to yours.

since then, you two have been inseparable. sam couldn’t help but snicker when he caught his brother carrying around your purse, or walking behind you like a lost puppy. dean was wrapped around your finger, and anyone with eyes and a brain could notice it.

sam most importantly didn’t hold back in telling dean how whipped he truly was. all the older winchester did was keep on going with a smile on his face. knowing he’d do anything to just be near you.

all of this lead you two to this very moment, a calm night in the bunker as you and dean sat in his so called ‘dean cave’. on the couch and watching some cheesy teen drama on the flat screen tv.

you were sat in dean’s lap, legs moved sideways over his as he played with the lace trimming on your black knee high tights. dean’s grey henley and dark, plaid pyjama pants were in no synchronization with your frilled, white skirt and your big, fleeced, dark pink sweater.

the two of you were sat in a serene silence, eyes averted to the tv while dean’s fingers travelled up your calf and your hands found purchase in the tuffs of his hair.

neither of you had noticed sam’s figure in the doorway until you heard startle of laughter. looking up, you both saw sam leaned on the door frame, shit eating grin forming on his face as he analyzed the scene playing out in front of him.

“wow,” he started, shaking his head and having a strand of hair fall in his eyes. “if someone told me you’d be all domestic like this five years ago dean i would’ve laughed in their face.”

all dean did was roll his eyes, pulling you impossibly closer and nuzzling his face in your neck. promptly ignoring his brothers annoying remarks while also being in close contact to you. what else could he possibly need at the moment?

you just laughed, shooing sam away and watching him turn around a giggle all the way to his room. when the younger winchester was out of sight, dean moved his head so he could plant multiple kisses all over your face.

a squeal tore through your lips as you jokingly attempted to push him away, only spurring dean to hold on tighter to your legs as his mouth placed two sloppy kisses on both of your cheeks.

somehow in the midst of loud laughter and entangled limbs, you had ended up on top of dean. legs straddling his waist as he moved his hands from the top of your stockings to hold on tightly to your waist.

your hair had created a curtain around his face, and all he could see at the moment was your radiating smile and gorgeous coloured eyes. with a slight tug at his lips, he moved his hands under your sweater to soothingly move his hands up and down your skin. “you are the best thing to ever happen to me, sweetheart.”

a smile broke out onto your face, pressing a quick kiss to dean’s forehead before lying down and cuddling up to his chest.

all the winchester could do was hold you tighter, relishing in the fact that he had you. you, the greatest thing to ever come to him. dean sometimes thought he didn’t deserve you, that you were too good for him in so many different ways. but when you let him hold you like this, kiss your face and see you in any way possible, he knew that pushing you away would be the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

“i love you, dean.” you murmured, eyes back on the tv as his deft fingers on your back was calming you down. if possible, dean’s smile got even bigger. moving down to put a soft kiss on your head as he whispered back, “i love you too, Y/N.”

[ellecdc]

Running Late

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who is visually impaired

CW: reader has a degenerative eye disease that has left her with little sight, boys are obsessed with her, Marlene and Regulus read Sirius like a book

A/N: another fic no one really asked for but, after my post with our sweet wheelchair user!reader, our resident pink heart emoji felt courageous enough to share their own experience with visual impairment and I was inspired by her to write this - so, I hope you enjoy it 🩷 (and everyone else who might need it 🫶)

There was a time that you and Sirius rivalled one another for who took the longest to get ready, but lately it seemed that you usually won in that regard. 

Remus didn’t mind, however; he’d wait on you for the rest of his life if you’d let him. 

He had a certain amount of patience for you that he, admittedly, did not have for Sirius; seeing as you had your degenerative eye disease to blame on your tardiness whereas Sirius was just a slow and lazy sod who lived to drive Remus mad. 

He and Sirius had been dressed in their best in the living room as they waited for you to finish getting ready before heading to Regulus’ birthday party that Lily and James were throwing for him, when Sirius couldn’t take it any longer.

“I’m just going to go see what is taking so long.” He explained before he disappeared down the hall.

But that was almost 14 minutes ago and now Remus had lost two of his partners in his own flat.

He slowly made his way down the hall to the bedroom door that was currently propped open, allowing him to watch Sirius who was perched on the vanity table as he hovered over you with a stick of eyeliner in his hands. 

You used to be quite adventurous with makeup; always watching new tutorials and trying out different styles. But as your eyesight deteriorated, you opted to remain more natural in your looks, working primarily off of memory than visuals when having to hold a mirror so close to your face no longer allowed you the dexterity to work as you were used to. 

And Remus knew for certain you hadn’t touched that stick of eyeliner in what had to be months. 

“Don’t you trust my abilities?” Sirius asked teasingly; his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he focused on getting the wing just right.

“‘Course I trust you, Siri. I just-”

“-don’t want to look silly, I know, doll.” Sirius finished for you softly as he leaned back to consider his work. “I’d never let you leave looking silly.”

“When has she ever looked silly, Pads?” Remus asked then, alerting the two of you to his presence. 

“Not once; never.” He answered readily, causing you to scoff.

“See, this is why I don’t trust you; you’re not objective.”

“I am too objective!” Sirius quickly denied.

“Sirius, you think I look sexy with my retainer and flannel pyjamas.” You deadpanned in return. 

“But… you are sexy with your retainer and flannel pyjamas? You just look so cosy which makes me think about bed, which makes me think about going to bed with you, which makes me think about what we do in said bed and-” 

“Alright, alright.” Remus interrupted with a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he inspected Sirius’ handiwork. 

“How does she look?” Sirius asked him, leaning into Remus’ side as they both watched you flush under their attention. 

“Breathtaking.” Remus offered. 

“You’re not objective, either.” You murmured, pulling the small mirror close to your face in order to scrutinise Sirius’ application. 

“Fine, you want objective, gorgeous?” Sirius quipped as he pulled his phone out.

“What are you doing?” You asked warily as you heard Sirius’ phone begin to ring. 

“Calling the most objective people I know.” He answered just as the ringing stopped.

“What the fuck do you want? And also, where the fuck are you?” Regulus asked his brother.

“Hey Reg, you’re on speaker phone and I need a favour.” 

“On my birthday? You’re asking me for a favour on my birthday?” Regulus asked incredulously. 

“Relax you git, I just need you to find Marlene and put your camera on so you can answer a question for me.” Sirius called back.

You grumbled in protest at Sirius’ theatrics but acquiesced at Remus’ kiss to your temple and thumb rubbing along your shoulder where his hand rested. 

“The fuck does he want!?” You all heard Marlene ask Regulus, causing the two of you to snort and Sirius to scoff in offence. 

“You guys are fuckin’ horrid, listen; how do I look?”

Marlene went first. “Slutty.”

“Like you tried too hard.” Regulus continued.

“Like you’re still trying to piss off your parents even though you don’t talk to them anymore.” 

“Like you were lost at a Paramore concert back in 2007 and still haven’t been picked up from the venue.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Sirius sighed before repositioning himself. “And how does Moony look?”

“Better, I guess.” Regulus offered. 

“If I had to pick a man.” Marlene continued.

“Great.” Sirius said sarcastically. “And what about Y/N?” He asked as he pointed the phone to you. 

Remus could tell you were trying your hardest not to completely turn in on yourself, which he himself was selfishly grateful for as he got to enjoy the view.

“God, she’s such a doll.” Marlene breathed out. 

“You look stunning, love.” Regulus called out.

“Great, you guys are both wankers, love you, see you soon.” Sirius responded before abruptly ending the call.  “Was that objective enough for you?” 

You let out a sigh of faux exasperation and threw your head back. “Okay! Okay.” You relented, allowing Remus to pull you up by your hands and kiss your forehead.

“Oi! Watch the makeup Rem!” Sirius admonished him with a pat to his arse. “We worked hard on that, don’t you know?”

And Remus did know, though he didn’t think you had to. 

Because you were beautiful - always had been - and the way you carried yourself with grace and determination even when you felt as though your body was failing you left you, somehow, even more beautiful. 

Remus had known you before your eyesight started to deteriorate, and he was lucky to have been able to love both versions of you.

Though, selfishly, he thought perhaps he loved this version of you more, simply because it was his.

Simply because it was you; here, now. 

And judging by the lovesick look adorning his boyfriend’s face as he watched you stand and give him a twirl, Sirius felt just the same.

[odoraful]

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒

⟡ content: diluc/wanderer/childe x gn!reader; sfw; modern au; established relationship; fluff !! ⟡ a/n: i was scouring pinterest looking the most fitting inspo rooms for each of them hehe

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

DILUC ⟡

Your shared home is an old-fashioned but charming house with a tiled roof and a brick archway leading to the entrance of the door. Diluc has a good eye for style — all the furniture pieces you select together are warm and elegant, perfectly matching with the vintage style home.

