Hi, i don't know if anybody is seeing this but im gonna update all of my mastrlists of recomendations. If you want me to tag you when i put it up again just comment on this.
Reader's age and gender are not specified. The timelines may give a hint about the age differences, though.Ā
Kevin Atwater
Raising 3 siblings was definitely not in Kevin's life plan. He has always been a good brother, but there's a huge difference between a brother and a father. Despite his insecurities, he did a good job. Kevin raised you, Vinessa, and Jordan with all the love in the world. Food, clothes, toys, birthday parties, doctor appointments, school work, he did it all. And he would do it again and again if it meant seeing you and your siblings growing up happy and healthy. When your father came back from prison, it took a toll on all of you. While Kevin tried to deal with his own unresolved feelings about your dad, you had a weird feeling growing in your chest.
āWho is this man? He is not my father, at least I don't feel like he is,ā you told Kevin one afternoon after he mentioned your father wanted to meet. Kevin and Vinessa agreed with you, not really knowing how to feel towards the man.
āYou raised us, Kev,ā you said, looking into his eyes. āWe never called you dad because you've always been Kev, our big brother. But you've been a dad to us all along.ā
Later that night, you all got to an agreement: to give your father a chance. But he would never be number one. Ever. Kevin is and always going to be number one in your hearts.
Jay Halstead
It's no surprise to anyone that being a Halstead comes with a package: a talent for trouble and two very, extremely, unnecessarily protective older brothers. Jay and Will made sure everyone knew not to mess with you or things would get ugly really fast. Kids at school knew you had a cop and a doctor as your brothers, and you knew that was the reason no one ever laid a finger on you. This whole protective thing goes both ways, though. Jay will never forget the day you got home from a party with a busted lip. The reason? Apparently, to defend him.
āWhat?ā the look of disbelief on his face was priceless. If this wasn't a serious conversation, you would be laughing your ass off. āDefending me? What do you mean?ā
āWe were talking, and suddenly the conversation shifted to police. This guy started shit-talking that all cops were dirty and did nothing for the city. Never in a million years could I stand there and say nothing!ā you said in exasperation. āI told them how my brother saves lives every day and how much you and your team sacrifice for this city.ā
Jay just stood there. His fingers came to rest on the bridge of his nose. Damn, he couldn't say he wasn't proud, but at the same timeā¦
āKid, that's nice and all, but would you mind not getting into fights on my behalf ever again? Jesus!ā
Antonio Dawson
The Dawson siblingsā¦ your parents had no idea they would have to deal with 3 souls that feared absolutely nothing. Being the youngest definitely helped you feel even bolder. Having Antonio and Gabby protect you from everything and everyone made you feel like the safest person on earth. Growing up is never easy, but being a Dawson prepared you for a lot. With Gabby being in CFD and Antonio in CPD, your parents wondered if you would follow your sibling's footsteps. When the moment came to choose your profession, they were worried that would be the case. You, however, have no idea where your passion lies.
āYou don't have to be so worried about this, kid,ā Antonio said from his spot on the couch.
āHow can I not, Tonio?ā
āCome here, sit down,ā he said, patting the spot beside him. You went and sat beside him. āIt's perfectly normal to feel lost about all this. It's not an easy decision. ā
āIt was easy for you and Gabby. You always knew what you wanted to do.ā
āThat means nothing. Do you think we never had doubts? That we didn't struggle?ā Antonio held your face in his hands. āYou have our support. Always. It doesn't matter what you choose to do.ā
āHe's right,ā Gabby said, having arrived in the room just now. āWe love you, and we're going to help you find your way.ā
Hank Voight
Losing a parent is something that can change someoneās entire life. You and Hank had to deal with the loss of your dad when you were both too young to even understand why he died. You and Hank were really different, but you both shared the wish to become police. To protect the city like your father did. Being the oldest, Hank became a mentor to you. He was there for you in every step of your career, being your biggest supporter. Being police somehow strengthened your bond and you guys grew closer as the years went by. You could be yourself without any fear with him, and he felt the same. When your brother lost the love of his life, his wife Camille, you were the only person he would open up to.
āI donāt know what to do,ā Hank stared at you for the first time that evening. Heās been avoiding you since the funeral that morning. You knew he was scared to pour out his emotions, afraid he wouldnāt be able to keep going if he let himself feel all that pain.
āIām here, Hank,ā you held his hands that rested on the table.
āDo you remember how you felt when dad died?ā Hank asked you.
āWhat? Noā¦ We were so young.ā
āExactly. I donāt remember hurting his much, you know?ā
You felt your eyes fill with tears at his words. You got up and embraced him in a hug, hoping to pass him some comfort. āWeāre going to be okay, brother. I got you.ā
Adam Ruzek
As surprising as it may sound, having an older brother who never leaves you alone and is devoted to annoy you is not that bad. You were a really introverted kid, and for years Adam was your only friend. You were still a baby when your parents divorced. This made things even more complicated between them, but Adam has always been there for you. He held your hand when you walked for the first time. He taught you how to ride a bike and how to play football. Your dad always watched you two with fondness in his eyes. The three of you were pretty close. Bob was not perfect, but he tried his best. He knew that Adam felt like he had to protect you from everything, but sometimes that went too far.
āAdam, for the last time, tell me where the hell are they!ā Bob was starting to lose his patience.
āDad, I told you I donāt know.ā
āYouāre 20, for god's sake! You should stop covering for them.ā
Adam choose to stay silent this time. Theyāve been at it for 30 minutes now, and he already used all his excuses.
āFine, you want me to go to the police station? I can find them and cause a scene, sending police cars to wherever they are!ā
Adamās eyes widened at this, he knew it was a lost battle now. He told your dad about the party you went to, already feeling sorry for all the scolding youād get the next days. Later that night, Adam apologized for not being able to hold your dad longer.
You looked at him with a big smile on your face, āItās okay, Adam. Do you wanna know how my date went?ā
Dante Torres
Life could be hard. Too damn hard. You and Dante knew that very well. From a young age, both of you had to learn how to survive in a world where kids like you two were constantly thrown under the bus. Being a foreigner in the US was hard enough, but also being poor and living with an abusive stepfather made things worse. Dante had to grow up faster than usual. He had to become someone that you and your mother could rely on, even though he was way too young for any of this. Juvie. Gangs. You never lost hope that Dante would leave that life, find a good job, and be happy. The day he got into the academy was one of the happiest days of your life. Seeing him later in Intelligence made you so damn proud.
āI can't believe they're giving you a permanent spot!ā you were jumping into his arms before he could cross the threshold.
āYou saw my message?ā Dante said with a smile, hugging you back.
āOf course I did! You got the job, I'm so proud of you!ā
āWhere's mom?ā Dante asked, stepping back from the hug and closing the door. You could tell he was a little overwhelmed with the news himself.
āShe will be back soon. We have a surprise for you,ā you said nonchalantly.
āWhat? You guys didn't have to give me anything.ā
āDon't worry, bald head,ā you used the nickname he hated so much. āWe want to treat you, for everything you did for us.ā
You approached him again and held his hand, āWe love you, and we're so proud.ā
āI love you guys too.ā Dante smiled down at you. āBut never call me bald head again.ā
āOkay, bald head.ā
Please accept this post as my apology for being MIAā¦ I had this idea the other day so I decided to write it.
Iām aware that Adam has a sister that was mentioned in the show, but I donāt remember much about her, so thatās why she wasnāt mentioned. The same goes for his mother. For the others, I tried to include their parents and siblings as much as I could.
Chapter 4 of Upstead Foster Daughter is half written because I want it to be longer than the others, but inspiration hasn't hit me in a while.
Thank you again for all the love on my fics. It means a lot to me seeing all the likes and reblogs ā”
synopsis Ł ą£Ŗā Dean Winchester with a girlfriend thatās so gentle with him, he doesnāt know what to do with himself
contents Ł ą£Ŗā Dean Winchester x reader (f), non-explicit, softhearted!reader, yearner!dean, dean winchesters in love, dean getting the treatment he deserves, 1.5k word count
notes Ł ą£Ŗā Every time I see this man I have the strongest urge to take care of him, so I wrote a little about it
Dean doesnāt know what he did right in the his life to get a girl like you. Your gentle touches and sweet smiles werenāt meant for a guy like him. He was a broken, bruised, used, angry manā there was no world where heād ever deserve the privilege and responsibility of holding your heart in his rough hands.
Dean felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth before heād even opened his eyes. The warm morning sun filtering through the ratty old sheers, lighting up the outdated motel room with a soft glow that almost makes it look cozy.
Your lips were soft and warm as they pressed gentle kisses onto his skin. He was barely conscious, and you were hardly awake yourself, your frame curled into his side, practically draped over him.
He can feel your soft hand at his jaw as you litter affection across his features. Kissing every freckle, every scar, every curve that made up his pretty face.
āWādya doin?ā His gravely morning voice murmured, a small sleepy smile on his lips, and his hand moving to settle on your waist, fingers flexing against your skin.
āGāmorning, handsomeā is all you reply with, your own features mirroring his smile, leaning in again to press a soft kiss to his lips, then another, and another. Not caring about morning breath one bit.
His smile softened, almost shyly, at the nickname and finally his eyes start to flutter open. Your hairās a mess and youāre wearing one of his old band shirts, the stretched out collar practically hanging off your shoulder, flashing that sweet smile that makes his heart skip a beat.
His smile widens and he chases your lips, softly pulling you closer and kissing you back, sleepily but so lovingly.
He sighs in contentment, his hand moving from your waist to pull you even closer, your body comfortably settling over his. A sound leaving your lips, a sound that signifies you feel safe and happy in his armsā his arms. He still canāt believe it.
It was moments like this that Dean never wanted to see end, because if he thinks about it too long heāll start to wonder why you choose to be here.
A frustrated sigh leaves Deanās lips, hands scrubbing over his face as he sits back. An array of research, books, papers and Samās laptop scattered in front of him. Heād been at this for hours.
The door to the motel room creaked open, the key jingling in your hand. Sam was following a lead while you and Dean stayed behind to research, much to his dismay. You headed out a little bit ago to grab some brain fuel from a cafe close by.
You walked in and set down the takeout bag, the one with thank you printed repeatedly on the thin plastic, and the coffees. Pushing one towards Dean before he could even say āhiāā a black coffee with a sugar packet, and some cinnamon for a little extra pizazz, an order youād memorized so easily.
Youād always thought he was just one of those gruff guys who drank black coffee and thought it was pansy to have anything else, until one day you stole a sip in a desperate need for caffeine, and you were shocked, but the cinnamon was all you.
A little smirk pulled at his lips, despite his brain being fried, at the sight of the pie and it widened when he took a sip of his coffee.
āYou remembered,ā he murmured, letting the warmth of the drink take over.
āOf courseā itās what you always get,ā you shrugged, ābut I did add the cinnamonā you said with one of your sweet smiles, walking closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his hair. He somehow already begins to soften at that alone.
āFigured a little pick me up was in orderā you muttered, hands drifting to massage his shoulders a little, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "yāworking too hard.ā
Dean's shoulders relaxed, his eyes closing for a moment, hand coming up to briefly squeeze yours. Humming a soft sound of agreement.
He played it off well but something as small as you knowing his coffee order and telling him to take a break, pulled at his chest. Just the fact youād cared enough about minuscule details enough to memorize them, for him, and taking time to take care of him did something to his insides.
Another day, another night coming back to a motel room after killing something awful. You, Sam, and Dean walk into the motel room, everyone banged up and exhausted. Sam practically beelines it to shower first, leaving you and Dean to finish peeling off your dirty bloody layers.
āSit,ā your gentle voice broke the silence, tone syrupy sweet even now, your arms reaching for the homemade first aid kit thatās saved all of you so many times.
āmāfine, sweetheartā Dean mumbled, waving you off, his tone dripping with fatigue. He winced just a little as he pulled off his jacketā definitely not helping his case.
āDeanāā you warned, meaning it even though the kindness in your voice hadnāt wavered. You sat the, now opened, kit on the bed, motioning for him to sit again.
He complied with a little sigh of defeat, he couldnāt resist those soft pleading eyes of yours even if he tried. You got a rag damp with the spare water bottle on the nightstand, walking back over to Dean, standing between his legs and tilting up his face. His hands automatically settling themselves on your hips, like it was an inevitable gravitational pull.
The damp rag glided across his jaw, cleaning the half-dried monster blood off his face while your other hand cradled his head, your thumb absentmindedly caressing, just a little, where it rested on his skin.
The concentration on your face was so unnecessarily adorable, Dean just couldnāt look away. The tiny crease in your brow, the focus in your eyes, it made something warm grow in his chest.
āThere he is,ā you half-whispered under your breath once youād finished, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His heart fluttered and a smile teased his lips at the endearment, hands flexing where they rested over your jeans.
He was quiet, suspiciously quiet, as you finished patching him upā he didnāt even make a slightly suggestive joke when you told him to take off his shirt, in order to get to his shoulder.
Unbeknownst to you, he was having a mini mental breakdown every time you touched him, every time you whispered a little āsorryā with a kiss when heād tensed or winced, every glance or smile you threw his way.
Nobody ever took care of him, he took care of him along with everyone else. But you take care of him like itās as easy as breathing, like itās somehow automatic. He couldnāt let you slip away. You were the soft to his hard, the gentle to his jagged, the warmth to his emptiness, heās never felt so affected by one person.
Heād thanked you when you were done, with the softest voice he could muster up. The smile it brought to your face made him want to speak like that forever.
āYou donāt gotta thank me, Dee.ā You replied with a kiss, ācanāt have my guy hurt and bleeding all over the place, now can we?ā
He just pulled you in again as a response, arms circling your waist, kissing you deeper than the little peck you gave him. You melted into it anyway, dropping the roll of bandage in your hands and your fingers moving to his hair.
When he pulled away you were a little breathless, cheeks dusted pink and there was a smile plastered on your face. Before you could say anything or remind him that Sam would be done showering any minute, he breaks the silence.
āI love youā
You freeze, genuinely pauseā still looking in his eyes, wondering if you heard him wrong or if Dean Winchester actually just said I love you.
Before you could ask for clarification he kissed you again, and of course you followed despite your state of shock. It was a shorter kiss but nonetheless heartfelt. You blinked when he pulled away again.
Yepā that was definitely an I love you.
It wasnāt a youāre sweet, or a thanks, angel, or even a love ya, like usual. It wasnāt casual, it was a real āI love youā and he said it with the softest expression youāve ever seen him wear. He didnāt stutter, didnāt hesitate, didnāt take it back, and wasn't drunk. He was stone cold sober.
You didnāt think youād ever hear him actually say itā sure, you knew he cares about you, he likes having you around, and he kisses you like itās his birthright, butā youāve always loved or cared about people more than they loved you. Not to mention, Dean's reputation didnāt really scream commitment.
āI mean itā¦ā he practically whispered, no doubt sensing your shock. You snapped out of it, a big shy smile growing bright on your lips despite how hard you tried to contain it.
āYeah?ā¦ā you murmured, your smile audible. You ran your hands through his short strands, suddenly a little nervous.
He just nodded, the most lovesick expression taking over his face, your stunned state wasnāt lost on him. It felt like a physical pain to his chest that him saying I love you was so unbelievable that it would render you speechless, but the thought was interrupted by a little squeal escaping from behind your lips and many excited kisses.
summary: after erasing herself from his memories to save him, she spends years silently yearning for his love, unaware that fate would also ensure Peter was forgotten by the rest of the world. But no spell can break a bond that always finds its way back.
masterlist
Part two Part three bonus
Most of the time, Professor Xavier underestimated the true power of a pair of headphones. Maximoff had given them to you a few months ago, right after seeing you on the verge of a breakdown and hearing your confession: how unbearable it was to get used to the incessant tide of other people's minds, the torture of listening to everyone, all the time.
