c/w ᝰ.ᐟ jealousy + insecurity, ex mentions, crying (both), drunkenness/intox, miscommunication, possessive!dean, pet names (princess, baby, angel, baby doll + no y/n), angst with comfort, party setting + language
“There you are, princess.”
You smile before you can stop yourself as Dean presses a rough kiss against your cheek, his body sliding in behind you, big and warm against your back while the crowd moves around both of you.
“Havin’ fun?” He asks, mouth brushing your neck while his hands settle on your hips.
“Mhmm,” you giggle.
“You drunk, baby doll?”
“Mhmm…”
His laugh rumbles against your skin. “Yeah? Are you askin’ me or tellin’ me?”
You laugh harder at that, turning your head slightly when he nudges his nose against your cheek. Dean catches your mouth, kissing you deep and slow before pulling back with a grin still spread against your lips.
“You wanna dance?”
“Okay,” you say, and the second that word leaves your lips he’s pulling you away.
The dance floor is packed by the time the two of you push your way into the middle of it. Bodies crowd tight around you beneath flashing lights, Dean’s hand tightening on your waist, pulling you against him.
The two of you start dancing, your body moving easily with his while the crowd shifts around you.
“You look so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles, low and deep against your ear, making you press into him a little more.
His hands hold your hips again, turning you and pulling you close, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck while a smirk tugs at his lips and his hands move lower.
The chain around his neck glints beneath the lights as he dips in, pulling you closer by the small of your back, his lips on yours, sending a wave of warmth rushing through you.
A smile breaks across his lips as the music changes—something slower—putting you right where he wants you. Your back hits his chest, breath catching in your throat.
His hands wrap around your body, his face tucked so close you can feel every warm breath, the two of you grinding slower now.
Your eyes flutter open and a wave of unease rushes over you as you lock eyes with a few people you recognize from the rink. The second you catch them staring, they look away, one of them muttering something into his red SOLO cup while the other nods in agreement.
Dean starts singing along to the music, his deep voice vibrating against your neck. You focus on that, the corners of your lips trembling as they pull into a smile you wish wasn’t so weak.
You try to let yourself fall back into him, focusing on the heat of his body and the smell of his cologne. His hands drag you closer, but it doesn’t stop the unease this time. When you open your eyes again, the insecurity hits harder.
Wellsy… She gives you a small smile, tight around the edges just like yours.
You close your eyes again before the doubt can settle too deep, Dean’s head tucking back into your neck. His lips move slow against your skin beneath the pounding music, his grip firming on your waist instinctively.
He turns you around again, one hand sliding over your waist while the other curls loosely around your throat, pulling you back against him before kissing you so deep your thoughts scatter for a second.
His mouth moves against yours, slow and messy, warm from beer. Dean kisses like he gets distracted by it—like he forgets there are people around once he gets ahold of you.
Your fingers tighten in the front of his shirt, as a lump forms in your throat, your breathing tightening in your chest as the thoughts come rushing in.
Maybe if she called, it would be over.
What if he wishes he were kissing her instead?
What if he wishes you were someone else?
“Dean,” you whisper softly, your voice breaking against his lips.
“Angel,” he murmurs, kissing you again.
You swallow hard, collecting yourself for a moment. “Do you wanna go upstairs?”
Dean grins so boyishly it makes the hurt worse.
He grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd so fast you barely have time to keep up with him. He drags you through the packed house, still glancing back at you with that stupid excited smile.
And when you reach the steps he hooks an arm underneath your thighs and lifts you clean off the floor, starting up the stairs with you. A startled laugh slips out of you, but he swallows it, not catching the way it waivers on his lips.
Your fingers slide into his messy blond hair as he carries you farther upstairs. You close your eyes tighter, stomach sinking as you become all too aware of the sting building behind your eyes—tears balancing dangerously along your lashes.
You’ve felt weird all day. Ever since this morning when you opened Instagram and saw Dean’s name underneath one of Allie’s posts.
One stupid comment. Congratulations!
That was it. Nothing flirty. Nothing inappropriate.
Nothing that should latch on and refuse to let go, but it does.
Allie was standing on some giant stage in New York smiling beneath bright lights while thousands of people flooded the comments underneath her post and somewhere in between all of them was Dean.
And now, those weird looks and whispered conversations downstairs suddenly feel loaded. Every glance feels like the people around you know something’s going to happen, and you don’t, and they don’t want to miss the chance to see when he finally finds his person again.
Like you’re temporary.
Just the girl standing in the middle of whatever unfinished thing still exists between Dean and the girl everybody thought he’d end up with.
Dean shoves the bedroom door open, and kicks it shut, the bass downstairs making the pictures in his room rattle against the wall, the hum of the party seeping through the bottom of the door.
You reach for the ties of your top, trying to pull yourself together as he tears the t-shirt over his head, the both of you stripping between messy kisses before he’s dragging you down onto the mattress with him.
You crawl toward him slowly, knees sinking into the comforter while Dean watches. “Fuck, baby…” He lies down on the bed, guiding you on top of him as he brushes his hair off his face, biceps flexing with it. “Been waiting for this all day.”
Those six words heal something in you for a moment. Inching you back to that place you had been before you woke up this morning.
He reaches his arm up, hooking his hand around the back of your neck, lowering you toward his lips. “I love you—”
“Allie?”
You blink down at Dean once, thinking you heard him wrong, but it sounded like he said her name. Dean’s head snaps toward the door—all the color draining out of his face.
A person from behind the door tries again. “Allie, Dean? You in there?”
Dean goes completely stiff beneath you. “No—” The word flies out of him. “No, dude, what?”
Your stomach drops so hard it makes you sick.
Dean’s already trying to recover before you can even think straight.
“You need something?” He calls quickly, voice tighter now.
“Just wanted to say ‘hi’, man. Sorry.”
You shove off him, knee catching in the comforter as you stumble toward your discarded clothes on the floor, heart shattering so hard it aches.
“Hey—hey.” Dean catches your wrist, fingers wrapping around you fast enough to stop you mid-step. “Baby.”
“Let me go,” you whimper, and he does, his hands drawing back but he follows after you anyway as you struggle back into your clothes.
“What—what’s goin’ on?” He asks breathlessly. “I’m sorry about the Allie thing, alright? I’m sorry, baby.”
