#owen power fic

[ilyasorokinn]

so i think a lot abt this and the one reader i think could execute it greatly is u so could i get a owen power x female reader where they both are really big leafs fans (cause mississauga) so they go to a game together for a nice date night and it’s all cute. i seriously think going to a game with o would be the best. ty!

HOCKEY GIRL

whoever sent this in, i love you (this was sent in like last year... i know, i have a problem).

as much as owen loved playing hockey, he loved watching it even more. and even more so, he loved watching it with you.

it would have been a sin to the city of toronto if you weren't a leafs fan. your family were big hockey watchers, so you were always dragged to hockey games and had grown to love the sport.

so, a love of hockey was something you and owen shared. and with the sabres not clinching the playoffs, you and owen flew home to spend the off-season with family and couldn't pass up an opportunity to watch a leafs game.

before you even got into scotiabank, there was a mini meet-and-greet with little kids who recognized owen (who wouldn't?). after taking the pictures, he quickly put on a hat, hoping it would help him blend in but being as tall as he was, you knew it probably wouldn't work.

when you finally got inside, you split up to get snacks and drinks. while you got drinks, he would get snacks. you were surprised when you got to your seats to find owen not there already. the line for drinks was pretty long, so you expected him to get there sooner than you.

while you waited, you took in the atmosphere. while you loved the sabres and loved being in buffalo, nothing would ever hit the way scotiabank did.

when owen finally showed up, he looked flustered and disheveled, "whoa, you okay?" you chuckled, taking a sip of your drink as he sat down and let out a big sigh in relief.

"this hat isn't working." he sighed, "i got recognized and roped into taking like a million pictures."

"you can say no, you know." you reminded him.

"yeah, but they are all kids." you smiled at that, handing him his drink and chuckling when he took a big gulp.

you could hear people murmuring when the area around you started filling up. you were also sitting at the end of the row, so people started to recognize him. they were kind enough not to ask for pictures and you could tell owen was relieved.

another reason owen loved watching hockey with you was because you really got into it. to your core, you were a hockey girl. you loved it. so, every so often, he would glance over at you and couldn't help but smile when he saw how into it you were.

he pulled out his phone when the ref skated to the center of the ice ready to announce the call, wanting to film your reaction, "no, what the hell?" you groaned with the rest of the crowd when the ref made a call. you looked over at him and laughed when you saw he was recording, "stop." you pushed the camera down so it was pointed at the floor.

"you're cute." he teased, ending the video. you narrowed your eyes at him, knowing it would end up on his story.

but owen, much like you to his core, was a hockey boy. he loved watching it too. so, as revenge, you took your phone out, knowing you would catch a crazy reaction from him at some point.

and you were right. you managed to catch the moment the leafs got a goal on camera. owen, with the rest of the arena, jumped to his feet and cheered. he jumped up and down, putting his hands on your shoulders and shaking you and cheering.

the rest of the game went smoothly but at the end, your phone was dinging. you thought it was just people laughing at the story you posted or the one owen posted of you, but you were surprised to find people sending you videos from twitter and instagram.

you clicked on the video and were surprised to see you and owen in the video. you weren't as inconspicuous as you thought. sportnets and the nhl accounts had found you in the sea of leafs fans.

"there was a speical guest in the crowd tonight." one of the sportscasters announced as the video of you and owen in the audience at the game was shown, "owen power was spotted at tonight's leafs game. clearly with the sabres season over, he's home for the off-season." the video continued but all you could pay attention to was the video of you and owen.

in the video, he had an arm around your shoulders and his ear was at the level with you mouth. you were talking into his ear, telling him something, you had forgotten that point. but whatever you said made him crack up. you were watching him, a smile on your face as you watched him laugh.

you showed owen the video and he had the same reaction as you, "we're cute."

"we are." you gave him a high-five before he shifted the car gears. he reached over and held your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

requests are open :)

[uluvjay]

Post game celebrations- O. Power

Owen power x fem! Reader

In which you make sure Owen properly celebrates once he gets home

Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(USE PROTECTION), oral(m receiving), cursing, kissing, dirty talk, porn with a small plot

“Baby?” Owen called as he stepped into your shared apartment.

“Living room!” You called out the the boy.

He walked in to find you seated on the couch, one of his shirts covering your frame.

“You did so good tonight” you smiled up at him, grabbing his hand to pull him down next to you on the couch.

You sadly hadn’t been able to attend the game due to work but had gotten home just in time to watch him score the game winning goal.

“Thank you” he blushed, leaning down to pull you into a kiss.

Owen had meant for it to be a sweet ‘I missed you today’ kiss but he could help the groan that escaped him when your hands pushed him back into the soft cushions and your thighs slotted over his.

“M’ so proud of you O” you whispered, lips beginning a trail down his throat.

However you were stopped by the collar of his dress shirt, “is it okay if I take this off?” You breathed into his ear.

“Mhm” he quickly nodded.

A smirk broke out on your face as your fingers began to work open the expensive shirt, fingers moving slowly taking your sweat time with each button.

“So pretty” you praised as your lips pressed against the now exposed skin, causing a sharp intake of breath from the man below you.

You continued your way down his body, lips pressing against the pale skin of his abdomen as you slowly sunk to the floor between his spread legs.

“Baby you don’t have to” he spoke

“I want to, you deserve it Owen” you replied to the boy before your hands made their way to his belt, fingers hastily working to get it undone.

“Shit” he breathed as you freed his aching cock from the confinement of his boxers.

A deep moan broke from Owen’s throat at the feeling of your cold hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

His back arched as your tongue finally made contact with his tip, slowly moving around the angry red skin in little kitten licks.

Slowly you moved your head down, slight gags escaping as you did your best to take him all the way down your throat.

Shivers ran through Owen’s body as you hallowed your cheeks, bobbing your head as your hands worked what you couldn’t fit.

“Baby-fuck” he cried, head thrown back onto the cushion behind him allowing you to see his pretty neck.

Pulling off from his cock with a loud pop Owen finally got a clear view of your entire face, tears streaming over your cheeks, lips swollen and covered in spit, cheeks flushed and hot.

“God you’re so pretty” he groaned, locking a hand into your hair and pulling you up to his lips.

“Owen, I wanted to take of you” your whimpered as he completely pulled your body back onto the couch.

“I know but I can’t take it anymore, need to fuck you” he was practically aching to get inside of you.

Completely stripped of his left over clothing the boy slotted himself between your thighs, pushing up his shirt that swallowed your body to reveal your little lacy underwear you’d put on just for him.

“All for me?” He smirked

“All for you O, always you”

Owen pulled your panties down your legs before lifting one over his shoulder, running his dripping head through your folds.

“Shit” you cried at the feeling of him pressing into you.

A shared moan filled the air as he bottomed out, he stayed unmoving for a moment, allowing you to get adjusted to his length.

“Fuck Owen, move please.” You begged, hands moving up to his bare back.

With a hand gripping the leg that rested over his shoulder and one placed next to your head Owen began moving in fast thrusts.

Sounds of slapping skin and pathetic whimpers filled the small living room, the springs of the couch squeaking from his movements.

“So tight” he groaned into your neck, his lips moving along your sticky skin.

He could feel your walls already beginning to clench around him, your breath picking up at every thrust his hips made.

“Oh-Owen! I’m getting close” you gasped, nails ranking down his back; no doubt leaving raw scratches at the skin.

“I know, c’mon baby. Come for me” he encouraged.

The moan that escaped your throat at the feeling of his thump coming in contact with your clit was downright pornographic, walls somehow tightening around him even more.

“I-shit. M’ Coming O” you cried as you felt the knot that had formed in your tummy breaking, sobs filling the room as your body shook under his large one.

“Such a good girl, I’m almost there baby” he growled, the feeling of your orgasm bringing him closer to his.

Owen’s thrusts became sloppy and desperate as he chased the high he so desperately needed, soft grunts and groans escaping him as he felt him self slipping.

“I’m coming” he cried as his large body stilled on top of yours, a shiver running down his spine as the euphoric feeling took over his body.

“Fuck” he groaned as he let himself rest against your body.

He nuzzled into your neck as your fingers began running through his dark locks.

“Good celebration?” You giggled.

“The best, thank you baby”

-

@op-simp 😘😘



[drrav3nb]

Something More, Something Holy, Something Sacred

Since returning to Númenor, both Elendil and Tar-Miriel had become the target of Ar-Pharazôn’s true ambitions. By using the late King’s death as an excuse to dethrone the Queen Regent, as well as the enormous losses incurred in the Battle of the Southlands, Ar-Pharazôn hoped to prove that Tar-Miriel was unworthy of holding power in Númenor. But in a moment of fierce resolve, she managed to challenge such a notion in court, proclaiming that if she could not turn such transgressions into gold then she would willingly relinquish her title and abdicate the throne. Believing that she would fail and humiliate herself beyond repair, Ar-Pharazôn agreed to her demands but allowed her only one month to prove his claims to be false. And so, since then Elendil and the Queen have convened at sunrise every morning, hours before court was held, in order to get ahead of matters concerning the public, the economy and military endeavours. But outsmarting such a devious politician was a task unlike anything Tar-Miriel had faced before, one in which she was severely unequipped.

Read the fic here

[sc0tters]

The Best Favour Yet | Owen Power

summary: Kent asks Owen to help you settle in when you move to Buffalo, that favour ends up being the reason for some of your favourite memories with the love of your life.

request: yes/no

warnings: some allusions to sex.

word count: 2.1k

authors note: this request made me laugh because it literally said Owen dating Kent’s sister and all the chaos that would entail. Started writing this as a regular oneshot but I hated it so I’ve just made it a 5+1.

Kent never planned on this.

When he asked Owen to keep an eye on you once you got accepted at Buffalo State University. Kent never once let the thought of you falling for one of his best friends.

1. ❝he’s like totally harmless.❞

to PowPow 🔫: thanks for checking in with y/n I appreciate it

to y/n 👾: remember Owen is like totally harmless!

You were nervous to meet the boy, sure you had spoken to Owen in person before but it was never by yourself. Usually Kent was around for those moments as he didn’t want to let any of the guys think that they could have the chance to make a move on you.

Once they reached sophomore year you were merely just a name to them though as you were going to university in Florida.

A year of that was more than enough and you had transferred to Buffalo for your sophomore year.

But as the cold Buffalo breeze chilled your face as you clutched the sides of your jacket you began to lose hope “y/n!” Owen called out as he recognised your stature from anywhere.

Owen would never admit it but he did have the tiniest of crushes on you that he felt in his freshman year the first time he met you “hi Owen.” You smiled as you spun around to face him.

You looked up at him as he gave you a hug “I’ve got a few different restaurants in mine so whatever you-” the hockey player began to ramble as he didn’t realise that his nerves were showing.

It took you giving his hand a squeeze for him to calm down “you’re the local, I trust you Owen.” You nodded as you sent him a serious look to show that you were down for anything.

And that night you laughed so hard your stomach hurt and you even managed to make eating pizza look good because Owen looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

2. ❝you’re a sabres fan now,❞

You had to say that you were surprised that it took Owen three weeks before he invited you to a Sabres game. Every time the game was in Buffalo you’d watch from your dorm window as fans lined the road up to the KeyBank Center.

So as you stood in the waiting area with WAGs and other members of the players friends and families you couldn’t help but wish you were back there in the comfort of your dorm.

Sure the people were nice but you weren’t one of them, you were meant to be a simple college kid “you made it!” Owens cheer pulled you out of your thoughts as he wrapped his arms around you.