āThey help me when I don't want to think about anything,ā he told you at the time, shrugging with that effortless lightness so typical of him.
Peter was older, a mutant who had been adapting to the institute's rhythm for much longer, so you decided to take his word for it. From then on, the headphones became indispensable; a tool you couldn't go anywhere without.
Charles's teachings helped, of course. They taught you to adjust your mind as if turning the knob of an old radio, isolating frequencies and tuning into white noise. But there were days when fatigue soaked into your bones and you didn't have the strength to be your own filter. You just wanted the murmur of humanity to turn off.
The Professor never stopped you from crossing the mansion's gates. After all, Westchester wasn't a prison and you weren't a captive; you were free to leave whenever you desired. That was why, upon communicating your wish to travel to the city, you only received an understanding look and a serene nod.
The truth was that not even you knew what you were looking for in Manhattan. Perhaps you harbored the childish hope that the rattling of the train would gift you a few minutes of sleep. You had been dragging heavy insomnia for weeks. At first, when your powers awakened, the nights were a nightmare of invisible screams drilling into your ears in the dark. But this time was different.
This time, the interference had an implicit name. A voice.
You couldn't stop listening to his thoughts: they were a tangle of crushing responsibilities, recent losses, and a pain so deep it bordered on devotion. Among the millions of minds fluctuating through the metropolis, his possessed a unique frequency that found its way to you, piercing through your defenses without asking for permission. It wasn't the loudest mind nor the most imposing. It simply... claimed you.
As the days went by, you stopped perceiving it as background noise. There was a painful familiarity in its echo. You felt like you had known him all your life, even if you had never seen his face. It was an inexplicable telepathic connection, an invisible thread completely escaping Charles's manuals and theories about the human mind.
Sometimes, with your forehead pressed against the pillow, you wondered if he felt that same pull on the other side of nothingness. If he sensed that, on his darkest nights, there was an unknown mind keeping him company in the silence. That doubt floated in the air until exhaustion overcame you, leaving you with the eternal question about who that stranger was inhabiting your sleepless nights.
You liked the city. It didn't have the peace of Westchester, but it possessed a brutal honesty. You thought about dropping by to see your parents, but dismissed the idea immediately. You didn't want to face their forced smiles nor the contained panic in their eyes every time you made a sudden movement. Your presence was an uncomfortable reminder of imperfection. It was better to leave them in peace; after all, they had your sister. She wasn't a mutant. She was the future they could boast about without whispering.
At the mansion, life was relatively peaceful. You got along well with most, though the relationship with the other telepaths was distant. They knew the history of your past breakdown and treated you like glass about to shatter, fearing a flaw in your mind would trigger a domino effect. Curiously, you found more comfort in the older ones: Maximoff's hyperactivity, Logan's protective cynicism, or the quiet conversations with Beast.
And then there was the Professor. Charles frequently sought you out after classes ended to evaluate your progress. There was no fear in his gaze... in fact, there was nothing. His mind was the only place in the universe where absolute silence reigned. Trying to peek into Xavier's thoughts was like trying to crack a safe using a cooked noodle: an absurd thing.
Inside your backpack traveled an object of personal cult: a worn copy of The Secret Garden. Even though it was a children's read, the story of that hidden, healing corner brought you an almost physical comfort. You understood all too well the imperious need to find a refuge where no one could reach you.
The book's origin was a haze. Maybe you had bought it for a couple of dollars at a street market, or perhaps it belonged to your family before everything broke. The pages wore that yellowish tone that nostalgics sigh for, and the corners of the cover were so worn that any bibliophile would have suffered seeing it. For you, however, it was irreplaceable.
On the first page, written in slightly faded ink but elegant calligraphy, you read a dedication:
For whenever you need a quiet place
ā P.P
None of your relatives or acquaintances matched those initials. You always assumed the book had belonged to a stranger who forgot to claim his love note before selling it. After all, the world was full of lost memories.
You adjusted your back against the train seat and buried your nose in the pages, letting the smell of old paper dry your thoughts while your eyes scanned lines you knew by heart. Outside, the landscape transformed. The greenness of tall trees and gravel paths gradually gave way to the brutal architecture of civilization: small brick neighborhoods, clotheslines crisscrossing between windows, rusted rails, and graffiti shouting names on concrete walls.
Bit by bit, Manhattan's skyscrapers emerged on the horizon like glass giants claiming the sky. The train crossed the last metallic bridges and ventured into the guts of a city that never slept.
Stepping off, you began walking without a clear destination. The city was the antithesis of the isolation you usually sought: a hotbed of fragmented thoughts, financial anxieties, and absurd hurries clashing with one another. However, there was something liberating in that chaos. Among millions of voices screaming at the same time, your own cracks went unnoticed. Nobody looked at you. Nobody feared you.
To cross the streets you didn't need to look at the traffic lights; a light mental pulse was enough to switch the lights at your convenience, opening a path for yourself in a manufactured bubble of calm. Playing in your ears was the playlist Maximoff had built for you on Spotify. Although the concept of streaming seemed like an unnecessary modernity to him, he had taken the trouble to compile hours of classic and alternative rock.
You walked for hours until your steps came to a dead halt before the facade of a building.
Your old high school.
There was no logical reason to have ended up there, but the red brick walls triggered a pang in your stomach. You stood on the sidewalk, watching students pour out in flocks amid laughter, shoves, and innocence; that kind of carefreeness that only exists before reality crushes you.
You wondered what it would feel like to be one of them. What your life would have been like if your mutation had never awakened. If your only battles had been physics grades, prom, or deciding which college to apply to, instead of learning to contain an ability that threatened to destroy you from within.
You would have been an normal girl. Ordinary.
The word felt bitter in your mouth. Distant. Like a suit that belonged to someone else.
You searched your memory for a face, a name, anything to justify the nostalgia tightening your chest, but only found blanks. You vaguely remembered belonging to the debate club and the science club, but the faces of your classmates were unrecognizable. Time had taken care of that.
You thought about crossing the entrance, but immediately lost heart. It made no sense. A stranger lurking in the hallways would only draw suspicious looks.
You turned around and let your feet carry you aimlessly. It was then that intuition returned, this time with a magnetic clarity. It wasn't an external thought or a telepathic intrusion; it was a pull in the center of your chest, as if an invisible thread tied to your ribs were being tugged from somewhere in the city.
You boarded a city bus without looking at the route sign. The need to move forward flattened any doubt. You watched through the window as blocks of buildings succeeded one another, trying to convince yourself that it was just a neurotic impulse, a side effect of fatigue. But the pull didn't yield.
You got off a few stops later and started walking by inertia, turning corners almost instinctively, as if navigating a map engraved in your genes.
In your headphones, the final chords of MGMT were playing. Oracular Spectacular was an album that seemed to evoke memories of a life you weren't sure you had lived, a mixture of psychedelia and melancholy that fit the moment perfectly.
Pushing the door open, the chime of a bell announced your entrance. The place was practically empty, an oasis of silence you were deeply grateful for. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage needed to slide the headphones down to your neck and prepare for the inevitable impact of mental noise.
āHi, what can I get for you?ā
Behind the counter, a girl with dark skin offered you a warm smile. Her nametag read Michelle, though your mind had already caught her name a second prior. However, when trying to go deeper, you bumped into a subtle wall; her mind was complex, dense, hard to decipher at first glance. Some people were just that unreadable.
You ordered a latte out of obligation. You hated coffeeācaffeine usually triggered unbearable migrainesābut needing to buy something was the price to pay to stay there.
That was when you noticed the boy on the other side of the counter: Ned Leeds, Michelle's friend. Ned's mind, unlike hers, was an open book. Both shared a vibe of contained nervousness, a low tension floating between them. It felt like something... work-related? No, academic.
āI'll bring it to your table in a moment.ā
You nodded mechanically and settled at a small table next to the window. On the opposite wall, a turned-on television silently broadcast amateur video footage: Spider-Man swinging between skyscrapers. You remembered the events of last year, the cracks in the sky, and the multiversal threat everyone talked about. You also remembered Charles's blunt response when you asked why you all hadn't intervened: āIt's not our fight.ā
You looked at the screen with bitterness. And even if you had wanted to help... what on earth could you have done against the collapse of the universe?
You wondered if at any point the world would be ready for mutants. It was an open secret: the beloved figure Charles had lost years ago, a mutant so unstable he had been the worst calling card to society. Many of the mansion's residents had seen him on television as children; a few others knew him personally. You could only rely on rumors.
Reality was much grayer. There were no gifts or new shoes. In the bag she only carried a change of clothes and the medical studies of her grandmother, whom she was going to nurse at the hospital during the night shift after working all day. In her head there was no excitement, but an accumulated fatigue of weeks, the worry of not knowing how to pay for the month's medications, and the faint hope that the old woman would recognize her for at least a couple of minutes before falling asleep.
You gently looked away, with a pang of bitterness in your chest.
Why was reality so sad? Was any of those passersby actually having a good day?
You moved your eyes across the sidewalk, almost desperately searching for a flash of light amid the tide of tired faces. And then you saw it. A little boy, no older than five, hopping along next to his mother. He held a green plastic dinosaur in his hands, and brushing his mind for an instant, you found no sorrow. Only a gigantic happiness because his mother had bought him the toy he had been waiting weeks for. In his universe, in that precise second, nothing bad existed.
You smiled to yourself and exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Somehow, that tiny thought comforted you; it was like a crack of sunlight amid a cloudy sky. Reality could be heavy, yes, but at least it wasn't entirely lost.
You heard the chime at the entrance, and your body responded before your mind did, turning you around to observe the newly arrived customer. A slender boy, with brown hair somewhat messy from the street wind and a sweet, incredibly expressive gaze, but with a distinct shadow of fatigue under his eyes. He wore a worn jacket that was a bit too big for him and had his hands buried in his pockets. He had that kind of noble, empathetic face that instantly conveys trust.
However, what left you dumbfounded was the fact that you heard absolutely nothing.
Not a single thought. Not the slightest murmur. His mind was in complete, inexplicable silence. It wasn't Professor Xavier's impenetrable and calculated barrier; it was something different, an absolute void, yet strangely warm. After spending the day submerged in the city's chaotic bustle, encountering such calm in a stranger left you breathless.
He didn't notice your presence; instead, his eyes were fixed on the waitress carrying your coffee.
āEnjoy,ā she exclaimed kindly.
He didn't take his eyes off her, and you didn't take your eyes off him.
You stammered a thanks to the girl, and she returned to her position behind the counter. He, seeing her return, lowered his gaze and hurried to take a seat at one of the tables.
Upon reaching the counter, Michelle and Ned began chatting in a casual tone. After a few moments of fluid conversation, she leaned against the bar, looked at the boy waiting at the table, and asked what he was ordering.
Your heart took a violent leap. You froze in your seat, paralyzed mid-movement, while an icy shiver ran down your spine. That cadence, the exact intonation, the soft and worn nuance... You didn't need to read his thoughts to know. His spoken voice was enough.
It was the same voice that had been sneaking into your hardest nights for weeks. The lonely mind that found yours in the dark was just a few steps away from you.
That was why you had gone there. To find him.
Once again, you tried to venture into his mind. You launched your telepathy searching for that crack through which you used to hear him, but it was like running into an impenetrable wall; his mind remained in absolute silence. However, at the exact instant you brushed against his barrier, the boy flinched in his chair and went stiff all of a sudden, as if an electric shock had run up the back of his neck.
He turned his head instinctively until his eyes met yours head-on. He held your gaze for an eternal second, charged with a strange, alert tension. He hadn't just blocked you effortlessly; impossibly, that boy seemed to have felt that you were trying to enter his head.
He blinked several times as if trying to discard the idea, sure it had only been an illusion. He focused on a menu hanging above the counter despite having already placed his order, projecting a contained tension that made him look out of place. Worried, perhaps.
You looked toward the window, though now the stories of the passersby lacked meaning. You closed your eyes for an instant, searching in the silence for an answer to the enigma a few feet away, but found nothing.
Determined to end the uncertainty once and for all, you snapped them open and stood up, ready to cross the small space separating you from him. The unexpected part was that the stranger had the exact same idea. Before you could react, the two of you collided head-on. The impact made you lose your balance, and you fell backward onto the floor, letting out a stifled murmur of surprise.
He apologized immediately, visibly embarrassed. Then he crouched to your height and quickly extended his hand to help you up. Confused, you accepted his help, and at the exact instant his fingers closed around your hand, an electric shock coursed through your veins.
A memory flashed into your mind.
The afternoon sun hit your face fully when you heard his voice calling you. You had decided to go to the park to rest, silently celebrating that you had finally survived finals week. You lay on the fresh grass, letting the early summer heat envelope you.
āDo you think I'll do badly in English?ā he asked, breaking the silence while looking at the treetops.
āA little, yeah. But not enough to get an F,ā you replied honestly, turning toward him.
āThank goodness. May would kill me.ā
āYou've never failed a subject, not since we were in kindergarten.ā
āNo,ā he admitted, glancing at you. āThat's why I know she'd kill me.ā
You let out a genuine laugh, contemplating the comical face he made whenever a truth disguised as a joke escaped him. There was a lightness to those days that now felt like a distant dream.
āIf I get bad grades, my parents will probably blame you,ā you teased.
āAnd why's that?ā he asked, feigning outrage.
āThey'll say you're a distraction.ā
At that moment, a white butterfly fluttered between the two of you and lightly brushed your cheek before flying away. He smiled tenderly and reached out, brushing with his fingertips the exact spot where the insect's wings had tickled you.
āThat's not true,ā he murmured, leaving his hand suspended near your face.
āIt kind of is,ā you confessed, shrugging as you felt warmth rise to your cheeks. āYou spend all day in my thoughts. But they don't have to find out about that.ā
Blush instantly stained his cheeks. He tried to hide it by looking down and breaking into a clumsy smile, but it was in vain. You were fascinated watching him get nervous. It was as if he couldn't fully process that you loved him with that blind, boundless intensity that only exists in first love.
āI could help you study for retakes,ā he offered, clearing his throat.
āYeah, sure. Because you're a nerd and all that.ā
āNo,ā he corrected softly, searching your eyes. āBecause you're my girlfriend. And I want you to get good grades so we can go to college together.ā
āPlease! Are you already thinking about college?ā you laughed, covering your face with your hands. āWe're barely starting high school.ā
āYeah, but it doesn't hurt to plan, right?ā
āYou worry too much about the future.ā
āAnd you don't?ā
āI don't care what the future holds,ā you said simply, intertwining your fingers with his as the afternoon wind tousled his hair. āI only care about enjoying the present. About being here. With you.ā
The warmth of the hand you were holding grew hazy with the memory of that day. Suddenly, a new scene rushed in headlong.
The whole school knew. It was the only topic of conversation in the hallways: they knew that because of you, that boy was in the hospital. During your constant trips to the principal's office, you had managed to overhear that his parents wanted to sue you, though at your age you weren't sure if that was legally possible.
You just wanted to scream at them that you couldn't help it. That you never wanted to hurt him in the first place.
Now everything hurt, but not in your body; the pain was entrenched in your head. You were sitting outside the principal's office for the hundredth time that week. You had missed almost every class, and when you tried to show up at the debate club meeting, they simply slammed the door in your face.