The room around you swims with the tears waiting to fall from your eyes, trying not to blink because you know once they fall there’s no stopping them. But you break anyway.
“That’s just Cooper,” Dean says quickly, words starting to trip over each other now. “I haven’t seen him in forever, he just—he’s fuckin’ dumb, alright?” He laughs nervously, but there's nothing funny about it and he can feel that.
Your fingers shake so badly fumbling with the zipper of your jeans it takes three tries to get it up.
“Baby, c’mon.” Dean’s voice whispers over your shoulder, his big hand coming down to rest on your hip. “Just talk to me.”
You lift the sleeve of your top, brushing away your emotion. You can feel him staring at you now, looking over your shoulder, but he can't see enough—not yet.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, turning you toward him, hands gripping your arms. “Baby—hey, hey.” His blue eyes search your face desperately. “No, no, no. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
You try to look away from him, but Dean pulls you into his chest before you can, his arms wrapping around you tight. One hand cradles the back of your head, the other pressed against your back, trembling with adrenaline.
“Baby,” he says again, softer now. You can feel his heartbeat pounding underneath your cheek, suddenly sober, that loose buzz he’d been feeling downstairs long gone.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, big hands cupping your face while his thumbs swipe beneath your eyes trying to catch the tears.
“Baby… I—That. That can’t just be because of that, right?” He asks, voice stumbling over itself now. “I mean—yeah, okay, wait. That—that was insensitive as fuck…” His brows pull together harder the longer he looks at you. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Your lip trembles, and Dean’s entire expression shifts, his thumb brushing along it too like he's trying to stop that from happening. The panic on his face gets worse, blue eyes moving frantically over your face, trying to figure out how this got so bad.
“Talk to me,” he whispers but you bite your lips instead to keep from crying, complete whiplash from the girl laughing and wrapped around him downstairs twenty minutes ago—but you were putting on an act for the both of you.
Allie’s name breathing into the room at the same time that Dean was telling he loves you was just it… the breaking point. The moment you couldn't keep up with the lie that you were okay, because you're not.
His hands tremble as he holds your cheeks, leaning in to kiss you, gentler than he ever has, like he thinks he can soothe this out of you if he’s soft enough.
He draws back a little, the air between you tight and heavy, as you whisper.
“You’re not over her, are you?”
“What?” He asks, not angry or defensive, just hurt. “Allie? I am. I promise you, I am.”
“I don’t think you are,” you whisper. “Or…” Your voice cracks a little and you look away from him, embarrassed the second more tears start slipping loose. “Maybe you are, I don’t know.” You laugh, but it sounds miserable. “I just—”
“Talk to me,” he says quickly, following your face when you turn away, trying to catch your eyes again. One of his hands slides down your arm, rubbing nervously while he watches you unravel. “Please.”
You stare down at the floor for a second before finally whispering, “I saw the comment… On her post,” you continue quietly. “It sounds so stupid out loud. Oh my god,” you sigh heavily, burying your face in your hand.
“It doesn’t—”
“And, people…” You swallow hard, trying to get the words out confidently but they sound so small. “I know they were talking about us downstairs.” Your throat tightens harder.
His brows pinch in confusion, stepping a little closer. “What people?”
You shrug defeatedly, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s so stupid,” you whisper.
“It’s not,” he stops you from brushing it off as his hand slides down your arm, fingers threading through yours. “Seriously, who?”
“People expect you to be with her.” Your eyes finally lift back to his. “They do, Dean.” You wipe a few tears away, watching your hand tremble out of the corner of your eye. “I mean, she’s Allie. She’s beautiful and everybody loves her—”
Dean’s face softens. “Hey,” he says quietly.
“I just feel like—” Your throat tightens before you swallow. “I don’t know. Like maybe I’m just the girl in the middle of all that.”
He looks down at you, his lips pulled tight, the pink flush in his cheeks deepening, blue eyes shimmering now with tears of his own.
“Allie is a good person,” he says honestly. “She is.” He squeezes your hand in his. “She’s funny and she’s kind… I cared about her for a long time.”
Your stomach sinks hearing those words leave his lips. His forehead presses against yours, breathing deeply with you.
“But she’s not you.” His voice comes out low and certain this time. “She’s not the girl I’ve been thinking about nonstop for months. She’s not the first thing I think about when I wake up or the last person I talk to when I go to bed at night.”
He steps a little closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. Dean blinks and a tear rolls down his cheek. You reach up, cupping your hand against his face, brushing it away and he leans into it, looking down at you.
He grabs your hand, kissing your palm, then your wrist, guiding you to wrap your arms around his neck.
“She’s not the girl I dragged upstairs tonight because I couldn’t stop looking at her downstairs,” he continues, his voice gentle and broken. “And she’s definitely not the girl making me panic because she thinks I want somebody else.”
“Okay,” you whisper, nodding your head.
“It ended. We both knew it was ending before it actually did. I moved on,” he says softly. “And then I met you. Not the other way around. I swear.”
You nod up at him, feeling guilty for even bringing it up in the first place, maybe because he’s making you feel the opposite of what any guilty person would make you feel. There’s no defensiveness. No twisting it back on you. Just honesty.
“I just…” Your voice breaks, fingers twisting weakly in the front of his shirt again. “I don’t want to be the placeholder. The girl that’s here until you get your girl back.”
“Holy shit,” the words trip out fast. “How can you think that?” You can hear the hurt in his voice now as he buries himself in your neck. His breath comes out shaky as a few warm tears fall on your shoulder, seeping through your shirt. “You’re perfect,” he mumbles against your skin. “You’re mine.”
Your fingers slide in his hair, holding him closer and he exhales.
“I hate seeing you cry,” he whispers.
“I hate seeing you cry too. I’m sorry,” you answer, your voice just above a whisper.
“Please believe me, alright?” Dean asks as he pulls back and matches your gaze.
“I believe you. I do.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve caught this sooner.”
“You’re okay,” you whisper.
He inhales sharply through his nose, an anxious laugh slipping through his lips with your own. You rub the little rivers of wet off the apples of his cheeks, embarrassment crawling warm up your neck now after seeing his reaction.
“If it helps,” he says softly, “everybody downstairs already knows I’m crazy about you. I’m serious.”