The older players watched on in amusement as they pieced together why the umich alumni seemed so loved up over the past month “wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you smiled as him still having his skates on meant that you had to tilt your head up further to look at him.

He swore he was on cloud nine when he realised you were wearing the jersey that he had given you just days prior “you like the outfit?” You asked as you did a little spin so he could see your outfit in its whole.

Owen sucked at his teeth as he tried to remain calm seeing Power on your back “you’re a sabres fan now you know that right?” He teased as he had seen all of the Blue Jackets memorabilia from Kent that decorated your side of your dorm.

You shrugged as you ran your fingers through your hair “I’ve been called worse if I’m honest.” You joked causing him to let out a laugh.

A lightbulb seemed to go off above his head “you gotta meet the rest of the boys!” Owen wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into the direction of more of his teammates.

3. ❝too good for this world,❞

On Tuesdays if you had late lectures Owen would pick you up and you’d spend the evening at his. Each time you’d take turns being head chef when it came to making meals.

This particular Tuesday it was your turn and you were making spaghetti bolognaise “Power don’t you dare!” You could see the smirk on his face as he leaned against the counter behind him.

Owen laughed as you continued to watch the pasta boil “I’m not doing anything.” He raised his hands in surrender as he pushed himself off of the counter as he walked over to you.

You scoffed as you shook your head “I can see it in your eyes that there is something up there.” You pointed to his head causing him to smile.

His hands landed on either side of you “are they telling you that I think you’re beautiful?” Owen asked letting his voice act like a gentle hum over the sound boiling pasta water.

Warmth spread over your cheeks as you tried to bury your face in his chest “I’m serious!” He laughed as his hands cupped your cheeks so he could continue to look at him.

Your tongue danced over your teeth “why me?” You let the question you had been wondering for weeks finally come out.

Owens cold thumb cooled your face as it softly rubbed circles on your cheek “because you’re perfect y/n,” the hockey player hadn’t told you about how he truly felt before.

He sighed when you shook your head “I wish you’d see that you’re too good for this world sweets.” Owen confessed as he let his head drop so that his lips barely hovered over your own.

The air around you went silent “what about dinner?” You statement had to be pushed out of your lips.

It made Owen smirk “I can be done before that pasta is ready.” He proposed as he turned the heat down a setting.

That seemed to be all you needed to carry on “let’s not waste anytime then.” You shrugged before his hand was on your jaw letting him kiss your lips.

4. ❝I’ll count to three,❞

It had been two months since you started dating Owen. Besides for your close friends nobody else knew and that was because you two didn’t know how to tell Kent.

Your brother knew you had a boyfriend because you had been in the process of soft launching your relationship on Instagram, but all of those questions were met with coy answers.

So when the long awaited day came around when the Blue Jackets were playing in Buffalo you knew you had to tell your brother.

But that morning when your mind was full of clouds as you were still half asleep you didn’t think twice when you opened the door to Owens apartment in nothing more than one of his shirts.

Kent on the other hand was shocked to see his sister stood in his friend’s apartment “where is Owen?” He asked as he furrowed his eyebrows.

That was what seemed to wake you up “oh Ken-” you stammered over your words as your eyes widened “babe who is there?” Owen called out from the kitchen.

You couldn’t rack your brain for what to say “it’s Kent!” That seemed to get the right response out of Owen as he came out to the entryway.

The Blue Jackets player really didn’t know what to do “you just called my sister babe?” Kent honestly zoned out once he heard you get that title.

Owen could see the upset look on his friends face “let’s just talk about th-” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “I’ll count to three because I like you.” Kent cut him off as he walked into the apartment.

You let your lips swirl in as your eyes went wide “baby?” Owen looked to you for help as Kent got to one “run and lock a door.” You proposed as your brother got to two.

Part of you watched in amusement as Owen ran to the end of the hall when Kent got to three.

5. ❝wrapped around her finger,❞

Kent loved you, truly you were his little sister that he wanted to protect in bubble wrap. So it wasn’t surprising that it took him four months to be okay with the idea of going on holiday with you and Owen.

That was until your brother was reminded of the fact that you were going to be sleeping in a bed with your boyfriend.

Quickly the relaxing holiday turned into one that he didn’t get sleep in “morning baby,” you smiled as you found your boyfriend stood in the kitchen making coffee.

Owen was quick to swipe away from you “I brushed my teeth,” you pointed out as you smelt your breath wondering if that was the problem “what if he sees?” Owen whined as he still seemed to be scared of Kent’s threats “they are both still sleeping.” You grumbled as you pouted your lips not enjoying the fact that your boyfriend was ignoring you.

That was a sight that Owen truly couldn’t say no to so he placed the coffee mug down on the counter causing you to smile “always getting what I want,” you pointed out.

Owen nodded “my baby got me wrapped around her finger for days.” He never did seem to mind admitting that you just how whipped he was.

Your hands wrapped around his waist “think you should show me that then,” you proposed as just as his lips touched yours Kent had to walk in “I do not need to be made an uncle on this trip please?” He begged as he scrunched his face in disgust even once you had pulled away from Owen.

A laugh left your lips “but wouldn’t we be such cute parents daddy?” You let the words fall out of your mouth like butter.

Both Owen and Kent’s eyes went wide. Of course your boyfriend could see the mischievous look on your face and it clearly meant you were doing this to screw with your brother “you’ve got two seconds to get your hands off of-” Kent didn’t even need to finish his sentence before Owen listened and took two steps away from you.

A frown formed on your face “you’re no fun,” you mumbled as you looked at the Sabres player.

“it’s hard to be when you’re trying to get me killed!

+ 1 ❝what’d you say?❞

The last three years had been a whirlwind, whilst you hadn’t made Kent an uncle just yet you and Owen had your fair share of pregnancy scares that you both agreed were secrets you’d take to your grave.

With each day that went by you found yourself falling deeper in love with him. You had the house, the pets, and the love so there was only really two things left on that checklist.

Bless Owen for being clueless but you spent the last three months trying to hint at the wedding ring you liked but that seemed to just fall on deaf ears.

So now you took matters into your own hands as you watched him get ready for boys night “baby,” you sang as you were sat on your bed watching him pick an outfit for tonight.

Owen continued looking through his clothes as he smiled “yes?” He asked wondering what it was that you wanted to ask him “I want to marry you.” You announced as you swung your legs against the frame of your bed.

You had truly never seen him stop what he was doing that fast before “what’d you say?” Owen looked like he had seen a ghost as he walked over to you.

It made you confused “just said I wanted to marry you.” You shrugged as you watched him lean over to his bedside table drawer as he pulled out a velvet box “was gonna ask you this weekend.” He pointed out as he revealed what looked like the ring of your dreams.

A gasp left your lips “you were?” You knew he was taking you on a mini trip to Canada so that you two could go stay in the mountains for a week as it was the start of the off season.

He nodded as he sat next to you “pretty sure I can take this as a yes then?” Owen joked as he placed a kiss to your temple seeing the tears form in your eyes.

You smiled as you let out a sniffle “don’t get it twisted I asked first!”

[honeyeyesworld]

Let’s do that hockey|| Jack Quinn

(None of the pictures are mine, I found them on Pinterest credits to the original owners)

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Yourusername

Liked by jeffskinner, buffalosabers, and others

Yourusername: ✨I am a photographer and I took these pictures ✨

Good luck tonight boys!! Score goals and stuff. As they say in hockey, let’s do that hockey 🤪

Also should I be worried about Owen taking my boyfriend 🤨

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User1: LMAO NOT THE PICTURE OF OWEN AND PEYTON 💀

jeffskinner: Thank you for capturing all of my good sides 🤝

User2: The best photographer in the nhl 🤩

peytonkrebs: Y/N??

Yourusername: Peyton??

peytonkrebs: what did I do to deserve that picture 😭

User3: idk if I want to be Owen or Jack 😏

jackquinn19: I would never leave you for Owen baby

owenpower_: that’s not you said last night 😏

jackquinn19: shhh 🤫

Yourusername: ???

User5: thank you for blessing us with these pictures 😫

Yourusername

Liked by jackquinn19, dylan.cozens, and more

Yourusername: MY BOYFRIEND SCORED!! 🥳🥳

Good job on the win boys 👏👏 beyond proud of how you guys played today, and congrats to the love of my life for scoring a goal 🥰🥰

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jackquinn19: All thanks to you angel I love you so much ❤️

User7: y’all I was at the game tonight and Jack pointed at her after he scored it was so cute 😭

owenpower_: OUR boyfriend scored thank you very much

jackquinn19: all for you Owen 😘

Yourusername: 🤨🤨🤨

buffalosabers: Thanks to our good luck charm 😉

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( @lvkehvghes )

[kittyyyss]

the era of hockeyblr during the umich hockey 21-22 season was genuinely brain altering

[three-headed-monster]

lover of mine (maybe we'll take some time)

It’s raining when they get to Stockholm, the window of their large black van fogging up just enough for Luke to draw smiley faces in the condensation there. Usually, it’d make Kent laugh, but the uncomfortable press of Mason’s leg against his own makes him think against it. This isn’t the time for the jokes and giggles they had when they were younger.

Kent’s twenty-one now. He’s twenty-one and heartbroken and about to embark on a three-month, intimate concert tour with his ex-boyfriend and two of his best friends.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 4] [chapter 5]

[cobrakaisb]

2k followers

hi lovelies! i have 2000 followers on here, which is bizarre, but i’m so thankful for each and every one of you guys. some of you are new, and others have been here since my cobra kai days (crazy!!!). as a token of my appreciation, i want to do a small celebration before i go back to school, so please be sure to send in!

how it works: send an emoji and a guy (or au) and i’ll write a small blurb (runs from jan. 03 to jan. 13)

🍺 frat house ↠❥ pick a song from my frat playlist, 1 through 26, and a guy (or au couple) for a small blurb

🥅 tate mcrae ↠❥ a blurb inspired by a song from tate’s new album with a guy (or au couple) of your choice

📸 instagram edit ↠❥ an instagram edit for a guy (or au couple) of your choice

🃏 dealer’s choice ↠❥ send in a concept for a guy (or au couple) of your choice and i’ll write the blurb 

people i write for:

college hockey players: mark estapa, ethan edwards, luca fantilli, rutger mcgroarty, ryan leonard, gabe perreault, and will smith

nhl players: luke hughes, owen power, kent johnson, adam fantilli, mason lohrei, johnny beecher, mackie samoskevich, and matt boldy

aus: team baby au, one tree hill au, if he wanted to he would au, jj mccarthy + hughes sister, luke hughes + boldy sister, johnny orlando + fantilli sister

[aria0fgold]

I'm fired up now. No more struggling, I'm going to finish this drawing before June 30th and I WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN!

[mrpldiddles]

hiiiii

this is my writing blog now i guess lol

i'm starting to get into writing for nhlers so with persuasion from my friends i decided to create this blog to be able to share some of my writing :))

as of right now i only have a couple little fics about zegras but i plan on writing more for a bunch of different nhlers once i get the chance. i am a first year in uni so my schedule's a little hectic but i hope to write and share more when i have the time :)

some players i'm hoping to write about in the future: pierre-luc dubois, mat barzal, owen power, quinn hughes and adam lowry

that's all for now, hopefully i'm able to use this blog lots and that y'all are willing to read what i put out :)

bye for now!!!

[cokehead-zeroed]

i can see you (up against the wall with me) 

Pairing: Jack Eichel/Connor McDavid

Rating: E

Prompt: Day 2 – Coming in Public (repurposed from Day 6)

Summary: Kent blows Owen. Briss watches. 

