#edit: i feel the need to mention that i have no idea if this was intentional at all and don't know if it really means anything
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al-jeanne · 2 days ago
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10 things I do to feel close to my romantic F/O!
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Hopefully, these will make you feel close to yours too♡
1. Make a Piccrew or Neka of the two of you! Dress each other up, try out different poses and backgrounds… and when you’re done, you’ll have a photo album of all the photos you took together! (Let me know if you would like a list of couples’ piccrews/Neka’s to make you and your F/O with)
2. Listen to your F/O’s voice double sing! I can’t vouch for forms of western media, but almost all Japanese seiyuus have sung something before, if you’re only willing to dig for it! Not only do a lot of IP’s include character songs, I’ve also even found cover CD’s of “popular voice actor compilations.” You can also consult my guide on how to find drama CD’s of your favorite voice actor here. I am always MORE THAN happy to help anime/Japanese game self-shippers find voice actor content; you need only ask💜
3. Snuggle their clothes! If you don’t have a shirt/jacket that belongs your F/O yet, I highly recommend getting one. If you take a trip to your local thrift store, I’m sure you’ll find something that matches their style that they left for you to find! Once you have it, I then recommend spraying it with their perfume or cologne– there are websites that let you design your own unique scents, but this is my favorite place to buy. [Bonus step: warm it up in the dryer or with a heating pad!]
4. Bring a little piece of them everywhere! I like to bring my plushie and acrylic stands out with me to photograph, but it can be anything they’d give you– a necklace, a trinket, a ring, a handkerchief– anything in your pocket that reminds you that they’re always there with you.
5. Make a “what’s in their bag” edit, and include pics all of the things they’d carry with them!
6. It’s classic, but make a playlist of songs that describe you, or the two of you together. You might even discover some new music in the process! (You can also ask some trusted friends and fandommates to make one for you!)
7. Make a list, collage, or board of their favorites things, and I mean everything! Favorite food, drink, color, season, flower, time of day, quote, gemstone, holiday, animal, movie, place…. as thorough as you’d like! Even if it’s not mentioned in canon, you know them best, right?
8. Speaking of Pinterest boards, everyone says to make them, but here are some ideas on specifically WHAT to make collages of.
•Clothes you think they’d wear (or want to see them in…)
•Decorations/design for their house (or both of yours!)
•Activities you’d want to do with them
•Places you’d like to visit together
•Moody pics that fit their style/aesthetic
•Gifts you would give them, or they would give you
•Things that would make them smile or laugh
•Quotes, or something sappy/romantic/intimate!
9. Fill out a ship template or make your own! (Like this, for example)
10. The Sims. Seriously. The base game has been free for a long time, and mods make anything you could dream of possible. I have a wonderful house, marriage, and lots of cute little kids with my F/O and it’s my favorite place to be!
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Happy Selfshipping!♡
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Introducing…
Ex!BSF/BF!Matt x Reader
Warnings/Contents: fluff, mentions of characters being hurt – physically, mentally, & emotionally, internet trolls, break up, ANGST !
Note: This is an original idea of mine. Please inbox or personal message me if you'd like to use any of these characters as 'inspiration' of some sort !
(If any of this seems familiar, like you've already read it before – you most likely have! I took bits and pieces of a previously written work called 'Silently Suffering' and either copied it or edited it to fit the background information of this introduction)
To read more about this au, click here !
I do NOT give permission for my work(s) to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded to ANY site !
Want more like this? Visit my masterlist !
Taglist: @forgottxen @ariastur9z @watercolorskyy @daniel-is-bae
Comment, personal message, or ask via my inbox to be added to my taglist !
Reblogs are always appreciated, but never needed :)
The divider is by a random Pinterest creator
Enjoy 💜💙🧡 ☆ :) $
How It All Started
Reader and the triplets all grew up together in Somerville, Massachusetts – going to the same school and everything.
One day while at recess, little kindergartner Reader was simply swinging on the playground's swing, minding her own business.
Meanwhile, the triplets were kicking and passing around a soccer ball – their mom had wanted to sign them up for soccer that evening.
All of a sudden, Nick made a bad pass to Chris. The ball went flying – straight into the back of Reader's head.
She looked around the playground, trying to find the reason for her now throbbing head. She picked up the ball and marched over to them, angrily ready to tell them off.
Her anger faltered, confusion glazed over her expression just slightly. It appeared as if she were seeing triple. Three same faced, slightly freckled dirty-blonde boys stood in a row, eyeing her sheepishly.
She tossed the ball onto the ground as she spoke sassily, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?” One of the boys at the end spoke up, "It was an accident, we swear!"
She had rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with her foot, tapping the mulch angrily. “Well, I expect an apology because that hurt!” Her eyes had drifted towards the boy standing in the middle.
His eyes stared back at her with this look of intensity in them that caused her stomach to churn with butterflies. "I'm sorry about that. Our brother, Nick, isn't very athletic like Chris and I,” the boy had said, pointing to his brother on one side, then at his other before holding his hand out for her to shake.
"I'm Matt, by the way. And yes, before you ask, we are triplets,” she couldn't help but laugh at his words. She was sure they were constantly getting asked that.
She took his hand in hers, shaking up and down once before quickly letting go. His hand was warm, presumably from working up a sweat playing soccer. Hers were clammy too from gripping the handles of the swing. “Wanna play with us?” Nick had offered.
She quickly agreed, kicking and passing the ball around with the three brothers. From then on, the four of them remained close. Like a tight-knit group of friends.
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How They Got Together
Throughout elementary and middle school, they all remained good friends. That was until around sixth or seventh grade, when Reader caught feelings for Matt.
Sure, he was attractive and pretty to the eyes, but that wasn't what drew her near to him. It was the kindness of his heart. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about one of his interests. It was his smile. The one that made her heart absolutely melt anytime she saw it.
She always kept her feelings to herself. Not wanting to ruin the friendship between her and him. Or even mess up the dynamic between her and his brothers.
But anyone could see it. The way she stared at him, like he was the only person in the room. Even if it was crowded, her eyes always looked for him.