He’s a bit of a craftsman, and when you moved in he custom built bookshelves just for you. Your house has traces of Diluc’s handiwork: a wooden tissue box cover, tile coasters, a ceramic chess set.

Being a peak acts of service man, if he notices that there’s something inconveniencing you that can be mended, he’ll try to find a way to fix it. That wooden chair that wobbled yesterday when you sat down on it? The next day, it’s miraculously levelled. Always struggling to find your keys before you leave the house? There are now little hooks on the wall where you can easily hang them. He doesn’t make a huge show of it, but you’ll always kiss him on the cheek and say that you should repay him with something.

“There’s no need. Seeing you happy is more than enough for me.” He replies, running a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning red.

The house is IMPECCABLY cleaned — the chores are shared out between the two of you, and the both of you work like a well-oiled machine. He’ll insist that you shouldn’t carry anything too heavy though! He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself :(

One of the things that Diluc wouldn’t ever trade is getting the chance to cuddle with you in the evening on the couch. He’ll let you play with his hair and try out different styles, comforted by the feeling of your fingers running through it.

Sometimes, he’ll come home late from work tired and perhaps a bit grumpy, but the sight of you will change his mood completely.

At the sound of jangling keys and the front door creaking shut, you rush out of the bathroom and down the stairs. 

“(Y/N), I’m home!” You hear Diluc’s voice call out to you.

The day had felt far too long for him, and with far too many headaches for him to deal with. The only thing that he looked forward to at the end of it all was to see you again. 

Hearing the patter of your slippers, he looks up. It takes everything within him to keep composed at your appearance. Having just gotten out of a hot shower, your cheeks were tinted pink, hair still damp and slicked. Diluc’s eyes trailed to your clothes, a matching pair of flannel shirt and shorts. He loosens his tie, suddenly finding his breath stuck in his throat. It baffled him how gorgeous you were even in pyjamas.

Wordlessly, he reaches towards you. You look down at his hands and see as they fasten the remaining top two buttons of your sleeping shirt. In your hurry to greet him at the door, you forgot to dress properly. 

“I can’t believe I missed that...” You sheepishly say, observing his hands as they linger on your shirt. Your senses told you something was off.  “Did you have troubles at work today?”

The worry in your eyes melts his heart. Of course you were the one to peer through him and know exactly how he was feeling. 

“A few clientele at the bar today were-” He sighs, still fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt, recalling the events of the day, “-difficult to manage to say the least.” He lifts his head to meet his gaze. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” 

Your arms instinctually wrap around him and he collapses into them. Tightening your embrace, he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Diluc, I just took a shower.” You say with a light giggle, trying to pull your hair away from his face.

He feels your breath close to his ear and he wishes he could have recorded that laugh for himself to hear it over and over again. 

“I could tell.” He breathes deeply. “Is this a new shampoo?”

“Well yes, but what I meant from that is that my hair is still wet!”

You feel him smile against you. “It doesn’t bother me. Just a few more seconds, please. I need to recharge.” 

WANDERER ⟡

You share an apartment together since you travel to and from the same university. Although you’re studying different degrees and have different schedules, you’ll both make an effort to spend time together at home during the weekdays. 

You and Wanderer leave little notes cheering each other on and stick them to the walls or the fridge before you leave, or sneak them into pencil cases or onto laptop screens. He has a small box on his desk where he collects all your notes, neatly folding them up to preserve them.

Wanderer enjoys having the home quite minimalist. Just the essentials will do, but the two of you do splurge a bit more on your study space —  the comfiest chairs, wide desks, tactile keyboards — anything to liven up having to do assignments all the time.  

When you’re feeling too tired or distracted from your own studies, you’ll walk over to his desk and try to sit on his lap while he works. He’ll attempt to exert some self-control and reject your wishes, but eventually gives in after seeing your pout.

“Just because you’re distracted doesn’t give you any right to bother me.” He grumbles, resting his chin on your head.

He warns you that if you do decide to put plants in the house, you are responsible for them. Little do you know that he’s secretly also invested in their health. On mornings when you’re in a rush and forget to water them, he’ll spritz them with your spray bottle thinking to himself: If you died (Y/N) would be devastated, so don’t even think about it.

His favourite room is the bedroom. It’s a place for both of you to escape the stresses of being a student and relax together.

The alarm clock beeps and you wiggle in bed, reaching over a hand to quickly silence it. Bright sun filters in through the curtains, its light diffusing into the room. 

You force your eyes open and sit up, your body bent over like a crooked branch. Movement beside you pulls your attention as Wanderer shifts in his sleep. You can’t deny how pretty he looks even at rest. His long lashes fanned out under closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath. His expression is that of pure peace. You know that’ll soon disappear when you both need to properly wake up and prepare for classes.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up,” you whisper, carefully coaxing him from slumber. 

Wanderer opens his bleary eyes ever so slightly, then immediately closes them. He mumbles something of refusal. You roll your eyes in resignation. When it comes to sleep, he acts like a child sometimes. You turn to get out of bed. 

Two arms wrap around your waist and yank you back. You stumble into the sheets with a yelp. Wanderer adjusts the blanket over you and pulls you closer to him with one hand. 

“Not yet.” His voice is low and scratchy, his words slurred. “Want more time in bed… with you.” 

You sigh softly, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair to detangle it. “You do this almost every morning. You’re never going to attend your lectures on time.”

He replies by nuzzling into your neck, and you hear nothing but his slow breaths. His peers would have sooner called identity fraud than believe the stony and scholarly Wanderer to be this clingy and affectionate in the morning. However, in the privacy of just you, it’s become easy for him to let down his guard. 

“Don’t try to get out of this by pretending to be asleep.” You say, deadpan.

There’s a stutter in his breathing as you catch his obvious charade. 

“Stop worrying. I’ll just watch the recording.” He finally responds. 

You realise in a fluster just how close your faces are, barely inches apart. As if sensing this, Wanderer opens his eyes once again, this time there’s a glint of mischief in them. 

He taps his forehead lightly against your own. “And besides, why would I want to spend my mornings in a noisy lecture hall when I can be with you in peace and quiet?”

CHILDE ⟡

You’ve been living together for a while now, and your home has transformed into what can only be described as organised chaos.

If Childe kept up with his interior designing eagerness, it would have been complete maximalism, but you were there to contain his excitement and still ensure your home was still practical. 

The two of you love collecting pillows, plushies and blankets, which adds even more to the cosiness! However, one day you tried to sit down on the couch and realised it was more pillows than actual seat space. In a fit of laughter, you and Childe ruled that you would rotate between different cushions every so often so you could get your couch back. 

Childe will still come home with flowers or sweets (sometimes both) as gifts for you on random nights. He’ll stand on the doorstep looking like a lovesick teenage boy asking his crush out on a date. Taking them from his hands, you’ll ask what the occasion is.

“Well, there isn’t a particular occasion.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Celebrating you should be an everyday thing.”

Board game nights are taken very seriously. You have a bookshelf filled with different types of them. Whether it’s a classic game of UNO or Jenga, or something a little more strategic, he's always hyper-competitive. You also have special punishments for if one of you loses, which are harmless but maybe a little embarrassing (One of his favourite punishments for you is ‘For the entire day tomorrow, Childe will only call (Y/N) by the cheesiest pet names’). 

MASSIVE kitchen since he loves to cook. He keeps a book of recipes from his mum and has since added new ones of his own that he has shared with you. 

“Could you come over here, baby?”

You follow your partner’s voice and the scent of something freshly baked into the kitchen.

Childe is standing behind the counter, his face in deep focus. He takes one of an array of heart-shaped biscuits and dips half of it in a bowl of chocolate before placing it on a lined baking sheet. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms. His muscular build is sharply juxtaposed by the cream-coloured apron tied around himself, which has a little teddy bear embroidered in its centre. 

You approach the kitchen bench, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are they ready yet? Can I try one?” You eagerly ask. 

“Not quite, I need help dipping the rest of these into chocolate.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, shaking the tension out of them.

“That being said,” he grins, extending a hand towards you across the kitchen bench as an offer, “would you do me the honour of being my baking assistant for a little?” 

Chuckling at his dramatics, you delicately place your hand in his like royalty. “I’d be delighted to help.”  

Childe guides you to his side and helps you put on your apron. As he ties the strings together, he relays the instructions to you. 

“You just need to dip half of the biscuit into chocolate, and then add some sprinkles on top before it sets.” He tightens the bow around your waist to secure it.

How hard could that be? You think, nodding along to his words.

Demoing an example, Childe deftly coats half of the biscuit. Angling it just right, the chocolate drips off and evens itself out, leaving a perfect covered half. After placing it on the tray and adding the finishing touch of sprinkles, he gestures for you to try it yourself.