[callsigns-haze]

Hi! I love your Twister fics! Anyways I was hoping you could write something about Tyler proposing to fem reader then having boon or javi get certified in being an officiant then get married in field as a tornado touches! That would truly be Tornado wrangler fashion. If not I totally understand.

Winds of Forever

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tyler and Y/N embrace the unpredictability of their love by exchanging vows in the heart of a storm, beginning their married life with nature's raw power as their witness.

Chapter Warnings: Intense weather scenes and emotional moments.

Tyler Owens had always known that his love for storm chasing was rivalled only by his love for you. The thrill of the storm, the adrenaline of the chase—it all paled in comparison to the life you had built together. So when it came time to propose, Tyler wanted the moment to be as extraordinary as the love you shared.

The day had been long and exhilarating, filled with the rush of chasing storms across the plains. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a fiery orange glow across the sky, the team gathered around a campfire, their laughter mingling with the distant rumble of thunder. The air was still charged with the electricity of the storm, and it felt like the perfect moment for something special.

Tyler sat beside you, his heart racing as he reached into his pocket to feel the small, weathered box that had been burning a hole there all day. He looked at you, your face illuminated by the firelight, and knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for. He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing the attention of everyone around the fire.

As the chatter died down, Tyler took your hand, gently pulling you to your feet. You looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and affection, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the serious expression on his face.

“Y/N,” Tyler began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “From the first storm we chased together, I knew you were different. You’ve been my partner in every way—through every wild adventure, every close call, and every quiet moment in between. I’ve chased a lot of storms, but nothing compares to the chase that led me to you. And I don’t want to spend another day without knowing you’re mine forever.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small box, and your breath caught in your throat as he got down on one knee. The flickering firelight danced in his eyes as he opened the box to reveal a ring that sparkled like the stars above.

“Will you marry me?” Tyler asked, his voice trembling with hope and love.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at him, your heart overflowing with joy. There was only one answer, and it burst from your lips with the force of a storm. “Yes, Tyler! Yes!”

As he slipped the ring onto your finger, you pulled him to his feet, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. The team erupted in cheers, their excitement matching the joy in your heart as you kissed him, tears of happiness blending with the wind that whipped around you.

But as the cheers began to fade, Boone, always the one with the wild ideas, grinned and said, “You know, we could do this right now. Get married here, in the middle of a storm—just like the way you two live your lives.”

You both laughed, but the idea took hold, the thrill of it coursing through you. The thought of marrying Tyler, not in some traditional setting, but here, in the midst of what you loved most—surrounded by storms and friends—felt right. It felt like the most perfect way to begin your life together.

“Why not?” Tyler said, his grin widening as he looked at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“That’s crazy,” you said, but you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“It’s perfect,” he replied, squeezing your hand. “Let’s do it.”

And then, as if the universe itself was in on the plan, Javi, the quiet and steady presence in your group, revealed that he had recently become a certified officiant—“You know, just in case,” he added with a sheepish grin.

The next day, under a sky dark with swirling clouds, you found yourselves standing hand in hand in a wide, open field. The storm had gathered strength, and a massive tornado was forming in the distance, a wild and beautiful force of nature. The wind howled around you, tugging at your clothes and hair, but all you could focus on was Tyler’s hand in yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the chaos.

Javi stood before you, his voice strong and steady as he began the ceremony. “Tyler, Y/N… I can’t think of a more fitting way for the two of you to start your married life together than in the heart of a storm. Just like this tornado, your love is powerful, unpredictable, and unstoppable. Today, you’re making a promise—to stand by each other, no matter what winds may blow.”

As the tornado loomed in the distance, Tyler turned to you, his eyes filled with love and determination. He took a deep breath and began his vows, his voice strong despite the wind.

“Y/N, from the moment I met you, I knew my life would never be the same. You’ve been my partner in every storm, my calm in the chaos, and my greatest adventure. I promise to stand by your side through every twist and turn, to weather every storm with you, and to love you fiercely, just as fiercely as I love the thrill of the chase. You are my everything, and I vow to protect you, to cherish you, and to never let a day go by without reminding you how much you mean to me.”

Tears filled your eyes as you listened to his words, your heart swelling with love. You squeezed his hand, smiling through your tears as you began your own vows.

“Tyler, you’ve shown me a love that’s as wild and unpredictable as the storms we chase. You’ve taught me to embrace the unknown, to find beauty in the chaos, and to always keep my eyes on the horizon. I promise to stand by you in every storm, to be your safe harbour, and to love you with all the passion and intensity that this life deserves. You are my tornado, my whirlwind, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

As you finished your vows, the tornado touched down, a powerful force of nature swirling behind you as if the universe itself was bearing witness to your promises. The moment was surreal, a perfect blend of chaos and serenity, as you and Tyler sealed your vows with a kiss. The storm raged on around you, but all you felt was the warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, and the certainty that this was the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.

The team erupted in cheers, their voices carried away by the wind as they surrounded you both, their excitement and joy adding to the wild energy of the moment. Boone whooped loudly, clapping Tyler on the back, while Javi grinned, clearly pleased with how perfectly everything had come together.

As the winds began to die down and the storm moved on, you stood there together, hand in hand, staring at the path of the tornado as it carved its way through the land. The world around you was raw and wild, but in Tyler’s arms, you felt nothing but peace and love.

Tyler turned to you, his eyes shining with tears. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. “It was perfect,” you whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”

And as you stood there, the wind still whipping around you, you knew that this was just the beginning of your adventure together. The storms would come and go, but your love—like the tornado that had witnessed your vows—was a force of nature, powerful and unbreakable, ready to take on whatever the world threw at you.

Together, you would weather every storm, hand in hand, for the rest of your lives.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

[honeyeyesworld]

Snow day|| Jack Quinn

(None of the pictures are mine!!! Credits to the original owners 🫶)

Yourusername

Liked by: kennedyclairewalsh, tommer97 and more

Yourusername: And the snow day begins ❄️

(Ofc featuring my boyfriends boyfriends 🙄)

Tagged: jackquinn19

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dlevi_33: Still can’t believe you pushed Owen 🤣

↪️ Yourusername: he deserved it 🤝

User1: the snowmen 😂

jackquinn19: I love you snow much 💙☃️

↪️ owenpower_: 🤢

User4: the last slide Jack carried her 😭

↪️ user3: right 😭

User5: I just want to know what’s going on in the third slide 😭😭

jackquinn19: want to come over and make more snow angels…in bed 😏

↪️Yourusername: JACK (I’m on my way) 🫣

↪️ owenpower_: MY EYES

↪️: jj.peterka: 🤢🤢🤢

alextuch89: had a great time babysitting you guys!

dylan.cozens: let’s do it again next week 🤝

↪️ Yourusername: I hope the snow reminded you of home 🎅🎄🦌

↪️ dylan.cozens: I am NOT from the North Pole 😐

jackquinn19

Liked by peytonkrebs, rasmusdahlinn, and more

jackquinn19: when life gives you snow make snow angels 😏

Tagged: Yourusername

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jj.peterka: I can’t look at you the same 🤢

User9: this is so cute 😭

Yourusername: Are you a snowball?? Because I bet you’ll melt in my hands…or mouth 🤭

↪️ dylan.cozens: please stop 🛑

↪️ jackquinn19: 😏😏

User10: ❤️

buffalosabers: ❄️☃️

[comfortscripts]

The 13 Fics of Kinktober l Kinktober '24

As we are in the 13 days of October, it is Kinktober time!

This is my reintroduction back into posting, and what better way than to jump in with some delicious scandalous smut!

Please consider all the warnings within each fic before reading, your consumption is your choice. This event is intended for 17+

1 ¬ A Glimpse Of What I'd Do For You l Coriolanus Snow ↪ Body Worship

2 ¬ Revenge Never Tasted So Sweet l Sirius Black ↪ Aphrodisiac

3 ¬ Tie Me Up Cowboy l Tyler Owens ↪ Rope Play

4 ¬ Not Even If You Imperio'd Me l Sebastian Sallow ↪ Hate Sex

5 ¬ Last Beer For A While l Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw ↪ Breeding

6 ¬ An Interesting Arrangement l Fred & George Weasley ↪ Free Use

7 ¬ Where's That Pretty Mouth Now? l Mattheo Riddle ↪ Exhibitionism

8 ¬ Thank You Spiderman l Dark!Peter Parker ↪ Masks

9 ¬ What's The Harm? l Remus Lupin ↪ Oral

10 ¬ Put Me In My Place l Jake 'Hangman' Seresin ↪ Power Play

11 ¬ Show Me Crazy l Tom Riddle ↪ Knife Play

12 ¬ Anyone For You l Eddie Munson ↪ Role-Play

13 ¬ Let Me Break You l Theodore Nott ↪ Size Difference

P.S. I should have posted a fic on the 18th but my laptop freaked, so you will get two in one day :)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

It Takes A Village

Fandom: YJ98, Flashfam, DC Comics

Summary: After witnessing Bart murder someone, his friends scramble to cover Bart's tracks and stumble upon an international scandal as a result.

(Minor background: Bart took a gap year, and Conner did two years of community college. This starts shortly after Bart's 19th birthday. So, Conner and Jenni are 20, Bart and Cissie are 19, Tim and Cassie are 18, I made Greta 17 for the sake of the fic, and Judy is 15. I decided to make Owen 22 and Thad 16 for plot reasons. Clark and Conner are brothers in this fic, and Clark is 12 years older for the sake of this fic, so he's 32.)

Chapters: 13/?

Characters: Bart Allen, Conner Kent, Judy Garrick, Jay Garrick, Joan Garrick, Cissie King-Jones, Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake, Greta Hayes, Jenni Ognats, Thad Thawne, Owen Mercer, Meloni Thawne, Clark Kent, Wally West, Linda Park, Courtney Whitmore, President Thawne

Relationship(s): KonBart, CissieCassie, WallyLinda

Additional Tags: Serial Killer AU, No Powers AU, Angst, Dark Comedy, Bart Allen Kills in This Fic, Minor Thad Thawne, Separated in Childhood, Some Smut in This

Chapter Thirteen: The Inside

Cissie offered to keep Thad in the morning for the following weeks, leaving Bart to do his early morning jogs on campus to clear his head. It’d been three weeks, and he’d just started getting into the rhythm of having Thad around. He parked in the lot and jogged on the track. It was the only time and place he didn’t feel hyper-aware of his surroundings. He let his mind fade to the feeling of his heart pumping, his lungs expanding, the wind blowing through his hair. Sweat dripped down his temple and his chest. After half an hour on the track, Bart showered in the locker room. It was just him, so he took his time washing his hair and scrubbing his skin like he would before a kill. He didn’t put on the same clothes. Instead, he put on some baggy cargo pants and a baby tee Judy bought him at a thrift shop. He tossed on a baggy jacket, leaving it unzipped as he headed toward the parking garage. He stopped in his tracks when he heard footsteps. 