When freshman year of high school started for the four of them, that's when it all changed. Matt had finally noticed her – in more than a friendly way.
It was soccer season again. Matt and Chris never dropped the sport they grew to love in kindergarten. Nick and Reader did though. They were in the photography club together. The only two.
Because Nick was Chris and Matt's triplet, he had to go to their games anyway. So he thought, 'why not take photos of the team for the school's yearbook?'
Of course, being the only other person in the club, as well as being best friends with the boys, Reader had decided to tag along to assist with the photos.
The rain was pouring down hard during a particularly close match. Matt was a striker along with Chris. He was about to score, a good strong pass from a midfielder aiming straight towards him.
Until he slipped. He ended up landing oddly on his ankle. Reader ran onto the field, ignoring the protests of the people around her or the way that the rain was beating down onto her skin. All she cared about was making sure Matt was okay.
When she got to him, he was lying on the ground, groaning out in pain. She dropped to her knees, gently placing his head in her lap. She held his cheeks as she looked down at him with worry.
Matt smiled up at her, his eyes glossing over with unshed tears. Reader couldn't tell though. It was raining too harshly. His hand weakly reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, staring into her eyes lovingly.
That's when it happened. Matt had leaned up, connecting their lips in a soft, tender kiss. He tried putting all his emotions into it. Reader was shocked at first, and did not kiss him back. His confidence faltered – 'had I been reading this wrong the entire time?' – so he tried pulling away.
Only to be met with her lips right back on his. Her pent-up emotions – the frustration of having to hold back how she truly felt for so long, the love and desire to be his, the longing of wanting, needing to be his, all of it – seeped into the second kiss they shared.
When they pulled away, they were breathless and smiling. MaryLou and Jimmy had rushed onto the field with Nick following closely behind. Chris was too busy goofing off with his teammates, telling them all about how he just knew Matt and Reader would be together.
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Where It All Went Wrong
When the triplets had started their group socials, Reader had created her own. About the same time that the boys were going viral, so was Reader. They were featured on each other's platforms quite often in the early parts of their careers.
They each told the viewers from the beginning – Matt and Reader were together. They loved each other dearly.
When the boys moved to LA, so did Reader. Matt and his brothers bought their house and had a manager oversee everything, while Reader maintained her things by herself.
Reader had an apartment not far from the Sturniolo's new home. A five-minute drive – if that. It was within walking distance. Which Matt and Reader both enjoyed and took full advantage of.
The first few months with the four of them in Los Angeles were going well. They were thriving, living their life exactly how they had always dreamed.
Until, five months into their new lives in LA, things went downhill. Fast. Madi, their manager's daughter, had started to receive extreme hate from the triplet's fanbase. As was Reader.
Reader couldn't take it anymore. So she broke up with him. She broke up with Matt, much in the same way she got together with him.
It was a rainy day out, the sky a dark, sad, shade of gray that fit the mood of the Sturniolo Triplet's home quite well. Reader had told Matt that she couldn't – wouldn't – handle all of this negativity from his fans any longer.
Matt's reaction was heartbreaking. He was upset, and understandably so. The love of his life wanted to walk away. Wanted to call it quits. He couldn't deal. His eyes showed the pain he was feeling. The way he was hurting.
As Reader walked out the door for the last time, Matt broke down. She didn't spare him a final glance like he'd hoped. She was done. Done with the relentless hate that she was receiving, simply for loving and being Matt's partner.
They were both broken. Both hurt. Every social media post, every video felt empty without the other by their side. Not only had Reader and Matt lost each other romantically, they had also lost each other in a friendly way too.
Reader didn't even talk to Nick or Chris anymore either. All communication, all ties leading to the triplets, had been cut off. Permanently.
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What Are They Doing Now?
It's been three months. Three painful months of not having the other by their side. Three excruciating months of having to act like they are fine. Like their worlds weren't crumbling to the ground. Neither Matt nor Reader was okay.
They tried to hide it. Tried to pretend that they were fine. That there was no hurt. That there was no anguish. But that's a lie. Not only are they lying to themselves, but they are lying to those around them as well.
Reader and Matt made other friends in LA. Other influencers and people besides each other. Reader had these other friends besides the Sturniolo's. But it wasn't the same. The connection wasn't the same.
Reader missed Nick's sass. Reader missed the way he wouldn't be afraid to call someone out about something, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the way they were able to tell each other anything. Like how in high school, Reader was one of the first people Nick came out to – even before his own brothers.
Reader missed Chris's goofy personality. Reader missed the way he was always able to make her laugh, no matter what the situation may have been. Reader missed the fact that he was the first person to support the relationship between her and Matt. Like the time Matt took Reader to New York just a month before they broke up. It was just the two of them. Chris immediately supported the idea.
Most of all, though, Reader missed Matt. Reader missed everything about Matt. From the way that his hair fell into his eyes when it needed to be cut to the way that he drank his coffee. She missed it all. Everything. Every detail, big and small. She missed it. She missed him.
The boys had missed her too, but it was Matt who sat up in his room at late hours of the night. Wondering where he went wrong. Wondering what he could've done differently to make her stay. Wondering who exactly was to blame for their separation. Wondering when these intense feelings of hurt and pain would end. Wondering why the world – specifically the Internet – had to be so cruel to push away the love of his life. Wondering how he could possibly fix it, possibly erase the damage.
It was frustrating. Watching the other pretend on a screen for their millions of fans watching. Watching the other pretend that everything was fine. Watching but not talking. Watching but not touching. Watching but not holding. It was frustrating.
There was no going back. Not attempting to make up for the lost time from the past three months. The days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds – all this time that had passed. None of it would be taken back. None of the wreckage – from their hearts, their minds, or even their souls – would ever be mended.
People could tell. People could see. People could notice. People were aware of just how miserable Reader and Matt truly were. But neither ever said a word. Neither ever told anyone how they were truly feeling inside. Inside their minds. Inside their hearts.