You confidently take one biscuit and dunk it. 

“Ah!” 

Underestimating its consistency, when you lift the biscuit, the chocolate slowly spreads onto the other half of the heart and drips onto your fingers. You quickly place it onto the baking sheet. Childe stifles his laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“My one looks so much worse compared to yours…” you mutter, licking your fingers to remove the evidence of your unsuccessful attempt. 

Seeing the frown on your face, he gently bumps your shoulder with his own in encouragement. “Don’t say that! I think your one has a lot more charm.” He says, adding the sprinkles onto your heart. “I’ll run some extra baking classes with you to build up your skills, how does that sound?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[luveline]

bodyguard!james taking care of a sick girl who's just tired and in dire need of touch (not at all self-indulgent, love you angel!!)

“Is this part of the job description?” 

James can barely understand your mumbling. He helps you up another step, then the last, his arm behind your back to keep you steady. “Absolutely. If I let you walk up the stairs all by yourself you would have fallen.” He slows now you're on the landing, checking over your waxy face with concern. “Almost there, shortcake.” 

“M'not short.”

Whether you are or you aren't isn't the point. “You're short to me, and you're sweet. Hence, shortcake.” The hallway to your room is long and wide, a luxurious arrangement, but eventually it comes to and end, and the door to your suite beckons. “Okay, here we are. Good job, sweetheart, you made it all the way here.” 

“Don't patronise me.” 

He pretends he doesn't hear you. It isn't hard, you're barely talking, your face lolled to one side, the collar of your stiff shirt digging into your neck. 

James pretty much carries you to the small platform that houses your bed, pulling the sheets back and encouraging you to sit. You collapse immediately downward, missing all your pillows, your breath coming in shallow pants. Your stuffy nose is stressing you out and the stairs were hard for you. 

He kneels down by your legs where they hang over the edge and rubs your knee. “Alright,” he says gently. “I'll take your shoes off.” 

“Don't have to.” 

“Don't be silly. Can't have you sleeping in your clothes.”

“‘Cos you're such gentleman,” you whisper dazedly. 

He peeks up to find you've turned your face into your sheets. You draw lazy shapes with a trembling hand over the stretch of them, somewhere else. 

James unties your laces and pulls your shoes off. He kisses your knee, only stopping to think maybe he shouldn't have when he stands and your shuttered eyes have widened. He turns still as a statue, waiting for the reprimand, the (more than allowed) demand that he leave you be, but your eyes soften again and you smile at him like he's hung the moon in front of you. You're amazed. 

“Poor girl, you're very poorly, aren't you?” he asks. 

“I'm quite warm.” 

He offers his hand. When you nod, he presses the back of it to your forehead and feels downward. You're as warm as you say, not worryingly so but uncomfortably for sure. James turns his hand, holds his palm flat to your hairline. 

“If I leave you your pyjamas, can you change by yourself?”��

“No.” You fluster at your own answer. “I–I don't think so. But I can sleep fine, I'll just take off my trousers.” 

You can barely string a sentence together, words running together, syllables missing as your voice grows hoarse. James will figure something out, he decides, stroking near the edge of your forehead fondly. “No pyjamas, then. You'll be okay while I get you a cold flannel?” 

“M'fine.” 

James pushes his hands under you and manhandles you into a more regular position, a soft pillow firmly under your head, your princess sheets plump to the touch. “C'mere,” he says under his breath, moving to the collar of your shirt, “let me get that for you.” 

“Thank you.” 

He pops one button, a second, working his fingers under the collar to push it away from your throat. You're silent beside the struggle of breath, your nose whistling with each one. 

He's struck with wanting to be more. More than your guard, and more than your friend. He'd like to take care of you intimately, crawl into bed next to you and hold you, rub your back, just keep you company while you're in pain. But he can't do any of that, and as soon as you're comfortable, he'll be back at the door. Waiting for you, like he always is. 

“I'm sorry you're not feeling well,” he says. 

“I feel much better now, all your touching,” you assure him, your eyes closing of their own accord. “Just… tired…” 

James gives your cheek a quick hold. He straightens up, squares his stickying smile into a neutral expression, and goes to get that wet flannel for you. All your touching, he thinks, shaking his head. Maybe you'd like it if he crawled into bed with you after all.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ clothing prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ baggy blue jeans

²⁾ mismatched socks

³⁾ a wrinkled grey button-down

⁴⁾ patterned pyjama pants

⁵⁾ a borrowed hoodie

⁶⁾ a long, flowing skirt

⁷⁾ beaten track shoes

⁸⁾ a boonie hat

⁹⁾ a football jersey

¹⁰⁾ a weathered kitchen apron

¹¹⁾ a soft, expensive hotel dressing gown

¹²⁾ laddered black tights

¹³⁾ strong combat boots

¹⁴⁾ a poorly-knitted blue scarf

¹⁵⁾ black boxer briefs

¹⁶⁾ a green tie

¹⁷⁾ grey sweatpants

¹⁸⁾ tartan pyjama pants

¹⁹⁾ a knitted jumper with loose threads

²⁰⁾ a red sports bra

²¹⁾ a miniskirt

²²⁾ a pink whale tail

²³⁾ a loose graphic t-shirt

²⁴⁾ a sports-branded cap

²⁵⁾ cargo pants

²⁶⁾ one single mitten

²⁷⁾ a balaclava

²⁸⁾ cheetah print leggings

²⁹⁾ a fake fur coat

³⁰⁾ heeled leather boots

³¹⁾ a wedding dress

³²⁾ a blue flannel shirt

³³⁾ black slacks

³⁴⁾ doctor’s scrubs

³⁶⁾ a sleek, tailored suit

³⁷⁾ a white lace bralette

³⁸⁾ jorts

³⁹⁾ a cocktail dress

⁴⁰⁾ a torn wifebeater

⁴¹⁾ a biker’s leather cut

⁴²⁾ a silk singlet

⁴³⁾ a bloodstained uniform

⁴⁴⁾ gaa shorts

⁴⁵⁾ a leather belt with a silver buckle

⁴⁶⁾ a cheap costume feather boa

⁴⁷⁾ rolled up shirtsleeves

⁴⁸⁾ a little black dress

⁴⁹⁾ a polo shirt

⁵⁰⁾ a birthday suit

[mediumgayitalian]

Despite his best efforts to be silent, Will wakes up as soon as Nico opens the door.

“Neeks?” he mumbles, squinting at the sliver of light bleeding into the bedroom. Nico hurries to close the door behind him, padding forward to the bed and dropping a kiss onto Will’s hair.

“Yeah, baby.”

Will sighs, curling up, leaning into Nico’s touch. “Good.”

Nico feels his tired eyes follow him as he putters quietly around the room, hanging his sword and his jacket, shucking off his torn jeans, tossing his shirt in a corner somewhere.

“Y’hurt?”

Nico smiles. He loves the heavy drawl of Will’s y’s that he gets when he’s sleepy or passionate, as much as he teases. It always makes him fluttery, makes the hairs on the back of his arms stand up.

“No.”

“Promise?”

Nico digs around until he finds a pair of Will’s flannel pyjama pants, tugging them on and rolling the waistband until he can wear them without tripping. He doesn’t bother with a shirt.

“Yes.”

“C’mere.” The blankets shift and whisper as Will peels them slightly back, lifting his arms around the empty space next to him. “Can practic’ly see ya shiverin’. Y’r g’na turn blue inna min’t.”

Nico can’t stop a giggle. He curls into Will’s hold, pressing a kiss to the sun on his chest and muttering something about cowboys and bull-wranglers. He’s well-used to the playfully stern pinch Will nicks on the curve of his thigh, and snickers more.

“Y’r not funny.”

“Y’r’n’funny,” Nico mocks, exaggerated. He clears his throat, and says with exaggerated deepness: “Y’ain’t from ‘round these here pards, pardner.”

Will pinches him again, but does nothing to hide the curve of his smile as he presses a kiss to Nico’s neck, his bare shoulder.

“M’gonna bite you.”

“Y’would’nt —”

Will does bite him, and Nico smacks him in revenge, although he doesn’t really care. If anything he kind of relishes it.

“Freak,” Will says fondly, knowing exactly what Nico’s thinking. He drags his head up to press a long, lingering kiss to Nico’s cheek. “Sleep. Warm up. Talk in the mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” Nico mocks tiredly, but settles in too, presses a last kiss to Will’s jaw before settling against him, breaths evening out to join him in dreamland.

[riordanness]

i wish you would — [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 0.9K

warnings: nightmare mention

requested: no

I hesitate for a second before I knock on his door. I don’t want to wake him, but I’ve come this far already, and I know deep down he won’t mind.