Bart didn’t look back, he just stood and listened. Nothing. So, he pushed forward toward his car. And that’s when he felt a sharp pain in his side. He turned quickly, startling his little female assailant. She staggered backward, letting go of the handle of the knife. Bart looked down, touching the handle of the knife in his side, and he took his palm and hit her ear before knocking her to the ground. She pulled the knife out, and Bart shouted for help. They were both disoriented, but she had the upper hand. Bart was losing blood and fast, but he didn’t really want help. He just wanted things to look right. He finally had a good fight on his hands. Someone to kill who’d give him a proper fight. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he reached for the knife. She slashed his forearm and the pain forced him to lose his hold on her. She pinned him to the ground raising the knife before driving at his throat. He caught her arms and struggled with her, yelling for help until a passerby stopped their car. They didn’t get close. Instead, they yelled for the girl to stop. Bart held the girl off with one arm as he grabbed her throat with the other, squeezing as hard as he could, but his hands were bloody, and he couldn’t get a good grip. 

The man at the scene yelled again for her to stop, and she broke loose from Bart’s hold and tried to drive the knife into his throat. Everything seemed to stop. And then, he caught a glimpse of her in the dark. Her eyes were wild, but it softened something in Bart. He stopped trying to hurt her back and tears slid down the sides of his face. “ You don’t have to ,” Bart whispered, his eyes pleading. She tried to force the knife to his throat. The tip of the blade pricked his throat, drawing blood. Bart closed his eyes, as he started to let go. 

Something wet splashed across Bart’s face. The knife clattered to the ground beside Bart, and her weight dropped on him. He started hyperventilating as he lay there stiff underneath her lifeless body. His ears rang while the man tried to speak to him. Bart wouldn’t let him get close. “No… No, no, no… Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” Bart screamed. “Don’t touch me!” The man backed away and called the police, explaining what happened. Bart hadn’t moved an inch until the EMTs arrived. Something about her death felt wrong. He thought he’d be satisfied, but he wasn’t. Her blood was all over him, mixed in with his. A mistake. Bart made a mistake.

**

When Bart woke up, the doctors asked their questions, and Bart fired off answers with his eyes closed. He slurred them a little, but things cleared up as he went. Barry sat by his side, squeezing his hand. “Huh?” Bart mumbled as he looked around. He felt a dull pain in his stomach and back that seemed to sharpen around the edges as he woke up. “Grampa?” 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Barry smiled with tears in his eyes. “We were so worried about you.”

Bart moved to rest a hand on his forehead, but Barry stopped him. IVs. Right. Bart took a breath as he tried not to panic. He must’ve been out for a long time if Barry was there. “I feel weird… Where’s Thad?” Bart mumbled as tears made their way to the surface. “Is he—? Is he scared? I should’ve—.” 

“Bart, Thad’s with Cissie. I told them to go home. You were out for a long time,” Barry whispered as he rubbed circles on Bart’s forehead with his thumb. “Your grandma’s with them. Jay and Joan are on their way here, so we needed somebody home to pick them up from the airport.”

“Yeah? Judy, too?” Bart asked. 

“Judy, too. How are you feeling?” Barry questioned. 

Bart sank into the pillows as a feeling of relief washed over him. “What are they giving me?” Bart asked. 

“Morphine,” Barry replied. Bart hummed. 

“Hm… I’ll be upset about that later… Are you gonna stay with me?” Bart asked. “Does my boyfriend know I’m here?” 

“Your boyfriend knows. Cissie called him,” Barry answered. Bart took a shaky breath. 

Something strange crept over Bart. It started in his head and chilled him all over. Fear. Regret. “Oh, god… Grandpa. Please don’t leave me,” Bart whimpered. Bart’s heart rate went up as tears filled his eyes. 

“Hey… No, shhh . Shh . No,” Barry whispered, “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry…” Barry took Bart’s hand. “ Shhh … I’ve got you.” 

** 

A detective came in and asked Bart about the attack before nightfall. “I don’t know her. I—.” Bart felt something rough and flaky against his palm when he pushed his hair back, and he looked down at his palm. “Oh, god. This is her blood. Isn’t it? Did—? Is she dead?” 

“Listen, the witness at the scene said you did everything you could to fend her off. We just want to know why she attacked you,” the detective explained.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know who she is. I just—. Who is she?” Bart asked. His heart rate rose, and he took a deep breath to stave off the guilt and panic he felt. It wasn’t something he expected to feel. Everything felt wrong. He clutched his heart and shook his head. “There wasn’t any other way? I—. This feels wrong. She didn’t say anything. It was dark… She—.” Bart struggled for breath until Linda came in. 

“Okay, no more questions,” Linda replied as she stepped between Bart and the female detective. 

“I just—.”

“He’s done,” Linda snapped. The detective left the room, and Linda smiled at him. “Hey, Bart. It’s alright. Listen, we don’t have to talk about that right now. What matters is you’re okay.”

Bart hugged her before wincing. “The drugs make me feel like shit,” Bart cursed. 

Linda chuckled as she sat down next to him. “Yeah. The comedown is something awful. Isn’t it?” Linda asked. “Let’s get that heart rate down, though.” She pinched his cheek, and he smiled at her. 

“Do you remember when we met?” Bart asked. 

“How could I forget? You were going a thousand miles an hour trying to mess with everything. The fridge, the stove, my blow dryer… It was all so new. Wasn’t it?” Linda asked. Bart smiled and nodded.

“I never knew how big the whole world was… And you never made me feel like I was weird. I always liked you. I did. I’m sure I was a lot, but you always made me feel like I was good enough,” Bart whispered. 

“That’s because you are. You know, I think about you a lot. I worry sometimes because I know that there are things you went through that you—. Bart, I’m not stupid. I know there’s something you’re not telling us. I’m worried that you’re trying to deal with something huge all by yourself. I’m not gonna push you for it, but I want you to know our love for you is unconditional. Everybody came to see if you were okay. Everybody… Because we love you. So, if you’re hiding something that—.” 

“I think that girl grew up in the same building as me,” Bart confessed, “I’m not sure… And I probably won’t ever be, but I felt something break inside me when she died. I can’t explain it, but I—. I looked into her eyes. And I saw home.” 

“Bart, why—? You couldn’t tell the detective that because they’d find out you were here illegally,” Linda whispered. Bart nodded. “Oh, Bart. I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about that.” 

“It’s alright… I—. I don’t want you to think about that. Don’t tell anybody what I told you. Please, I don’t want anyone to know,” Bart whispered. 

“Not even your boyfriend?” Linda asked. 

Bart took a deep breath as he thought about Conner. His face twisted into a frown. “Conner… I don’t know. He’s probably worried enough as it is,” Bart whispered. He looked out the glass at a hooded figure hugging himself in the hallway. “Linda… Can you do me a favor and tell my brother to come here?” Linda touched his cheek with the back of her pointer finger before stepping outside. Thad looked away and took his hood off. Linda gently smiled, touching Thad’s forearm as she pointed to the door. Thad shrank and shrugged away as he said something in reply. Linda shook her head and looked at Bart. Bart coughed to clear his throat before Thad entered the room. 

“I’m gonna kiss your forehead,” Bart warned Thad as Thad walked over, his lip quivering as he approached. Bart opened his arms and hugged Thad before kissing his forehead. “And I’m never gonna do that again… Because it’s gross.” Thad chuckled. 

“It wasn’t that bad. Are you alright?” Thad asked. 

“I’ll be fine. The doctor talked to me when I got up and walked with him earlier. He said I’ll recover within six weeks if I do everything I’m supposed to,” Bart whispered. 

“Are you gonna send me away?” Thad asked. 

“You wanna stay with me?” Bart questioned in reply. Thad nodded. “I won’t let anybody take you away from me, then. It makes me feel good to know you wanna stay with me. Here.” Bart moved over. “Sit up here with me.” 

“Everyone’s here. Max and Helen, Owen, Mr. and Mrs. Garrick, Judy, Grandma and Grandpa, your friends, and your boyfriend. People like you,” Thad whispered as he climbed onto the bed beside Bart. “Wally and Linda… Their kids… I didn’t meet the man with the little girl. Wally’s friend.”

“Roy. I used to wish he was my dad… He took care of me for a while when I was younger. He took care of Grant, too. You met Grant, right?” Bart asked. 

“The big guy?” Thad asked. “He said you were his first real friend.”

“He was mine, too… Are you okay? Did you eat today?” Bart asked. Thad nodded. “Good. I’ve been worried about you all day.” 

Thad’s smile faded as he knit his brows together. “You have?” Thad asked. 

“Yeah. I kept asking Grandpa about you. I missed you like crazy. I got used to having you around me all the time. Is everybody being chill with you?” Bart asked. Thad nodded. 

“I kinda miss hospitals… Is that weird?” Thad questioned. Bart laughed. “It’s weird?”

“Yeah, but I get it. I don’t like it. I always feel like they’re not gonna let me leave. Funny thing is, they aren’t gonna let me leave. Not for a few days…” Bart sighed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

**

Conner came by the following day when Bart was awake with a container of liquid. “What’s that?” Bart asked. 

“I figured you’d be on a liquid diet for a little bit. Ma walked me through this on the phone last night… I tasted it this morning. It’s good. Here, sit up,” Conner whispered as he set the container aside and propped Bart’s pillows up. “I heard you slept through breakfast.” Conner kissed his forehead. 

“They want me to wake up to eat, but they pumped me full of drugs to make me sleepy,” Bart muttered. Conner nodded, accepting that Bart would still be a little groggy and grumpy. 

“Well, you might feel better after you get a little taste of this. It’s not hot, but it’s warm. Here,” Conner whispered. He opened the container and held the spoon up to Bart’s lips. Bart softened and accepted Conner’s gesture. Bart sank into the pillows and pressed his palms to his eyelids. “Good?” 

“Mhm,” Bart whimpered. It felt like everything triggered the thought of that girl. She couldn’t have been his age. She had to be younger. “Her blood got in my mouth…” Bart let out a guttural noise between a groan and a whimper as he burst into tears. Conner set the container aside and put the spoon down on the top before leaning forward to hug Bart. 

“Bart, it wasn’t your fault,” Conner reassured him, “You’ve gotta eat. Your grandpa said you didn’t eat at all yesterday.” He pulled away, caressing Bart’s cheek. “Okay… We gotta get something in your stomach today.” Bart nodded, allowing Conner to wipe his tears away. 

He reached for the bowl of broth and started sipping spoonfuls on his own. “Thanks, Conner. I’m starving,” Bart whispered as he sucked in tiny breaths. Conner nodded. “It’s so good.”

“Thanks… I’ll let Ma know you liked it,” Conner chuckled, “Take it slow. There’s like two gallons of it at your place.” 

Bart nodded, locking eyes with Conner. “Conner?” Bart whispered. 

“I’m listening,” Conner reassured him. 

“We can’t… you know… For six weeks,” Bart replied. 

Conner nodded, gently urging Bart to keep eating. “Well yeah… Bart, you’ve been through a lot… And it’s not like I’m only with you for that. We were best friends first, and I like your company,” Conner reassured him. Bart grinned, trying not to laugh. “I know that made me sound like I’ve been married to you for forty-six years, which to me sounds wonderful, but I can look at you and tell that the idea of being old is hilarious to you for whatever reason. Drink your broth, Big Foot.” 

**

Barry took Bart home from the hospital, and Bart immediately took a shower to wash the blood out of his hair. He could hear Barry, Jay, and Max whispering outside the bathroom door. “I think there’s something he’s not telling us,” Max whispered. He sounded upset. 

“He’ll talk when he’s ready,” Barry replied. 

“I don’t know, Barry… Bart’s been more and more closed off lately. I can’t get him to talk about much of anything anymore. He’s more closed off now than ever. I’m scared for him… Barry, you saw him during family week. He was different, and he kept disappearing into the crowds… Getting separated from us,” Jay noted. 