“I’m crazy about you too.”
“I am obsessed with you.”
“Stop,” you laugh weakly, rolling your eyes while he bends suddenly, lifting you again.
“I mean it,” he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck before dragging back. “You gotta promise me something, though.”
You look back at him and nod.
“You gotta promise me you’re not gonna sit in your head thinking shit like that by yourself. Because I swear to god, baby, I’m gonna prove to you that I got you. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I promise—”
“I can’t lose you,” he pushes out before you can even finish.
“You won’t,” you whisper softly.
“Me and you,” he says quietly.
“Me and you.”
dividers @uzmacchiato
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☄︎ Warnings: Body Insecurties, Negative Self-image, Self-talk, Cute!Dean, A lil Angst, not proofread
☄︎ Pairing: (bigger/plus-size) F!Reader x Dean Di Laurentis
☄︎ Rating: PG (references to smut but no smut)
☄︎ Words: 3266
☄︎ AN: I was thinking back to the old steve rodgers / sharon carter insecure fics and the logan / hannah ones and really wanted one for dean that felt relateable, so here we are.
as far as i'm concerned, it's absolute cannon that dean would not give af
When your brain was being rational, it told you that Dean was with you because he loved every part of you. And when you struggled to love yourself, he was always there to remind you why you should.
Dean was a very vocal advocate of women. He was a proud, unapologetic, ladies’ man and he knew, with a label like that, he had a responsibility to treat women well. Priding himself on the deep, unshakeable respect he had for women, he made it his mission to understand that womanhood was a beautiful, but complicated, experience that left its mark. It meant that women came in all shapes, and all sizes. It meant that boobs wouldn’t always be perfectly perky or that parts of the body could be darker than the rest of the body. He knew about chafing, stretch marks, and how the skin could jiggle. He loved every part of womanhood, and you knew that.
Logically, you knew there’d be no benefit to Dean being with you if he didn’t want to be.
However, at times like these, logic didn’t mean a damn thing.
You didn’t always feel this way about yourself. Sometimes you just existed, going about your day as any other person. But then, there would be times when you’d get a harsh, unsolicited, reminder that society wasn’t built for people who were bigger. People like you.
You’d go shopping with your friends and try on a pair of jeans, only for the largest size on the rack to barely pass your thighs. You’d notice people looking uncomfortable when you squeezed into the empty seat next to them on the train. You’d worry about what you ordered at restaurant, terrified someone would judge you for eating too much.
It was exhausting.
You couldn’t get away from it at home either. You’d rifle through your closet, looking for something to wear, you’d pick up clothes and think to yourself ‘that’s so big, there’s no way it fits me.’ Only for it to be a perfect fit. Or, even worse, too small.
You really didn’t feel like this all the time. You had worked on yourself and your self-esteem. There were times where you’d wear a crop top because it looked cute, telling yourself that others wore crop tops, so why couldn’t you. Sometimes you’d wear a tight dress because it showed off your curves.
It wasn’t easy to get there, and you weren’t fully there all the time, your mind was a prison sometimes. And society didn’t help. But that’s why you loved Dean. He was so carefree and couldn’t give a toss about societal standards.
That morning had started out fine. You had excitedly put on the form hugging outfit that you were wearing for that reason. However, as you watched the scene in front of you, it all came flooding back.
Dean was leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing at something Allie Hayes, his ex-girlfriend, was saying.
And, as if a magician had snapped their fingers, the mental gymnastics began.
Allie was gorgeous, fitting effortlessly into the swimsuit-model category. She could wear his oversized hockey jersey and look like a delicate dream, rather than looking like she was a defenseman on the team. And, to top it off, she was a lovely person. She had done everything she could to make you feel welcome when you had first started to date Dean, never once made you feel like it was her territory you were stepping into. You honestly couldn’t understand why they had even broken up.
Your brain started to calculate the maths that made sense to nobody but you. You wondered if people looked at the two of you together and couldn’t add the pieces together. The golden-haired hockey god with the sculpted physique and you, a woman who took up space in a society that expected women to shrink. How did that add up?
They wouldn’t do that with Allie. Those pieces made sense together; the maths was simply 2+2 = 4 there.
Your mind, venomous and sharp, kept spinning out of control. Does he look at her and remember how easy it was? Are they laughing together about how he traded down? Is he pleading with her to take him back?
Suddenly, you became very aware of your outfit. The fabric felt suffocatingly tight in all the wrong places. Your curves felt like they were drawing the eyes of everyone in the room as they protruded out over your high-waisted jeans.
At times like these, your brain was a masterclass in self-sabotage.
It didn’t matter that Dean had spent hours tracing your stetch marks like they were roads to heaven.
It didn’t matter that he publicly looked at you with a hunger that made your knees weak.
It didn’t matter that he gently coaxed you into being comfortable sleeping together with the lights on and that he hadn’t run away when he finally saw all of you.
None of that mattered. Your brain was screaming over the bass of the music, over every rational thought you’d ever had, drowning it all out. He wants to get back with Allie. She is everything, and I’m nothing.
It was a horrible, ugly thought that was entirely unfair to yourself and to Dean, who had never given you a single reason to doubt his love and loyalty. But, your insecurities didn’t care about fairness.
You took a shallow, shaky breath, your chest tightening as you watched them. The way everything she did looked effortlessly charming and feminine.
A suffocating, bitter, knot rose in your throat, choking your breath. You had to get out of there before anyone could see the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes scanning the room until they locked directly onto yours, as if he had a red alert that signalled to him that you needed him. The easy smile he had been sharing with Allie shifted into something deeper, something warmer, as he looked at you.
He put his cup down on the counter, murmured a quick goodbye to Allie, and began sliding his way through the sea of drunk college students, heading straight for you.
You were standing with two of your friends, desperately trying to signal to them with your eyes that you all should go. Your heart was hammering against your ribs. You felt like you couldn’t move because you knew he would follow. Then you’d have to face him.
Within seconds, Dean arrived and threw a possessive arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest. The familiar scent of his expensive cologne, usually a smell that provided you with comfort, suffocated you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, pressing another kiss on you. “I missed you.”
Your friends immediately giggled and exchanged knowing glances. “Okay, so that’s our cue to leave!” one of them teased.