I knock, and there’s a clattering sound inside the Poseidon cabin, like Percy has tripped over a chair or something on his way to the door.

The door swings open, and there he stands, in flannel pyjama pants and a navy blue hoodie. His dark hair is messed up, and he looks both alert and half asleep.

“Y/n, hey,” he says. “It’s the middle of the night. What happened?”

I shrug one shoulder, suddenly nervous. Which is ridiculous. Percy is my best friend. Why am I nervous to talk to him?

“I’m sorry,” I apologise. “I had a really bad nightmare and—“

I don’t get the time to finish. Percy immediately pulls me inside and closes his door, and then envelopes me in a hug. I melt instantly into his familiar embrace, burying my face in his hoodie. He smells like sea salt and oreos.

“Hey, trouble?” he asks softly.

I pull my head away from the hug, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “Yeah?” I kind of whisper in response.

“What was your nightmare about?”

I take a second to answer. “You. Being in pain. I don’t really know why or what was happening to you but I knew you weren’t okay at all and it was somehow my fault. And…” My voice doesn’t have the strength to continue.

Percy’s sea green eyes are so full of differing emotions I can’t even tell them all apart. “Y/n,” he says quietly, and the sadness in his voice makes my heart break. “You don’t need to worry about me, you know.”

“I know,” I try to protest weakly, “but—“

“No buts,” he shushes me, his index finger on my mouth. “Just hush, trouble.” He unravels his arms from the hug, takes my hand by the fingers, and leads me to his bunk. “Sleep in here tonight, okay?”

“With you?” I mean to think it, but I’m sleepy enough that my brain sends the words through my mouth instead.

Percy kind of coughs and kind of laughs at the same time. “Yeah, with me. If that’s, like, okay with you and everything. I just figured it would help.”

“Yes. Yes yes, it would help,” I say quickly, smiling finally.

“Okay.” Percy grins.

Once I’m comfortably in his arms and under his navy blue sheets, my head on his chest and my fingers intertwined with the strings on his hoodie, I finally relax. I’m warm all through, and I don’t know if it’s because of Percy… or because of Percy.

“Hey, Perce?” I whisper into the darkness.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, just as quiet.

“You know how sometimes people fall in love, and they don’t even know it at all?”

“Like Silena and Beckendorf?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Like them. And like—“

“If you’re gonna say Katie and Travis, I’ve already bet twenty bucks on them getting together by the end of this summer.”

“Percy, shush, I’m trying to say something important,” I whack him gently on the chest. “But yeah, they’re totally and a hundred percent in love. Like, the rivals-to-lovers thing they’ve got going on is so cute.”

“Personally I like best-friends-to-lovers a lot more,” Percy admits softly, and I go quiet.

“Me too.”

Even though it’s pitch dark in his cabin right now, I can feel his smile.

“Hey, trouble?”

“Why do you call me that?” I ask, instead of answering.

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer,” I protest.

“That is totally an answer. You asked a question and I answered it. That makes it an answer.”

I roll my eyes, then remember he can’t see me. “Well, I want an actual answer.”

“Okay.” He reaches up and ruffles my hair, and instead of shoving his hand away like I usually would, I let him. “I call you trouble because no matter how much you try to be good and perfect and sweet all the time, trouble always finds you, and that’s adorably funny.”

I roll my eyes again. “Oh really,” I say flatly.

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

There’s silence for long enough for me to wonder if Percy has fallen asleep, and then he speaks again.

“So, trouble,” he says.

“Mhm?”

“You know I’m like, in love with you.”

I take a moment to even process that. “Huh?”

“I’m in love with you, trouble.” The arm that’s around me is suddenly a little tense. “Have been for a while. Uh, hopefully you don’t find that weird. Sorry.”

“Percy,” I half laugh. “I’m in love with you too, idiot.”

“Oh. Wait. Really? You are?”

“Of course.” Even though it’s dark, I know his face better than anyone’s, and I sit up just enough to kiss him. If it’s even possible, I get even more warm. “And just for the record, I like best-friends-to-lovers best too.”

[farfromharry]

Summary: When Oscar's been gone for a while, he gets clingy. Not that you mind it of course.

Oscar Piastri x Reader

w/c 635

a/n in honour of the race winner

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

When Oscar wasn’t racing and was home, he was incredibly clingy. He felt like he needed to make up for all the lost time that came with the distance his job brought. No matter how many times you assured him that wasn’t necessary, that you knew what you signed up for when it came to loving him, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. You thought it was secretly just because he’d missed you more than he was willing to admit. 

His arrival back from China was late, so you hadn’t been awake to greet him like you would have liked. In your own defence you’d tried, but after a long day of work you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. So the first time you’d seen Oscar since early March was when you woke up the next morning with a warm body beside you. 

He looked peaceful and all the travelling was sure to have taken a toll on his body, so you left him to sleep for a while– not before dropping a kiss to his forehead. 

You expected to have longer than half an hour to make something for the 2 of you to eat for breakfast, but he must have realised you were no longer by his side and come in search of you. He was heard before he was seen thanks to his sleepy clumsiness. He walked into more than one thing in his path, pulling a giggle out of you. He could just about manage a smile at the sound. “Welcome home,” you greeted. 

He looked positively adorable. When he’d gotten back in the early hours of the morning he’d been exhausted, barely awake enough to change. Now he was in a random hoodie (hood pulled up over his messy bedhead) that had been dragged around the airport with him and a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms, looking as cosy as one possibly could. A grin crossed his face. “Good to be back.”

His sock clad feet shuffled along the floor over to you, wrapping his arms around your back and dropping his head into your neck as you leaned against the counter. He didn’t like that your attention was on the food and not him, but he was also pretty hungry, so he couldn’t complain too much. 

It was quiet between you, peaceful and no doubt full of love. Neither of you needed to say anything in the moment for you to know how you felt about each other. His lips against your skin and the way you melted into him were more than enough. Both of you silently wished it could be like this everyday, that his job didn’t have to take him all over the world sometimes, but really neither of you would change it for anything. 

As the minutes ticked by he seemed to be waking up more and more. In the mornings he always needed a little bit longer to come around after opening his eyes. He was always pretty quiet until he felt like he was properly ready to face the day. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asked, tugging playfully at the material thrown over your body as part of your pyjamas. 

You smiled, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. It shouldn’t have been embarrassing to admit, this was your boyfriend, he obviously knew how you felt about him. But there was something about him knowing you missed him so much when he was gone that you had to sleep in one of his shirts to feel like he was still there. “Maybe,” you grumbled. 

His smile pressed against your neck just as his hands slipped under the shirt, settling on your waist so he could feel your skin under his. Yeah, he wished he could stay like this forever and ever.

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

[perksofbeingpoet]

neil yawns. "alright, i think i'm heading off to bed. todd, you coming?" soft jazz music fills the common room, the gentle fingertips of a piano make the boys' eyelids heavy. todd looks up from the book he'd been half falling asleep over, slumped in an armchair. "hm?" pitts laughs, ruffles todd's hair. "time for bed, anderson."

"aw, come on guys!", charlie complains, "i haven't even finished my smoke!" cameron, already folding the blanket he had draped around his shoulders into a neat square, shakes his head. "you're going to bed, dalton. i can barely handle you as is, i wouldn't survive you sleep deprived." charlie rolls his eyes, but the effect is lessened by the yawn he can't stifle. "all the more reason to stay up." the pair keep bickering as they follow neil and todd out of the common room, four sets of socked feet on old wooden floors.

knox rubs his eyes, looking like a kid clad in flannel pyjamas. "i'm going to bed too." pitts mimes a dagger stabbing him in the chest. "without me?!" knox laughs. "sorry pittsie, we can't make this a regular thing." he turns off the radio as he makes his way to his room, leaving pitts and meeks in the sounds of night air and the last bird songs.

meeks grins, pats his best friend on the back. "come on, loverboy. it's been a long day." pitts yawns, puts his arm around meeks' shoulder. the common room is dipped into hues of warm red. "a good one, too." meeks smiles, eyes tired. "always."

[strwberri-milk]

Songs of Sorrow - Ch. 15

Rancher!AU || Boothill x Fem!Reader || Slowburn, Drama

You wake up in soft sheets, feeling significantly dryer and cleaner than you know you should. You start to sit up, startled by the feeling of an arm on your hip pulling you back in. You make to scream, fully intending to escape when you realise that it’s Boothill laying with you, shirtless. Now you want to scream for a different reason, body warm with a blush. 

“You’re finally awake. Good. Now stay in bed until I can be sure your temperature is regular. I had to wrestle you out of your clothes and then into bed.” 