“He’s an outgoing kid. Very popular, Jay. He was probably saying hi to his friends,” Barry defended as gently as he could. Barry always wanted to believe the best of people. Bart hugged himself while he listened to them talk. 

“I know he’s your grandson, Barry, but Bart’s struggling. He’s been struggling the whole time. Four foster homes. The accidents. The whole situation before he left, and I—. Bart doesn’t talk about anything serious,” Max replied.

“I hate to say it, but it’s true, Barry. Bart isn’t doing well at all… And from what I’ve heard, he still hasn’t talked to the police about what happened. Something’s gotta give soon, or Bart’s gonna explode. I don’t know how he can just bottle everything up and—.” 

Bart opened the door. “Hi, Grandpa. Hi, Max. Hi, Jay. I’m gonna try and get some sleep. I’m still feeling a little funny,” Bart whispered as he went to his room and climbed into bed. Conner looked up from his laptop as he typed his paper. 

“You look handsome,” Bart whispered as he lay down beside him. His mind was a million miles away. He killed twice during family week. A lab technician when he slipped away into the crowd during a fireworks show on campus. It was cold outside, so Thad had a hat on. He hit her with a hammer and carried her to an abandoned building. He pried the locks off and clipped the fence the night before. Everything happened so fast. Bart spent a lot of time thinking about how he’d go about things. He cut out her tongue and preserved it in formaldehyde. She wouldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, so he decided that she didn’t deserve to have a tongue at all. He left her there, not caring if she was ever found. Then, he killed again after everyone went to bed. He snuck out to the ex-administrator of the laboratory, and they had a long talk. The man was old and unwilling to fight or run. It was easy. He said the children were part of an experimental project to see if they could breed children into becoming highly intelligent killers. It felt like an eternity between those killings, and Bart getting stabbed. 

“Baby?” Conner loudly whispered, calling him out of the memory. Bart gasped and blinked hard as he locked eyes with Conner. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Um… I—. I went to sleep. I was asleep,” Bart replied to convince himself. Conner kissed his cheek. 

“You were out of it for a little while. I fell asleep, and you were sitting up like this when I woke up. Are you good?” Conner asked. Bart nodded. “You sure?” 

“Uh-huh. Um… I think—. Conner, can you take me somewhere?” Bart asked. 

“Right now? Do you think that’s a good idea?” Conner questioned in reply. 

“Please,” Bart whispered. Conner sighed and kissed Bart before rolling out of bed and putting on his glasses. 

“Alright… Come on,” Conner whispered.

[roselites]

a nonsense christmas / tyler owens x reader

summary: an unexpected snowstorm traps tyler owens with his workplace nemesis over the holidays. bonus points: there was only one bed.

content warnings: f!reader, allusions to smut

word count: 9k

author’s note: happy holidays! 🎄🎊🤶🏻🕎 i hope they were merry and bright and as stress-free as possible. thank you so much for supporting my three little fics. this is unedited, but i wanted to post it before i went out of town as a gift made specially for the glen girlies - i wrote it to bring you some december cheer. see you next year!

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Over the span of the last twelve hours you’d lost count of the number of times you’d muttered that sentence underneath your breath.

First, it was the office building in New York, where Tyler had the appointment right after yours at a ritzy funding agency. Then it was the airport, where you’d both flown standby and had a Wild West confrontation over the last seat on the plane, only for another passenger to volunteer their place in exchange for a travel voucher. (“It’s not like I’m in a rush to see my family, anyway.”) The woman manning the desk had given you both a look that said, “See, this is how an adult behaves,” which you thought was rich when the guy was clearly trying to cheat his way out of a Christmas dinner. Then, Tyler got assigned the seat behind you on the plane, and in keeping with his infuriating personality, spent the entire flight kicking your seat - or, I’m sorry, just trying to stretch his legs.

After landing, you’d raced to the same rental car company. The woman at this desk kept pointing out that the weather seemed dire and that a snowstorm might hit at any moment, to which you assured her that you weren't headed far—a lie—and glared at Tyler’s back before shuffling into the parking lot with your borrowed keys, hoping his heater would break or that an ex-girlfriend had broken into his house during his absence and left coal in his stocking.

It turned out that the woman at Enterprise was right. The weather was dire; your visibility was shot to hell after the first forty miles, leaving you to squint through the flurry-turned-blizzard, your knuckles white on the steering wheel as you inched forward in your seat, as though you could magically see through the storm if only you pressed your nose just so to the windshield.

After a while you gave up and started to admit that unless you wanted to turn into a human Popsicle, you might need a Plan B. You let out a weary sigh, listening to the weather report on the radio—“If you're safe and cozy at home, it's gonna be a white Christmas, folks, but if you're out on the road, I suggest taking cover and waiting it out for Santa Claus to slide down the chimney.”

You scanned the passing road signs for fast food restaurants, gas stations, and rest stops, even took a few exits just to be hit with NO VACANCY in bright neon reds, making mental calculations for the rest of your trip.

Home was still a long way off: three hours, after dark. Normally you’d power through with an extra-large coffee, but it was snowing, and your window to remain safely on the road was closing with every passing minute.

Dammit.

After the fourth failed attempt at finding lodgings, you sat in the driver’s seat with the heater on and called your sister.

She answered after a few rings. In the background you heard your nephew and nieces screaming their heads off in that kid way. God, you loved those little rugrats but they were undoubtedly a nightmare—you imagined Margo plugging up one of her ears and waving at them to be quiet. Of course, to no avail.

“Where are you?” she demanded, the accusation sharp in her voice. You knew to expect it, so instead of answering, “Well, hello to you too, I can’t control the weather, in case you haven’t noticed,” you went with a plain response, facts only.

“Somewhere in the middle of Benburg.”

“Where?”

“Exactly.”

You heard her sigh. “The snow’s getting pretty bad.”

“No shit.”

“Hey, don't ‘no shit’ me! I told you traveling right before Christmas Eve was going to be a nightmare.”

“And I told you I had no choice.”

She paused. There was whispering on the other end, an almost-silence that put your body on high alert until, finally, she said, “Mom wants to talk to you.”

“Margo, no!”

Your protests fell on deaf ears. The phone was jostled as your mother took it and began to speak.

“Honey, are you almost here?”

Covering your face with your hands, you kept your voice light, knowing she’d be able to detect even the smallest hint of frustration, and then you’d have to put up with another round of “why on earth did you take a meeting in New York right before the holidays?”

“No, mom, I’ve still got a-ways to go.”

You pictured her narrowing her eyes, maybe placing a hand on her cocked hip.

“How long a-ways?”

“Less than two hours,” you lied.

It was absolutely more than two hours.

A pause. “Well, I guess that's okay.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Through gritted teeth and the voice of a demented schoolteacher, you added, “Mom, can you put Margo back on the phone now, please?”

“She wants to talk to you,” you heard her saying from a distance.

After some more jostling, you felt the caller change as you merged back onto the highway and left the motel behind.

“Marg, can you tell her to cut me some slack, please? I’m doing my best.”

“Ha!”

You glared at the console, hoping she could feel it over the phone.

“Gee, thanks! So much for the Christmas spirit!”

“Listen, when you have three kids, two dogs, a husband, all of your in-laws, your parents, and your stepmom breathing down your neck, I’ll have a little more sympathy.”

“Fine… But I promise I’m not leaving you in the lurch on purpose. My flight from New York got delayed, I had some asshole kicking me in the kidneys the whole time, and I can barely see a yard in front of me because of this storm—it’s not exactly a walk in the park for me either.”

No cigar; it was you who felt her glare over the phone this time. Clearly, her issues outweighed all of yours on this occasion, and knowing her sister-in-law, you were inclined to agree.

You added: “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’d better.”

The wipers on your rented car worked overtime to clear your windshield. You were about to end the call to focus on driving when, up ahead, you saw the red and blue lights of a highway patrol vehicle stopping traffic.

“Oh shit,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?”

“The road is closed.”

“The whole road?”

“Yeah, Marg, the whole road.” She would've argued with you over your tone, except you cut her off with “Hold on—I’m being flagged down.”

A middle-aged man with a mustache came over to your car. He was wearing a fuzzy hat and holding a flashlight now that the purpling sky was fading to black. Without being asked, you lowered your window and shivered at the stream of icy wind that cut through the artificial heat.

“Evening, officer.”

“Good evening. Where’re you headed?”

“Sayre or roundabouts.”

“Rough night to be doing so. This road is no good, you're gonna have to turn around, find a place to wait it out for the night.”

Your heart sank. You knew Margo was listening to everything. By the time you made it home, your ledger would have a massive list in the red which she’d make you pay off somehow—by doing the dishes, playing horse with the kids, or worse, entertaining Kayleen, who would say as she always did that you really ought think about having children soon unless you wanted to get used to “a self-absorbed lifestyle.”

God forbid.

“Do you know anywhere that might have a last-minute vacancy?” you asked the officer, whose shiny name tag read HARRIS.

He scratched behind his ear, twisting his mouth in thought.

“Try the Sunnyside Inn. Back this way to Fairmont, right after the exit, left on Vail.”

“Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Right. Merry Christmas.”

You put your window back up.

“Did you catch that?”

“Sounds like you're grounded,” said Margo. Her eyebrow must be arched because the judgment could be heard loud and clear—if you hadn’t gone to New York…

Well, there was nothing you could do about it now.

“It’s meant to clear up by morning. I’ll still be there long before Christmas.”

“You’d better be.” She sighed.

Your niece Haley was screaming out the words to “The Twelve Days of Christmas” like a possessed banshee and giggling at what she knew must be an ear-splitting performance. You didn't know whether to be more horrified or amused; you remembered doing something similar when you were a child, back when you didn't have to worry about spreadsheets and grants and the trials and tribulations of flying Economy during the worst time of the year.

Margo must be thinking the same. Her tone sounded a little more sympathetic when she said, “Drive safe, and let me know when you find somewhere to spend the night.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Don’t get murdered.”

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t try—do. Someone’s got to help me defuse the tension during Christmas dinner.”

“Me? Defuse tension?”

“Good point.”

After hanging up, you followed Officer Harris’s directions to the Sunnyside Inn. Wherever it was in relation to the highway, there weren’t any signs you could see from the road and it reminded you of a famous, albeit fictional, location where people did go to end up murdered.

You only hoped whoever was on duty at the check-in desk had zero resemblance to Norman Bates or you’d have no choice but to sleep in your car.

Ten minutes later, you arrived at a quaint little building like something out of a Hallmark movie with six parking spaces and no neon out front. The facade was fake stone, the ornamental bushes lining the circular drive covered in a postcard layer of fresh snow. The wooden sign read VACANCY and had an empty slot where the NO might go, which gave you the tiniest sliver of hope, tempered by the thought that a place like this might not pay the utmost attention to a detail like that, especially in the middle of a storm. All in all, it was the sort of place you stayed at when you had no choice, being off the beaten track, but it looked as well maintained as it could be given its age, which you dated back to the 70s because of its slanted roof.

You parked and got your suitcase out of the trunk, the wheels clattering and then coming to an abrupt stop when you saw a figure across the way doing the same with his black carry-on.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you called out.

Tyler Owens grinned. Even from here you could see the dimple on his cheek.

“Road closed?” he asked, still walking towards the entrance. You did the same, glaring as you tried to keep pace with him—no, tried to beat him to the front door.

“You know it is,” you answered, eyes narrowed, dashing the rest of the way just for his hand to reach the metal pull bar first. Damn his longer limbs.

With a smile, he opened the door and waved you through like a Manhattan doorman.