You wondered how much longer you could endure in this limbo. By that point, your expulsion was practically a done deal.
And then there was the torment of the minds around you. You didn't know how to silence them; they entered your head unfiltered, all the time, drilling into your ears until becoming unbearable noise.
Why on earth was this happening to you?
āHey,ā you suddenly heard.
You didn't know if the murmur came from inside your head or from the hallway, until looking up brought you back to reality: he was standing in front of you.
āThere you are,ā he said softly.
āHi,ā you whispered, looking at him with guilt. āWhat are you doing here? There's a club meeting today.ā
āYeah, but I didn't really feel like going,ā he replied, shrugging.
Lie. He was fascinated by the debate club. But the worry of finding you had been stronger.
He took a seat beside you. You immediately avoided his gaze, unable to meet his eyes.
āAre you okay?ā he asked.
āYeah,ā you lied, tightening your hands on your lap. āThey just summoned me again. You know... because of everything that's happened lately.ā
āYeah...ā he sighed, resting his elbows on his knees.
Even though he kept quiet, you didn't need him to speak to know exactly what was crossing his mind. His mental pulse was a tide of fatigue, deep sadness, and a touch of pity. He felt afraid, yes, but not toward you or what you could doārather, for what the world was going to do to you.
An interminable few seconds passed in which the noise of the school threatened to crush you again, until he seemed to gather enough courage to organize his thoughts.
āIt wasn't your fault,ā he blurted out, searching your eyes. āYou know that, right?ā
āThe guy is in the hospital,ā you replied with a broken voice, feeling tears fill your eyes. āI don't even know what I did or how I did it. It just... happened. People are right to be afraid of me.ā
āThey don't understand anything,ā he insisted, turning his body toward you. āI know you. I know who you are. This is an accident, not something you wanted. I... I don't understand how you did it. But you're not crazy, and you're not bad either.ā
āI feel like I'm going crazy,ā you confessed in a thread of a voice, bringing your hands to your temples as the din of other minds began drilling into you from within again. āThere are too many voices. I can't turn them off. It's killing me.ā
He didn't hesitate for another second. He moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a firm, warm hug that seemed to freeze time.
You pressed your face against his shoulder, clinging to his jacket as if it were the only anchor amid the storm. Suddenly, the chaos in your head seemed to dim. The contact of his arms didn't silence the voices of the world, but the certainty of his affection turned everything else into a distant noise, an insignificant echo.
āI'm not leaving you alone in this,ā he whispered in your ear, squeezing you a little tighter against him. āWe're going to figure it out. I promise you.ā
You had closed your eyes for an instant, and when you opened them, the setting had changed completely.
He was watching you from the edge of your bed, with a mix of resignation and worry in his gaze.
āA boarding school?ā he asked in a low voice.
āYeah... It's like a school for gifted youngsters or something like that,ā you murmured without looking up, focused on folding clothes and packing them into suitcases.
Every now and then, he stretched out to hand you an item of clothing left on the bed, trying to keep himself useful so as not to break down.
āAnd for how long will it be?ā
āI don't know. A few months, I guess... Until things cool down around here.ā
In the end, the hospital boy's parents hadn't filed the lawsuit, but they had taken it upon themselves to spread the rumor to every corner of the high school. The stares, the harassment, and the social pressure ultimately proved you right: expulsion had been inevitable. Your parents, overwhelmed by the situation and not knowing how to handle what was happening to you, had found that special place as a last resort to rid themselves of a problem beyond their control.
āYeah, well... makes sense,ā he commented, though the lack of conviction in his voice was glaring.
His mind was sending clear signals: he was holding something back. And you knew perfectly well what it was.
āHey, I'll come back to visit you every now and then, okay?ā you said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into the room. āAnd if I talk to the principal... maybe he'll even let me invite you over for a weekend.ā
You dropped what you were doing and sat beside him.
āIf you want to go, of course.ā
āOf course I want to,ā he answered immediately. He was completely sincere. āIt's just that... Westchester is pretty far.ā
āIt's not that big of a deal,ā you tried to encourage him, though you knew his real concern wasn't the distance, but the fare money.
You sought his hand on the mattress, intertwining your fingers while looking at him with a silent plea reflected in your eyes.
āWe can video call every night. Text each other all the time... You'll see I won't feel that far.ā
He smiled that sweet way he did when he really wanted to believe things would turn out fine, and nodded silently.
āYeah, you're right. It'll work.ā
You leaned toward him and stole a soft kiss from his lips. It was a brief gesture, but loaded with all the fear, love, and uncertainty you both shared.
āIt'll only be a few months to see how they teach over there. And then I'll come back. I promise.ā
A final series of memories surfaced. Though when your mind shifted to them, you immediately felt a tightness in your chest.
It hadn't been just a few months. The semester was consuming its final days, and you were still trapped in Westchester.
You weren't going to lie to yourself: you were starting to get used to the place. To the bucolic peace of the mansion, the warmth of your new peers, and the institute's teaching. It was an idyllic refuge. Professor Xavier had personally taken care of manipulating the threads of collective memory at your old school; he didn't erase the incident, but he wiped your face from everyone's memories. To the school board, it had just been an unfortunate physical altercation between two students whose names were better off forgotten. Your name was clean, but your soul remained chained to Queens.
To him.
You had sworn to write to him daily, to keep the flame alive against all odds. But at first, messages flowed like an overflowing river; later, reality turned into a dam. Classes demanded an almost superhuman level of concentration if you wanted to control the chaotic mass of your powers. Guilt devoured your chest with every hour that passed without replying to him.
When you finally managed to scrape a free weekend to return to the city, reuniting with him was a dagger to the heart.
Even without wanting to, you heard the bitter tide of his thoughts. Weeks ago, he had begged you to go to the high school dance with him, excited like a child, but Charles forbade you from going so as not to expose yourself.
āIt's okay, I understand,ā he had told you at the time, swallowing his disappointment.
But telepathy didn't allow you to deceive yourself. It wasn't just the missed party. It was the cruel taunts in the school hallways when he said he had a girlfriend, an invisible girl whom no one ever saw. It was the contempt of his classmates, the pity condensed in the teachers' gazes, the silenced disappointment of a boy who had to defend the existence of a love that seemed like a ghost.
You couldn't hold his hand in the street, or invite him out for ice cream, or be a living presence in his everyday life.
Those invisible wounds accumulated until they became an unsustainable mountain. And though he never uttered a single reproachāthough he swallowed his tears so as not to make you feel guiltyāyou felt how he was bleeding out from within. He felt deeply lonely, desperately clinging to the sporadic visits of the ghost of the girl who was once his world.
One night, while the moon bathed the roof in silver, the question pierced you like broken glass:
Did he deserve a half-life? Did he deserve to love a shadow?
No. Good heavens, no. He deserved the full light.
āYou seem strange,ā he said.
The two of you were sitting on the fire escape outside his window, with the cold night air sneaking through your clothes.
āAre you okay?ā
āI am,ā you murmured, clinging to the iron bars with white knuckles so your voice wouldn't shatter. āHey... can I ask you something?ā
āAnything.ā
āDo you really think us... is meant to work?ā
āOf course it is,ā he answered immediately, searching your eyes with a blind faith that broke your soul. āWe've made it this far, haven't we?ā
But the words didn't matter. Your mind drowned in the tide of his true answer: a desperate inner plea not to lose you, crushed by the overwhelming fear that you were already leaving.
āWhy do you ask that?ā he added, his voice trembling slightly.
āBecause I'm not the girl you deserve.ā
āAre you breaking up with me?ā He turned abruptly.
His hands had already moved to your shoulders, holding you with the same gentleness he had for so many years.
āI... I love you. I don't give a damn about the distance! I don't care what happened with your powers or any of this. I mean it. I love you.ā
āAnd I love you,ā you sobbed, feeling tears held back for months threatening to choke you. āI love you in a way you can't imagine. But...ā
āNo. There is no 'but'. Don't do this to me. Please.ā
His hand gripped yours, the desperation palpable in the touch. The silence was dense, heavy, drowned out by the distant noise of city traffic. But the sentence was already passed in the deepest part of your being. Because you loved him too much to destroy him.
Even though you both changed the subject, the tension remained. Shortly after, you went back into the room. He lay on the bottom bunk, defeated, his chest heaving with silent panic. You leaned over him, stopping mere inches from his face, wrapped in the dim light.
āYou know I would never hurt you, right?ā you whispered, caressing his cheek with infinite tenderness.
āI know,ā he replied in a thread of a voice.
āAnd you know I'm going to love you no matter what happens, right?ā
āI know.ā
He surged forward and kissed you. It was a desperate, almost voracious kiss, a trench against destiny. He held you by the waist and the nape of your neck with a strength bordering on agony, pressing you against his chest as if sensing you were turning into water slipping through his fingers.
Tears spilled uncontrollably from your eyes, wetting both your cheeks. He started upon feeling you cry and lowered his hands, alarmed, but you didn't give him time to speak. You kissed him again. You kissed him until breath escaped your lungs, mixing the bitter taste of your tears with the warm breath escaping his lips. It was the kiss of a lifetime condensed into a few seconds.
Trembling, you brought your fingers to your temple. A stifled, heart-wrenching sob escaped your chest.
Would you be capable? Was your love so boundless, so destructive, as to commit this cruel mercy?
Yes. Because loving him meant saving him from yourself.
With a silent scream that tore your mind apart from the inside, you deployed your telepathy and ventured into his memory.
You began erasing yourself.
You gradually dissolved the stolen kisses, the laughs in the debate club, and the college promises, but also the childhood afternoons in his living room, the scraped knees, and an entire life growing up together. You erased every conversation, every glance, and every shared heartbeat, transforming a colossal love into a hazy fog, into a mere nameless void.
You exterminated over a decade of memories piece by piece, watching the light in his eyes grow dull as the connections severed in his brain.
Your own mind wailed at the sacrilege of erasing the only pure thing you had left in the world.
Feeling the weight of his body relax under the telepathic sedation, you laid his head on the pillow with infinite sweetness. His eyes, now serene and empty of you, closed slowly.
You leaned down one last time, brushing your lips against his cool forehead.
āGoodbye, Peter.ā
Peter. That was his name.
āA-Are you really okay? Did you get hurt?ā
You were already on your feet. You hadn't realized tears were streaming down uncontrollably until you ran your fingers across your cheeks. Your hands were trembling.
An excruciating doubt seized you inevitably: what had made you forget him? How could such a piece of your soul disappear from your life?
āDo you need me to call someone?ā
You hadn't articulated a single word since he helped you up. Your absolute silence only fueled the confusion and concern growing in his eyes with every passing second.
He was so different. He looked older, mature, undeniably handsome... but there was no doubt: it was him. It was your Peter.
From his perspective, you must have looked completely terrified. Your fixed stare and ragged breathing made you look as though you were seeing a dead man brought back to life.
āNo,ā you managed to reply.
Stumbling, you backed away from him. You grabbed your belongings immediately and walked to the counter, leaving a bill that doubled the value of what you had ordered.
Then you walked out. Without looking back.
Let me know if you want to be tagged in part two! ā”
notes: sorry for the disappearance, family shit be going down, but i am back š pure fluff & clingy dean, no use of y/n
Being the Briar University hockey teamās social media manager meant you always had an excuse to be asking the guys questions on cameras and having them try different trends. Being Dean DiLaurentisās girlfriend meant you often took advantage of this opportunity to take as many videos of your boyfriend as you wanted. And while it was mostly thirst traps of him working out, a recent social media trend made inspiration strike.
It started out small. You had your phone camera propped up on the coffee table in front of you while Dean moved around your apartment, getting ready for practice. You hit record just a minute before he was about to leave and smiled warmly up at him when he leaned down to press a kiss to your head. It wasn't odd for you to be recording yourself, as you often did product reviews and gave updates on the team. So he didn't think anything of it until he slung his bag over his shoulder and opened the door. āBye, baby, I love you,ā he called from the doorway, waiting for your reply.
You forced a normal smile on your face when you called back, ābye, have a good practice!ā The door was nearly shut before it swung open again.
āI will, love you,ā he repeated, hand waiting impatiently on the door knob.
You bit back a laugh and turned your attention back to your laptop in front of you, pretending to be distracted with something else. āOkay, bye babe,ā you kept your tone as casual as possible and didn't let him see your smile when you heard him huff at the door.
You heard his bag drop to the floor and looked up to see his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. His bottom lip was slightly pouted out and you had to stop yourself from giving in just at the sight of him. āI said, I love you," he exasperated and threw his hands up dramatically.
āI heard you, Dean, and I told you to have a good practice,ā you said in faux confusion and tilted your head at him, āwhy are you still here? You're gonna be late.ā
āI don't care if I'm late,ā he frowned and knelt down next to the arm of the couch so he could rest his chin on top of his hands there, āwhat's going on? You didn't say it backā¦ are we okay?ā
And really, you didn't have that much strength to begin with. So whatever resolve was left completely melted when you heard the concern in his voice and saw the worried look on his face. āOh, baby,ā you finally let out a laugh and reached for him, āit was just a prank video for the account. I love you, too, of course I do.ā
The video cut off just before he tackled you to the couch. He didn't leave until you said āI love youā more times than you could count and ended up making himself half an hour late to practice.
After how well the first video did and all of the ideas you were getting messages about, you decided to up your game. This time, you brought Garrett, Logan, and Tucker in too to avoid suspicion from Dean.
āAlright guys, you guys are each gonna try three milkshakes and see if you can guess the flavor. They're supposed to be really crazy specific flavors,ā you explained, setting up the drinks in front of the camera.
Dean went first, both of you sat at the bar stools as he sipped the first milkshake. His eyes lit up at the taste and despite the entire video idea being fake, you did at least get a flavor you knew heād love. āOh my god, this tastes just like those cherry chocolates we get at Christmas,ā he said and went back for another sip.
āReally? Here, let me try,ā you held your hand out for him to pass you the cup. You did your best to keep your face serious as you used the bottom of your shirt to wipe the straw off before taking a sip of it.
Dean watched you with furrowed brows and hesitantly took the cup back when you offered it. He went through the same process with the next cup before handing it to you, ātry this one, I think youāll like it.ā
You accepted the cup and wiped the straw again, ignoring his small scoff before sipping it. āI'm not sick, you know,ā he said, confused.
āI know,ā you shrugged and handed the cup back to him.
Before he handed you the last cup, he made a show of licking the entire straw and wrapping his lips as low around the straw as he could reach. You scrunched your nose and let out a small chuckle. āWhat are you doing? Don't be gross,ā you snatched the cup from him but didn't get to wipe the straw before he was taking it back from you.
āOkay, enough!ā He huffed and popped the lid off to get a mouthful of the milkshake before grabbing you to pull you into a kiss. Heād swallowed the milkshake, but you could still taste it on his lips and his tongue that was making sure to claim every inch of your mouth.
āDean! What the hell?ā You laughed, wiping the remnants of the milkshake from your lips.
He shrugged with a small smirk on his face and took another sip of the milkshake. āJust making sure you could taste it,ā he said innocently before getting up for the next guy to film.
The last prank you managed was small, meant to be silly, but Dean was now always suspicious when you had your phone pointed at him or your camera filming in general.
So this time, you had your laptop open on the coffee table, pointed towards the two of you with your camera on and something covering the screen so he couldn't see the video. Your feet were in his lap and you had your phone in your hand while he leaned back with a xbox controller in his hands.
āOh my god, babe, you're not gonna believe this,ā you faked a gasp, keeping your phone in front of you.