You peer down and sure enough you’re wearing different clothes than the one you left in, slowly realising that he had fully stripped you down. You cover your body as though that’d change anything, Boothill’s face reddening a little as he turns his face away from you. 

“I didn’t stare or nothin’. I just didn’t want your symptoms to get worse by being left in cold clothes. I couldn’t wash you proper either - you can take a bath when you’re feelin’ better. I just got a lukewarm towel to wash the grime off your body so you could be a little more comfortable in bed.” 

His explanation speeds up at the end and you get the sense that he’s trying to justify his actions towards you. You trust him, thankfully, but that still doesn’t explain why he’s in bed with you. 

“Then this is part of my treatment?” you ask him, pointing between the two of you. 

“Body heat is a good source of heat. I’m sweatin’ my balls off but if that means your body is gettin’ warmer that’s all that matters,” he laughs.  

You shift around curiously, glad to brush up against the loose flannel of his pyjama pants. Without thinking you brush up against him closer, just chasing his warmth. He wraps his arms around your waist as you come closer to him. Your leg wraps around his, brushing back his bangs as you admire his face up close.

Out of the corner of your eye you see a beautiful bouquet sitting on your bedside table. He watches the path your eyes take, smiling tenderly at you as you admire the petals from your spot on the bed. You feel his hand rest on your hip, offering you a soft look. 

“I gotcha some flowers,” he says quietly. “To make up for the fact that I was never able to give them to you the last night of your show.” 

“You didn’t have to do all of that,” you say quietly, resting your hand on his cheek. 

“You’re the one clinging to me right now,” he says just as softly, trying not to show you how much your touch is affecting him. 

“I've told you so many times by now. It doesn’t matter what you’re trying to tell me that I don’t need to, or that you didn’t want me to save you - I mean it when I say I’m going to protect you.” 

“But why?” you continue to insist. 

“I have money on my head and you don’t really benefit from having me live with you. If anything, all I do is put you in danger.”

“And if I didn’t care about you then you would have been turned in a long time ago.”

The words hang between the two of you, your eyes widening a little. You want to believe that he means those words in a way that makes your heart flutter. He’s always been affectionate with you so there’s no reason to think of this any differently, shaking your head as you start to turn to face away from him. 

“BoothilL, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, really. You deserve better than this. Far better than someone coming in here, taking advantage of your kindness then making you risk hypothermia by running from you.”

He laughs again, shaking his head as his eyes begin to trail the lines of your face. You hold your breath as his knuckle begins to trace the path his eyes took, pausing in your movements. 

“You think I deserve better? Well…that’s a first for me.” 

His smile fades a little. 

“I dunno if I’ll ever find better. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only thing I could ever want.”

You feel the bed shift as he slowly pulls you under him. Your hands go to rest against his chest, staring up at him breathlessly as his hand slips under your neck to cradle your head. Again, his eyes do that thing where they stare at you as though you’re the most precious thing in his world and your heart tries to tell you that there’s truth in the sweet names he calls you. 

He leans down to you, noses gently brushing as his eyes drift down to your lips. 

“I’ve never really wanted anything for the last little while. Tends to happen when you lose everything you care about in an instant.”

“Boothill I -” 

“Hush pretty. Just let me think about what I’m tryna tell you. I’m not any good with words.” 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, messing with the hair on the nape of his neck. It seems to disarm him in some way, his muscles relaxing with your touch. He still seems more focused on your lips than anything else, gasping softly when your lips part wordlessly. 

A quick look of deliberation crosses his face before he presses his lips to yours. They’re rough, strong, just like him but the press of them is so gentle it makes your mind spin. You make a soft noise of surprise when he pulls back far too quickly. His touch sends chills through your body, every cell in your body tuned to him.

“I know I ain’t nothin’ but an ex-convict who shouldn’t even be dirtyin’ your hands with me but just know I’d give you everything if you just gave me the chance,” he says softly, pressing your foreheads together. 

“Boothill, what are you saying?” 

You can’t imagine Boothill being a criminal on the run, that confession somehow sidelining the very real confession of his feelings that he gave you. Somehow, he picks up on the fact that that’s what you’re referring to, sitting up a little to create distance between you two. 

“I’m not a good person,” he says softly. 

“I was a bounty hunter. A damn good one at that. Was the only way I knew to make money after an accident took out…everything.” 

You bite back the question burning on the tip of your tongue, knowing that prying too much into his past might scare him off and you’d hate to lose him now that you’ve got him so close. 

“You’re the one who deserves so much better than me. I don’t…I shouldn’t even be touching you like this.”

He starts to climb off of you. You start to panic, realising that you might actually lose him if you don’t make a move. Your arms wrap around his shoulders again, tugging him back down close enough for your breaths to intermingle.

“No…wait…I’m still cold.”

Your hands cup his cheeks as you lean in to kiss him harder. His hands come back to your body, holding your hips in place as he comes back to straddle you. The weight of his body is so comforting to you, feeling your core light up as he warms you up with the heat of his passion. 

“Wait, darlin’, shouldn’t we slow down?” he asks breathlessly, desperation in his eyes despite his words. 

“Why would we? You told me you were lying here to warm me up. I’m simply asking you for more of your medical attention,” you mutter, winding your fingers through his hair as you pull him back down for a needy kiss. 

His hands are gentle as they begin to roam your body, tentatively mapping out the contours of your shape. You’re forced to pull back from the lack of air, biting your lip as Boothill starts to trail his kisses down your lips to your chest. Your mind starts to spin as he showers you in attention, body heating up. You don’t even feel the chill of the air anymore now that you’re quickly being buried by the weight of his body. 

“I mean it darlin’,” he says again, a pleading look in his eyes despite the fact that he’s trying to stop himself. 

“You shouldn’t…we…I mean…do you really want this?”

“Am I not supposed to?” you ask quietly, teasing the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I want you. However that looks to you, I want it. Please.”

Your voice cracks on the last word, not realising until right now how badly you needed him. You think your desire pales his in comparison as you whimper for his attention, pulling him back down to kiss him again. His hands start to trail up your shirt, large palms gently ghosting over your chest as his thumbs gently brush against your nipples. It makes you gasp sharply, biting his lip in surprise from the sensation. 

“You’re so sensitive,” he laughs against your lips, looking at you darkly. 

“Are you gonna make sweet noises like that the entire time? How am I gonna hold myself from destroying you?” 

“Maybe don’t hold back then,” you sigh, arching into his chest as he continues to tease your nipples with the rough pads of his thumb.

“What if…I want you to ruin me?” 

A low moan slips past your lips as he brings his hand down to cup you. You buck against his hand, clit hitting against the heel of his palm. The teasing sensation makes you clench slightly over nothing. His finger teases against your slit, running along your pussy. 

“You can’t say somethin’ like that. It’ll really get me goin’.” 

He continues to kiss you dumb as his fingers continue to tease you. Instinctively, you spread your legs to accommodate his body. It makes it easier for him to rub against you, hips bucking against his palm as he slowly slips his fingers inside of you. The moan that you give him is music to his ears, Boothill’s heart pounding in his chest. 

His fingers move sensually against you, each stroke drawing out another sweet noise of pleasure. He’s surprisingly gentler than you expected him to be, trying to focus on the way he looks at you but inadvertently giving him the most adorable blissed out look. Nothing he conjured up in his imagination could top this and he’s doing his best to restrain the urge to just hold you in place and have his way with you. 

You can feel the insistent press of his cock against your thigh, mind running wild as you imagine what it’d feel like to have him inside of you. He shudders lowly as you move against him, writhing as he feels your wetness start to coat his fingers. Your breath comes in short gasps, Boothill nuzzling against your throat as he gently coos at you. 

“You’re close, huh? Just keep goin’ doll - let go for me, I know you want to.” 

Your nails dig lightly into his shoulders as your hips continue to buck into him, moaning his name softly as your orgasm slowly washes over you. He looks up at you from his spot against your neck, gently bringing his kisses back up to your lips as he steals the breath out of your lungs. You feel him push your shorts off of you, laughing softly. 

“I thought I needed to stay warm. What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, shuddering a little at the chill in the room against your bare skin. 

“Making you warm,” he growls before pressing a hungry kiss against your throat.  

You feel him lift your thighs to rest against his waist, pulling his pants down just enough to let his cock slap against his stomach. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, drops of precum sliding down the flushed tip as he leans over your body once again. He takes your hands in his, pinning them on the pillow over your head as he grinds lightly against you. 

“One more time. You’re okay with all of this, right?” he asks gently, slowly bringing his hand back down to guide his cock against your slit. 

You nod eagerly, bringing your free hand against his hip to press him further against you. He laughs at the action, brushing your noses together as he slides inside of you. The gasp you reward him with makes his cock twitch, watching your reaction carefully as he brings your hand back up to join the other. 