“Ladies first.”

“Wow, I didn't think you were remotely a gentleman.”

“What gave you that impression?”

You brushed past him into the heated lobby, pausing long enough for him to close the door so you could send him a pointed look.

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe your knee on my back?” you enunciated.

“I told you—that was an honest mistake.”

“Right.”

The Sunnyside had a single check-in desk that looked more like the host’s stand at your favorite restaurant than the counter at the cheapest Marriott, but it was decked in cute bells and garlands and baubles that glittered in the light. Behind it stood a woman around your age with straight, shoulder-length hair partially covered by a Santa hat.

As soon as she saw you walking in, she pushed the red strands out of her face and cleared her throat visibly before launching into a practiced spiel.

“Welcome to the Sunnyside Inn, where every day is sunny!”

She was smiling from ear to ear. The effect was a little like that of the creepy twins in The Shining and bah, humbug, were you not in the mood.

“Can I have a room for the night, please?”

You were made to feel guilty by the sudden fall of her face. But clearly Carol—you had to do a double take. Was her name really Carol? At-Christmastime Carol?—had gone to one hell of a customer service training program. Instead of letting your frown turn her smile upside down, she tacked it on with impressively greater fervor. The bell at the end of her hat rattled as she cleared her throat again.

“You’re in luck! We have one vacant room left in the entire hotel—continental breakfast included!”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler butted in, “did you say only one room?”

“Yes, er…” She looked between you, biting her glossed lip. “Is that a problem?”

“We’re not together,” you said, refusing to look in Tyler’s direction. 

Carol blushed. She was so pale that you thought it might be her actual blood you were seeing rising to her face and turning a shade of Veruca Salt. Or was it Violet Beauregarde?

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I thought—well… you arrived together.”

“We arrived separately.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

She blinked owlishly. Your own face was heating up as you felt Tyler putting his hand on his hip and sending you a shit-eating grin. You wouldn’t hear the end of this. You could practically hear him bringing it up at a later date, saying, “You’d be so lucky.”

You felt your jaw lock and your dentist cry. Lips together, teeth apart! She’d obviously never met anyone like Tyler Owens before.

“I can assure you, that's what it is,” you said in a steel-laced voice.

Carol might be an A+ at the customer service thing, but you were an A+ at staring people down until they begged for mercy. The only person you knew who was better at it was Margo, and the only person immune to it—though it drove you crazy to no end—was standing next to you, all six feet of him, in a jacket with snow at the shoulders that had quickly melted and rolled off the fabric. Shoulders… his annoyingly broad shoulders, which you’d had occasion to see with more frequency than you would’ve liked, dressed in what Samantha, one of your colleagues, described as his “slutty little white tees.”

It wasn’t enough for him to be a perpetual thorn in your side, he had to be attractive too, thereby proving that there was no God or that, Whoever they were, they must have an evil sense of humor.

“I’m so sorry.” Carol hung her head. Her hat drooped, the glitter-paper trimming on her suit drooped—there was a high chance that she was actually an elf and you’d just worked your way onto Santa’s Naughty list. Come midnight, you’d be visited by the ghosts of all your ex-lovers and Sarah DeAngelo, your high school nemesis.

Meanwhile, Tyler swooped in like the big hero.

“No worries, I’ll just stay at the next place,” he said. “What is the next place?”

“That would be the Cozy Roadside! But they're all booked up, I’m afraid… It's the storm, you see. Everyone’s trying to hunker down for the night.”

“Right…”

Well, he was taking it better than you’d have done—though it was clear he wasn’t jumping for joy at the thought of turning around and trying his luck in the growing whiteout.

And that was if there weren't more road closures along the way.

“Are you sure you're not together? I’m just saying… it is the holidays.” Carol’s little damn bell jingled again. Could you be charged with assault if you snatched it off her head? you wondered.

You pinned her with a stare and she had the temerity to flinch like a little cartoon dormouse.

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning, it's a time to let bygones be bygones! You make such a lovely couple…” Her laugh was high-pitched, nervous.

You might have ruffled like an angry bird of prey. “We are not—”

“Absolutely not,” said Tyler.

“‘Absolutely’?”

It was the closest you’d ever come to seeing Tyler crack under the force of your EF5 stare. He looked sheepish, his hands in his pockets, giving a little hunkered down shrug that might have been read as boyish and kind of adorable to someone else.

“Listen”—turning to Carol before you could rip him to shreds—“do you know of anywhere I could stay until the roads open up again?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

“What about the lobby?”

“I would if it were up to me, but it's against hotel policy. I could get a write-up.”

This hotel has a policy? You stopped yourself from blurting out the words. There was still a chance this Strawberry Shortcake of a person was one of Santa’s little helpers and, if you kept up being a meanie, you’d end up going to the Bad Place—the Bad Place being the seat next to Margo’s sister-in-law at dinner.

You sighed. “Does my room have a couch?”

“It has a chair,” Carol offered.

You exhaled through your nostrils like an angry bull—would the creature metaphors ever cease? Turning to Tyler, you held up a finger and said, “You’re gonna owe me big time,” and fished your wallet out of your bag.

You slammed your card onto the stand and waited for Carol to check you in. She took out a book from a little cubby and took down your name and ID number, then fiddled with one of those old-school credit card imprinters, the ones you had to use actual elbow grease to use.

“I can have extra linens sent up! And I’ll give you our Friends and Family rate—in honor of the season!”

You have got to be kidding me…

Tyler put his hand on your elbow, stopping your words.

“Thank you, Carol, you've been a real gem.”

Carol flushed again, preening under Tyler’s cowboy charm. I’m gonna be sick, you thought, grabbing your suitcase by the handle and wheeling towards the stairs before you could say anything else.

Your case banged against each carpet-covered step. Tyler was behind you, carrying his without sounds of trouble. You supposed that was a benefit to having arms the size of tree trunks, but you’d rather drop dead on this commercial grade floor than ask him for help.

To drown out the sound of the obvious weakness in your upper half, you adopted a high-pitched baby voice that was nothing like Tyler’s and said, “‘You’ve been a gem, Carol,’” just to mock him.

From Tyler came a huffed-out laugh. “Why, ’re you jealous?”

“As if. I hope your chair has bedbugs,” you called over your shoulder, arriving at the landing and looking for room 227. You unlocked the door without waiting, tossing your bag and coat onto the bed to stake your claim.

In the open doorway, Tyler paused to stare at the promised bit of furniture.

“Oh,” came out of his throat. “When she said chair, I thought she meant…”

You followed his gaze. Like Tyler, you’d pictured a dusty old recliner when Carol guilted you into sharing a room with him. The relic actually taking up space across from the queen-sized bed was a chair that might have come out of your high school principal’s office. The seat was covered in a similar material to the carpet, deep purple, not falling apart at the seams, but still just a chair.

Not in your wildest dreams would you think of making an enemy sleep on a thing like that. And here you were, poking fun at sweet, freckle-faced Carol… sweet, sweet Carol who had done you a bigger solid than you could’ve ever imagined.

Tomorrow at check-out, you were going to leave her a $50 tip. You might name your firstborn after her.

You looked at Tyler. He looked at you. The poor man was aghast, and the more he glanced despondently at his abode for the next eight hours, the funnier it got until you were cackling, actually cackling like a Disney witch.

You unzipped your suitcase and took out your toiletries bag, still laughing as you stepped into the room’s bathroom and sent him a little wave.

“Sweet dreams, Owens!”

Hell, it was Christmas—you’d be leaving Carol an even $100.

-

You made a point of taking your time in the shower, luxuriating both in the steam and the dejected look on Tyler’s face. A chair! An actual chair! After finishing, you took the robe hanging off the hook, figuring it was your prerogative as a lady, and opened the door just the tiniest crack to see what Tyler was up to. What you saw made you snatch your phone off the counter and leap from your hiding place like a fearless war photographer.

The shutter clicked, a series of lightning-quick flashes that caught Tyler’s attention. By the time he whipped his head to the side with a glare and a command to “delete that!” you’d snapped half-a-dozen photographs of his position on the makeshift “bed.”

Carol must have sent up linens while you were in the shower because he’d pushed the chair up against the coffee table in a futile attempt to be more comfortable; his legs stuck out to a truly comical degree and he was covered in a floral blanket that could only be described as grandmotherly. Your phone—bless it—had captured the exact moment of shock mixed with absolute indignity.

There was no way he’d be able to sleep without falling over. You only hoped that when he inevitably fell on his ass it happened with enough volume to wake you from the sound sleep you’d be having in bed by yourself.

You tucked your phone in your pocket, smiling like one of Hell’s angels.

“Absolutely not,” you said to his request. “Shower's yours.”

Tyler grabbed a bundle of things off the floor.

“Let me guess, you used up all the hot water.”

“You wound me,” you lied. “I’d never be so petty.”

He scoffed, gestured to his eyes in the universal symbol of I’m watching you and moved past, locking the bathroom door with a resolute click.

A few moments later, you heard the sound of the shower turning on and settled into bed—your lovely, only-yours bed—pleased that the sheets were clean, the mattress soft, the pillows comfortable, and debated whether or not to turn on the TV, but the shower taps squealed sooner than you expected.

Huh. Guess Tyler isn’t a fan of an ice-cold rinse.

You rushed to turn off the bedside lamp, adopting a deep-sleep pose. You barely managed in the time it took him to pad out into the main room, bringing with him a warm, clean, soapy smell.

You held your breath, imagined he could tell you were faking—especially when he paused his movements at the foot of your bed. But then his footsteps moved towards his sad little chair and he turned off his own light.

All you heard for a while was the rustling of sheets, the creaking of the chair beneath his weight. There was a moment of total silence when you almost fell asleep. Then he tossed and turned. The chair protested. You heard him groan.

“Y’alright over there?” you asked, hoping the answer was no.

Tyler’s words were laced with sarcasm.

“Who, me? Just peachy.”

“Nighty-night, then.”

You sighed contentedly and dozed, thinking about Tyler’s future back pain and the satisfaction of winning Carol over to your side with a generous tip. Take that, Tyler’s dimples! The problem was, you actually wanted to get a few hours’ sleep; there was still a fair bit of driving left for you to do, and Tyler just wouldn't shut up.

You heard every creak, shift, and sound of frustration.

Finally, you sat up and growled, “Could you try being more quietly uncomfortable?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to sleep.”

“I can hear your breathing all the way over here!”

“That's not my breathing,” he said, “that’s your guilty conscience.”

You glared into the dark. I will not let him get the better of me. You took a fortifying breath and kept your voice light—viciously light.

“You know, there’s still time for you to sleep in your car. You’ll be the first person ever to be cryogenically frozen.”

“That's not how cryogenics works, you muppet.”

You launched a pillow in his direction, pleased when it made contact. He sat up and protested, “Hey!”

“Did you just call me a muppet?! You know, if you disappeared I could always blame the storm.”

“Carol would remember me,” he rejoined.

“Maybe I’ll disappear Carol too.”

“Wow, two bodies? Sounds like you'll have your work cut out for you.”

“I’m very resourceful.”

“Oh, I bet you are…”

Argh! Slamming your fists down, you ground out the words you’d been holding back ever since you saw his grinning rodeo-ass face in New York:

“There is no way I’m letting you win that Heller Grant!”

Your nostrils flared, chest heaved, eyes all but emitted laser beams. Tyler, for his part, remained annoyingly composed.

“I don't think that's up to you. But,” he added, “I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.”

“Really? And why’s that?”