“Yup, see you in class tomorrow girlie,” the other said.
They vanished into the crowd before you could even protest, leaving you feeling alone in Dean’s arms.
You forced yourself to tilt your head up, pressing a quick peck to his jaw.
“I missed you too,” you managed out, forcing a smile to hide how you felt.
But Dean knew you better than that, your smiles always reached your eyes. His eyebrows furrow in slight confusion. His eyes scanned your face with an intense scrutiny and he saw the slight glassiness in your eyes.
“Hey,” he said. He dropped his arm to cup your cheeks in both hands. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
The concern in his eyes almost broke you. It would be so easy to tell him, but the shame of your own insecurity felt too heavy, especially with Allie still in the room.
“Nothing,” you lied, voice tight. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, you didn’t like to lie, especially to Dean. He was big on trust.
You gently pulled away from his touch, his hands dropping from your face. “I’m just… really tired, Dean. I think I need to go.”
“Okay,” Dean said easily. “I’ll come upstairs with you.”
“No,” you rushed out too quickly and too loudly. “I need some space; I need to go… home.”
Dean blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Home? But I thought you were staying here tonight? Your bag is upstairs.”
He was panicked now, eyes searching yours again for some sort of understanding of what was happening. A rare flash of sadness crossed his features and you wanted so desperately to kiss it away but your brain couldn’t stop telling you that this was the right move. That it would be better for him if you left. If you pushed him to want you gone.
“Talk to me, babe. Did I do something wrong? Let’s just go upstairs, just you and me.” The panic in his voice sent a painful pang straight through your chest.
“No, it’s not that,” you choked out, unable to look him in the eye. The sound of voice was enough to make you cry, if you combined that with the look on his face, you were done for. “I just need to be in my own bed tonight. Please.”
Dean felt completely helpless. He hated to let you go, but he also respected your boundaries too much to keep pushing for you to stay when he knew you didn’t want to.
He reached into his pocket, his jaw clenching. “Okay. Okay, yeah. If that’s what you need. I’ve had a few beers, so I can’t drive you.” He sounded incredibly mad at himself for that, as if he could have known he needed to stay sober. “I’m ordering you an Uber.”
You didn’t bother to say goodbye to anyone, or pick up your bag from upstairs, as you weaved your way outside. Dean followed you, keeping a protective hand on the small of your back the entire way.
He waited on the porch with you in the chilly air. There were a few couples out here, cuddling together and giggling as they whispered into each other’s ears. Dean so desperately felt the urge to pull you in and not let go.
After a few long minutes of standing in the heavy silence, the car finally pulled up. He opened the door for you. When you slipped inside, you expected him to shut it immediately, but he didn’t. He kept a tight hold on the handle, leaning down as he pleaded, “text me the second you get in. Please.”
Blue eyes trembled as they watched for your response. Dean looked devastated as he chewed his bottom lip. Unable to bear it, you put on another fake smile and nodded. Anything to get him to go. He closed the door gently, but, to you, it felt like that was the door closing on your entire relationship.
As the Uber pulled away, the tears finally fell. You looked back to see Dean still standing there, watching your car until it disappeared around the corner.
He didn’t wait for you to get home to start texting you.
Dean (22:10): I don’t know what I did, but I’m so sorry. Please let me fix it.
Dean (22:10): I love you. So much.
Dean (22:11): Just tell me what you need from me.
By the time you unlocked your front door twenty minutes later, your chat history with him looked like a wall of messages.
You stared at your phone screen, the words blurring together through another wave of tears. You wanted to reply. You were going to reply. But how could you? What could you say that would make any sense? That would justify this?
You crawled into bed and immediately pressed your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds of your sobs. Your body convulsed as you cried harder, the weight of everything hitting you at once.
You cried until exhaustion finally took over your body. You cried yourself to sleep without even realising it.
The next morning, you woke up with a splitting headache and dry throat. Memories of last night came flooding back to you. You were supposed to respond to Dean’s messages, at least to let him know you’d gotten back safely. Instead, he would have seen that you left him on read.
You hurriedly reached for your phone, your heart dropping into your stomach as you saw he had continued to send messages throughout the night.
Dean (02:14): Still haven’t heard from you. Getting worried. Please just let me know you’re safe.
Dean (03:45): I know you asked for space but I cannot sleep until I know you’re okay.
Dean (06:11): I’m coming over.
The last message was sent barely half an hour ago. You jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to brush your teeth and try to make yourself look presentable. Your eyes were bloodshot from the tears; you hadn’t even washed the make-up from your face last night.
A heavy, frantic, pounding echoed from your front door. Your mind raced again, given the timing of his texts, you doubted if he had even slept. He should not have been behind the wheel. And how fast did he have to drive to get to you in this time?
You hurriedly wrapped your dressing gown around yourself and padded down the hallway. When you opened the door, the sight of Dean stopped the breath in your lungs.
He looked completely wrecked. He had changed from since the party; but his clothes were already wrinkled. His usually stupidly perfect hair was sticking up in all directions, as if he’d spent all night running his fingers through it. There were dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes. He really hadn’t slept.
A shuddering breath escaped his lips as he saw you. “Thank God.”
Before you could say a word, he stepped across the threshold, closed the door, and pulled you into his arms. He held you so tightly against his chest that you could feel the frantic thumping of his heart. He was trembling.
“You terrified me,” he muttered, his grip tightening. “You told me you needed space from me, didn’t text or answer my calls. I thought you got into an accident, I thought someone hurt you. But then I saw you were reading my messages and… I thought… I thought you were leaving me.”
The rational part of your brain roared back to life, screaming at you to see how much he loved you. He wasn’t thinking about Allie or anyone else. He was falling apart because he thought he had lost you.
“Dean, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your own voice cracking as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m soso sorry, I’m okay.”
He pulled back just enough to look at your face, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks. His thumbs gentle wiped away a stray tear that you hadn’t even noticed had fallen.
“Are you leaving me?” he asked, voice fragile.
“No,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Not if you don’t want to leave me.”
“Of course I don’t, babe. But can you please just talk to me?” he pleaded, his blue eyes searching yours with pure desperation. “Please, I’m losing my mind here.”