He glanced over at you before back at the TV, āwhat? What happened?ā
You bit your lip to hold back a laugh and nudged him with your foot. āI just found Tucker on Tinder! You have to see this, he went full Texas on his profile,ā you said dramatically and pulled up the fake screenshot you'd made of a profile with Tuckās photo.
āNo way,ā he gasped and hit pause on his game before turning to you, ālet me see, let me see!ā You handed your phone over and watched him grab it with excitement before his eyes landed on the Tinder logo and it all clicked slowly into place. āWait a minute, you found this yourself? Why are you on Tinder? While you're sitting right next to me!ā
Any of his anger or worry disappeared when you burst into a fit of giggles and he dropped your phone with a groan. āThis is just getting mean,ā he whined, grabbing your feet and tugging you closer to him.
His fingers found your sides and tickled relentlessly until you were out of breath and calling for a truce. āOkay, okay! No more pranks,ā you laughed and swatted his hands away.
āOh no, you've started it now. Don't think I won't get my payback,ā he grinned down at you and reached over to close your laptop before you spent the rest of the night making it up to him for all of the silly pranks.
after harry and his gf break up, thereās only one person who heād call. who heād been waiting to call.
based on -> this request
CW: emotionally disloyal harry, AGE GAP, oral sex (fem), p in v penetration (unprotected), heavy dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, and all things sexy! little plot mostly smut CURRENT 2026 HARRY
likes and reblogs sooo appreciated!
WC: 5k
You canāt say you were too surprised reading the headlines that morning.
It was a warm Saturday morning when you saw them. You were perched on the thick rim of your window, body melded into the corner as you looked out to the city that surrounded you. A glass of lemon water in one hand and your phone in the otherācontent.
Harry Styles Splits With Girlfriend After Year Long Relationship.
A Messy Break Between Two Global SuperstarsāWho is at Fault?
You couldnāt have been more unphased. Itās not like the two had a groundbreakingly amazing relationship. You knew they couldnāt. Not after you and him.
This was a matter of time, in your eyes. Before her, there was you. And you? You were all Harry had been looking for. And you knew it. So much so that at the start of his new relationship, you didnāt feel threatened in the slightest.
You went through your day as normal that Saturday, running some errands, grabbing a bite for lunch. Ignoring the string of texts from some friends asking if youāve seen the news. Even a text from your own mother, only causing a large eye roll and a swipe left to dismiss it.
So when your phone rang at 10 at night with an endearingly familiar name, you decided itād be the first notification you responded to that day.
āHey,ā you answer calmly and levelheaded, now resting on your mattress with a wide smile. Your stomach was pressed into your comforter as your feet swung back and forth behind you, rubbing into one another in smooth passing. You were adorned in sleep shorts a little too short for your own good and a matching cotton tank top that fell loose on your skin.
āHi,ā his voice rasped on the other line, āhow are you?ā
You have to hide your chuckle at his attempt at kind conversation. Youād rather he skip to the good part.
āIām good, just in bed,ā you sigh, āare you holding up okay? Saw the news.ā
An empty ask that was fully forced out of you.
āIād like to see you,ā he says, and now youāre intrigued.
āYeah?ā
āI miss you, y/n,ā and it wasnāt winsome, it was desperate.
āI know you do,ā you nod, keeping your voice to a sensual whisper as you continue the quiet sway of your feet above you.
āLet me see you,ā he pleads, āI need to see you.ā
It was a naughty thing, him begging over the phone for you like this. He was wise beyond your years, big and strong and tall. You were his perfect little thing, young and perky and small enough to melt into his hold. You shuddered at the thought.
āYou can come see me,ā you nod slow, āif thatās what you really want.ā
You knew it was. He knew that you knew it was.
āYes, please,ā the answer is quick, hopeless.
You honestly felt sorry for him. Listening to him pry for you like he needed you to breathe. You wondered how long heād missed you, thought about you while fucking his girlfriend. Based on what youāve heard, you can only assume itās been a depressing amount of times.
āOk, baby,ā you bite back your smile, ācome in when you get here. Itās unlocked.ā
And with that, he hung up, pulling his shit together as quickly as possible to come see you. You just smiled to yourself on the bed, scrolling mindlessly as you waited for him. You were clean and freshly showered, slathered in a sweet smelling lotion and smooth all over.
You felt yourself wettening at the thought of him, of seeing him again after all this time. He was older now, chest littered in straggled hairs and pecs full and wide.
You thought of the photos youād seen of him for Runnerās World Magazineāhis stubbled beard and the ghosted bush of his happy trail. Youād be lying if you said you didnāt miss him just as much as he missed you, you were crying to taste this new version of him. Thick and stocky and strong enough to lift you with a hand.
And when he pushed through your door, disheveled as ever, it was everything you ever wanted and more. A thick black hoodie and a loose pair of pink cotton shorts, fabric ripped and torn at the bottom and hugging his quads perfectly.
Even through your distanceāyour stomach on the bed and him tall in the doorwayāyou were drowned in his scent. The heavenly mix of deep vanilla musk and all things manly. His phone was held loose in his left hand, looking interestingly small wrapped between his large fingers.
For a moment, there was silence. His eyes drifting to places they shouldnāt and your eyes watching him do so. He peered to the tight crevice that laid between your two legs as you laid against the mattress, ass up and feet gently kicking. You looked so innocently girlish in your pretty cotton pjās that he nearly folded right there, watching your round ass move just the slightest with every shift of your feet.
āHi,ā You called to grab his attention. His eyes darted away from your body and up to your pretty face, round and doe eyed and clean.
āHi,ā breathless.
You roll to your back, sitting up straight now and throwing your shiny legs over the edge of the mattress. You pressed the palms of your hands against the bed on either side of you, staring up at him with a small smile.
āYou look good,ā you say.
āSo do you,ā he nods, taking slow steps closer to you now. Your heart pounded with every new inch he moved, and now youāve truly realized how much you miss him. Missed this.
You just watch as he walks closer to you, keeping your eyes wide and locked on his. You suddenly felt small as he towered down at you, taking slow strides until he landed between your legs hung off the bed.
You were close now. Your knees grazing the hairs on his legs as his face drew all the way down to meet you gaze. Your neck was tilted back so far that it ached to hold the contact, but you didnāt mind. Not when he was looking at you the way he was.
āIāve missed this sweet face of yours,ā he whispers so low that you nearly miss it, bringing a finger to drag softly along the frame of your jaw.
Your eyes flutter at the hint of contact, basking in the smooth pass of his finger tip grazing against your face. His voice was low, deeper than it had been when you were together and a twang of something different in his accent.
āYou did?ā You ask innocently, blinking up at him with those big eyes that had him aching.
āI did,ā he nods, bringing his finger to your lips now. He dragged against them, soft and swollen, watching as the pink skin pulled along with his touch and bounced back into place in recoil.
āSuch a pretty, pretty little thing. So soft,ā he seems to be talking to himself, grazing over new places on your face and neck with just the delicate touch of his finger. You were soaked. So soaked that you knew heād taunt you once he got a feel.
He hooked his finger under your chin to tilt your head further back, bringing his face down until his lips were hovered against yours. You stayed like that for a moment, breathing hot breaths into one another with stuttering eyes.
āY/n,ā he breathed into you, as if he was setting himself up for his next line. But nothing came after, just desperate exhales and shifts of his finger.
āHm?ā You hum, lips grazing over his in a frustrating tease.
He pulled closer, rubbing his mouth against yours before pulling back with a breath. You leaned up to catch his lips again, failing as he pulled back and parted his lips further apart. He pushed forward again, breathing hot air into you as you waited to follow his lead. It was a wreck, the two of you sorting out how to start something so erotic. And then, through wide mouths and heavy breaths, he closed his lips around yours with a deep, long inhale. His finger released itself from your face and replaced it with the firm grasp of his palm, holding your face upright in a strong handle.
You flutter into the kiss that absorbs you, reeling in the taste of his tongue lapping up and down and around your mouth. You felt electric, trapped into the hold of his strong hands and the aggressive push of his tongue. He tasted delicious, minty fresh with a subtle hint of expensive whiskey that had your head spinning and thighs tightening.
āNeed to fuck you,ā he groaned into you, āmissed this so much. Missed you.ā
āMm,ā you hum in agreement, allowing your hands to find their place on his chest in front of you. You tug at the thick cotton of his hoodie and yearn for whatās below it, trying your hardest to take your time and follow his lead. You wanted him satisfied, to get everything he wanted from you and use you how he pleased. That would be pleasurable enough for you.
āYou can take it off, baby girl,ā he whispered into you, immediately pressing his lips back onto the moment he finished his sentence.
Your chest tightened and twisted into itself at his words and the familiar pet name that heād used so tastefully when the two of you were together. You pulled the black sweatshirt up and over his head, allowing the fabric to pass through your kiss for just a moment before tossing it on the floor of your bedroom.
You were more than pleased to find that he hadnāt worn anything under, now exposed to his bare chest and chiseled muscles. It was even better than what youād imagined; strong and buff and so so hard. Your nails trickled over the hills and valleys of his abs, feeling them squirm and tense beneath your touch. It was heavenly, the smooth surface that coated the swelling muscles.
He slowly pushed the two of you back through your disgustingly sloppy kiss, letting you fall to your back softly against your pretty pink comforter. You peaked an eye open through the kiss to glance at his shoulders as he did so, watching his traps swell and his shoulders round out in a gorgeously fit shine.
You let your legs wrap around his waist as he hovered over you, pushing his hips down into your center greedily. You both shuddered at the covered contact, the feeling so distant yet so familiar all the same.
He breaks his wet suction to your lips and shifts lower to your jaw, kissing down the sweet sensation of your perfume and down to your collarbone.
He was ridiculously needy, slopping his tongue around your smooth skin desperately as he failed to stabilize his breathing. He kissed every inch he could find, slowing his pace the lower he reached. Your skin was slick with his saliva by the time he reached the waist of your shorts, slowing down to nothing as he pressed slow deep kisses onto the skin.
You quivered as you watched him beneath you, green eyes staring up at you in challenge. His lips were soft and wet, kissing sweetly onto your sharp hip bones as his wide hands grasped your sides.
You started to wonder how you got here, Harry inches away from your pussy as your hand tangled through his hair. Yesterday, he was taken by a beautiful woman known worldwide by millions. Today, heās falling undone for a woman a bit too young for his own good.
His fingers hook into the cotton of your tiny sleep shorts, tugging them down to reveal your wet slit. You hadnāt worn any underwearāhaving not expected himāand he growled low at the sight in front of him.
He laid a hot breath on the center of your tight, dripping wet pussy, sending goosebumps up and down your legs and tensing the muscles surrounding it. You were buzzing, high on the feeling of his lips back down where they belonged. You knew he missed your pussy, the way it gushed for him and swelled a pretty bright pink.
The second his tongue pressed flat against your slit, he moaned, loud and shameless at the sweet taste of you. Heād missed you dearly, dreaming of sugary sensation of your arousal coating his tongue for months on end. You were a honeyed petal for his lips to suckle on, framed by the precious scent of your cashmere lotioned thighs. He was on a cloud, lapping you up as your back arched in the beautiful way he remembered.
āFuck, Harry,ā you moaned, light and airy as your fingers twirled his curls harshly. His tongue worked miracles on your hot core, painting you up and down masterfully and you felt like you could cry at how much you missed him. No man has ever pleased you in the way he could, he knew your body like it was his own and was more generous than any man could dream of being.
āMy baby tastes so sweet,ā he groaned, pressing his tongue in and out of you and nudging his nose against your wet clit.
āYeah?ā You rasp out, āDaddy missed my pussy?ā
His hands gripped your hips tighter at the line, shoving his mouth so deep into you that he had to be suffocating. Your back was arched up so high that it ached, your mind distracted in the pleasure that coursing through your blood on fire.
You quivered and gushed on his tongue, gentle moans rolling through you as his mouth moved to work your clit. He sucked hard and flicked your bud simultaneously, sending an aggressive vibration through your legs that locked Harryās head in place. He was humming slow and steady against you, the mix of feelings comparing to nothing youāve had before.
Your stomach felt hot and swarmed within itself, your head spinning against the mattress as your hair sprawled up and out. You were drunk on the man between your legs, opening your eyes every couple moments to watch the sensual sight of his face lodged between your thighs.
āYouāre gonna cum,ā he says, ācum on my tongue, baby, please.ā
You clenched and tensed and squirmed, groaning at his words as he brought you up the latter and to your peak. You came fast and hard, soaking his tongue with your arousal as you clamped your legs around his head.
He nuzzled his head back and forth between your legs, blubbering against you as sopped you up and swallowed you down. His eyes stared up at you as he watched you collapse into your orgasm, the scene so provocative that he felt himself drip through his pants. Embarrassing, yes. But not between you two.
Your breaths slowed and your heart pounded as you came down from your high, pussy swollen and even wetter than before. He rose from his place at the edge of the bed with a wipe of his mouth, hovering back over you and taking in your red face.
āOn your stomach,ā he muttered stern, a demand rather than an ask that you will so happily oblige too.
You rolled to your stomach and shimmied to let your cheek lay against your pillow, wiggling your ass on the bed just barely.
He came to sit behind you, pressing his hands up the sides of your back and over the curve of your ass. He was taking you in, a sharp exhale slipping through his throat as he watched you shimmy around on the bed. Your ass was up and your slit was held tight together, dripping with the remains of your orgasm and puffy waiting for him.
You stretched your arm back behind you as you looked at him over your shoulder, slipping your fingers down past your ass until they landed on your center. You tapped the wet area twice, staring at him suggestively as you lifted your ass higher and used your fingers to split your hole open. You were putting on a show for him, displaying your little hole as he watched you intently.
āYou wanna use your words?ā He spits, rearranging his cock in his shorts at the sight of you teasing him.
āI can use my words,ā you nod, continuing to touch yourself from behind. āYou just tell me what you wanna hear.ā
His jaw clenched at your response and his eyes shut for a moment too long, desperately trying to keep himself together.
āI want you to tell me what you want, and stop parading yourself in front of me like a slut,ā he says low, running his hand up the back of your thigh.
āBut I am a slut for you, daddy,ā you whine, pressing a finger between your folds, āarenāt I?ā
You watch as his lips part and his brows furrow, lost in watching you touch yourself so grossly as you spoke. You were an animal for him, stripping all of your self respect for the man behind you.
You press a second finger into yourself now, slowly stroking in and out as he watched closely. Your eyes shut in bliss and your pink lips fell apart at the pleasure you were providing for yourself, getting off to watching the man stare at you.
āMmm,ā you hum, āfeels so good. Wish it was daddyās cock instead, so big and hard.ā
You watch him wince at the words, taking a thick swallow down his throat as he continues to eye you down. Your fingers plunged deep inside of you with every press, pulling out and soaking your skin with your filthy arousal.
āStop.ā
And you did. Hand out of yourself immediately, peering back at him with big eyes and waiting for the next instruction.
So you watched. Watched as he shrugged his shorts down and onto the floor, boxers following next and his cock springing to his lower stomach. Your thighs clenched and your jaw fell open, desperate for the throbbing length in front of you.
He was heavy and thick, so wide for you. His tip was red and swollen, soaked in the subtle drips that had been spilling out of him since heād arrived. He looked glorious, like the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes on.
When he shifted over top of you and lifted your hips up harshly, you could barely hold in your excitement as you bit back a smile. Youāve been thinking of this, this moment, his cock lined up behind you, for what felt like ages.