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s0dabeach · 4 months ago
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I'm sure someone has already pointed this out but
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opens-up-4-nobody · 4 months ago
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...
#ay. tomorrow might b the day i face the music#which is to say. i tell my advisor how fucked i am. i mean. ill spin it so it doesn't sound so bad#its just that ive told him like 2 weeks in a row that id send him my edited preproposal and i have not bc im too afraid to start reading#papers related to my project. which is frustrating. and like the thing is. and i kno ive said it before and i kno im not a fucking idiot#i can read papers and i can even understand what theyre broadly saying. but thats it.#zero critical thinking. zero insight. i use all my tiny fucking brain space to try to understand the words on the pages#and even then it only forms this broken fucking image of whats being said. like u dont understand. i used to struggle with writing papers bc#i couldnt fucking connect what i was saying from one paragraph to the next when i was the one doing the fucking writing.#what the fuck am i doing here? and again. im not stupid. i can follow the information if its fucking said out loud but thats not how this#works. and it just feels like sometimes there's a limit to what you're capable of and im at that fucking limit. the undergrads in my lab#have more ability to comment on papers than i do. its so fucking frustrating and i just have to live with knowing itll never get any easier#so what the fuck can i do other than drop out? theres no god damn way im gonna pass a comprehensive exam. not unless i buckel down and break#myself in half to try to retain all the information i need to. which requires that i read so many god damn papers that i cant fucking read.#just. why tf did i pick a career path where my suffering is inherent to a huge part of my job? i feel like ive consistently chosen to take#the hard path in life and ive finally stumbled too far from what is possible for me#so well see what comes out of my mouth tomorrow when i have my weekly meeting. i just feel like its my last semester#i feel like this is it. i just need someone to fucking hire me. bc everytime my lab mate mentions something abt#my project down the line or talks abt future conferences i should attend. im just like. its a nice idea but that's not happening. im just#at the end of the line and it sucks#unrelated
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deepseawave · 6 months ago
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obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog
Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️
Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D
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#guys help is it time for a rebranding?? am I just gonna post about f1 now??#I still can’t believe this has all started because bestie and I were watching Ted Lasso (because I’ve been obsessed with that show for a#while now too) and I paused the episode to talk about how I really like the way Jamie interacts with kids (I’m sorry people being good with#and nice to kids is one of my weaknesses I work with kids now and have been invested in treating kids well forever)#so me saying that apparently reminded her of max and she showed me a video of him with p and yeah it was very effective in making me like#him and then we left the episode on pause and she told me a lot about f1 and max specifically cause I was interested now lmao (funny thing#is that she also got roped into it by our other friends I swear it’s speeding lmao#she also compared him to Jamie from Ted lasso (if you know you know) and showed me some heart wrenching Taylor swift edits (i haven’t#emotionally recovered yet) and yeah that’s how I started consuming way too much f1 content on YouTube and got into this whole mess lmao#oh yeah our friends also made me and another friend make a Tier list for all the drivers based on vibes alone (cause I only knew a bit about#max at that time and the other one knew nothing really) which was very funny too#especially looking back at it (we did some of them so dirty lmao 😂)#I’ve also come to the conclusion that tumblr is still one of the least annoying platforms to engage with other people (still)#YouTube is full of hate comments about drivers and stuff it’s so annoying actually#not to mention Twitter but I don’t go there and probably never will 😂#I personally don’t enjoy fics and scenarios and shipping of real people cause it makes me a bit uncomfy (not judging people who do#you do you as long as it doesn’t negatively affect anyone#but yeah I’d much rather just scroll by those here than have to look away from all the mindless hate and which driver is better discussions#everywhere else like I’m not one to engage with stuff like that but it does upset me to some#degree so yeah tumblr making memes and being rather positive about their drivers (most of what I’ve seen here of course there are gonna be#annoying people everywhere) is much more tolerable and a lot more enjoyable for me#whoops this post got away from me again oh dear#I’ve had the idea for a meme stuck in my head for days now: Max verstappen but make it if you don’t love me at my *swearing on team radio#giving spicy replies and attitude to the media maxplaining and complaining going for risky overtakes* you don’t deserve me at my *precious#interactions with p talking about his cats being a goofball with other drivers and especially danny defending other drivers driving#beautifully in the rain* it’s a package deal you can’t just pick and choose and personally I don’t even get why people complain about some#of the other stuff I appreciate someone who’s passionate and honest and genuinely kind where it matters 🤷🏻‍♀️#I think I’ve seen someone else say that but the more people complain about and criticize max the more I feel the need to defend him#god forbid women have hobbies for real (can’t believe I’ve yapped so much I can’t put more tags 💀)#also shoutout to Oscar Piastri and Danny Ric (I was so happy Oscar won even tho McLaren where being very silly in a not so funny way)
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gammija · 6 months ago
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hauntedorpheum · 9 months ago
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first time people tell a content creator GIVE US MORE ADS
#i dont think they are greedy corporate monsters. i think they are creators trying to run a business with no knowledge on how to do that#icarus flying too close to the sun and all that#is just so clear they didn't make any kind of market research#a youtube poll would have helped them#is just a shitty thing because they clearly just want to have more creative freedom and do bigger things#but if you are running a business then you also need to think about your audience. which i don't think they did#and the international issue with dollars in this economy#+ the need to use a vpn in order to watch in certain countries apparently#+ an audience of mostly 20 somethings and younger people who have other priorities#and like nearly every single person that i've seen that actually likes this idea. has also said that are not paying#because they can't afford it. so even if people were on board with this. is just not viable with their audience#like sorry. but 'streaming service' is not plan b on the list of things to if you dont wanna rely so much on ads#and them doing a 14min long video that is edited like a shitty corporate apology video#in which you say 'if you can't give us money. bye ig' while promoting#a show about people traveling to dif places and paying expensive meals#while also saying you have no money to pay your 25!!! employees#not to mention not clarifying anything and leaving everything in vague terms#like international issues. whether you are deleting your previous youtube content or not (they don't say anything about this on the vid....#.... Variety said they were gonna do it. but then they did the pinned comment so it feels like they are backtracking...#...even if they were never gonna delete it)#what newer content you want to make. the pros you get subscribing#broken record with this. but watch the og dropout ad. its clear. adresses concerns. tells you what shows would be available#and the one moment that they use sad piano music is used with irony#ok. no further comments until they say something lol#watcher#my post