He would never admit it to anyone else, but he was a deeply emotional man. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders while acting like nothing fazed him. But, in front of you, that act was dropped.
You looked down, unable to hold the weight of the guilt you felt. Swallowing hard, the truth came tumbling out of you, tasting bitter and heavy on your tongue.
“I… I saw you talking to Allie and my brain just… it just went haywire. It’s great that you have a healthy relationship with your ex, it just speaks to the kind of man you are but…I… I just...” Your fingers bunched into the fabric of his top as your words trailed off.
He stayed silent, patiently giving you the time you needed to collect your thoughts.
“She’s amazing and she looks better than I do… physically.” Your voice lowered, it was so embarrassing admitting this out loud to him. No matter how much you trusted him with your feelings. “I just worry that you’re going to wake up one day and realise what you lost.”
Dean let out a sharp, pained, breath, his jaw tightening. Before he could interrupt, you pressed a hand to his chest. “Let me finish, please.”
He gave you a tight, silent nod, urging you continue.
“I know it’s stupid, I know it isn’t a problem that you created, Dean. It’s an insecurity inside of me. I just… yeah, I guess I just have more of a mountain to climb than I thought. I don’t want to leave you, but I’d understand if you wanted to leave me so you don’t have to deal with all of this.”
Dean was quiet for a long moment. When you looked up at him, he didn’t look angry at your explanation or relieved that you had given him an out from this relationship.
“Okay,” he said finally. His voice was steady. “Let me be clear. There is no comparison between you and Allie. She’s my past, which I cherish, but you are my present, and my future. Understand?”
You nod your head, you needed to hear that.
“I have no reason to leave you. No desire to leave you,” he continued. “I’ll admit, I’m not a big fan of the radio silence last night, but I love you. I love us. Part of that love means that we go through some tougher times together, and you are completely insane if you think that I’m leaving you to climb any part of a mountain alone.”
You didn’t know what to say, a thick knot of emotion blocking your throat. Instead of trying to speak, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down to you. Dean didn’t hesitate; he met you halfway as you pressed your lips to his in a kiss. The softness of the kiss showed all the words you wanted to say.
“Thank you,” you mumbled against his mouth before kissing him again.
“I mean it, we’ll work through anything together,” he vowed, his hands sliding down over your curves to rest securely on your hips. “What do you need from me? How can I be better at supporting you?”
You let out the breath that you felt like you’d been holding since last night, the tension finally melting out of your muscles. “Just… please be patient with me while I fight my way back to reality, I guess.”
Dean nodded instantly, his expression serious. “Done.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“Never. Now,” he murmured, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked at you. “Seeing as neither of us slept well last night, I highly suggest we go catch up on some lost sleep.”
He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he dropped his voice to a suggestive whisper. “And once we’re rested, I am going to show you, very slowly, exactly how obsessed I am with you and your beautiful body. Does that sound good?”
You nodded, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.
“Good,” he said. Without another word, he hooked his arms under your thighs, picking you up effortlessly and carrying you down the hall into your bedroom.
As someone who constantly sweats and hates the summer I js realised how much I’d love being in bella swans place like I’d be CLINGING to my freezing cold boyfriend 24/7, sigh my dream date. cute.
mean logan notices her casually chewing gum while having sex & he sternly grabs the back of her neck and demands she spit it out onto his hand. Grumbling smthing abt choking (even though he totally doesn’t care & is so mean
😣😉)
anon this was CRAZY. this post is 18+, minors dni.
You hadn't thought about the piece of mint gum still being mashed between your teeth, the motion of chewing second nature at this point as the flavor is half-gone. Your rhythmic chewing becomes staccato and choppy as Logan makes short work of your desperate cunt, but a particularly loud smack of the gum in your mouth makes his eyes narrow, snapping to your face.
You're on his lap which gives him the perfect opportunity to clamp a hand around the back of your neck and bend your head down. His hips barely slow, still pumping with superhuman strength, but his hands are occupied now and no longer lift your hips. It means your cunt is being battered by his cock that barely unsheathes, your weight falling with his every time he lowers his hips. It's a squirmy sensation, one of pressure and tightness as you try lifting your own hips to fend off his rough treatment. You whine at the sudden jerk of your head as you're shoved downwards, nearly smacking your face into Logan's other hand that's now hovering beneath your chin.
"Spit it out." He drawls gruffly, palm open in waiting.
"What?"
"Your gum. What is this, a fuckin' baseball game? Spit that shit out when I'm fucking you."
You consider protesting, my gum! but decide against it, unable to offer anything more than a weak whimper as you push the gum out of your mouth with your tongue and let it fall into his waiting palm. It looks obscene there, not sultry just gross, but he discards it on a stray tissue on your bedside table.
"Do you go stupid the second you see me naked? You were gonna choke on that," Logan lectures you, tone unimpressed as he clamps his hands over your hips again, letting up on your now-sore neck.
"I wasn't gonna choke!" You whine uselessly, and Logan's brow raises in skepticism.
"Really?"
"Really. It's- it's just gum." You mumble feebly, "I'm not a baby. I won't choke on it."
He lifts your hips so that you're pulled briefly off of his cock, and you're somewhat surprised he hasn't risen to your bait and began bickering with you. He often has the last word, and you feel delightfully victorious.
Then he slams you back down onto his cock, pulling instead of letting gravity help you, and a gasp rips through your throat so viciously that you're sure you've choked on the mere emptiness of your throat.
"Really? You're not gonna choke, it's just gum." Logan snarls, a now-merciless pace set as he reminds you that the last word will never be yours, "I know you. I've watched you gag on my dick a thousand times over. I've watched you gasp for breath after two minutes. If I say you're gonna choke, baby, you're gonna choke."
the trials of fate (red string AU) || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader
summary: You and Logan were connected, soulmates. Destined to be together. Then he got sick and then he died and now you're alone and the string that connected you is gone. When Wade brings back a new Logan things get complicated and you want nothing to do with him.
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader digs their nails into their face once, swearing, reader drinks a lot, no regard for the fox timeline sorry!
wc: 4k
a/n: Okay my soulmate au is here!! I love Logan angst and I just couldn't help myself and I had to write this soon. My birthday is soon so I should still have that other fic up on my birthday? May be late sorry!! But either way I hope you enjoy this.