You squeeze his hands tightly as the press of him inside of you makes you melt. Just the tip feels like a little too much, eyes screwing shut in a pleasurable haze. You’re about to say something when he kisses you gently. It makes your heart burst and distracts you just enough for the next gentle rock of his hips to press him fully inside of you. He slowly bottoms out, slotting your hips together and gauging your pleasure by how tightly you squeeze his hands. 

“Oh God, Boothill,” you mutter under your breath when he reaches your pelvis, throwing your head back as he starts to slowly rock against you. 

“You’re beautiful like this,” he says dazedly, focused on the way you feel pulsing around his cock. 

“Don’t say stuff like that it’ll make me-” 

Your words are cut off as he picks up his pace, already having felt the way you clenched again at the sweet comment he gave you. You’re not ready for him to lean down against you, mouth right up against your ear as he starts to whisper sweet nothings. 

They all go straight to your core, feeling yourself getting wetter and wetter around him as his cock hits all the right spots inside of you. Your eyes screw shut as you continue to whimper and moan his name, your noises drowned out by the slightly rougher pace he starts to take. 

“I’m sorry my love. I just - I can’t hold back anymore,” he grunts, letting go of your hands to bring them down to your hips. 

He holds you in place as his pace has you seeing stars, letting your nails dig down the expanse of his broad back as you feel another climax beginning to crest. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist as you call out for him one final time. The feeling of your orgasm has Boothill cumming as well, pulling out as he spills against your stomach with quick jerks of his hand to the sight of your writhing. 

You stare up at him, face warm with arousal and satisfaction as you catch your breath. He stares down at you looking equally as devoted as he presses his hand against your forehead. 

“Well if that doesn’t make you warm enough I don’t know what else to do.”

[froggibus]

Cozy Winter Nights - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff!! very cute and wholesome and domestic tbh

Word Count: 900

Summary: on a cold winter day, all you want is to cuddle up with your boyfriend on the couch and watch a movie

CW: Christmas time!! (yes I’m aware it’s June—leave me alone), cold weather, Leon ‘forgets’ to check the thermostat, very domestic

I was hardcore struggling to write but then someone unintentionally gave me this idea and now I once again have Christmas brainrot in the middle of the summer lol

————

“You will not believe how busy it is out there,” Leon slams the door behind him, flashing you a goofy grin. 

You raise an eyebrow at him from where you’re standing in the kitchen. His cheeks are tinged pink from the cold weather, a toque pulled over his blond hair. He shakes his head, half-melted snowflakes tumbling off of his hat and drifting onto the doormat. 

He drops his handful of shopping bags onto the ground and gets to work unlacing his boots. “How was your day?”

“It’s been good, I missed you,” you admit. “I got some baking done though.”

As if on cue, the timer for the oven goes off and you shuffle your way to the oven to take the cookies out. The warmth of the oven engulfs your skin and the sweet smell of gingersnaps fills the air. 

Leon sets his bags on the counter and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist while you lay the cookies on the cooling rack. He nuzzles his head into your shoulder and plants a kiss to your neck. 

“Is it cold in here?” You ask. 

Leon tugs you in closer, the warmth of the oven spilling over both of you. “It’s a cold day,” he shrugs. “Don’t worry, honey, I can warm you up.”

You snort, turning around and tilting your head up to plant a kiss to his lips. He tugs you back to him by your hips, kissing you again. 

You giggle against his lips, placing a hand on his chest to push him away. “How about you go check the thermostat and I make us some drinks and we can meet back on the couch?”

“Sounds perfect,” he kisses you once more. 

You watch as he takes his mountain of bags back to your bedroom, admiring the broadness of his shoulders as he walks. As soon as he disappears from your sight, you get to work making drinks. 

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you know it helps settle the darker parts of Leon. Especially during the seasons he feels loneliest. Still, you don’t mind a drink here and there with him if it makes him feel better, and rum and eggnog is too delicious to resist. 

You mix the drink and sprinkle a bit of cinnamon and nutmeg on the top. You throw some treats on a plate and bring everything over to the coffee table in the middle of the living room. 

You grab one of your comfiest throw blankets and toss it over the couch before retreating to your room to change into your pyjamas. Leon’s just pulling a plain black t-shirt over his toned back when you step inside, already clad in red flannel pyjama bottoms. 

You grin from ear to ear. “Hey, you’re wearing them.”

“Well, yeah,” he huffs, “they’re comfortable.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. 

You change into your matching pyjama bottoms and a black tank top, turning around just to see Leon staring at you. “What?” You tilt your head curiously. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. 

You narrow your eyes at him but drop it, following him out of the bedroom and into the living room. You turn out the lights on the way, letting the warm string lights from the Christmas tree illuminate the room. 

Leon looks so pretty in this lighting—all soft and warm and peaceful. He settles in on the couch, grabbing his drink off of the tray and taking a sip. 

You settle in next to him, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv. “Do you care what we watch?”

It’s a trick question. You know that Leon’s never cared about what you watch together as long as it’s not a super gory movie or something that reminds him of work. He’s just content with spending time with you and you know he’d watch pretty much anything if it makes you happy. 

“No,” he slings an arm over your shoulder and tugs you closer to him. 

You settle on Home Alone, swapping the remote for your drink and relaxing against Leon. You take a few sips, the cold drink and the cold air making you shiver. 

“Did you check the thermostat?”

“Wha—oh, yeah,” he nods. 

His answer is less than convincing, but you have no reason to not believe him. You shrug and pull the blanket over you and Leon, the plush fabric spread over your laps. You rest your head on his shoulder, focusing your attention back on the movie. 

“Do you think Kevin could work with you?”

Leon laughs at that. A genuine laugh. “He has potential,” he admits. “He’d probably end up working with the bad guys. He has a bit of a sadistic streak.”

“He’s like seven!”

“Yes and?”

You giggle at him, planting a kiss to his cheek. You go to get up and make another round of drinks but Leon tugs you back into him. You sigh at his antics but cuddle back into him regardless. 

Eventually your drinks are finished and you start to feel warm and sleepy, you and Leon adjusting so that he’s laying behind you on the couch, arms around your waist. You tug the blanket so that it covers both of you up to the shoulders. 

You snuggle farther into him, hips rubbing against his. “I really love you.”

“I love you too.”

And on such a perfect night, Leon’s never been happier to forget to check the thermostat. 

[diagonal-queen]

sorry for coming again but i’m the one that asked you abt the dazai ranpo and chuuya make s/o one! if writing abt a male s/o is difficult you can do gn reader who wears tang tops if that’s alright!!

hi again! no need to apologise- i love having folks in my inbox! i got a little worried when i saw the male reader lol. i'm so sorry my love but unfortunately i don't write male readers simply because i do not know what it is like to be a boy/masc-aligned. i would hate to write something that makes male readers uncomfortable or dysphoric.

Reader who sleeps with a tank top

♡ pairings: Dazai Osamu, Ranpo Edogawa, Chuuya Nakahara x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys react to reader who sleeps in a tank top?

♡ cw: Fluff with a bit of suggestive (damnit Dazai), ~intimate touching~

note: Never had one of these types of requests before so I was excited to start writing this one! Apologies for errors, hope you enjoy x

Dazai:

Dazai is highkey a pervert. He's the kinda guy to sneakily grope his partners in public and is generally pretty handsy. This doesn't stop in the bedroom! In fact it ramps up by a billion

He was veeeery excited to learn that you shed most of your clothes when you sleep.

He claims that he can't sleep unless he's cuddling you, which itself is kinda sweet, but in Dazai's head cuddling just means fondling lmao

If you have boobs he's ABSOLUTELY copping a feel. If you don't have boobs he's still copping a feel. It really doesn't matter what gender you are or how large your chest is he is obsessed and always holding it tbh

Even if it's super cold he'll insist that there is just no need for you to wear any more because he'll keep you warm! Subtle 👍

Nah he's not gonna stop you if you do decide to put on a long-sleeve shirt or something, but his hands are still gonna find their way under the shirt. Man just needs his physical contact and that's okay!

He WILL use this opportunity to kiss your neck/shoulders and give you hickeys. I mean it's RIGHT there

He probably uses this method to try and instigate sex with you (whether or not it works is entirely up to you. If it were me though-)

Ranpo:

Ranpo likes clinging to your arms, skin-to-skin contact, and just generally clambering on top of you and holding you like a koala. Safe to say, he's very happy about your choice of jammies

When he first slept in the same bed as you and you wore a tank top he probably didn't even notice. The most important thing in his brain was 'must cling to Y/N', which he did!

But it felt nice having another person to cuddle with :) especially because it wouldn't get too hot when you did cuddle, as opposed to if you were wearing like flannel pyjamas or something

Ranpo honestly doesn't really care too much about what you wear when you sleep (he is going to hug you either way) but he's not complaining.