“No reason, just a friendly head’s up.”

“Something tells me there’s nothing friendly about it.”

He paused. “Hey, what’s a little harmless competition between meteorologists, right?”

“…Did you really just ask that question?”

You both knew scientists were messy as fuck. Denying that they could be egotistical, overly dramatic, delicate with their egos, and especially prone to schadenfreude was a cheap attempt on Tyler’s part.

He chuckled, as if admitting it was true.

“Fine, touché. But it’s really not personal. It's a grant—everyone wants to win it. It’s not like we’re trying to run you out of business or anything.”

“Oh, believe me, we aren’t worried about that,” you shot back. “Everyone knows Kate Carter is the ace up your sleeve. But that’s it—one ace.”

“One ace is all you need.”

“Not in this economy it’s not.”

“It’s about the storms!” Tyler said. “You do get that, don't you? Saving lives, limiting damage…”

“Right, I forgot—you're Saint Tyler, the Tornado Wrangler for profit!” you mocked.

There was a silence in the room, accusatory. Deafening. After this, you were definitely going on Santa’s Naughty list, you thought, not only this year but for at least fifteen to life.

“Sorry, that was shitty,” you admitted, swallowing your pride.

“Yeah, it was. You have no idea why I do what I do. And obviously I have no idea why you’re such a—”

“Bitch?” you supplied.

“I wouldn't use that word. I wouldn't,” he reiterated seriously. “I was going to say ‘why you’re such a bee in my bonnet.’”

You let out a snort. “Shut up.”

“Has anyone ever told you you're unreasonably distrustful?”

“Only about three-point-five therapists.”

“Why the point-five?” he asked.

“One was a grad student.”

He laughed. “Guess weather research doesn’t pay—even if you do wear fancy suits.”

That made you smile. You and Tyler were as diametrically opposed as two could people get, even down to your clothes.

“Let’s just agree,” you said, remembering the spirit of the season, “that we rub each other the wrong way and leave it at that.”

“Hey, I’ve never had a problem with you. I mean, yeah, we’re always up against each other for funding. It’s a race to the top—winner takes all, whoever publishes first gets the bragging rights. But that’s the game—I know that. Now, if you have a problem with me, this seems like as good a time as any to clear the air because I really have no idea what I could've done to make you hate my guts like this.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, sure, be the mature one, take the high road… Tell me, Owens, does it ever get exhausting being so fucking perfect all the time?”

Another pause.

“What the hell are you going on about?” The chair creaked. “‘Perfect’? I’ve never said I was—FUCK!”

You perked up, reached an arm to turn on the light. Tyler was sprawled on the floor. The coffee table and chair were no longer attached and he was nursing what looked to be his hip while kicking at the granny blanket tangled round legs.

“Did you just fall into the gap?” you said eagerly, trying to record the image in your brain.

He wrestled the blanket until he finally won, then stood resentfully, his hair mussed, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Yes, I fell into the gap! But there was no video evidence,” he said pointing. “You can’t prove it. At this rate, it might be smarter to sleep on the floor.”

“Looks like it.”

You watched him kick the chair away with his foot and lay the blanket on top of the coarse brown carpet. He tossed his pillow down and picked up the sheet, holding it in front of his body and looking like he might actually prefer to try his luck in the parking lot than on the inhospitable floor. You observed him with interest, biting your thumbnail and watching his throat move with a sigh, the dejected set of his shoulders, the strong jaw set until it looked like it would break glass.

“Oh, fine!” you said. “You look like my senior dog trying to decide where to lay down!”

“You have a dog?” he asked with enough skepticism to be insulting.

“She lives with my sister.”

“What’s her name?” His jaw relaxed, eyes softened.

“Doppler. Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, though it fell on deaf ears.

“That’s kind of… really nerdy.”

“Do you want to sleep on the floor?”

“I’m sleeping on the floor anyway.”

You whipped the covers off the left side of the bed. Tyler’s eyes almost bugged out of his head.

“No.”

“Come on, Owens, I don't have cooties.”

“It’s not about the cooties, I’m trying not to get killed Basic Instinct-style!”

You knew the scene: Sharon Stone fucking her rock star boyfriend before stabbing him to death with an ice pick. Unbidden, your mind filled with images of Tyler underneath you, his throat bared to you as you rode him.

“You wish!”

Tyler looked at you sternly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“We’ll make a divider out of pillows!” you suggested, starting the master feat of engineering by plopping all your extra ones vertically down the center of the bed.

You didn’t know where this sudden stroke of generosity had come from. Only ten minutes before you would’ve been perfectly fine—nay, ecstatic—to know that Tyler was about to spend six hours in pain and discomfort.

Maybe it was your guilty conscience. Maybe he’d convinced you that this vendetta you had against him was one-sided and kind of silly. Maybe you just wanted to get some damn sleep without feeling like you were racking up bad karma by not offering to share the bed.

He eyed your attempts like a skeptic, his hands on his hips.

Damn, they were slutty little white tees… you thought.

“This is ridiculous,” he pointed out. And yet he’d dropped the sheet and stopped all attempts at sleeping on the floor like an imprisoned martyr.

“Ridiculous” was a good way to describe what the start of this holiday was turning out to be. If you’d told your past self that come December 23rd you’d be sharing a hotel room, even a bed, with Tyler Owens, you’d have laughed in your own face. But here it was—courtesy of the weather, a possible redheaded Christmas elf, and a series of minor coincidences that had all resulted in this: you shrugging and saying, “Tell me something I don’t know. Tick-tock,” you added with a clap for emphasis, “my goodwill has a time limit!”

“Very festive of you. Are you sure this is okay?”

He approached you with a cautious air, turning down the covers like you might yell “psych!” and attack him at any moment. Even when he laid himself down, it was at the very edge of the bed, and you thought he might end up on the floor anyway given a hasty mid-sleep roll, but then, that would be his own doing and he’d have nothing else to blame but his own clumsiness.

“Just keep your hands to yourself,” you decreed.

“Obviously.”

You turned the light off.

This isn’t so bad, you thought. If you closed your eyes, you could almost forget he was there. You hummed to yourself, snuggling down, finally making headway on the quest for rest and relaxation. Twenty minutes passed, maybe an hour. Hell, it might have been two—all you knew was that Tyler was not keeping up his end of the bargain.

“You’re encroaching on my space!” you hissed, pushing back against pillows that had moved to your side of the bed.

Tyler turned, not remorseful in the least. “I’ve got, like, half-a-foot on you! What do you want me to do?”

“That’s sizeist,” you sniffed.

There was a sound from his direction.

“Are you laughing?” you accused.

“Yeah, I’m laughing… You’re funny. And that’s how I know I don’t have a problem with you.”

You were unexpectedly pleased, despite his bed theft and the rehashing of your previous conversation. No one had ever called you funny before, though you’d always thought you were.

Tyler Owens thinks I’m funny?

So sue me—you were only human and not above hoarding little compliments.

“What did you mean,” he started to ask, shifting so that he could lay on his back, “about me being ‘perfect’? Not that I don’t find it flattering, it's just not true at all and it didn't sound like a good thing, by the way that you said it.”

You kept silent, staring at the A/C unit attached to the wall.

“I know you’re not asleep!” he declared, poking you in the back.

“And how would you know what I sound like asleep?”

“Well, it wouldn't sound like speaking, now would it?”

Shit. He had a point.

You let out a sigh, regretting your magnanimity now that you were in a dark room side-by-side with the man and couldn't avoid his charm or the ease he inspired like magic.

You’d always found that the most unsettling thing about him.

“You’re gonna get the grant,” you admitted with more sincerity than you meant. In your voice you could hear the layers of frustration and insecurity and anger and disappointment that you couldn’t face in the day, when you had people counting on you and a reputation to uphold.

Tyler was quiet a moment.

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m not good with the whole… schmoozing thing. Not like you are.”

“Schmoozing?” he asked.

“That’s what it is! You’re good with people.”

“So are you.”

“No, I’m not,” you laughed bitterly, craning your neck to say it over your shoulder. “I’m prickly.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tyler said. “And, anyway, this is research, not a personality contest.”

“Ha!”

“You do know there are plenty of prickly scientists out there getting people to throw money at them all the time? Sometimes, it’s the pricklier the better—people think that if you're really a genius, you should treat everyone around you like the bottom of the garbage pail.”

“It’s different for you,” you pointed out.

“How so?”

You sat up, eyeing his shadowed form.

“Well, sweetie, there’s this thing called discrimination—it’s what happens when having certain anatomy makes people more inclined to think you know what you're doing.”

“Very profound… That’s not what you meant.”

He was right. While sexism did come into funding, as it came into a lot of things where it had no place, your main gripe about Tyler had nothing to do with him being a man and everything to do with him being, well, him.

You raked a hand through your hair.

“All you have to do is walk into a room and get pally with the panel,” you confessed. “I can’t compete with that.”

Somehow, through the dark, his eyes found yours. His expression was unreadable, but you could feel his attention on you, his scrutiny—thoughtful, patient, wanting to understand.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said at last.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me be honest with you and then leave me holding the hot potato of awkwardness?”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he laughed. “I just… It’s not like I get up in the morning thinking, ‘Hm, what grant can I possibly steal from you today?’”

“Right,” you drawled, “you just can’t help being you.”

“I can’t!” he insisted, rising up on his elbows. “I like people. I like meeting them… talking to them��even the buttoned-up ones that look like they haven't been outside of an office building in months. I can't apologize for that. But it is a little unfair of you if your sole reason for being mean to me all the time amounts to two cents and a bit of pocket lint.”

“I am not mean!” you protested.

Tyler cocked his head.

“Okay, maybe I’m a bit brusque,” you allowed. “But I let you sleep in my bed!”

“For which I’ll be forever grateful…”

You opened your mouth.

“…but not enough to turn down the grant.”

You shrugged, not expecting him to hand you the award on a silver platter.

“It was worth a shot,” you said. Another joke.

Tyler gestured with his hands; you could see them fluttering around expressively in the near dark.

“You’ve just gotta stop approaching people and automatically assuming that they’re not on your side,” he said gently, and because you were a contrarian, you chose to take at least one-sixteenth of offense.

“Are you mansplaining relationships to me?”

“Not mansplaining, just a friendly bit of advice. Take it or leave it,” he tacked on, shrugging his shoulders—damn his shoulders…

“Thanks.”

You were trying to wrestle your brain away from the thought of his bare chest again.

His bare chest… the expanse of his chiseled abs, the dip of his hips…

You looked away, your face as hot as your shame. You would not have sex thoughts about a man you were sharing a bed platonically with. You would not admit to yourself that your traitorous gaze had wandered down to the outline of certain parts while he was standing there in gray sweats and a white T-shirt that left little or nothing to your debauched imagination.

You would not.

You would not.

Santa, come get me before I forfeit all brownie points for life.

“Now this is awkward.” The words slipped out of your mouth. You pulled the sheet up to your chin as if it were a straitjacket and Tyler chuckled to himself, probably thinking that you meant awkwardness at having a moment of vulnerability rather than red-hot lust.

“Go to sleep,” he said kindly, turning back on his left side.

“Alright. Night.”

“Night.”

-

Later, you would swear it didn't happen on purpose. At some point in the night, after Christmas Eve had settled well and truly over this random Oklahoma town, the pillow fort was forgotten as you and Tyler fell asleep, succumbing to the fatigue of the day’s travel and your late-night conversations.