He pressed the head into your creamy slit so slow, so punishing. He stretched your tight pussy wide, pulling at the skin in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. Your mouth fell open as you melted into the mattress beneath you, soothed by sweet sounds of Harryās long groan behind you.
āFuck, y/n,ā his tone was low and his grip on your hips tensed, tugging at the skin until it reddened.
āOhh, Harry,ā your knuckles whitened as you tugged at your comforter, āfill me up, keep going.ā
He slammed the whole of himself into you in one quick movement, bottoming out as his dense balls slapped against your throbbing clit. It sent a jolt of bliss through you as his tip pecked in deep, rubbing into your spongy insides rough and relentless.
He fucked you this way for a while, pounding in and out of you and watching as your ass jiggled and shook with every thrust. You were moaning loud, feeling too good to keep anything in as your skin slapped together. The noise was wet and sloppy as his hips melded to your ass, skin slapping and pussy gushing in a disgustingly pornographic manner.
āShit, baby,ā he groaned through gritted teeth, pressing a hand onto your back to press you further down into the mattress.
āMy pussy feel good?ā You whine, ātell me who feels better, daddy. Me or her. Tell me.ā
āYou, fuckā you!,ā he struggles, āYou.ā
āYeah? You missed this? Tell me how good it is,ā you clenched around him tight, building to your orgasm as you taunt him.
āSo good,ā he breathes, āfeel so good around me, baby girl. Best pussy Iāve ever had. So tight, shit.ā
āMmm,ā you hum at his praise, legs trembling he thrusts into you even harder. You were jelly in front of him, being treated as nothing but a fuck toy for him and thatās how you liked it.
His tip slams into you relentlessly, over and over and over again until your stomach is boiling for the second time and your head is fuzzy. You were close, so close and he could feel it.
āMāgonna cum,ā you murmur into the mattress, ass arching up as rams into the same sweet spot.
āI know, baby,ā he rasps, āwanna feel this pussy cum on my cock. Give me what Iāve missed so much, cmon.ā
You shook as your second orgasm rippled through you, hard and aggressive this time. Your moans were strangled and your face was red, gripping your walls around his dense shaft as you fell undone. You felt light and floaty as you came down from this one, falling limp beneath him as he rode you through it.
He pulled out, popping out of you as your stomach fell flat to the mattress. You were wiped, completely exhausted yet craving more all the same. A feeling only heās given you.
āY/n,ā he rubbed up your back, āI know youāre tiredā¦but Iāve been waiting to watch my baby ride me again for too long. Can you do that for me?ā
He was insane to even act like you would say no.
āYes, please,ā you nod quick and flip to your back, catching your breath as he peers over you.
After a quick shift and some rearranging, you were perched on top of his thighs as he laid back into your pretty headboard relaxed as ever. You loved to see him like this, laid back and sprawled out for you to play with. To climb on top of and treat it as your little playground.
He tugged your top off in one quick motion, gawking at your perky breasts that fell in front of him. They bounced out of your top and displayed themselves beautifully for him, so hard and just what he needed to take him over the edge.
You smirk at his intense stare never leaving your chest, and lift your body up and over his swelling tip. It was pretty, so red and aching for you to sit yourself down where you belonged.
And when you finally pressed yourself down and let him pierce through you, your legs tensed harder than they ever had before. His hands guided your hips as they made their journey down, taking him in slow and steady as he stretched you for a second time. He curved straight up into your stomach, pressing a tent into the skin with every sudden movement.
āOh, baby,ā his neck reels back, āYou feel that? We feel so good together, fuck.ā
And you did. You were spinning, lost in the feeling that you brought upon yourself as you rolled your hips back and forth ever so sensually. It was tender but rough, slightly personal with a tinge of animalistic chemistry. Broken moans and heavy breaths littered the space around you as you rode him with your perfect mix of bounces and slides, soaking the hairs that surrounded his base with your slushy arousal.
āDid she fuck you like this, baby? Hm?ā You spur on, quickening your pace as you find your rhythm back and forth.
āNo, no, only you,ā he spits out with no hesitation.
You grin, satisfied with his admission before lifting yourself all the way up, sliding him completely out of you as you kept him in place between your folds. You teased around the tip that slid between them for just a moment before swallowing him whole once more, sitting yourself down completely in one smooth drop.
At the sound of his deep, drawn out moan you shuddered, bouncing up and down and all around him as you watched his lips fall further apart. He looked heavenly, stubble shifting as his prominent Adams apple bobbed up and down with every groan. His body was strong beneath you and his big grown hands held you tight, gently guiding your movements but letting you keep control all the same.
āShit,ā you curse, āI fuck daddy so good, make him cum better than she did, I know I do.ā
Youāre rambling now, but you don't care. Neither does he. Itās all true, and right now itās all so right. Just what he needs to hear falling from your pretty soft lips. He wanted to be reminded of his emotional disloyalty to his ex-girlfriend. He wanted you to know how often he thought of you while he fucked her.
āShe was nothing. We were nothing. This is it, baby, youāre it, fuck!ā heās breathless, dick twitching inside of you and so close to his release.
āPlease, miss your cum in me so much daddy, wanna be full,ā you pick up your pace, bouncing so harsh that your tits were slapping against themselves with every drop. He was in a trance as he watched you, struggling to keep his eyes open but determined to not miss a second of the angelic sight in front of him. His girl, his little baby fucking him again just how he liked. Rough and desperate and one big mess for him.
With a loud and girthy groan, his hot liquid spurts inside of you in a warm blanket of comfort. His head tossed back and his mouth fell agape in total and complete ecstasy, legs trembling beneath you as he came long and hard.
Your hips rolled him through it until his cum was pouring through the crevices where you connected, mixing with your own as you came with him. It was ridiculously wet and weirdly therapeutic to hear, like a sound you forgot existed.
You both tensed and squirmed and vibrated within each other until your head fell forward and into the crook of his neck, laying there in heavy breaths as his hands instinctively wrapped to your back. He rubbed softly into your sweaty skin, catching his breath in sync with your own.
His cock stayed in you for quite a bit before you two parted, your pussy dripping with the two of you as it landed onto his lower stomach. You both giggled a bit at the burden, knowing now that you have to go run to grab him something to clean himself up with.
āOops, stay here,ā you couldn't contain your little laugh, meshing with his own muffled chuckles throughout the dimly lit room.
You ran quickly to your bathroom to grab him a fresh towel, returning fast so as to not leave him coated in his own cum for too long. You know how it feels, thereās definitely a lot of pressure to stay perfectly still until the towel appears.
You leaned over to wipe him up, leaving him dry and only slightly sticky. You were sure you two would shower soon anyway. You had to, you were both coated in sweat.
āThank you,ā he whispers to you as you toss the towel to the side, climbing back into bed next to him.
āHarry,ā you push some hair out of his face, āI really miss you.ā
āI dont,ā he shakes his head, pushing his lips together as he turns to face you.
You freeze, lips parted and cheeks red. And all you can think to do is put a bit of distance between the two of you and bring one of your fuzzy pillows to cover your naked body.
āHey, Iām joking!ā he nudges you with the back of his hand and erupts into a fit of laughter, the sound so sweet but so annoying in the moment.
āHarry, thatās not funny!ā you scold, tossing the fuzzy pillow at his head harshly.
āIt was kind of funny, until you got all sad,ā he mocks, āthat was quite the pout, little miss.ā
āI don't miss you anymore. You can go,ā you cross your arms and swat him away, tummy fluttered and chest full.
āY/n,ā he pulls closer to you, āI miss you very, very much.ā
āYou do?ā you ask, softer this time. You know it was silly, but for some reason you had always been under the impression that you were more into him than he was you. Maybe it was the age, the power dynamic, that had you feeling like he had much more important things to attend to than a cute little twenty something. But when you were reminded otherwise, it was more rewarding than anything.
āVery much,ā he nods, āBath?ā
And of course you nod, as smitten as ever, before he kisses your cheek and hops up from the bed to run the water. You just sat there, fucked out of your mind and heart swelling, waiting for him to come back and swoop you up and into the bubbles.
if you enjoyed, pls like/reblog!
more importantly, please read my recent work on wattpad! Liminal- a smutty friends w benefits plot where harry and oc live across the hall from eachother
link to Liminal -> here.
masterlist
ask/request - ask anything! i usually only reply to specific requests once iāve fully completed it so i can keep all unfinished requests in my inbox!! :)
ā® Garrett fucking you in the showers after practice !
the last srchhh of his skates against the ice finally stopped, and you leaned against the boards, watching garrett coast to a halt. the rink lights had already dimmed, the zamboni humming somewhere in the distance, but he was still out here in the rink.
he caught your eye and grinned. that grin. the one that made your stomach flip every damn time. stupidly cute. stupidly effective.
"couldn't leave yet, huh?" he called, voice echoing off the empty stands. he skated toward you, stopping just short, close enough that you could smell the ice and salt and him.
you shook your head, smiling despite yourself. "you're the one who's still in your gear, genius."
"mm." he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the boards, his face level with yours.
"but you waited for me."
it wasn't a question. his hand came up, gloved fingers brushing your hair. "come on. help me shower."
your heart kicked. "that's not a good ideaā"
"yes it is." he hopped over the boards with practiced ease, landing right beside you. "we've got the whole place to ourselves. no one's coming back ātil morning." he pulled off his gloves, dropped them with a thud, and cupped your cheek. "please? i've been thinking about you since practice started."
his thumb traced your lower lip.
you lost.
Ć
steam billowed as hot water hit the floor, fogging the room. garrette had his jersey off before you could blink, undershirt following, revealing the lean planes of his chest and his happy trail disappearing into his pants.
"your turn" he said, voice low, fingers already working at the buttons of your jeans.
you helped him push them down, then your underwear, the cold air making you shiver. he pulled you into the spray, the water hot against your skin, and pressed you against the cool tile.
"been thinking about this," he murmured against your throat, kissing down to your collarbone. "about you. here."
his hand slid between your legs, fingers finding you slick and ready. he groaned, burying his face in your neck. "fuck, you're already wet."
"shut up," you breathed, but you arched into his touch anyway.
he laughed softly, that stupid cute laugh, and sank to his knees. the water ran over his back, over his shoulders, as he kissed the inside of your thigh, then higher. his tongue found your clit, flat and warm, and you gasped, fingers tangling in his wet hair.
he took his timeāslow, deliberate licks, then a finger, then two, curling inside you while his mouth worked you closer to the edge. the tile was slick under your palm, the steam thick, and all you could hear was the water and his quiet, satisfied hums.
"garretteāplease-"
before you could say anything else he stood, water streaming down his face, his eyes dark. he kicked off his pants, his cock already hard and flushed and ready before he pressed you back against the wall. one hand braced beside your head, the other guiding himself to your entrance.
"you ready?" his voice was soft, almost a whisper.
you nodded, and he pushed in ā slow, deep, a stretch that made you both moan. he stayed there for a moment, forehead against yours, just breathing.
then he started moving. steady thrusts, each one hitting deep, the water sluicing over your joined bodies. his mouth found yours, open and hungry, muttering sweet, dirty things between kisses.
"feel so goodāso tightāfuck, the sounds you make-"
you clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist and he fucked you against the tile until you came undone ā a sharp, throbbing release that made you cry out. he followed moments later, buried deep, his groan lost between the hiss of the shower and your shoulder.
when he stilled, he didn't pull out right away. just held you, face tucked into your neck, breathing hard. the water had started to cool, but neither of you moved.
"totally worth getting caught" he mumbled into your skin. and god help you ā you could feel that stupid, adorable smirk of his against your neck.
loganās room was quiet except for the hum of the ac and the scratch of his pencil against his notebook.Ā
you were supposed to be going over his econ notes, but somewhere between āsupply and demandā and the way his thigh pressed against yours on the bed, the textbook ended up on the floor.
now?
now, youāre straddling his lap, your skirt bunched around your hips, his cock buried deep inside you. heās still holding his pencil. still got that half-finished problem on the page. but his other hand is splayed across your waist, heavy and warm, keeping you pressed down.
āyouāre so still.ā he murmurs, not looking up. like itās a compliment.
you are. thatās the whole point. cockwarming ā just sitting there, full of him, feeling every pulse and twitch deep inside your cunt. no thrusting. no frantic pace. just the weight of him, the stretch of his length and the way your inner walls adjust and grip without needing to be told.
his thumb traces a slow circle on your skin. āgood girl.ā
your breath hitches. he keeps writing. keeps working. like youāre just a piece of furniture heās using as weight. except you can feel his cock hardening even more inside you, can feel the way his grip tightens when you clench involuntarily.
ālogannnā you whine, voice barely there.
āshh.ā he finally glances up, dark eyes locking onto yours. āyou said you wanted to try this. so try this.ā
twenty minutes later?
your thighs are starting to ache, your clit is throbbing with that dull, denied ache, and he's just sitting there, warm and thick and utterly unbothered while you feel like you're going out of your mind.Ā
"can we at leastā" you start, grinding against him just a little.
"no." his tone is flat. "you wanted to feel full. feel full."
you let out a pathetic little groan, burying your face in his neck. "i didn't know it would take this long."
he finishes his problem set then. sets the pencil down. and in the next second both his hands are on your hips, guiding you in the smallest, laziest rock.
āyouāre gonna come just from this,ā he says, low and sure. āarenāt you?ā
you can only nod, eyes half-closed, riding the slow burn with soft groans muffled in his neck.Ā
and heās right. it takes forever. builds like a tide instead of a wave. and when it finally breaks ā itās not a scream ā itās a long, shuddering sigh, your cunt milking him while he stays utterly still, letting you take what you need.
when you collapse against his chest, he kisses the top of your head.
"next time," he says, "maybe you'll last longer before you start complaining."
you think you hate him.
but you also think you're already planning the next time.
you were sprawled across loganās bed, legs kicked up against the headboard, scrolling through your phone while he sat at his desk, half-heartedly pretending to study.Ā
the conversation had drifted. like it always did with loganāfrom stupid shit your ex did to sex, and somehow landed on the one thing youād never admitted to anyone.
āwait, wait, wait.ā he spun around in his chair, textbook forgotten.Ā
āyouāre telling me youāve never-ā
āsquirted? no.ā you rolled your eyes, not looking up from your phone. āitās fake, logan. porn shit. girls fake it for views.ā
he was quiet for exactly two seconds. then his chair rolled against the floor.
āthe fuck yāmean itās fake?ā
you finally glanced up. he was standing now, arms crossed, jaw tight like youād just insulted his entire bloodline in one sentence.
āi meanā¦ā you said slowly, āthat iāve come before. orgasms are real. but squirting? that whole gushing thing? no chance. my ex tried once, ended up practically elbow-deep, and nothing happened. so iām pretty sure itās a myth.ā
johnās eye twitched. like proper twitched when you insult a manās beliefs.Ā
he walked over to the bed, grabbed your ankles, and yanked you flat before you could protest. your phone clattered onto the sheets.
ālogan!ā you squeak out in surprise, laughing softly.Ā
Ā āyouāre telling me..ā he said, voice low, āthat some useless fuck tried to make you squirt, failed, and now you think itās not real?ā
āthatās...yeah, basically.ā
he ran a hand through his hair, let out a breath, and then his gaze dropped to your hips like he was solving a fucking equation. āthatās offensive.ā
āare you serious?ā you snort, laughing at the look on his face.