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beeholyshit · 8 months ago
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2 of my neurons just made synapses
Thinking about Glitchy and M3ga mmmm
#(💽🩷) *⁠.⁠✧ — M3gabyte#nostly M3ga's downfall mmmm#I think I talked about it with nero a loooong ago thanks to an edit I saw on tiktok#the idea of M3ga being the only one who doesn't advance and being frustrated over that ough....#angry because how come it doesn't have anything yet but Glitchy got a loving family and his kid (rairai)#I mean M3ga did have something if it's “friendship” with Mike counts? and it's friendship with Shinto#maybe it's pokemon#you know that one song from mitski that says#“I need something bigger than the sky. hold it in my arms and know it's mine”#I think it fits pretty good with them because. maybe for them#Mike's friendship it's more like a “haha please don't kill me”. at least we can say with shinto it's real#and with Vermelho.... did I ever mention that in detail?#I think I did?#the thing is. they made a pact so Mega helps Vermelho to win agains Steven for once and have a first place in something#so they both kick Steven's ass 👊#friendship ☝️ kinda#so it posseses Vermelho but when Red goes to congratulate Vermelho for his battle... M3ga finally feels a hug#admiration. someone who hugs them without the need to be funny or anything. little bebe red was just hapoy for his brother but oh god#what would Mega do to have something like that in it's life#because yes. Shinto is there. Glitchy is there but they have their own thing going on so then what about it?#aouughhghj mai brrrrain#ooooooom#🕳️ // blah blah#i feel like I'm skipping many things I wanted to say#I'll remember later maybe
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britneyshakespeare · 7 months ago
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i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go
#tales from diana#i'm in a pickle bc i've been burning through the remainders in the last year or so in a way that makes me... melancholic#i didnt hate merry wives even though i wasn't looking forward to it for a very long time bc i knew it was mostly prose#im neither a big falstaff fan (im sorry) not do i get the most charm from shakespeare from his prose#but admittedly it was still rather enjoyable as a comedy. you dont get a lot of fake cuckoldry plots from shakespeare specifically#not in comedy certainly! so i enjoyed the trickery of it#not the worst shakespeare play as far as pure entertainment value at all. nothing's as boring as henry viii#that one was a big disappointment#i have one play in each category left (counting the romances as their own category) (and counting kinsmen as his work)#coriolanus. king john. measure for measure actually! and two noble kinsmen#i know a lot about measure for measure already i just have never read it in full. twelfth night was like that as a reading experience too#i wasn't in a rush to get to it but in the case of measure. i wanted to get merry wives out of the way first#and leave my last pure comedy to be something i would almost certainly enjoy more#now im kind of in a pickle bc i feel the ecstasy of being tempted to just finish the complete plays already#but i also wanna pace myself and read other things#i kinda have this idea of what if i saved the last 4 to read in 2025? but we're not even halfway through 2024#i dont have that kinda patience#maybe ill reread some old favorites in the meantime or something. idk#i dont think i mentioned it on here but i got the rsc complete works second edition from 2022#last month! bc my riverside is in delicate condition. but i switched back between the two when reading merry wives#i just couldnt help it. i miss my mother. it's always going to be the most personally comfortable book for me to read from#i read the majority of these plays in that volume. that book TAUGHT ME to read shakespeare#but i need to be strong and i also enjoy comparative literary studies and a more recent book has a lot to offer#im yammering on to myself incoherently im sure nobody really cares what im saying. even i dont! ok goodbye goodnight
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mkstrigidae · 1 year ago
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Apparently, the solution to my APWH writer's block was just opening up a new word document and rewriting the whole damn next chapter.
#I've been going back and doing some minor edits to older chapters recently- it's also been a necessary reread#because there are a lot of fucking details in this story#and it feels like i'm doing that thing where you spin plates on a stick but i'm spinning like 200 plates#just apwh things#this isn't just me being like 'i'm making progress again!!1!' for the thirty-fifth time either#like I have a full complete draft of chapter 16 that I'm about to start revising#shit's getting chaotic#there's not so much a chekov's gun as there is a chekov's whoopie cushion#i.e. a previously mentioned aspect of life at winterfell causes an objectively silly situation#but because this is me we're talking about- that silly situation quickly brings a lot of simmering things to the surface#there are a couple of fun mya conversations though which is good#sansa and mya's conversations are some of my favorites to write#because they're the only scenes where sansa isn't constantly second-guessing herself and kind of just is herself#the outside world is beginning to encroach on the Winterfell Bubble™ and ho boy is it a doozy#seriously i rewrote this entire fucking chapter and i'm so mad that THAT's what it took#anyways am definitely in the market for some beta-ing soon#and kind of need someone to bounce ideas off of because i am desperately trying to figure out#how to commit a hypothetical crime#and how to solve a cold case#send help lmao#I am prob going to make everyone extremely angry in a few chapters so enjoy the Winterfell Bubble™ while it lasts
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belabellissima · 1 year ago
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wait i have a question that most definitely is not about me and my endless wips what are you talking about?
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littlelamy · 19 days ago
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𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑒
author's note: mentions of reader saying she's going on a diet; s4rafe coded. wanted to take a break from posting about burlesque!reader so enjoy! i'm hoping to have one or two more fully edited of rafe and sarah before christmas but i am visiting my family sooo...
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rafe’s knuckles went white around the fork as he stabbed at the eggs on his plate. the clink of metal against porcelain made your stomach twist, though you ignored it, focusing on the glass of water in front of you.
"what the hell did you just say?" he asked, his voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet morning.
you hesitated, fingers playing with the hem of your oversized sweatshirt. "i’m going on a diet. i just… i feel like i need to lose a few pounds."
his jaw clenched, the fork stilling midair as he turned his full attention to you. his blue eyes darkened, a mixture of disbelief and frustration clouding them. "are you fucking serious right now?"