The first inkling you had was that your pillow was far too warm against your cheek—and it moved, up and down, like the gentle swaying of a boat upon a calm sea. When you regained enough consciousness, you realized that the “pillow” kept a beat, and that's when you realized your pillow wasn't a pillow at all but the cradle of Tyler’s chest.

He’s quite comfortable, you thought, still half-asleep. He had his arm thrown around you and the tips of his fingers rested against a patch of naked back where your shirt had ridden up.

So far, so good; you couldn’t complain about the weighted blanket treatment—at least not in your hazy, sleep-softened state. You sighed happily, snuggling further into his shirt.

You felt his arms tighten.

His breathing shift.

You were straddling the line between dream and wakefulness when you noticed his legs tangled up in yours…

…and the hard protrusion pressing right against your stomach.

You opened your eyes. Tyler was awake and springing out of bed like he had a whole swarm of bees in his bonnet.

“Oh god,” he exclaimed, “I am so sorry! That is not… I did not—”

“It’s fine,” you tried to say.

“No! No, it’s not.”

“Tyler, would you stop acting like a virgin with the vapors? It’s cold, I’m not the stillest of sleepers, nothing was meant by it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then put it on his hip, then pointed—you didn’t know at whom, he was simply unable to be still, and the more he panicked the more you thought it was silly how he was making such a big deal out of nothing.

(Okay, so maybe it wasn't nothing, but one of you had to be the adult about it.)

“I was not trying to put the moves on you,” he emphatically declared.

“That was made abundantly clear by what you said to Carol. Also by the drool on your pillow.”

“The—”

His gaze darted. His face took on an added hue of pallid as he bent over his pillow and straightened, eyebrows battened, finding nothing there.

“See, that was mean.”

“No, that was funny,” you laughed.

The whole time, you did your best to keep your eyes trained above his shoulders, though you had a bone-deep curiosity now that you’d felt the impression of his dick against your skin.

If your periphery was to be trusted—which, your doctor said you had excellent vision in that regard—he was as well-endowed as he was rumored to be, sometimes with envy, sometimes pejoratively and in relation to his ego. Now that you’d spent an entire day crossing paths, you weren't so sure about that last bit. But you were sure that in the privacy of your own thoughts, you’d have a bitch of a time unknowing that Tyler Owens was, in every regard, unfairly blessed.

“Back to neutral corners?” you asked, patting the bed.

Tyler stared at the mattress with something like horror.

“You are not being normal about this!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe I oughta sleep on the floor.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s just for a few hours more.”

You sighed.

“Tyler James Owens, now you are the one being a muppet.”

“Take that back! And how do you even know my middle name?”

“It’s called Google. Now stop acting like a muppet and I’ll stop calling you one!”

Drat… You were so close, but your eyes snagged on the bulge in his pants at the exact moment Tyler was looking at you. There was no way to deny it.

You wiped your face of all expression.

Tyler pleaded, “Do not make this worse for me than it already is.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You don’t have to, it's written all over your face.”

Me? My face? You pointed at yourself.

Tyler huffed, “You aren't letting me forget this for as long as I live, are you?”

“Not in your dreams…” you fessed up. “Need me to pace around the hall for ten minutes, let you take care of business? I have a spare sock you can hang on the door.”

“You’re evil.”

“Nooooo, where are you going?” you needled, watching him head to the bathroom with a scowl on his face. “I was having so much fun!”

“Mind your own business!” he yelled back.

“But Tyler, it’s perfectly natural!”

He locked the door.

Only then did you cover your mouth and really let yourself have a laugh.

-

He took exactly 23 minutes. You knew because you timed him, a childish impulse you indulged in trade for not probing the question of what he might be thinking about as he got off. Obviously, you knew enough biology to not flatter yourself into believing that his morning wood was down to you; still, you allowed yourself to believe it just the tiniest bit. It made you feel better—to think he was affected by you. To believe you weren’t alone in being provoked to unexpected places.

He came up to the bed with a wary glance. On purpose, you pretended to be uncommonly interested in your nails.

“I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” you said, buffing a nonexistent spot on your shirt. “All good?”

“Don’t start.” He took his pillow and made for the chair.

You clicked your tongue. “You really don't have to sleep on the floor, you know…”

Which was kind.

“...I thought that was the whole point of Tyler’s Special Solo Time.”

Which wasn’t.

He rounded on you with his finger outstretched.

“Do not call it that!”

“Okay!”

“Never again!”

“Fine!”

“And for your information—that isn’t what I was doing in there.”

“Oh!” you said, genuinely surprised, “I just assumed…”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming.”

You make an ASS out of U and ME.

Color me surprised—you genuinely thought Tyler had been in the bathroom rubbing one out.

Could it be that he was too much of a gentleman to do it with you the next room over? That seemed like the likeliest explanation.

You were touched. Weirdly, inappropriately.

Also let down by the fact that you weren’t sexually irresistible enough to make him lose all sense of propriety—granted, you hadn’t been trying to be sexually irresistible at the time, more like drooling into his shirt.

“God, what?” he asked, eyes boring into yours like he was trying to crack open your mind and read it like a book, pushed to the brink when he couldn’t figure out what you were thinking or if you believed him about not masturbating in the bathroom.

“Nothing! Why are you chewing me out just because you got an erection?”

“Don’t say ‘erection’!”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not gonna call it a boner—I’m not in middle school anymore!”

“You have gotta be kidding me…”

He face-planted onto the bed, not consciously, you didn’t think, more like the natural result of a situation that’d understandably fried his brain.

You could relate… and it was supremely satisfying to hear him say the words you’d been thinking for over a day: you have got to be kidding me, indeed.

“This is the weirdest fucking Christmas I have ever had,” he mumbled into the mattress.

You laughed, feeling not an ounce of animosity as you watched his prone form. He was funny, and he’d been nicer than you deserved. You no longer believed that he had kicked you in the back during your flight on purpose.

“What are your plans for the holidays?” you asked him, letting him off the hook about his penis.

He turned his head and searched you for any trace of nefarious intent. He answered when he was sure you weren’t going to keep messing with him.

“The team and I are going to Kate’s. Then I’m spending the start of the New Year at home, hopefully, if there isn’t another fire to put out.”

“You’re from Arkansas,” you said.

“Mm.”

“‘Regnat populus.’”

He quirked his brow.

“‘The People Rule,’” you explained. “You don't know your own state’s motto?”

“Nobody knows their state’s motto.”

“I had to learn them all for school.”

“High school?”

“Elementary.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “so you grew up rich.”

“Shut up.”

He sat against the headboard next to you, crossing his ankles.

“What made you want to become a meteorologist?”

“Seriously?” you asked.

“What?”

“It’s a cliched question.”

“It’s a getting-to-know-you question!”

You frowned.

“Why would you ever want to get to know me? I’ve done nothing but fight you since the day we met.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Plain, simple.

The lamplight made it impossible to hide a thing. There was a line between his brows, as if he couldn’t for the life of him understand why you couldn’t understand. “I like people.” You’d thought it trite at the time, you didn’t trust it, but you were thinking maybe it was true. Instead of judging you by the way you challenged, harangued, goaded, mocked, judging him, he’d kept trying to figure you out. It was one of the reasons he was good at his job—the merging of both science- and people-smarts.

If you had a brain in your head, you might learn from him. But to do that you’d have to get your head out of your ass and stop seeing him as the enemy.

Except you didn’t.

Sometime between the Heller offices and this moment in the Sunnyside Inn, your feelings towards him had changed. The animosity? Gone. All that was left in its place was a newfound respect, fresh like the layer of snow sitting over the world outside the walls of your hotel room, and, if you were being brutally honest, an attraction that was hard to ignore.

You held your breath.

His hair, glinting bronze, was sleep-mussed—the detail intimate, arousing, just like the stubble on his cheeks and the rugged line of his throat leading to the curves of those shoulders you couldn’t stop thinking about. What was that one corny-as-fuck phrase some fuckboy musician had once said?

Sexual napalm.

Tyler Owens was sexual napalm and you weren’t immune.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said.

It was Projection 101, but in this case you weren’t entirely wrong.

Tyler’s eyes wandered down to your mouth, seductive without even trying. He was breathing as fast as you, his lips parted, tongue peeking out to wet them when he said, “Can’t.”

And that was all it took. One second you were staring at each other with twin fuck-me expressions and the next you were in his lap, your hands buried in his hair. The kiss was eager—messy—uncaring of finesse, indifferent to perfection. It was the exact opposite of the way you’d been living your life and it was mostly down to him. Even when he’d been driving you absolutely insane, there was no denying that Tyler brought out in you something hard to control. He made you ambitious, competitive, unfiltered—sometimes to an unflattering degree—but God, did it feel good.

He tilted his head and delved his tongue into your mouth. You groaned, pulled him back by the hair until you felt a rumbling sound in his throat which you decided to chase on instinct, latching your mouth onto that part of him you’d been obsessing over for the last few hours, sucking, biting, laving your way down to his clavicle.

“This is not how you get to know someone,” you joked, feeling him get hard again underneath you.

“Yeah, it is…”

“Don’t say 'biblically.’”

He laughed—it was a giggle that made you smile and peer into his face.

“You said it, not me. Are you gonna kick me out of bed later?” he asked, stroking a hand up your thigh.

“No. Are you gonna run for the hills like I soiled your virtue?”

He balked. “That is not what I did.”

“Yeah, it is!”

“Well”—he nipped your jaw, hand slyly making its own path up to your breast, which he stroked open-palmed so that you rocked your hips against his—”I promise not to be virtuous at all for the next…” He glanced at his watch. “Three hours.”

“Three hours?”

“What can I say,” he shrugged. “I’m a people pleaser. It’s my curse.”

-

Suffice to say, by the time 10:00 o’clock rolled around and you and Tyler made your way down so you could settle up the room with Carol, you were feeling like a million bucks. Not even a full spa day could have infused you with this much energy.

There was a pep in your step, a smile plastered to your face, and when Carol said, “Happy holidays! It was nice having you with us!” you were so smug that you slipped the tip in her hand and said, “Thank you, Carol, you sure made it sunny!”

Tyler cackled, but tried to do it subtly. (And failed.)

Right on the money, the snow had stopped falling during the night. It’d be a white Christmas, all right, but you should be able to drive home safely and arrive in time for lunch.

Tyler loaded your suitcase into your car, gallant as ever.

“So,” he said.

“So.”

You exchanged shy glances, which was new for you. You’d never had reason to feel shy around Tyler before, but then, you’d had him inside you not too long ago and the memory of the things you’d done, the things you’d said, which you wouldn’t admit even under threat of perjury, were enough to make you almost blush.

“We should hit the road,” you said dumbly, schooling your features into an unbothered mask.

“Yeah. I’m sure the others have already made it to Ms. Carter’s farm.”

“Well… merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, merry Christmas.”

You opened your door, settled into your seat. You were about to pull the door closed when Tyler stopped it, hand closed around the top.

“Can I call you, after the holidays?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

He laughed. “Who’s holding the hot potato now, you or me?”

“I think we’re sharing this one,” you replied.

“I don’t mind that.”

“Yeah,” you said, “neither do I.”

He smiled at you for a while, then closed your door and watched you drive off. You followed his movements in the rearview until your paths diverged, then turned up the radio.

“Merry Christmas Eve, one and all! It’s a gorgeous one out there—we couldn’t have asked for better weather. Here’s one just for you. I’m sure you know it, so sing along: it’s Dean Martin and it’s our ‘Winter Wonderland,’ right here, in the heart of good ol’ Oklahoma…”