āyeah! youāve been walking around thinking your body canāt do something it absolutely can!ā he climbed onto the bed, knees bracketing your hips, hands planted on either side of your head.Ā
āand that iām gonna have to be the one to prove you wrong.ā
you shouldāve laughed. shouldāve shoved him off and called him an idiot.
instead, your thighs pressed together. ālog-ā
āshut up.ā but he said it softly, thumb brushing your jaw. āyou trust me?ā
you nodded before you could think.
his mouth found yours, deep and soft, like he was tasting you for the first time. his tongue slid against yours, and his hand traveled down, down, past your stomach, fingers curling under the waistband of your shorts.
āthese need to go.ā he murmured against your lips.
you lifted your hips, let him peel them off along with your panties. the cool air hit you, and you shivered, suddenly hyperaware of how wet you already were.
logan looked down. let out a low whistle.
āfuck. youāre soaked. just from talkinā about it?ā
heat crawled up your neck. āshut up.ā
he grinned, not fading even as he settled between your legs, broad shoulders forcing them apart. his thumb found your clit without even looking ā calloused, rough, rubbing lazy circles that made your back arch.
āām gonna show you exactly what your body can do,ā he said, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. āand youāre gonna feel so good you forget every single idiot who couldnāt get it right.ā
ālogan ā iām telling you, itās not gonna-ā
he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. no build-up. no teasing. just the sudden stretch, the curl of his knuckles against your walls. you gasped, back arching.
"feel fake?" he pumped once, twice, watching your face. "feel good?"
"..yeah."
he shoved two fingers inside you.
the words died in your throat. your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, and he curled his fingers just right, pressing up against that spongy spot that made your vision blur.
āthat feel fake to you?ā he pumped slowly, watching your face. āfeel good?ā
ā..yeahā followed by a breathy sound.
āgood.ā he added a third finger, stretching you open. the stretch burned in the best way, and you gasped, grabbing his hair on instinct. āi got you. just breathe.ā
he kept a steady rhythm ā in, out, curl. his palm slapped against your clit with every stroke, wet sounds filling the room. your legs tried to close, but he pinned your thighs over his shoulders, holding you open.
āthaaatās it. youāre so fucking tight, baby. taking my fingers so well.ā he murmured softly, eyes fixated on the way your hole was moving around his fingers.
he pulled his fingers out, and before you could complain at the loss, he lowered his head. his tongue dragged through your folds, flat and wet, then his mouth closed over your clit. he sucked hard, fingers still inside you, curling against that spongy wall.
then he pulled back, dragged his tongue down, and spat directly onto your clit. you cried out, fingers twisting in his hair. he looked up at you then, chin glistening, smirk sharp.Ā
"that got your attention."
his fingers resumed ā fucking you fast now, three of them, while his mouth worked your clit in rough, sucking strokes. the pressure built like a dam about to break. your whole body trembled, legs shaking, hands fisting the sheets.
"i can't ā i can't-"
"you can." his voice vibrated against your skin. "you're gonna squirt all over my hand, and i'm gonna watch you fall apart. cāmon."
he curled his fingers hard, hit that spot dead-on, and sucked your clit into his mouth at the same time.
your orgasm hit like a freight train. it gushed out of you ā hot, uncontrollable, soaking his hand, your thighs, the sheets beneath. it kept coming, pulse after pulse, while you screamed into the crook of your arm. your whole body convulsed, vision white, ears ringing.
john didn't stop. he groaned against you, drinking it down, fingers still pumping you through it. when you finally collapsed, limp and trembling, he pulled back.
his palm was glistening. his chin and shirt were wet. he brought his fingers to his mouth, licked them clean, and grinned.
"still think it's fake?"
you couldn't even answer. just stared at the ceiling, chest heaving, thighs sticky and sore.
he leaned up finally, kissed your forehead, and whispered,
ā® Teasing Dean at a party = getting pounded in a bathroom !
youāve been at this alllllllll night.Ā
touching him, leaning too close for no reason, mouthing off just for the hell off. dean, rich fuck boy and now the most frustrated man at this party because of you.
deanās jaw stayed tight. his eyes tracked you across the room like a predator sizing up prey ā except you kept turning the tables, slipping out of reach, leaving him standing there with his drink going warm and his knuckles white around the plastic.
the fourth time you passed him, you let your hand brush his belt buckle, just barely. and you looked up, all innocence, and said:
āoops." followed with that innocent grin of yours.
something snapped in him.
he grabbed your wrist, not hard but firm, and pulled you into the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms. the party thumped on behind you, but the corner was dimmer, the air thicker. he crowded you against the wall, one palm flat beside your head, the other still holding your wrist like he was keeping you from floating away.
āyou think youāre real funny, donāt you?ā his voice had dropped, roughened. the accent bled through stronger when he was pissedāor turned on. hard to tell which.
you licked your lips. āi think iām hilarious.ā
his laugh was short, breathless. āyeah? you think you can keep running that mouth all night?ā
āi can keep running it wherever you want, di laurentis.ā
that did it for his poor, half-dead patience.
he didnāt waste words. just hauled you into the bathroom, kicked the door shut, and locked it. the party noise went muffled, replaced by your heartbeat and the hum of the extractor fan. the tile was cold through your top as he pushed you back against the sink counter. his hands found your hips, gripped hard, and he pulled you against him so you could feel exactly what your teasing had done.
āsee what you did?ā he ground his hips forward. his cock pressed thick and hard through his jeans.
āthis is your fault.ā
you rolled your hips back, meeting him with a cheeky grin. āmake me pay for it, then.ā
he didnāt need a second invitation.
clothes flew off, fast. jeans chucked down, panties shoved aside, his cock springing free, the tip already slick. he didnāt bother building you up with fingers or tongue.
he just bent you over the sink, yanked your hips back, and pushed in without a warning.
you gasped, voice hitting a pitch that shocked you. he was big. stretching you wide, sinking deep in one smooth, merciless thrust.Ā
that bold, teasing front youād worn all night?Ā
shredded.Ā
instantly. your mouth fell open, your hands scrambling to hold onto the sink for support
āohāfuckādean-ā
he pulled out halfway and drove back in, the slap of skin obscenely loud in the small room that it forced a flush on your cheeks.Ā
āwhat was that?ā he hadnāt even broken a sweat while his rhythm was already punishing. fast. deep. each impact punching a helpless noise out of you.Ā
āyou had so much shit to say out there. go on. mouth off.ā
you couldnāt.
your thoughts had scattered like startled birds. all that remained was the stretch, the burn, the fullness of him splitting you open. your voice came out in fragments, broken off on every inhale.
ādeanāpleaseāplease-ā
āplease what?ā he drove deeper, hitting a spot that made your knees buckle. āuse your words, princess. you were so good at them before.ā he taunted, hands gripping your hips tighter.
you tried. and failed. all you had were moansāpitched and climbing higher with every stroke.
his breath was hot against your ear as he leaned over your back. āthatās it. thatās what i wanted to hear. you all broken on my cock.ā
you moaned, frantic, babbling something that might have been yes and more and please all tangled together into one syllable. your walls were clenching around him, desperate and greedy. you were so wet you could hear it, the slick sounds mixing with his grunts and your wrecked breathing.
he pulled out again, this time all the way, and you whined ā a desperate, embarrassing sound. you needed him back inside. needed him to finish what he started.
āshh.ā dean turned you around, lifted you onto the counter, spread your legs wide. his cock was glistening with you, angry red, veins straining. he lined himself up, pressed just inside the entrance, and held there. āyou want it?ā
āyeah.ā
āyou gonna be good?ā
āyes, yes, yes-ā
he pushed in again, and your head fell back against the mirror with a thud. the angle was deeper like this, hitting places that made your vision go white at the edges. your mouth stayed open, sounds spilling out unbidden, a litany of his name and swear words and half-formed pleas.
he watched you come apart with dark satisfaction. his thumb traced your lower lip, catching the whimper as it escaped.
āyou talk too much,ā he murmured. and then he shoved two fingers into your mouth.
not gentle. not teasing. a command.
your eyes went wide, but your jaw went slack, letting him in. your tongue curled around his knuckles, tasting salt and skin and the faint beer from his hands grabbing his beer bottle so tight it squeaked. he fucked your mouth with his fingers in time with his hips.
you couldnāt speak. only moan around him, wet and muffled, drool starting to slip down your chin.
āthaaatās better.ā he groaned, watching his fingers sink in and out of your lips.
ālook at you. so pretty with something in your mouth. and your little cuntās so tight, clamping down like itās tryna milk me dry.ā
you wanted to say something clever. but all that came was a desperate sound, your thighs trembling, your eyes watering.
he kept his fingers lodged deep, pressing down on your tongue, while he hammered into you from below. the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, coiling low in your belly, ready to snap. you tried to warn him, tried to say you were close, but with his fingers in your mouth it came out as garbled sounds.
a smirk crawled onto his face, blonde hair falling over his eyes.Ā
āyeah, you gonna come? do it. come on my dick. make a mess.ā
you came before he even finished the sentence.
your whole body clenched, your cunt squeezing him in rhythmic pulses, your back arching off the mirror. the scream came out as a gurgled cry around his fingers, tears spilling down your cheeks.
dean swore, low and guttural, and kept thrusting, chasing his own finish through the aftershocks of yours. he pulled his fingers out of your mouth just in time to let you gasp, and then he was coming, buried deep, hot pulses filling you, his forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged.
for a long moment, neither of you moved.
then he pulled back, just enough to look at you ā ruined, drool-smeared, teary, cock-drunk and glossy-eyed.
āstill think youāre funny?ā
you tried to speak. all that came out was a hoarse whisper, throat sore from the shape of his fingers.
ā..fuck off.ā
he laughed, low and warm, and kissed your forehead.
ā® Dean has an obsession with leaving hickeys on you !
the first thing dean does is pin you against the door of his room, his body a wall of heat and smug intent. that signature smirk curves across his lips as his hands find your hips, thumbs digging into the sharp jut of bone.
"yāknow what happens now, don't ya?"
he doesn't wait for an answer.Ā
his mouth is already on your neck, hot and wet, tongue tracing your pulse point before his teeth graze the skin.
you gasp and he chuckles against your throat in response, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt out of the way until your collarbone is bare. he doesn't waste time. he sucks hard, a purposeful, possessive pull that stings and aches in the best way. he pulls back just enough to admire the dark bloom spreading across your skin, his thumb rubbing over it with a satisfied hum.
"gonna mark you up so everyone knows." he murmurs, already diving lower. his lips find the curve of your shoulder, the hollow above your chest ā he's methodical, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. each one is a claim. his teeth scrape, his tongue soothes, and then he's sucking again, harder this time, until you're squirming under the pressure.
he pulls back to look at his work, eyes dark and half-lidded, that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face. "you like that, don't you?" he doesn't need an answer.Ā
he knows.
by the time he gets you on the bed, you're covered in hickeys. there's a deep red mark just below your jaw, one on the slope of your neck, a bite on the curve of your shoulder, another on the inside of your wrist where he'd pinned you down just moments ago. he's trailing his mouth down your stomach now, pausing to bite at your hipbone, leaving a fresh bruise that he laps at with his tongue.
"deeean," you whine, and he looks up at you through his lashes, smug as sin.
"one more" he says, like he's doing you a favor. his mouth closes over the soft skin of your inner thigh. he takes his time, sucking slow and deliberate, making sure it's deep. when he finally pulls away, he grins at the dark, angry mark he's left behind.
"perfect" he purrs, and then he's on top of you again, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his lips finding a fresh spot on your body to ruin.
ā® Dean doesn't fit in you after a week away :< !
āow.ā
āi havenāt even put it in yet.ā
āthen why does it already hurt?ā you pout.
youāre flat on your back, legs hiked up, hands gripping the sheets like youāre about to be launched into orbit. dean is between your thighs, hovering on his elbows, his chest still heaving from the five minutes of frantic kissing that got you here. heās golden all overātanned skin, sweat-slick shoulders, that stupidly perfect hair already falling into his eyes. and his dick. hard. thick. pressing against your entrance like itās trying to negotiate entry.
you havenāt done this in a week. not ācause anythingās wrong. he just had a match, a week long one. and now heās here. saturday morning, sun bleeding through the curtains just right and heās got that look in his eyes. the one that says:Ā
ādid you get bigger?ā you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.
he blinks down at you. āwhat, like my dick went to the gym while i was gone?ā
you smack his shoulder. āiām serious! it never felt like a fucking pillar before.ā
āmaybe your pussy got shy. it missed me. itās clamping up like a clam.ā
āmaybe your ego expanded so much it pushed all the blood flow south.ā
he grins, slow and lazy, and kisses your collarbone. āgod i missed you.ā
you soften,smile curling your lips again. āi missed you too. just not...like this. impaled on a pillar.ā
he snorts, then drops his forehead to your chest, groaning dramatically.
āthis is tragic. my girl canāt take my dick anymore. how will we survive.ā
āwe could just cuddle. like normal people.ā
he lifts his head, scandalised. ācuddle? baby.Ā fuck no. i literally flew nine hours. i ate airplane pasta for you. you canāt take this from me.ā
you burst out laughing. āwhat? what does airplane pasta have to do with anything?ā
āeverything. it was ass. i suffered. now i need my reward.ā
you wipe your eyes, still laughing softly. āyouāre so dramatic.ā
but then you look at him proper ā messy hair, pink cheeks, that sharp jawline, the way his eyes are soft even when heās teasing. and you want him. even if it hurts a little. even if youāre tight and out of practice and your body forgot how to relax around him.
you bite your lip. āwhat if...we just leave it in. for a bit.ā
his eyebrows shoot up. āyou mean cockwarming?ā
you roll your eyes. ādonāt make it weird.ā
āyou want to sit on my dick like a lilā space heater. say it.ā
ādean.ā
āfine, fine.ā
he laughs, but he obliges. slowly ā agonisingly slowly ā he pushes in just the tip. then a little more. you hiss, and he stops immediately, his voice dropping soft.
āyou okay?ā
you nod, breathless. ājust....thick. too thick. youāre like a freaking light post.ā
he snickers. āand youāre a stale croissant. tight and unyielding.ā
āthatās not sexy.ā
āyouāre not sexy.ā
ātake it back.ā
āno.ā
but then he leans down and kisses your forehead with a loud smooch. his hand comes up to stroke your hair, fingers threading through the tangles. and he doesnāt move ā not a single thrust ā just stays there, buried inside you to the hilt, his weight a warm, solid pressure.
āthis is kinda nice,ā you whisper.
āi know. youāre warm. like a little oven.ā
you flick his forehead, but youāre smiling. his eyes are closed, his breathing evening out. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he hums, content.
you fall asleep like that ā him still inside, you curled around him, both of you finally still. and when you wake up the next morning?
tw: degradation, dumbification, exhibitionism, huge cock!dean, messy sex, crybaby!reader tehe, fucking in the maloneās bathroom gulp
wc: 514
an: dean makes my brain go brrrrrrrr ā berry
dean had been patiently waiting for you to indulge in his exhibitionist tendencies.
heād never done more than send you a flirty wink when the opportunity arose. would never ever force you. always put your wants first. he was a saint, really, he thought.
but no, this had been entirely your idea. his innocent little girlfriend had begged him to fuck her brains out, pretty please at maloneās.
now, heās got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, one hand on the back of your neck and the other braced against the wall.
āwhen were you gonna tell me how fucking naughty you are, huh? how fucking slutty youād get for me?ā he snarled in your ear.
he takes it in. the bathroom stall is cramped, but your body contorts so prettily to make room for him.
your cheek is pressed against the cold checkered tile of the stall. your once perfectly styled hair now roused and frizzy, damp with sweat.
and youād spent so much time on your makeup tonight. been so cheeky about it. itās too bad that whatās left of your glittery eyeshadow is scattered like freckles across the apples of your cheeks. the black skirt you wore is wrinkled, hiked up against the globe of your ass, and your panties are pushed to the side. itās sinful.
and you look fucking delicious.