Ranpo probably doesn't wear many clothes to sleep either (autistic things <3) so he doesn't really see it as a sexual thing as much as Dazai does. In his head nobody really wears thick pyjamas to sleep so to him it's totally normal

He likes to nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck and inhale your scent, because he finds it comforting.

Also probably nibbles/bites your neck lol

Would he start wearing a tank top as well? ...maybe

Chuuya:

Chuuya isn't a pervert like Dazai (at least not as blatantly, anyway). But he's not at all gonna object to you wearing a tank top because it highlights your chest and torso and that is his favourite place to put his hands when y'all sleep

He's one of those guys who puts his hands under your top and like rubs your stomach/hips (in a comforting way ofc)

The first time he slept with you he was probably a little red faced at the amount of exposed skin, but he eventually got used to it and now he loves it

Chuuya is certainly a cuddler but if it were summer and you were dressed in a tank top he might not touch you as much because he'd understand that you might get a bit too warm.

Chuuya is so polite- he always asks if you're alright with him holding you, and doesn't really let his hands wander too much

Chuuya is not a man who has received very much physical affection, like ever. Like Ranpo he probably really cherishes the fact that you're comfortable and willing to let him be close to you

Traces little patterns on your shoulders :')

Always compliments you on how soft your skin is and how nice it feels to caress. If you have freckles on your arms/shoulders he thinks they're adorable too <3

btw i'm cool with writing suggestive stuff like this- just not like EXPLICIT smut. not only do i feel awkward writing it but i'm also just so bad at it lmao. ya girl loves a bit of sensual cuddling/making out every now and then

[m4yasnotthatcool]

one, two, three

part 1. (a/n) imma make this a series just hold on

"one dean grabs the silver knife, two sam shouts for y/n, three y/n torches the sonofabitch"

y/n is 15, sam is 12 and dean is 16 btw (its dean x reader guys, obviously)

they're not together yet, so I used this first chapter teaser thingy to kinda set the relationships the characters have with eachother, the boundaries(or lack there of) they have and stuff

-they're left alone at a motel (dean, y/n and 12 year old sammy) while John and y/ns dad are on a hunt;

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sitting in silence at the table of the shitty motel room was one thing, but having dean winchester sitting at the other end of it was another. he was polishing off a gun, one left by his father in case they needed to protect themselves against any otherworldly creature that might be lurking the night. she tried keeping her attention elsewhere so as to not full on just stare at the boy in front of her, so she settled on mindlessly watching sammy do whatever it was that he was doing.

sam, deans younger brother was sat on one of the beds with his whole body turned towards the tube TV the room provided while eating a bowl of cereal. the heater in the damned place had been wrecked so all 3 of them were wearing whatever clothes they had been able to find around that'd keep them warm.

she was looking at sam trying to roll up the sleeves of his father's jacket as they slightly got in his way, making it difficult to eat, so she got up and silently took each of his hands and rolled up the sleeves in such a way that they would no longer come down.

"thank you" the younger boy said before getting back to his cereal and cartoons.

the girl smiled and nodded before grabbing a book out of one of the duffle bags that contained hers and her fathers clothes and laid out on one of the two beds.

After a while the soft background noise of dean polishing the gun had stopped and a faint sound of wood scratching against wood could be heard. when she looked at him, bringing her attention out of the novel she had been reading a few seconds ago she saw the older boy leaning back into the chair, stretching out his limbs and making the chair lean back along with him, now only being supported on its two back legs.

she couldn't ignore the way his groans echoed through the room or the way his shirt had ridden up slightly though she tried to brush it off. staring at him so profusely, she hadn't realised he started staring at her right back.

"so uhm..." he started. grabbing her attention and making her jump, slightly startled. "what are the sleeping arrangements for tonight? the usual ones or?..."

"oh I'm not sleeping with either of you two tonight." sam chimed in. "y/n kicks in her sleep and big doofus over there snores." he said, accentuating the last part by signalling over to dean.

just as dean was about to snap back at sam, she stopped him by saying something he wasn't expecting "well, I can sleep with you dean." she paused momentarily before adding in a muttered tone "of course, only if that's okay with you too.."

"it's okay!" he said a little too enthusiastically before stopping himself and regaining his composure. "it wouldn't bother me if you're sure that's okay with you too" he stated.

she just smiled before getting up and heading to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes along the way "okay, so it's settled then. I'm gonna go get ready for bed, be right back" she said before leaving the room.

- after getting out of the too-cold shower she wrapped a towel around her frame before putting on a pyjama that consisted of some flannel pants and a long sleeve shirt that she had taken from her dad.

after she got out, sam went in after her at deans request who said it'd be a good thing if the younger winchester went to bed earlier that night seeing as y/n was obviously getting ready to do so.

slipping underneath the covers adoring the twin-size bed she closed her eyes trying to let consciousness slip from her grasp to no avail.

so, instead, she listened to the commotion around. a siren could be heard outside on the street. perhaps someone died. or, could it be related to the job her and the winchesters fathers were working?

the shower stopped, the sound of the water turning off being a distinct one that could only be replicated by another rusted-over shower handle as the person getting ready to get out tried to stop the too-cold liquid from slipping out of the holes in the shitty shower head that seemed to have came out of another time entirely.

a gust of wind must have seeped through the cracks between the windows and the walls of the room as she could feel herself shivering even under the covers.

so she layed there until her eyes threatened to close, but just as they did she felt the bed dip beside her as a bigger, warmer form adjusted it's position next to her.

the light turned off before dean got under the cover, his side against her back in consequence of the small size of the bed.

she must have been shivering seeing as the older boy beside her kept himself up on his elbow as he leaned over her, checking to see if she was properly covered by the duvet. her breath hitched slightly as his hand tucked a part of the blanket around her body, signalling to him that she was indeed still awake.

he leaned back down, his head hitting the pillow with a small thud before she felt herself fall into blissful unconsciousness.

-

the light that entered the small motel room stirred awake y/ns sleeping form. as she adjusted to her surroundings once again she felt deans soft breathing underneath her. she had her head on his chest as their legs tangled underneath the duvet and his hand rested on her lower back, tracing soft shapes. she could practically see the smug smirk that he would have when she opened her eyes, but she decided to enjoy his warmth a little longer.

once she was semi-satisfied with the amount of time she got to feel the boys calloused hand trace lazy circles on her back, while still pretending to be asleep, she turned around, her back now facing him. what she didn't expect was feeling his arms around her waist just seconds after she turned her back to him.

well, it's not like they had anything planned that day. they were just waiting for their dad's to get back, so she allowed herself some more much-needed sleep.

-

it had been the sound of the TV that woke her up this time, and she couldn't feel deans warmth beside her anymore.

she rolled over on his side of the bed and looked over at sam who sat at the table her and dean had sat at the night before. he was bickering with the remote of the TV trying to change the channel. he smacked it with his hand a few times and tried changing the program again before sighing in resignation and getting up to press the buttons on the television.

after getting to a channel he was satisfied with, he glanced over at her to see her wide awake, flashing him a wide grin. "good morning sammy"

"hi" he said while sitting back in one of the two chairs. "it's not morning anymore, it's like..." he glanced over at the clock on the wall next to a subjectively ugly painting that had cracks and chips in the thick layers of paint. "11 30 ish.. "

she paused before replying amused "you still don't know how to read the clock?" she said containing a giggle.

"I do know how to read it! it's just that the hands on this one are especially thin, I can't see them properly"

she looked over at the clock herself and saw what he had been talking about: a small-ish clock with a thin black frame that held a white background and two thin clock hands that looked to be a light gray from the way the sun was hitting the glass that was protecting the intricate mechanism.

"fair enough..." she said before getting his attention back at him "wheres your brother?"

"he went to get something to eat. I don't know why though, we have cereal and crackers and some other stuff." he replied while watching the TV with increasing interest.

with that she allowed herself a couple more moments of comfort in the bed before slipping out from under the cover and setting her feet on the cold, ugly carpet that adorned the floor. there was a part of the room in which she presumed they had ran out of the ugly thing so the wooden floors were exposed.

she went over to her duffle bag, looking for some clean clothes but all she had were t-shirts.

"sammy, do you think dean would mind if I took one of his shirts? or a hoodie or something? it's freezing in here and all I have left are short sleeves"

"what?" he said snapping his attention from the screen in front of him "oh, yea, no, he wouldn't mind. and if he says anything you can take one of mine or something, they're about the same size anyway, he's just fatter than me that's all"

the door of the motel room opened with a thud revealing a dishevelled head of dirty blonde hair with dark roots. looking at the way his hair sat you could think he just rolled out of bed, which was probably not far from the truth.