"it’s not a big deal—"
"bullshit, it’s not a big deal," he snapped, the fork clattering onto the plate as he stood abruptly. "you think i’m just gonna sit here and let you starve yourself over some dumbass idea you have in your head? hell no."
your stomach tightened as his tone softened slightly but remained firm. "rafe, it’s my body—"
"it’s your body that i fucking love," he interrupted, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he leaned closer, blue eyes locking with yours. "you don’t need to lose anything, y/n. you’re fucking perfect."
before you could respond, he grabbed a plate and started piling it with food—eggs, toast, fruit, and even a slice of bacon. setting it down in front of you with a deliberate thud, he crossed his arms and glared.
"eat."
"rafe—"
"eat the damn food," he insisted, his voice dropping to something dangerously close to a plea. "don’t fucking do this to yourself. you’re perfect the way you are. fuck, y/n, i mean it."
you blinked back the sting in your eyes, his words cutting deeper than you expected.
"please," he added, his jaw clenching like the vulnerability was physically painful.
silently, you picked up the fork and took a bite, avoiding his intense gaze. his shoulders relaxed slightly as he sat back down.
but just as you swallowed, he was suddenly out of his chair again, crouching beside you. his hands gripped your waist, dragging you closer until you were perched on the edge of your chair.
"you know you’re fucking insane, right?" he muttered, his voice low but filled with that same sharp-edged frustration. his lips brushed over yours briefly—just a peck.
you barely had time to process it before he leaned back in, this time slower, pressing his lips against yours with more intent. your breath hitched as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.
his tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and heated, and when he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, a thin string of spit connected your lips.
"see?" he murmured, smirking as he swiped a thumb across your bottom lip. "that’s how much i fucking love you. don’t ever pull that diet bullshit on me again, alright?"
you nodded, dazed, your cheeks flushed as he leaned in to kiss you again.
"good," he muttered against your lips, his tone softening but still firm. "now finish your plate. we’re getting ice cream later."
taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog credits: @dollywons for the png!
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saintrosalyn · 21 days ago
Text
BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO
Part One
Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.
Word count: 4.5k
TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.
Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)
Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.
You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.
Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.
He-Simon.
You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 
After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 
Then you left.
Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-
Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.
You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 
Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 
Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.
You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 
You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.
Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.
Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 
You were fine.
A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.
___
It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 
The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 
The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.
When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 
You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.
He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 
You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.
Riley.
___
He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.
On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 
You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.
Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.
The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 
You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 
No.
Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.
The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.
You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,
Fright.
Fright.
Fright. 
Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.
You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 
“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?
Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.
___
It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 
The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 
The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 
And then he was gone.
His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.
There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 
A day passed.
Then another.
And another.
The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 
But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.
A chance to slip away from Simon.
___
When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.
You haven’t done anything wrong. 
It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.
“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”
How did you get here?
“Are you listening to me?”
You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.
“Do they have to keep these on me?”
Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”
Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.
“They’re distracting.” 
He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”
You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.
“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”
“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”
Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”
Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”
“House arrest.”
“Oh.”
“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”
"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.
Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”
Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.
“What happens if I don’t take it.”
“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”
Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.
How did you get here?
___
They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.
A gilded cage.
Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.
How did you get here?
Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.
“Hello, bird.”
“Simon.”
He shuddered when you called his name.
“Missed you.”
“Don’t know how, you never left me.”
He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”
Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.
“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.
You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,
Surrender.
You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.
He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 
Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.
“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.
Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.
How did you get here?
Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.
Fuck.
You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.
It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.
Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 
With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.
You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.
Inch by overwhelming inch.
Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.
Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.
Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.
You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.
This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.
You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 
Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.
You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.
“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.
“Huh?”
He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.
“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”
Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.
“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.
He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”
You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.
“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”
His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 
“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”
“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.
“Don’t forget it.”
You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.
You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.
How did you get here?
It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.
Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese
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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 5 months ago
Note
If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?
That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭
Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!
Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.
Tumblr media
A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness
Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.
Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth
Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.
Word count: 2,6k
Requested? Yes.
Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!
General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist
Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.
Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.
Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.
You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.
— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.
— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.
— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.
Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.
— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.
Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.
— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.
— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.
— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..
— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.
Penny-One simply turns to you.
— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.
You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).
Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?
At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.
Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.
Did you fall asleep?
That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.
You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.
— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.
Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.
— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.
— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.
— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…
— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.
— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.
— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.
The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.
— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.
Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.
It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.
— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.
— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.
— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.
— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.
— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?
— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…
— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.
— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.
— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.
— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.
— Then why aren't you there?
Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.
— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.
— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).
You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.
They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.
You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.
Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.
Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.
You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.
And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.
This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.
It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.
You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.
You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.
— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.
— You’re late. — Batman states.
— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.
Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.
— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.
— GET. OUT!
— But-
— OUT!
— But, (Y/N)-
— NOW! GET OUT NOW!
They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.
— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.
— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.
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skywalkerslvt · 5 months ago
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Truth Serum—Logan Howlett
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❥Pairing: Logan Howlett x AFAB!Reader (no pronouns other than 'you' mentioned)
❥Summary: You and Logan, drugged with truth serum, get trapped in separate cells during a mission. Things ensue...
❥CW: 18+, smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, minor use of pet names (Logan says 'baby' once or twice), 1.8k words
❥a/n: Need his big mutant cock rearranging my insides right now. Wrote this really fast to satiate the new hyperfixation lmao. Not proofread, might edit later if I have time! hope u enjoy!!
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The mission was a mess from the start. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance turned into a disaster when you and Logan got ambushed by a group of well-armed mercenaries. Despite your best efforts, you were overpowered, captured, and dragged into a hidden underground facility.