āsuch a pretty mess. what if someone walked in, baby? saw you falling apart on my cock?ā he feels the gooey walls of your pussy clench around him. gripping onto him so fucking tight heās dizzy. āwouldnāt do a fucking thing, would you?ā
āyouād make āem sit here and watch you fucking take it,ā he punctuates each word with a devastating thrust into your heat.
youāre whining and babbling nonsense on his cock, pushing your ass into him to meet every piston of his hips. he thinks he can make out a couple watery so big, deans and a please, please, please.
youāve always been a crier when things just felt too good.
ācan barely understand you, sweetheart. whatās wrong? already fucked you dumb?ā he mocks, squeezing his index and thumb tighter against the nape of your neck. itās fucking predatory, the way he growls. āyou wanted this. fucking begged for it.ā
ās-so good! feels so good,ā you pant, and dean knows you're close by the hitches in your breath. youāre such a good girl for him, wriggling against his body, too high off the feeling of him to even know youāre about to cream on his cock.
āgive it to me, baby. cāmon,ā dean whispers, fucking into you even faster. youāve got that far-off look in your eyes, and your legs are shaking so viciously it looks like youāre about to collapse in your five inch heels.
āfucking come for me,ā he murmurs and buries himself to the hilt. your eyes pop open and you let out a choked out cry.
spacey and riding the high of your orgasm, dean is already cleaning you up. readjusting your skirt and thumbing glittery tears off your cheeks.
warnings ! fluff. mild talk of insecurities. dean is downbad and so is golden.
wc ! 1k
author's note ! it's here!! part three!! i love them so bad.
to be added to my taglist.
part one. part two.
The first night you and Dean almost stayed with each other, it was messy. After Block Party, and you were a little drunk. So was he. Logan bunked you two together in Dean's room and called it a night, but even drunk you was scared.
Staying over was serious. It was real.
You weren't sure if things were like that yet. You didn't want to get your hopes up. So when Dean passed out basically right after hitting the bed, you only felt a little bad when you made your way downstairs and found a spot on the couch.
When you'd woken up the next day, there was a blanket over you and Tucker was next to you playing a video game. You hadn't asked about Dean, but he told you that he was out back working out anyway.
You didn't have a hangover, which you were grateful for, but you did feel a little guilty. It wasn't like you didn't want to stay with Dean, quite the opposite, but it was a scary feeling. You were trying to make sure that you didn't get in over your head.
Dean hadn't mentioned it, you couldn't even tell if he had really noticed, but there was something in his eye that day like he had. It made you feel worse. But, still, you knew it was better this way.
No risk.
The second time was different than the first. It was your house and way past midnight. You two had been up watching movies and talking. When you finally realized the time, you were sleepy and Dean noticed.
He'd been sleepy for about an hour by then, just hadn't said anything. You were a little less scared this time, a little more comfortable. It'd been weeks of you two seeing each other and still, Dean was there.
That meant something and you knew it.
So, you felt a little less like it was a huge risk if you two stayed together. But Dean went home. He'd kissed your forehead and told you goodnight and he left. You weren't sure why, but whatever the reason, it made you sad.
You didn't say anything and it wasn't a huge deal, but it still felt wrong. You realized then that you wanted to stay with him. You wanted to cuddle up next to him and fall asleep in his arms. It was something you craved.
So, the third time was the charm.
You were on your couch again, Dean on the other side, your feet on his lap as you read a book and he watched the tv. Well, he said he was watching the tv, but you felt his stare more often than not. By the time you were a quarter way through the pages, your eyes burned and you were yawning every minute or so.
Dean chuckled, reaching over and gently pushing the book down so he could see your face. "Sweetheart, go to bed," he said, his voice soft and smooth like always.
You giggled, bookmarking your page and closing the book, placing it on the coffee table. "I'm so comfy, though," you argued quietly, leaning into the couch and closing your eyes.
Dean chuckled, gently moving your feet of his lap with a small groan of protest from you. He stood up, walking over to you and picking you up. You squealed softly, giggling as you shook your head. "I can walk, you know?"
"This is much more fun."
You smiled softly at him, letting him carry you to your room. He gently laid you down on the bed, covering you up. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
You sank into the mattress, getting comfortable as you hummed. Then he pulled away. Just slightly, like he was about to leave. You didn't want him to. You reached out, grabbing his wrist gently and lazily, with no real effort.
"Stay?" you murmured.
He paused, eyes looking down at you. He tilted his head. "Sweetheart, I'll be on the couch."
You shook your head, patting the mattress beside you. "In here."
He smiled softly, pulling his hand out of your wrist and instead rubbing his thumb across it gently. "You're sure?"
You nodded. "Mhm."
He nodded back, and you scooted over, giving him the room he needed to climb into your bed. He did so slowly and carefully, like he was scared of frightening you. You barely noticed, too sleepy to really comprehend much. Instead, you moved closer, turning over to get comfortable, your back to him but still pressed against him.
Slowly, Dean sunk into the mattress, wrapping his arms around you and spooning you. His head was rested next to yours, breath fanning your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. You hummed softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth over his hand that was around your waist.
He kissed your shoulder, then the back of your neck. Soft and gentle like he was just trying to be close to you, and it sent butterflies into your tummy. "You smell good," he whispered, pressing a small kiss behind your ear.
You giggled softly, and he held you tighter. You weren't scared now, weren't uncomfortable. He wasn't pushing or initiating anything. He was just...holding you. Being there. Showing you affection. It was nice.
His buried his face in your neck, humming softly as he rested there. You sighed in content, eyes closing. But you weren't really all that tired now. Just comfortable. You slowly turned over, and Dean pulled back just enough to let you.
Your eyes met his and you smiled softly, leaning in and giving him a small kiss. He smiled into it, cupping your jaw, but remained soft and gentle. He pulled you even closer, holding you tight and you pulled away from the kiss.
He pressed his forehead to yours silently, nudging his nose against yours. "I like holding you," he said softly.
You smiled. "I like it too."
"Good, I'm glad."
He kissed your cheek, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your head. His hands rubbed your back and arm as he held you close, and the silence was comfortable and welcomed as you both laid there.
Finally, it felt like you could rest, and sleep came easily in Dean's arms.
warnings ! fluff. mild talk of insecurities. dean is literally so sweet.
wc ! 1.8k
author's note ! don't you worry my loves i have at least two more parts planned!!
to be added to my taglist.
part one.
You were nervous. A nervous wreck, really. Part of you was convinced this was all some ploy, but Hannah told you otherwise. "He's not like that, I promise," she said. And you chose to believe her. You had to believe her.
You wanted to.
You spent an hour getting ready, taking multiple pictures and sending them to Hannah and Allie for feedback. By the end, you were satisfied, even if still nervous. You waited anxiously on your couch for the text from Dean.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You swallowed. You hadn't expected him to actually come up to your door, but then again, you hadn't expected any of this. You stood up, walking over and opening the door.
Dean was holding flowers, a small smile on his face. His eyes raked over you, slowly and with no intention to hide his gaze. "Wow," he breathed out. You felt a little uncomfortable, not because of him, but because you weren't used to such an intense stare.
"Hi," you greeted softly, a small smile on your face.
"Hi," he repeated back. He held his hand out with the flowers, and you took them slowly. "I, uh, I asked Hannah what your favorites were."
You smiled a little brighter at that, sniffing the flowers and nodding. "That's sweet. Come in, let me put these in a vase."
He followed you inside, sitting on your couch as you searched your kitchen for a vase and set the flowers up on your countertop. Once you were done, Dean stood up, holding out his hand. "Shall we?"
You nodded. "We shall."
He chuckled, leading you out of your house, letting you lock your door, before leading you to his car. He opened the door for you, before rounding the car and getting in. "Where are we going?" you asked.
Dean smiled. "That's a surprise, sweetheart." You swallowed, not the biggest fan of surprises. Dean glanced at you. "Trust me. Hannah gave me all I needed to know."
That made you feel a little more at ease. You thought it was sweet he took the time to ask Hannah about you, but you tried not to let it go to your head. After all, you needed to be realistic. You doubted very seriously that you two were actually compatible.
Still, he let you pick the music and the talk in the car was easy and friendly, like it just flowed. You didn't get into deep conversations and you didn't ask many questions outside of the basic ones, saving all of that for when you got to wherever you were going.
Soon, you pulled up to your all-time favorite restaurant, and a small smile encompassed your face. Dean looked at you, a smile on his. "See, some surprises are worth it, hm?"
You giggled, nodding. Dean got out, rounding the car and opening your door, holding his hand out. You took it gladly, letting him guide you out of the car and into the restaurant. You were seated in a booth, Dean across from you as you both ordered your drinks.
"What do you like most about this place?" Dean asked once the waitress left.
"The atmosphere. I'm big on energy, and the energy here is always so good."
Dean nodded, eyes studying you. Not critically or anything, just a small glint in his look that made you aware he was taking notes. "I have to ask," you started. "Why'd you wanna go on a date with me?"
Dean tilted his head, like the question was the most puzzling thing in the world. "Why wouldn't I? You're beautiful and kind."
You shook your head, giggling. "No, I mean...you're not the type to go on dates, Dean."
Dean nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. "Well, maybe it's time to change that."
It was your turn to tilt your head, but the question remained unasked as the waitress brought your drinks. You both took a few minutes to look at the menu before ordering your food. By the time the waitress left once again, the energy had changed slightly.
Not bad. Just...different.
"So, hockey's not your thing. What is?"
Dean's forearms were on the table, him leaning in slightly as if what you were about to say was the most important thing in the world. You smiled slightly. "Peace."
The answer was simple, but somehow, Dean didn't need to ask any follow-ups. He just nodded, taking note of what you said.
"What's your favorite thing about hockey?" you asked.
Dean thought for a second. "The team. Nothing's better than a good team. Sure, the ice is nice, the game is cool, and the winning is amazing, but I'd be nothing out there without my boys. Don't tell them I said that, though."
You giggled, a genuine smile on your face. That was honestly the last thing you expected him to say, especially as a defenseman. "Secret's safe with me, Dean."
"Thanks, sweetheart." He smiled back at you, soft and small like it was the most raw thing he'd ever done. "Favorite place?"
You tilted your head in thought. "I think maybe the creek behind my old house. It's full of nature and peace and I really enjoyed reading out there. Like nothing could get me when I was with the Earth."
Dean smiled. "Hannah tells me you're an art major. Why's that?"
You shrugged. "It's just always drawn me. I get to be creative and speak through what I make. I can be anything, I can do anything, and I think that's pretty beautiful."
A nod from him. "That is pretty awesome."
You giggled. "You're pretty good at the whole 'date' thing."
His smile widened. "Yeah?"
You nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, good. I'm glad it's not miserable for you," he teased, but there was an underline of truth.
You shook your head. "Not at all."
The conversation flowed easily. It was comfortable and nice, like every word each of you said was meant to pass your lips and reach the other's ears. Dean's smile never faded, and neither did yours. He asked every question you'd never expected him of all people to ask.
You asked the ones you wanted to know the most. Things were easy and simple with him, and you were finding yourself a lot less skeptical than you were when the date started. Somehow, someway, it felt like you and him were compatible.
You tried to stay neutral, you tried not to get your hopes up, but it was hard. He was Dean, and he was staring at you like the world was at your feet. It felt unreal, truly. Like this was all some dream you'd wake up from and it'd be over.
But it wasn't.
The food arrived, and you took your time eating. You'd trained yourself in the art of eating slowly, to lessen the image that people automatically had over you. Dean, however, was not a slow eater. Nor did he care.
Nor did he have to.
You took a bite of your pasta, eyeing Dean as he cut into his steak. His thirty-five dollar steak. You honestly couldn't believe he'd pay that, but you should've known better. "So why Briar U?" he asked, taking a bite of his steak.
You raised an eyebrow, swallowing your bite of pasta. "Hm?"
"I mean, why'd you choose it? Hannah's mentioned just how smart you are."
You blushed slightly, shaking your head. "She's dramatic."
"I doubt that."
You giggled. The honest answer was a heavier one. One you weren't sure he really wanted to hear. Despite that doubt, you decided to tell him anyway. Honesty was something you were fond of. "Out of all the colleges I got accepted to, it was the best one that was furthest away."
Dean paused at that, questions in his eyes that you weren't sure he'd ask. "Furthest away from what?" You swallowed softly, like you were scared to answer, but were going to anyway. Dean noticed. "You don't have to answer that. I'm being nosy."
You shook your head, a soft smile on your face. "It's okay, I don't mind." You shrugged, taking a sip of your pink lemonade. "My family, mostly. They're...something. I dunno. It's best if we're on opposite sides of the country."
Dean nodded slowly, not pushing anymore. Even if it was clear he wanted to. "I assume you chose Briar for the hockey program?"
Dean smiled. "Yeah, couldn't really pass up that."
You giggled. "Guess not, huh?"
Dean was halfway done with his steak by the time you got a quarter of your pasta down, and honestly, you were already kind of full. You ate just fine in front of Hannah or by yourself, but right now? The thought of eating the entire dish made you slightly nauseous.
You weren't sure why, probably some deep-rooted problem you weren't putting effort into figuring out.
Dean eyed you for a second, eyes flicking down to your plate. "We can take that to-go, if you want," he said, his voice smooth and soft.
You nodded slightly. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry."
Dean furrowed his brows. "For what?"
You shrugged, chuckling softly. "Just feels like I'm wasting, even though I know I'm not."
He tilted his head. "Even if you did, I wouldn't care. Don't force yourself."
You looked at him, eyes searching his for a moment. "Yeah," you whispered.
Dean put his cutlery down, calling a waitress over for two to-go containers. "You don't have toā"
"No, it's okay. I'm already kind of full and I did promise Logan some steak anyway," he said, a smile on his face like this was no trouble at all.
You smiled back softly, even if you didn't really believe him. The gesture was sweet.
Once your food was in to-go containers and Dean paid for the meal, you were leaving the restaurant. Dean opened your door for you and you got in his car, watching as he rounded it. You let out a small, shaky breath before he got in.
Once he was in and the car was on, he looked at you. "Am I taking you home, or is there anything else you wanna do?" he asked genuinely.
You looked at him. "Honestly? I'd love to keep this going, but I have an assignment to finish unfortunately." You looked at him apologetically, and he nodded.
"No worries, sweetheart. There's always next time." He flashed his award-winning smile at you, and you giggled.
"Oh, so there's going to be a next time?"
"Only if you want there to be, of course."
Dean started down the street. You nodded. "Yeah, I do."
His smile widened, but he didn't say anything. The ride to your house was filled with random music from the radio and the occasional short conversation from the two of you, but it was comforting. Warm and soft like it was right where you were meant to be.
When you pulled up, Dean did what he'd done all night. Got out and opened your door, helping you out of the car and then walking you up to your house. You turned around and looked up at him as you reached your door.
"Thank you for tonight, Dean. Really."
He smiled softly. "Anytime, sweetheart."
You stood on your tip-toes, kissing his cheek softly, before pulling back. Your faces were close now, and you didn't miss the way his eyes glanced at your lips. He didn't make a move, though. "Goodnight," you whispered.
"Goodnight," he whispered back.