The Red String of Fate dates back to ancient Chinese mythology. The idea that people are connected by an invisible red cord. At the end of your cord is your true love, your soulmate. Destined to be together through space and time. The string and tangle, bend, stretch, but never break.
You know this to be true because you can see them.
Not everyone can, in fact it’s very very rare. One might think of it as a gift but to you it’s a curse. You found your soulmate, you had him. It took a while to find him but you did. Your string led you straight to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. To a man named Logan. You never tried to follow your string, allowing him to come into your life naturally. You felt the tug of your string the moment you walked through the doors.
You were a mutant yourself and though your powers weren’t meant for combat you were happy to come and teach. The cord pulled and pulled until you found yourself in front of the history classroom. You looked down. Your red string was tied around your wrist and your eyes followed till you reached the end. Around his pinky was the end of your string tied in a bow.
"Can I help you?" He had asked in a gruff tone.
The moment he looked up from his desk was the moment you knew it was real. Like they would write in books where you meet eyes and the whole world stops. He was tough, angry, loved to drink and yet he was everything you could have asked for. Love didn’t come easy to him and he made it clear. Still you wouldn’t give up, a thread may connect you but you fell in love with the man standing before you. He was a good man, whether or not he believed it. You always thought he was a good man.
He loved you, he loved you the best way that he could and you loved him. He made mistakes, a lot of them but he always came through in the end. Promising that he’d love you no matter what, that you two were truly meant for each other. That he would belong to you and you to him.
So through it all you were by his side. Charles seizures, El Paseo, Laura. Even as he was slowly dying he did everything for you, for Charles, for Laura Up until his last breath he spent it protecting those he loved.
When he died you felt that piece of you die with it. The legend claims that the strings don’t break but you saw it first hand. The color faded from your cord and it unraveled itself. Falling to the floor unceremoniously, like it was nothing. Like your love was nothing. Your heart ripped in two. You tried to stay strong for the children and though you offered to take them back they declined. You shared a heartfelt conversation with Laura and they were off.
You sat by his grave for who knows how long. Staring at the X shaped marker. The man below the ground was your everything and how he’s gone. Your wrist felt empty. You couldn’t stop rubbing the spot where the string once sat. You were lost, your whole family was gone. So you packed up what little you had, got into the beat up truck, and drove as far as you could. You drove and drove until you approached the familiar woods of Westchester New York.
The mansion was still there. The doors creaked open as you pushed through them. Immediately you were overwhelmed by memories of you and Logan in this place. You thought you were done with tears but somehow you keep crying. Maybe this was a mistake. Coming back to this place. It was painful to even look into his room. But this was all you had. So you sucked it up and slowly started to put the mansion back together. Eventually people found you again. Mutants who needed shelter from the world and you let them stay.
It wasn’t a school anymore but it was a place to sleep. Years passed and eventually you met Wade. God was he annoying. So fucking annoying and still he managed to weasel his way into your life. A friend. He would say stupid shit and make plenty of ill timed jokes but you found yourself growing to like the guy. Then he went quiet for a little bit, giving up the superhero life for something more mundane. Not that you could really blame him. You wish you had done that.
Selfish? Yes but if you had disappeared then maybe Logan would still be alive. The two of you could have had a peaceful life. Sometimes you dream of him. Of what a life would have been like. The dreams are nice. Then you wake up and you have tears streaming down your face. A phantom tug of your wrist that only reminds you again and again that he’s gone.
Then one day Wade calls. Cheerfully telling you he has a surprise for you and invited you over for dinner. So you accepted. When you walked through his door though, you didn’t expect his so-called surprise to be Logan.
“You made it!” Wade hugged you but you remained limp. Eyes glued to the man standing by the window talking to Laura of all people. You shove Wade off of you and shut your eyes. Is this another dream? Maybe a nightmare.
“No no no no.” You mutter to yourself as you dig your nails into your face. When you open them he’s still there. Standing there with this stupid smile and stupid face and stupid hair.
“What the hell Wade!” You hiss as you drag the man to the kitchen.
“The cat distribution system chose me! I couldn’t leave him, he was too lonely.”
“God can you ever shut the fuck up!?” You want to strangle him so bad. How could he so casually bring you here. Did he think you’d jump for joy? That seeing the ghost of your dead husband would fix it all? No. It doesn’t.
“Don’t you see what this means? This is prime sequel material. Give you the Disney princess, I can say that legally now, ending you’ve always deserved.”
Every bone in your body tells you to punch him but you can’t bring yourself to. He meant the best, even if he had a really fucked up way of going about it.
“Just. Keep him away from me.” You push past Wade straight to the alcohol. Needing anything to keep your mind off the man on the other side of the room. The dinner drags on too slow, you barely eat your food as you keep hearing his voice. People are talking on either side of you but you can only hear his voice. God he sounded the same. You sneak a glance and he’s sitting, laughing with Laura.
Oh god she’s gotten so big. Would she hate you for leaving her? What happened? You kick yourself over and over, you should have protected her but you were caught up in your own grief. You thought she’d be okay on her own.
As dinner winds down you find yourself outside, the cold air feels good as you sip on your drink. How many beers have you had already? Eh, Who cares?
“Hi.” You flinch when you hear her voice. You turn around and see her. Tears well up in your eyes as you take her in. She’s grown up so much.
“Laura,” You brush a strand of hair out of her face.
“It’s good to see you again.” She says. You wrap your arms around her tightly.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I left. I should have gone with you guys.” You let go and hold her by the shoulders.
“What happened?” She sighs and sits down on a nearby bench. You sit close as she starts to tell you the story. Growing up, the TVA, the void, and then how she met Logan and Wade. It sounded unbelievable but you couldn’t help but smile at points. She’s still the same badass girl she always was.
“I should have been there.” You say guilty. She shakes her head and rests her head on your shoulder.
“I got to live my life, find myself because of you. Because of him. I wouldn’t change anything.” She’s much younger than you but she seems to be the one with her life together. You’re happy for that. Wishing nothing but the best for her.
“Have you talked to him?” She asks. You don’t answer.
“He’s…different. Mean, angry, but he showed up. Helped save the world.” You listen to her talk.