Now, after being relentlessly questioned with truth serum, you found yourself in a cold, dimly lit cell, the metal bars mocking your current predicament. By the time they threw you back into your cells, your head was spinning. The serum had forced out every truth, every hidden thought, and you were left feeling raw and exposed. Worse, the lingering effects made it hard to think straight, amplifying every emotion. The worst part wasn't the isolation or the confinement—it was knowing Logan was just a few feet away, locked up in a cell next to yours. You couldn't see him, but you could hear his frustrated growls and the occasional clang as he tested the strength of his restraints.
"Logan?" you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the narrow space.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice a low, rough rumble. "You okay?"
“I'm cold,” you answered truthfully, the effects of the truth serum lingering in your veins, rendering you incapable of telling even a white lie. “Are you okay?” 
Logan huffed a laugh at your response. “I'm fine,” he replied, voice deep and gravelly sending shivers down your spine. 
"We need to figure out how to get out of here," you said, trying to focus on the mission. "Any ideas?"
"I’m working on it," Logan grunted, and you could hear the strain in his voice as he tested his restraints again. "These bars are tough, but they won't hold me forever."
Silence fell between you, broken only by the sounds of Logan's efforts to free himself. Each grunt, each frustrated growl sent your mind wandering to places it shouldn't, especially given your current situation. You tried to shake off the thoughts, but the truth serum was making it hard to keep control. 
You had always been drawn to Logan—his rugged exterior and intense demeanor had always sparked something deep inside you, but you'd managed to keep those feelings under wraps, focusing instead on the mission. Now, confined and vulnerable under the effects of the truth serum, those suppressed desires came roaring to the forefront. Every grunt, every restrained growl from his cell fueled your imagination, making it impossible to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. The harsh reality of your situation only seemed to intensify the electric charge between you two, turning the once manageable attraction into an uncontrollable blaze. A shuddering sigh passed your lips as you closed your eyes, trying to think of something, anything other than Logan fucking you, those low grunts a hot breath in your ear as he pounds his thick cock into your aching cunt. 
"What's on your mind?" Logan's voice cut through the silence, startling you. Your sigh didn’t pass Logan’s ears, his enhanced hearing picking up every little sound you made. You were lucky the wall between you was blocking the scent of your arousal from him. 
You hesitated, biting your lip, knowing the serum would force out whatever you were thinking. "N-nothing" you grunted, voice straining from the effort it took to tell that small lie, but your voice betrayed you.
"Come on," he pressed, his tone softer now. "Talk to me. What are you thinking right now?"
The words slipped out before you could stop them. "You," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m thinking about you."
Logan went quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel the intensity of his gaze even through the walls between you. "What about me?" he asked, his voice rough with curiosity.
You took a shaky breath, unable to lie. "The sounds you're making... they’re making me think of... things. Things we shouldn't be thinking about right now." You cursed yourself for admitting this so easily, for getting caught in the first place. 
A low growl rumbled from Logan's cell. "Tell me," he urged, his voice darkening with desire. "Tell me what you're thinking."
Your face flushed deeper, the truth serum forcing out your most private thoughts. “I was thinking about how you might sound if we were in the same cell,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “What noises you’d make if you were inside me, taking me on the floor.”
The cell fell into an expectant silence, Logan’s breathing becoming more laboured. After a moment, he let out a low, appreciative growl. “Oh yeah? That’s quite the thought,” he rumbled, voice thick with a mixture of satisfaction and dark amusement. “You’d be surprised how much I can imagine what it’d be like, too. The way you’d moan, how you’d squirm and gasp on my cock. Bet you’d be so fucking responsive.”
You shivered at his words, the combination of the truth serum and his filthy words making your thoughts spin wildly. “You think so?” you asked, voice breathy and eager.
Logan’s response was rough, laden with desire. “Hell yeah. I’d make sure you felt every inch of me. And you’d be begging for more before long, that’s for damn sure. Just imagine it—bet you’d take me so well.”
The vivid imagery of his words sent a shudder down your spine, your mind swirling with the possibilities. Despite the dire situation, the raw honesty between you both was creating a new kind of tension, one that was both thrilling and unnervingly intimate.
You couldn’t help it–your arousal was too much. You slowly trailed your hand up your thigh, fingers circling over your clit through your pants. “I–I’d be…so good for you, Logan,” you panted out between moans. “Need you so bad.”
Logan's breathing hitched at your admission, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Yeah? You’d be good for me, huh? Tell me what you’d want me to do if I was in there with you.”
You could hear the raw need in his voice, and it only spurred your own desire. You let out a shaky breath as you slipped your fingers under your waistband, teasing your already sensitive clit. “I–I’d want you to kiss me, touch me.”
The muffled sound of his zipper being yanked down could be heard through the wall, the thought of him fisting his cock to your voice now spurring you on, quickening your strokes. “Yeah? Touch you where, baby? How do you want me to touch you?” he responded, the smirk evident in his voice. 
The rough edge in Logan's voice sent a jolt through you, mixing with your own mounting arousal. You could hear the slight rustling from his side, the thought of him responding to you in such a primal way adding to the intensity of your desire. You whimpered, fingers working in slow, deliberate circles around your clit as you imagined his touch.
“I’d want you to start with my neck,” you gasped, voice strained. “Kiss and bite me there, tease me until I’m begging for more. Then move down, touch me everywhere. I want to feel your hands on me, everywhere.”
Logan's breath quickened, his voice rougher with need as he now stroked his cock. “Fuck, keep going.”
You could almost feel his touch, the way he’d explore your body with that intense focus. Your breaths grew quicker, each one a mix of gasps and moans as you continued to pleasure yourself. “And then I’d want you to put your cock inside me,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. “Feel every inch of you inside me, make me come with you buried deep in me.”
Logan's voice was thick with desire, mixed with a hint of smugness. “I love the way you sound when you touch yourself thinking about me. Fuck, it drives me crazy.”
You could feel the heat building inside you, each stroke of your fingers sending waves of pleasure through your body. The images of Logan’s rough hands and his powerful presence were fueling your arousal, driving you closer to the edge.
“Logan…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with anticipation. “I’m so close. I need you… so bad.”
Logan’s voice came through, rough and filled with raw desire. “I’m right here, baby. Just thinking about you coming while you touch yourself, it’s driving me wild.”