You turned around, unlocking your door and walking in, giving him one last wave before closing your door and locking it. You sighed out contently, a small smile on your face that stayed for the rest of the night.
summary ! you catch dean's attention, but quickly shut it down because you don't do casual. dean persists anyway.
warnings ! fluff. mild talk of insecurities. dean is over being casual about everything. cutie patooties.
wc ! 2.7k
author's note ! i loved writing this and def think i will write more briar u boys with golden!reader !! not proof-read.
to be added to my taglist.
You did not want to be there. Hockey was a violent sport and you didn't like it. However, Hannah's boyfriend just so happened to be the captain, so you were sucked into far too many games for your liking.
"Listen, if I can get over it, so can you," Hannah told you, smiling.
She had a point, you supposed. Her reason was much more valid than yours, and yet, you found yourself upset anyway. Not irrationally or anything, just mildly. Still, you sat with her in the crowd, eyes latching onto the game.
If you were here, you might as well watch. You knew the players, Hannah was around them all the time so that meant you'd come to know their faces, even if you never personally interacted. You tended to stay clear of men like them.
The game was brutal and violent and by the end you felt a little nauseous. Not because you couldn't watch violence, but because you hated the unnecessary kind. And this seemed the most unnecessary there was.
Still, you stayed silent. You cheered with Hannah when Briar U won and you found yourself even a little happy. No, you didn't like hockey, but if someone had to win, it might as well be your team.
Hannah dragged you with her to wait down the hall of the locker rooms. "This is stupid," you grumbled, crossing your arms.
Hannah laughed. "It's not stupid! I want you to meet my friends!"
You sighed, giving in easily. You had a soft spot for Hannah, and you were glad she had found some more people to be comfortable with. Allie was supposed to be here, but she got way too caught up in the upcoming play and ended up passed out in her room.
You two left her be.
Soon enough, men were piling out of the locker room and you felt a little uncomfortable. Not because you felt unsafe, but because they were all staring at you. You weren't shy or anything, not even really that insecure, but it was reasonable that a group full of men staring at you made you uncomfortable.
Hannah introduced you to the guys, and you gave a small wave, an even smaller smile on your face. Not out of rudeness, but out of comfort for yourself. None of them seemed to mind. "You coming to the party, Wellsy?" Dean asked, tossing his arm around her shoulders.
"Depends. Are you coming to the party?" Hannah's eyes were on you.
You widened your eyes, pointing to yourself. "Me? Um...no?"
Dean boo'd, and Logan smacked him upside the head. "Be nice, dickwad."
That earned a little giggle from you. "Come. It'll be fun, and I'll personally bodyguard you if need be," Garrett said, his eyes soft and warm as they reached you.
You sucked in a breath, looking at Hannah who had a little pout on her face. You gave in again. "Okay, I'll come."
Dean and Hannah cheered, slapping palms together. You chuckled, shaking your head. You turned around, heading toward the building doors.
This was a bad idea.
Still, you found yourself walking into the hockey house a few hours later with Hannah at your hip, your eyes darting around the place. You'd never actually been in it, and it was smaller than you expected.
People were packed everywhere, girls all over the guys and they were eating it up like Christmas dinner. Especially Dean. Hannah waved at Garrett, who smiled, walking over to you two.
It was nice for all of two seconds before you decided that being suffocated by the love of those two was not something you wanted to be subjected to all evening. You pulled away from Hannah, a polite smile on your face.
"I'm going to get a drink."
Hannah tilted her head, but nodded. She knew you enough to know that, while you loved love, sometimes it was too much. You hated it, really. It made you feel guilty. There was no reason for you to feel so...envious of Hannah.
She deserved all she had, and you wanted that for her.
Still, something inside you ached a little every time she was with Garrett. Some little voice in your head that told you that could never be you. You ignored it. You had to. You couldn't let that stupid voice consume your life.
Even if, sometimes, it felt like it would.
You sighed, walking over to the kitchen and making yourself a drink. You heavily inspected the cup before deciding it was safe. It took two sips for you to realize you hated whatever it was. Well, it took one sip. But you took another one just to be sure.
You were definitely sure, making a sour face and pouring the liquid down the drain of the sink.
"You know, that's perfectly good alcohol right there." Dean's voice invaded your ears. You looked beside you, seeing him leaning against the fridge, a small smirk on his face.
"Good is a stretch," you replied, shaking your head in an attempt to get the sour taste out.
He chuckled. "Nice freckles." The comment was an odd one, but it ignited some sort of feeling in you. "Never got to see you close enough to notice before."
You managed a smile, a breathy chuckle accompanying it. "That happened to be the goal."
He tilted his head. "How come?"
You swallowed. "Don't you have some girl to make out with?"
A smile from him. "Depends. Are you that girl?"
You crossed your arms. "No."
"Then no."
You narrowed your eyes at him, studying him. His demeanor was calm, collected, cool. Like he belonged right where he was, talking to you in his kitchen as a party happened around the two of you. You weren't quite as collected.
"You didn't answer my other question," he pointed out.
You bit the inside of your cheek. "Well, it was a stupid question."
"Humor me."
You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "You're impossible."
"Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart."
The pet name usually made you feel sick. But Dean didn't say it like a catcall. He said it like it was natural. Like it was a name meant for you. You were positively confused. A little concerned. Mostly focused on making your exit.
Dean noticed. "Some place to be?" He stepped closer. One tiny little step. It made you feel hot.
You swallowed. "Lots of places to be. None of them are here."
"How come?"
The repeated question caused a fire to spread up your neck until you felt the blush across your cheeks. Dean smiled. Not smirked. Smiled. "You're cute when you blush."
You had never felt more of an urge to push a man than you did right then. Not out of anger, but out of embarrassment. No way were you blushing in front of Dean Di Laurentis. "Shut up," you mumbled, tightening your arms around yourself to feel a little more protected.
Dean's eyes scanned over you, his gaze making you squirm slightly. You didn't enjoy being inspected, especially by some manwhore hockey man. Still, you stayed silent. His eyes met yours, something in them you weren't too familiar with.
You could still place it, though. You'd seen it a couple times. It was hunger.
Your chest felt a little tight, and you refused to fall at the feet of him. Your eyes scanned the room. "I make you nervous, don't I?" he asked softly. Not judging or teasing, just a genuine question.
"A little, yes," you replied, eyes staring next to him at the fridge instead of at him.
"How come?"
"Can you stop asking me that?"
"Can you start answering me?"
You bit back a smile. "Fine. You get one question, make it good."
Dean thought for a second. "Why don't you come around?"
You sucked in a breath. "Why would I? A house full of men isn't exactly my idea of a good time."
Dean tilted his head. "So what is?"
You shook yours. "You don't really care about that."
"Hm?"
"I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're not interested in knowing what I do for fun. You're interested in how much fun I can give you."
Something passed Dean's eyes, something that made you regret what you said, but he easily recovered. "True. Partly."
"Partly?"
"I'm not blind, sweetheart. You're a gorgeous woman in my kitchen, I'd be stupid not to flirt. Still, I am actually interested in what you have to say. I don't only think with my dick, you know?"
You tilted your head. "Hm, that's not what I've heard." Dean chuckled, you smiled. "Okay, fine. You get another question."
This one came with no hesitation. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight?"
"Not entirely," you answered honestly. Dean tilted his chin up.
"You wanna go home?"
"Can't. Allie dropped us off."
"Not what I asked."
You sighed. "Yes."
"Then let's go."
You furrowed your brows. "Dean-"
He shook his head. "The party will live without me. I'd be cruel to make you suffer through it." He peeled himself off the fridge, holding out a hand.
You chuckled softly, slipping your hand into his. His fingers wrapped around your hand easily, and the warmth of his skin caused goosebumps to erupt. You ignored them. You found Hannah quickly, she was drunk.
You were glad she felt comfortable enough to be that way now.
You said goodbye to both Hannah and Garrett, and then followed Dean out of the house. He led you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. You got in silently, and once Dean got in, you gave him your address.
The ride was silent, but comfortable. Music hummed lowly through the car and Dean's eyes flickered to you every once in a while. You never looked back. You were smarter than that. You knew better. You had to know better.
You weren't going to one-night stand yourself into some complicated feelings over Dean fucking Di Laurentis. No, you were more aware of your faults than that. More aware of your inability to be casual about anything.
He pulled up to your house, a small one bedroom in a quiet neighborhood. You sighed softly. You regretted the words before you even got them out. "Do you want to come in?"
There was a pause, before Dean nodded. "Yeah."
You ignored the feeling in your chest as you got out, digging your keys out of your pocket and walking up to the front door, Dean following behind you silently. The door creaked open, and you flicked on the light, kicking your shoes off at the door.
Dean followed your example, trailing you as you walked into your cozy living room. It was full of books and plants and, honestly, it was everything Dean thought it would be. Maybe more.
"Cute," he said softly, almost too softly. His fingers grazed the chipping wallpaper on the wall, and you sucked in a small breath, sitting down in your hanging chair.
Dean followed, sitting down on the couch.
"Why'd you come in?" you asked suddenly, but quietly.
Dean smiled. "Why not?"
"Not an actual answer, by the way."
He chuckled. "Honestly? I wanted to see what kind of place you lived in."
You tilted your head. "And?"
"It's everything I expected from you."
You chuckled. "You can go back to your party, you know?"
"I know."
"Yet, you're still sitting on my couch."
"That I am."
Silence. You sucked in a small breath, turning your head away from him. You felt his stare. You ignored it. "Why do you do that?"
Dean's question was soft and quiet, but full of a weight he didn't know it carried. "Do what?" you asked. Your eyes still weren't on his.
"We get somewhere, and you shut down."
"We don't get anywhere."
"Yes, we do."
You closed your eyes, sucking in a breath through your nose. Your hands tightened at the edges of your chair. You slowly looked at him. "Honestly? It scares me."
Dean tilted his head at your answer, his eyes soft and searching. "What does?"
"You. This. All of it. I don't..." You shook your head. "I don't flirt. I'm smarter than that. I don't get my hopes up. I'm better than that. And I certainly, certainly don't invite a hockey man into my house."
Dean ignored the last part for now, more focused on what you said before. "Hopes up about what?" he asked curiously.
You laughed. A self-deprecating one that made you cringe internally. "You're not dumb, Dean. You know who you are, and so do I. And I know who I am. It's just..." You shook your head once more. It wasn't like you didn't know your worth.
You did.
You just also knew when you were in over your head. Sometimes it got the better of you. You hated that it did, but you couldn't help it. Dean moved then, slowly and soft like you were going to run away if he moved too quickly.
Maybe you were.
He found his place in front of you on his knees, eyes looking up at you. You sucked in a breath. "So who are you, then?" he asked quietly.
Your eyes searched his. "I'm the girl who's smart enough to know that this isn't happening. Not really." He tilted his head. You continued. "You'll flirt and maybe you'll get what you want, or maybe you won't. Either way, you'll go home and it'll be over for you. You're a casual man, Dean."
He swallowed. You didn't stop. "Casual's cool. It's nice, I guess. But it's not me. I'm not that type of person. I can't be. It's not realistic, and it's certainly not something I'm capable of."
Dean sucked in a breath. "It doesn't have to be casual."
The words hung heavy in the air. You furrowed your brows. "What?"
Dean shrugged. "It doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be. It doesn't have to be sex." He leaned in, just slightly, his hands resting on either side of your legs. "What do you want?"
You scoffed, soft and really with no insult behind it, shaking your head. "I-" You swallowed. "What?" You couldn't fathom what he was saying right now. Dean Di Laurentis of all people.
"What do you want?" he repeated, softer this time.
The question was heavy. It crushed your throat and filled your chest with cement. It was the type of question you never answered honestly. Tonight, it felt like you had to. "I want to be wanted. Really wanted."
Dean nodded, eyes searching yours. He stood up slowly, holding out his hand. For some reason, you just took it. No questions asked. He pulled you up with ease, and you gasped softly as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest.
"Why don't we start slow?" he asked quietly. "See where it goes."
"I'm not having sex with you."
He smiled. "Not what I meant, sweetheart."
You tilted your head, genuinely curious. "What did you mean?"
He brought a hand up, thumb brushing over your cheek that was still burning with a blush. "I take you on a date, we get to know each other. Something...un-casual."
You sucked in a small breath, eyes searching his. "You're serious?"
"Deadly."
You bit your lip, slowly nodding. "Okay."
He smiled, soft and warm and it filled you with something you weren't sure you wanted to place. You were fucking terrified. Still, your veins pumped with excitement. "Does it count as un-casual if I kiss you?"
You giggled at his question. "Only if you don't immediately leave after."
Ā
He shook his head, tucking some hair behind your ear. "Not happening."
You nodded, giving him the green light. His lips met yours softly, full of warmth and passion and you felt dizzy from it. He pulled you closer, hands roaming your body in a way you've never felt. You moaned softly into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth.
Dean pressed against you harder, but not insistent. Like he just wanted to be close. What usually made you feel uncomfortable made you feel warm now. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, deepening the kiss slightly.
Dean's hands slipped under your ass, picking you up in one swift motion. You gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders. He carried you over to the couch like you weighed nothing, sitting you on his lap as you two made out.
His lips traveled to your jaw, sucking softly on the skin as you let out a shaky breath, hand running through his hair. He pulled back slowly, licking his lips as he looked at you. You could feel him growing harder under you, and it was hard to ignore.
He noticed. "Don't worry about it," he whispered, caressing your hair. "No sex, remember?"
You giggled, leaning in and kissing him softly. He groaned into it. "You are so not how I thought you'd be."
it's been a pretty chilled day at the briar boys' house, tucker cooking or baking, john fixing his truck, per usualā¦ hannah, allie and garrett alll watching dirty dancing for the 15th time! on the other hand, you, dean and your daughter are all cuddled up on the sofa, together.
you absolutely adored theses moments, dean babbling to his daughter, everyone else chipping in to help you guys, your baby has the best aunts and uncles ever!!!!!
a couple hours passed, tucker decided to make a move with starting dinner. "hey tuck!" dean greeted him, "hey dude!" tucker slightly whispers back as he notices you and his daughter are fast asleep.
dean gently nudged you, without his daughter stirring this timeā¦ āhey bunny, tucker gonna cooking dinner. do wanna go upstairs and freshen up?ā while he whispers to you, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.
you sleepily groaned back him, hugging your daughter closer to you while you lightly kissed her cheek. dean found it completely adorable when youāre sleepy around him, heās noticed his daughter doing the exact same thing as her mum!
while tucker is humming in the kitchen, logan quietly walks through the front door, trying not wake you and the baby up. along with, hannah, garrett and allie all waltzing their way into the dining room, setting up the table together.
as everyone was preparing dinner, dean asked hannah if she could quickly put his daughterās bib on for dinner and get her high chair out of the utility closet, which hannah was entirely more than happier to doā¦ with garrett, obviously!
while dean carried you into his bedroom, he carefully laid his duvet over you. he started cleaning up his bedroom; restocking the nappy drawer, baby wipes, emptying the bin, opening the windows and lastly resupplying yours and his diaper bag for home, campus and for the car!
before dean left the room to let you rest, heās softly kissing your forehead, āi love you, baby doll.ā while heās smiling to himself. āiāll save you a plate, bunny.ā he whispers to you, stroking your head to brushing the pad of his thumb over your blushed cheek.
as he quietly closed the door behind him, he rushed down stair to see his daughter babbling and giggling with everyone. allie kissing and playing with her, garrettās holding her while tucker is genuinely trying to have a conversation with her while hannah is doing food airplanes with herā¦ all the while logan is taking many photos and videos!
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