She’s bonded to this Logan and you can’t fault her for that. They talked all night. But you can’t push aside everything that easily. So you stand up, give her one last hug, and tell her she can find you anytime. Your doors are always open to her. Without another word you walk away from Wade’s apartment and back to your own little world.
You thought that would be the end of it, you really hoped it would be. That you would never have to see him again. A part of you longed for it. To hold him. To feel him. But he’s not yours. Your wrist remains bare and while everyone else seems to be happy, you’re still stuck in the past. You avoided Wades calls and kept to yourself.
Choosing only to spend time with Laura when she asked. Usually it was lunch but sometimes it was just coming over to watch a movie. It was nice, you really did miss her. It was supposed to be lunch today but she was late.
Finally she knocks at the door and you get ready to tease her for being late. Instead when the door opens you see him. The words die out in your throat as you stand frozen.
“Can I come in?” He asks but you don’t really hear him. You get it, he’s standing here and he’s Logan. But it feels like you’re staring at a ghost. His voice doesn’t sound real. This doesn’t feel. Real. He places a hand on your shoulder, a worried look on his face. The moment his hand meets your shoulder you jump back. Hissing like it burns. He jerks his hand back.
“What the fuck?” You rub your shoulder and finally find the words to say anything.
“What are you doing here?”
“Laura can’t make it, she sent me over here to tell you.” He says flatly. He’s lying. Looks like he’s got the same tell. You scoff and narrow your eyes.
“She has my number, she could have called me.” Logan shifts on his feet. Clenching his jaw slightly as he sighs.
“Fine. I wanted to come. I needed to see you.” He confesses.
“Look I don’t know who I was in your universe but I’m not them so I think you should go.” You try to close the door but he pushes it back with ease. He walks into your apartment, slamming the door behind you.
“What the fuck Logan.” You huff as he steps closer to you.
“I’m sorry okay but I saw you at Wade’s and you didn’t even spare me a look all night.”
“Sorry that I wasn’t jumping into the fucking arms of a man who looks like my dead husband.” You spit harshly.
"Oh and seeing my dead soulmate is easy for me?” He spits back. His eyes flashing with anger for a second before he tries to calm himself down. Which isn’t easy but this is important.
You soak in what he said. So you were soulmates in his universe too. And you were dead. Maybe you have more in common than you thought. He takes a deep breath and starts again. There’s more vulnerability to him this time. It’s peeking through his tough exterior as he tries to explain it all.
“I know that, we’re not the same people and I would have left you alone if it wasn’t for…” He looks down at his thumb and rubs it along his other fingers.
“What?” You don’t understand what he’s talking about. Logan looks up, confusion on his face.
“Logan what are you-” You cut off as the realization sets in. No. No. No. NO. You look down at your own hands and see nothing. You shut your eyes tight as you clench your fists.
“Sweetheart..” “No! Don’t call me that.” You shove his chest harshly.
He’s not your soulmate. He is not your Logan. This is a cruel cruel fucking world apparently. As if you haven’t lost enough in your life now it’s taunting you with. With this.
“There’s nothing.”
“You couldn’t see it in my world either.” Logan tries to talk but you glare at him.
“Well I can in this world and I’m telling you there’s nothing!” You yell.
The feelings you’ve pressed down and down were bubbling to the surface. God you hated it, the heartbreak, the pain, the grief. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. He’s a reminder of everything you’ve lost. It could never be the same.
“Get out.” Your voice starts at a low growl but Logan hears it loud and clear.
“If you would just-”
“No. I mourned you. I watched you die and I watched our connection, our cord fall off like it was nothing. I can’t do this. So just Get. Out!” You scream.
An uncomfortable silence settles and Logan relents. He has so much he wants to say to you but you it's not the time. So he leaves. You wait for a second after the door clicks closed before you let it all out. Sobs wracking your body as it feels like you’re reliving that terrible day.
Logan stands on the other side of your door. Hearing every whimper and cry. It breaks his heart. He could break down this damn door and scoop you up in his arms. Hold you close. You’re his soulmate, the love of his life. But he just can’t. Time, that’s what you need. So even though it pains him, he walks away. He won’t give up on you though, he swears.
-
Life after your little conversation with Logan fucking sucked. You stopped talking to Wade, to Laura. Kept to yourself in your apartment all day. All night. You ignored the calls, the knocks at the door. You just stopped everything. Drinking away the pain until it lulls you to sleep. The only peace you get. Even then the nightmares don’t stop. Every moment of your life is torture.
The worst part was that sometimes, you swear you feel it. That tug. That sign that there’s someone on the other end. But the man for you was 6ft under. You wonder if it was really there. If this Logan wasn’t lying. Even if he could see it, that didn’t mean you wanted it. How could you? Would this Logan die just like yours? Would you have to watch his slow painful death again? You couldn’t, you just couldn’t.
Eventually it all became too much. Like just being in the same city was too close. You needed to get far away. As far as you fucking could. Away from everyone who knew you as you are now. You pack your clothes, leave a note for Laura and get into your car and drive. It all feels too similar. Driving away until you couldn’t anymore. Ignoring the tugs on your thumb. Telling yourself that it wasn’t real. That your brain was tricking you.
Finding some cheap motel deep in some random town. This could be good. You’re far from anyone who knew you, knew Logan. It was good. The bed creaked and there were roaches in the bathroom but still. This is for the best.
-
Logan knew something was up the moment you had left. He could just feel it. He watched the string get tight and tighter, stretching beyond its limits. Still it didn’t break. He barged into your house and found you gone. He swore and nearly took Wade's head off when he opened his mouth. He didn’t waste any time. Stealing Wade's car without a second thought. He didn’t know where you went but he just drove. All he knew is that he lost you once. Somehow the universe decided he would get another chance and he was not losing you again.
He followed his gut as he drove through different states and towns. None of them felt like the right place. The cord on his thumb tugged and tugged. Like it was guiding him right to you. Finally he rolled into some old town in the middle of fucking nowhere. There was nothing in this town. A store, a gas station, and a bar.
Guess that’s all people really need around here. Still something inside of him tells him to stop. He pulls up to the dusty bar lot. Feet heavy as he stomps through the doors. His eyes scan the patrons and he realizes why he came here. There you were, sitting at the bar alone. You looked tired, exhausted really. But you looked like the empty shell of who he knew. He can’t stop himself as he walks over to you. What does he even say? I tracked you for days and now I’m here. No, that's not right. You don’t even notice he’s there. Too wrapped up in your head. So he sits and orders a drink. Still mulling over what to say he decides on something short. Just one word.