The pressure inside you intensified, each moan and gasp escaping your lips growing more desperate. You quickened your movements, your fingers pressing harder against your clit, teasing and stroking with the intensity you craved. The thought of Logan’s deep voice, his body pressed against yours, only heightened the pleasure.
“Logan, I’m gonna…” you whimpered, your orgasm building like a tidal wave, ready to crash over you.
With a final, shuddering moan, you came. Your body convulsed with the intense release, your fingers still moving in frantic circles as you rode the waves of pleasure. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as the last echoes of your climax slowly faded.
On the other side of the wall, Logan was experiencing his own tormenting pleasure. The sounds of your moans and gasps mixed with his own grunts as he fisted his cock, imagining the way you’d feel around him. The fantasy of your touch and the way you’d sound as you came was too much for him to bear.
“Fuck, yes,” Logan growled, his voice thick with need. “I’m right there with you.”
His hand moved quickly, driven by the intense images and sounds filling his mind. With a deep, guttural groan, he came, his release spilling out with a force that matched the intensity of his arousal. The sensation of climax wracked his body, his grip on his cock tightening as he rode the wave of pleasure. His breaths were heavy and uneven, each one coming in harsh, satisfied gasps.
Both of you lay there, spent and breathless, the aftermath of your climaxes leaving you in a state of both physical and emotional exhaustion. 
As the echoes of your climaxes settled into the heavy silence of the cells, you and Logan were left breathless and spent. The raw, electric tension between you had transformed into a shared, unspoken promise, even amidst your grim circumstances.
Logan’s voice cut through the quiet, rough and filled with a heated intensity that made your pulse quicken all over again. “When we get out of here,” he growled, each word dripping with desire, “I’m gonna show you just how good it can be. I’m gonna make sure you feel every bit of me.”
The thought of his words sent a shiver through you, the anticipation mingling with the lingering effects of the truth serum. Even as you lay there, exhausted and vulnerable, the promise of what was to come fueled a deep, burning desire that only added to the intensity of your situation.
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txrii · 6 months ago
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But Daddy I Love Him - Tyler Owens
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Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader
based on the song but daddy i love him by taylor swift
word count: 2,131
warnings: mentions of storm/tornado, like one swear word, also not edited at all lol
summary: Tyler Owens has a reputation around town for being reckless. People call him wild for going into storms the way he does. They think Y/N is just as, if not crazier, for falling for someone like him. Her father is no different than them, fearing his daughter may one day be hurt or even killed by Tyler's wild excursions. That is, until he has a change of heart when he does just the opposite.
a/n: it's been such a long time since i've wrote, especially x reader. over three years! shoutout to @bright-molina for letting me spout off fic ideas until i finally decided to actually sit down and write one. also, my knowledge of tornadoes is very very slim, so i’m not sure how accurate my portrayal is. i hope you all enjoy!
The adrenaline was coursing through her veins. The chase had gone well, and Tyler and his crew had been able to pull off their latest wild stunt with ease. As Y/N looked over to the driver’s seat of the truck, Tyler still had a huge smile plastered on his face. She could tell he felt the adrenaline as well. He always did, no matter how many chases he had gone on. 
Y/N wished they could stay like this forever. But, as they turned into the downtown square of her hometown, she knew what awaited them. Eyes turned immediately to the truck as it made its way down the road. Tyler had a reputation in this town. Everyone knew what he did for a living, and they thought he was crazy for it. When they found out Y/N had fallen for him, they thought she was even crazier. 
As they pulled into the long driveway of the farmhouse Y/N called home, a man was seated in a chair on the porch reading a book. Y/N sighed as she looked down at her fingers intertwined with Tyler’s. She knew what was to come when she got out of the truck. She knew her father didn’t like Tyler, and he made sure to make it clear. When the truck reached the end of the driveway, Tyler got out and headed to the passenger door. He opened it and Y/N hopped out, fingers once again intertwined with his. She smiled as she reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He bent down to plant one on the top of her head, whispering, “See you later, sweetheart.” Y/N dropped Tyler’s hand as she made her way to the porch. Tyler glanced over at Y/N’s father who was still sitting on the porch, tipping his hat in his direction as he moved to get back in his truck. Y/N’s father gave no response other than pursed lips. 
Tyler pulled away as Y/N made it to the top of the steps. “Hey, daddy,” Y/N said with a smile as she faced her father. He let out a sigh, setting his book on the porch table, “When are you going to let that boy go, huh?” Y/N pursed her lips. She sat down in the empty chair next to him, feeling defeated, “I really wish you’d give him a chance, daddy. It’s been almost a year. He’s not as bad as the town makes him out to be, really. If you just got to know him -” 
She was cut off by her father’s sharp reply, “I know all I need to know about him, Y/N. Come to your senses and see what’s really going on. He’s crazy with all these stunts.” Y/N smiled slightly. Everyone said the same thing. She tried again to get through to her father, “I know he’s crazy, but he’s the one I want. I just wish you’d just have one conversation with him, then you’d see he really isn’t that bad.” Her father was not having this. He stood up angrily, “Y/N, you’re going to get hurt, or worse. One of these days you’re going to go out on one of these chases,” he emphasized “chases” with air quotes, “and you’re not going to come home. I wish you could see just how dangerous this really is.” Y/N stood up to face him once again. The adrenaline from the chase was still running hot through her veins. Tears began to form in her eyes as she yelled, “Daddy, I love him! I wish you could see that!” As the tears began to fall, she made her way into the house and to her room, putting her father’s pleas behind her.
Tyler had a reputation around the town before the two had even met. Everyone knew of the infamous “Tornado Wrangler” and the crew that followed him around. Being from an area where storms were common, they made multiple appearances in local bars and motels to celebrate chases and rest up after them. That was how the two met. Y/N bumped into him - quite literally - as she was leaving a restaurant next door to a bar he and the crew were just entering. He invited her along for a drink, and the rest was history. When someone found out they were together, the news spread around the town like wildfire. No one could believe it. Y/N Y/L/N was a quiet, introverted local girl; Tyler Owens was chaos, he was revelry. The two were polar opposites, and according to this small town, that should never work. Whenever that red, overly-modified truck rolled into town there were whispers and stares, and they were only amplified when Y/N began appearing in the passenger seat. But the whispers couldn’t be heard over the loving stares and the screeching tires of the truck.