"who's fat?" he said before turning his attention to y/n "good morning sweetheart" he flashed her a smile before getting between sam and the TV, action that erupted a displeased reaction out of the 12 year old.

"hey! I was watching that!"

"oh shut up" dean said dropping two brown grocery bags on the table his brother was sitting at.

"dean, is it okay if I take one of your shirts? I haven't done laundry in a while and I only have short sleeved shirts left."

"yes, sure." he said before lifting his and sams bag onto the bed you gad shared with him the night before. he started looking trough piles of clothes on the left side of the duffle bag, and for a moment she wondered if the boys had a system of keeping their attire separate while still in the same carry on.

her train of tought was quickly interrupted by deans quiet victorious "aha!" before grabbing a shirt and turning around to give it to her.

"here, this should keep you warm."

"thank you" she smiled while grabbing the article of clothing and going to the bathroom to change.

-when they were little they used to share clothes all the time. it was funny, really, none of the clothes had been ever actually anyone's, they were just everyone's. except for one shirt that she had deemed her special going out shirt. it was a simple, short sleeved t-shirt that had once been white but had been put in the wash with something red and had turned a light pink color. the rips and crackles in the printed on hello kitty that had been slightly discolorated because of the amount of times it had been worn and washed. for a moment she wondered what happened to it, one day it was just gone.

she got out of the bathroom wearing a pair of baggy jeans and deans shirt. the sleeves were coming down over her hands and her fingers, reason to why she had to roll them up every once in a while as to not get in her way.

she was met with a pair of forest green eyes watching her carefully as she entered the room and sat down at the table next to a very focused sam. apparently he had begun to research facts about a place he found out about on the news while watching TV that he suspected could be a potential lead for a hunt.

"sam, that's not really our business" she told him as she sat down at the table in front of him.

"but what if it is? we could go check it out.. I mean, we could like ask our dad's if we can go there maybe" he said still concentrated on writing everything he had just heard about the case on the news.

"well dads supposed to call today.. maybe we can ask him about it if he does" said dean while his focus shifted between the two people sitting at the table as he sat on the bed he had shared with y/n the night before.

"uh.. you know what? sure." she said with a now much softer expression.

she could recall always having a more sibling like relationship with sam, but with dean... there was something different, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. (but i bet you'd like to lmao)

he would make her melt with the stupidest shit, like this one for example. the "if he does" he added to the end of his sentence made her weary of the position they all found themselves in, feeling stranded from the fate their guardians might have suffered while out on the job. it seemed as a sort of awakening to her made up reality where her dad had a normal job in an office and she's just waiting for him to get back. no danger. no possibility of death.

the semi sad expression his face held while talking softened her to the point where she was sure her knees would have buckled under her weight if she had been standing up. she knew about how dean tried to protect sam from any and all harm. she knew how he tried to hide any negative thoughts that might come, and he had been successful for the most part. the younger winchester wasn't stupid, quite the opposite actually, and his brother knew that, you knew that, everybody knew that. yet dean tried to seemingly protect this presumed innocence that the kid he had mostly raised by himself was still blessed with. she had listened to dean lie to sam countless times, but never to her. no, he couldn't bring himself to lie to her when he saw the worried expression her face displayed, brows slightly furrowed, trying to read his thoughts as to maybe bring him comfort.

he was still a hard one to crack, she knew that, but the relief that washed over both of them when he let himself cry in her arms was something neither of them could deny. she was always there since they were just kids, always there to patch him up after going on a hunt with his dad, always there to lift his spirits after long nights spent watching the ceiling like it was the most interesting show, focused almost as much as sam when he read his books, if not even more focused.

but right now, that wasn't the case. dean was sitting on the twin sized bed, a grin plastered on his face as he looked at his brother and the girl he sat next to. she couldn't help but smile at his appearance, spiky, messy hair that went in all directions, a wide smile spread across his face and the jeans he had been wearing for the past week still on. as her eyes travelled down his form she noticed the untied laces on his boots, the dired mud on the tips of them very obvious on the black leather. "cute" she thinks before they all hear a phone ring.

dean hurriedly gets his out of the front pocket of his jeans but it isn't the one that's ringing, so he focuses on y/n as she gets her phone out and responds to the call.

"hi dad!" she says, her words having a slight edge to them, waiting to hear if he's okay.

dean and sam hear the person at the other end of the line say something before they see the tension in her demeanour vanish, being replaced by temporary relief.

"yea, we're okay too. hey, could you put Mr winchester on for a second? he was supposed to call dean today and if he's around now it'd be a good time for them to talk."

she listened to her dad say something before she hummed in agreement.

she covered the bottom part of her phone so the microphone wouldn't pick up what she was saying "he's getting your dad right now, you can ask him about the case sam- oh!" she said, uncovering her phone "yes, hi! no, nothing happened. yes... yes, I can put him on right now... mhm..." she held the phone out to dean "take it" is all she said.

he took the phone out of her hands and held it up to his ear "hey dad. yea, were all good. what? ... no, no that's not what... no, we just wanted to ask you about... yes.... no. dad, would you just listen to me for a second?" he said and paused for a second before continuing "okay, thank you. so me and sam wanted to tell you about a lead we found in uh... sam where was that lead again?" "michigan" "michigan. Well i- I don't know all the details, but I can put him on if you want.... yea... " he held the phone away from his face "sammy, he wants to talk to you" he handed the phone over to sam who then started explaining the details of the case he thinks he may have a lead on. an apartment building in which a young girl had disappeared without taking any of her belongings. the neighbours had heard screaming but there were no signs of breaking and entering, so the police had no leads. apparently that's not the first time it had happened, and in the past 10 years 6 girls had gone missing, all around the same age.

the other end of the phone was silent as the youngest winchester explained everything he had gathered from the limited resources he had available at the motel, and after he was done there was a moment on silence in which y/n presumed John was considering if he should pick up the case himself or leave it be.

then he said something that left sam a little taken aback, which obviously sparked both y/ns and deans interest, dean leaning forward with his arms on his knees and hands interlocked in front of him and y/n reaching over the table ever so slightly towards sam.

"he.. he said he'll talk to your dad y/n... but... we can go"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

wooooo cliff hanger

spooky scary indeed

anyway, english is not my first language so if I made any spelling mistakes feel free to point em out

I'm gonna try to put part two up as soon as possible babes

[everybodyshusband]

soft ghoul pyjama thoughts :))

rain is a "the oldest clothes in my cupboard and the ones that don't fit are now my pyjamas" kind of ghoul :) they wear old tshirts that are falling apart and almost see-through from wear, usually accompanied with old tracksuit pants in winter and some kind of cotton short in summer (all the shorts probably used to belong to mist they're that old and skimpy)

aether's easy. give him a pair of flannel patterned pyjama pants, don't make him wear a shirt and he's happy :))

there are two options for dewdrop. one is that he wears flannel pyjama pants like aeth and some old tshirt like rain (although his aren't quite in the same state of disrepair as the water ghoul's sleep clothes) or flannelette pyjamas with the button up shirts that match his bottoms and yeah he's just a SILLY GUY (the matching sets are cumulus' favourites on dew because she'll braid his hair and then proceed to make fun of him all night for looking silly :3)

speaking of cumulus, she has an impressive collection of all different styles of nighties that she sleeps in because she hates the feeling of shorts or pants on her legs at night

cirrus has lots of bralette/sleep short sets that always manage to match lus' nightgowns but in opposite colours or patterns. if lus' pyjamas are pastel coloured then you'll bet that so are cirrus' or if cirrus has green polka dots on her shorts then lus will have red ones on her pjs

aeon tends to mirror the pyjamas of whoever he's going to bed with which means he doesn't really have any pjs that are his because he usually just borrows a pair from his bedmate

aurora's still not really used to life up top so more often than not she'll get back to her room so exhausted that she'll fall asleep in whatever she's been wearing that day. on the occasion that she's able to fall asleep in something that's not jeans or her uniform, it's usually clothes that the others have left in her room; one of rain's shirts and a pair of dewdrop's flannelette pants or aether's big ol' hoodie and cirrus' silk shorts

swiss is similar to aether in that he loves a good pair of flannel pants and nothing else but he's much more inclined to wear a hoodie or a long sleeve to bed as well as the pants

mountain is a tricky one on account of how they're feeling that day. sometimes they'll wear a pair of pants and a random shirt and call it a night, other times they'll shyly ask cumulus to borrow a nightgown and get sunshine's help to braid their hair so they can wake up with pretty waves in the morning, and on occasion they'll pull an aurora and just face plant into the bed, too tired to even think about getting changed into pjs

sunshine either sleeps naked or covered head to toe in a onesie complete with a hood and footsies there is no in between