“Hey.” You shoot up in the seat. Eyes wide as you look over to see him. What the actual fuck.
“You left.” He says like he’s confused on why you did. Was it not obvious? You stare at him in disbelief.
“Fuck this.” You mumble to yourself.
You throw down some money and slip off the seat. If you were lucky this was just a really bad dream or hallucination. If you weren’t lucky, which you never were, then he tracked you down and somehow fucking found you.
“Wait.” Logan pays for the drink he didn’t even touch and follows you out.
“Go the fuck home!” You yell as you hurry towards the motel. He’s hot on your tail, not letting you out of his sight.
“No, we need to talk.” He follows you all the way to your motel room. You open the door and try to slam it closed but he’s too quick.
“Running isn’t gonna fucking help. Trust me.”
“Oh give me a fucking break. Of all the people to preach that to me it’s not going to be you.” You hiss as you try to push him out.
He’s like a fucking wall as he stands in the way. You hit his chest over and over but he won’t budge. He grabs your wrist and pushes you into the room. Pushing you against the door. Stopping you from going anywhere.
“Get the fuck off me!”
“No, just listen to me for fucks sake.” He growls. You let out a frustrated scream and finally relented.
“I lost you, in my world I lost you and I was never the same. I know how you feel, I really do. Fuck I held your cold, lifeless body. You say you watched your cord break well. I basically snapped the cord myself. Walking away, letting you die.” His head drops as he seems to relive it all over again. His grip on your wrists loosen, your arms sliding down to your sides.
“Then I show up here and I wake up and this is here.”: He lets go of one of your wrists to show you his hand. His thumb is still bare to you but he sees it. It’s connected right to yours.
“I’m not the same man, I’ve done some terrible things and I regret them every day but it made me the man I am now. I know that means jack shit to you but it means a lot to me.” He cups your face, letting your hands free. If you were to leave he couldn’t stop you but you find yourself planted to the ground.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but you’re my soulmate. We’re meant for each other. I’ll belong to you forever.” You tense up as you recall your Logan saying those very words. It’s too much. You can’t, you just can’t. “
Stop please,” You beg. Tears starting to fall from your eyes.
“I can’t do this Logan, watching you die killed me inside. I loved you, I still love you but, I can’t. I’m scared.” You cry and he wipes away the tears. He keeps you close, knowing the pain, the fear.
“I read a lot about soulmates, you were always jealous I could see cords and you couldn’t.” There’s a hint of a smile as he recalls his life with you.
“You made me read those books. In them they say that two people are connected forever. Through time and space. Maybe through universes too.” He tilts your head and leans closer, his lips ghosting yours.
“I know you’re scared, I am too. But I promised to love you, to take care of you. We’re not the same but we can learn to love each other as we are. Broken, tired, full of baggage.”
You look at him, he’s got the same eyes. The fear of losing him again still fills your heart. Could this really be destiny? Were you meant to find each other? Fate is a funny thing isn’t it.
“Kiss me.” You whisper and he does. Smashing his lips onto yours with a ferocity that takes your breath away. He’s hungry, desperate as he moves you from the door to the bed. The bed creaks loudly as the two of you fall onto the bed. Your hands run through his hair as his arms wrap around your body.
“Logan..” You gasp as he bites your lip roughly, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
It feels so right, so perfect. Being in his arms is everything you need. You pull away breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. He sees the vulnerability in your eyes. The walls you’ve built up start to tumble down and Logan proudly holds the hammer.
“I love you, I’ll always love you.” He caresses your cheek as he stares into your eyes.
“I love you too.” You close your eyes and pray when you open them he’ll still be there.
You feel the tug on your thumb and this time you don’t ignore it. Slowly opening your eyes you look down and see it. You can actually see it. It’s a different shade of red and now it’s on your thumb tied in a bow. You follow the string and it leads right to Logan.
“I see it.” You whisper in awe. Logan smiles, tightening his hold onto you as you keep your eyes on the cord. It’s a little worn down but so are the two of you. It’s perfect.
“Let me take you home.” Logan says, burying his face in your neck. Kissing every spot he can.
Home. You hadn’t thought of any place as home in a long time. But now you have one. A home with Logan, with Laura. Even with Wade and Al and Peter.
But what home really is, is right here in Logan's arms. You feel a weight off your chest as you melt into his arms. Letting yourself be happy, finding yourself in a situation you never thought you’d get to be in again.
Somehow, through space and time, through all of the multiverse. It doesn’t matter how or when. You two were destined to be together.
Summary-you no longer can be Bruces scout now that you’re pregnant, but after a few months he seems to have found a new partner which causes tension when you see how infatuated he seems to be with her but after seeing him get blown up and not returning for hours it causes you to worry
Warnings- language, bombs, murder, worried reader, insecurity, pregnancy sex, sex in a hospital, oral( f receiving), p in v, angst, breeding kink
“You’re so pretty.” The man touched your face and you looked away.
“Y/n you need to look at him, I need to know his name.” The Batman’s voice rings in your ear and you roll your eyes. You look back at the man and force a smile.
“How much for me to spend a night with you?” He asks and places a hand on your thigh making your breath hitch. Batman had said a name but you didn’t care, all you did was stand up and leave immediately.
“Stop! Y/n there’s still one more!” He says in the earpiece.
Summary: Henry is sick and tired of you bringing dates back to your shared apartment, and he has no problem letting you know. So basically, mega jealous Henry, which I am a pathetic sucker for.
Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of cursing. I think that’s it.
Notes: this is kind of similar to another fic I did, and I try not to do that, but I just really felt the need to write this, so I did.
Words: 2732
Henry’s mood turned sour the second you walked through the door with your date in tow. You came in with a bright smile on your face that he returned with a scowl, but you did your best to brush it off. Your roommate acting like an overgrown child every time you brought home a guest was nothing new; you certainly weren’t surprised, and you had no intention of stooping to his level.
Yall give me some motivation to write! Should I continue my Nic fanfic or write a new one? The one I continue is ex to lovers! And you can request if you want a new one!