The news of the storm scheduled to hit in a town about an hour away was plastered over every news station. They said it was supposed to be one of the biggest the town had seen in a decade. This just piqued the interest of Tyler and the crew. And, of course, Y/N wanted to tag along. She darted through the house, getting a small pack of supplies ready for the chase. It didn’t take long for her father to catch on to what she was doing. He stood in front of her in an attempt to block her from packing any more, “Y/N Y/L/N, don’t tell me you’re seriously thinking of going out there.” Y/N huffed as she slipped through an opening between the man and the wall. “Daddy, I’ll be fine. You may not realize it, but Tyler wouldn’t let anything happen to me. He wouldn’t get us into anything he knew he couldn’t get us out of.” Her father turned to face her once again, crossing his arms. “Y/N, I just want what’s best for you. I’m tired of hearing about this boy and his stunts…” The girl tuned him out as she could hear the familiar purr of the engine pulling up the drive. She grinned and hoisted the bag she was packing up onto her shoulder, headed down the stairs. Her father, of course, followed her, voice becoming more frantic. 
Y/N swung open the door, and there he was, the man she loved, standing at the bottom of the porch steps. He grinned back at her, once again tipping his hat at her father. “I’ll take good care of her, sir,” Tyler said, hoping to ease the man’s mind. It, of course, did not. He once again tried to plead with his daughter, but began directing his anger toward Tyler when he realized she still wasn’t listening. Tyler gave a subtle sigh, pursing his lips, as he extended his hand toward Y/N, who followed him to the truck. When the two were settled in, Tyler turned to Y/N, “You ready, baby?” Y/N gave a grin, “Floor it, Ty.” And then they were off.
The news channels got one thing wrong, the storm was much worse than they had expected. The crew were only a couple miles outside the town they landed in when they realized it. They turned right around, they had to make sure they got everyone they could to safety. They split up when they got back, in order to cover as much ground as possible. Tyler would not let Y/N out of his sight; he promised her father he’d keep her safe, and he knew her father would never forgive him if anything happened to her. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
Tyler and Y/N had gotten everyone they could to safety, now it was time for them to get there themselves. They ran towards one of the shelters they had ushered people into. The closer they got, the more the wind picked up. Objects began to fly left and right. Tyler did everything he could to block them from Y/N, earning himself a few cuts and bruises. Finally, they made it to the shelter. Tyler helped Y/N in then climbed in himself, shutting and securing the doors behind him. Y/N was shaking as she lowered herself to the floor and took cover. Sure, she had been in storms herself, but nothing to this extent. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would somehow make time go faster. Tyler, who had just taken cover next to her, reached out to try and give her some sort of comfort. He pulled her close, trying to give her more protection with his own body. They listened to the roaring sound, like a train was passing right above them. After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, the sound quieted down. It was over, they were safe. Tyler gave Y/N’s shoulder a squeeze, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “You can open your eyes now, sweetheart. It’s done, it’s gone,” he whispered in her ear. Someone had already opened the shelter and light streamed in. Only a few buildings still stood, the rest diminished to a mass of rubble. Y/N and Tyler shared a glance before finding the rest of the crew and getting to work helping however they could.
Tyler and Y/N drove home nearly in silence. Y/N was still extremely shaken up, and Tyler knew that. He would try to make conversation here and there, but he knew Y/N was probably not in the headspace to make jokes. Halfway through the drive, Y/N spoke over the soft country music playing in the truck, “What are we going to tell my dad, Ty? You heard what he was saying before we left. There’s no way I’m going to change his mind about you now.” Y/N had tried to call her dad numerous times, but was unable to pick up any service. Tyler sighed, reaching his hand out for her to grab, “I’m sure he’ll understand, sweetheart.” As Y/N laced her fingers with his, he lifted their hands up to place a kiss on the back of hers. 
Y/N’s father had never once been happy to hear the roar of the engine of that truck pulling into his driveway. But today, he knew that only meant one thing, his baby girl was okay. He burst through the door just as Tyler had made his way to the passenger door to let Y/N out. The man ran down the porch, almost stumbling and falling, and wrapped his daughter in the biggest hug he had ever given her. There were tears forming in his eyes as he exclaimed how happy he was that Y/N had come back safe. She laughed a little bit as he let go, “Hi, daddy.” Tyler was standing off to the side, wanting to give the two some space, but also preparing for what the man might say to him. He was well aware Y/N’s father did not care for him much. Tyler saw Y/N gesture his way, and her father’s eyes found him, gesturing for him to come over. Tyler approached, ready for whatever may come from the man. To his surprise, however, the man reached a hand out for him to shake. Tyler shook his hand, relieved. He’s once again caught off guard, however, as Y/N’s father wraps him in a hug almost as big as the one he gave his daughter. He kept muttering thank yous as Tyler stood there, shocked and stiff as a board. Y/N giggled at the sight. But, hey, at least her father finally properly met Tyler.
A few weeks later, after Y/N had almost shaken off everything that had happened, she took Tyler and her father out to lunch. The sun was warm and beautiful, not a storm in sight. Turns out, just as she had thought, her father loved him as soon as he got to know him. The townsfolk looked at the three sitting on the restaurant patio, dumbfounded. Y/N looked at them and giggled, adjusting the strap of her dress that had started to fall slightly, “Oh my God, they should see their faces!” Tyler and her father joined her in laughing, and Tyler reached for her hand. The two laced their fingers together. Tyler gave a glance at their audience and then back to Y/N, “Fuck ‘em. You’re my lady, and that’s all we need.” He placed another kiss onto the top of her hand. 
Y/N smiled back at him, “Me and my wild boy.”
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