Riah

Welcome to my account where I celebrate all the Gays

[riahreadz]

2 months, 2 days, 11 hours, and 11 minutes until I meet these two 😌

[riahreadz]

Forgot to update this 😅 but meeting JR and Tyler was a dream come true. They both were just so sweet 🥹 got to talk with Tyler about how my uncle met him on the set of Road to Perdition, which he said was crazy to believe it was over 20 years ago. JR was super funny, joking about how I was taller than him so he had to be on his tippy toes 🤣 last minute I bought a photo op for Michael Trevino and he said he loved my pants and now I can't remember if I said thank you or just thought it in my head 😅 so ya know awesome but had to be embarrassing one way or another so it adds up lmao. My bestie wanted a photo with Colin Donnell, and that was something 🤣 we were in line talking to one another and didn't realize it was our turn until he had to get our attention. So that was just great 😅 (cut her out of the pics cause she doesnt wanna be on social media) Overall it was one of the best days ever and I can't wait to go back in September for EpicCons first responders event 😊

[riahreadz]

Update #2:

ECC2 - First Responders Event is less than a month away. 23 days to be exact🎉 Bestie and I have quite a list of tickets going 🤣

We're meeting Matt Czuchry from The Resident, Jay Harrington from SWAT, Ronen Rubinstein and Rafael Silva from 911 Lonestar, and Shemar Moore from SWAT/Criminal Minds. I might buy last minute ticket(s) for some cast members from Grey's Anatomy but idk yet.

🤞🏻 it goes as well as last time and I don't make a total fool of myself lol

[riahreadz]

ECC UPDATE #3:

It's been a week since ECC2, and I still can't get over how much a dream it was 😍 Shemar gave the absolute best hugs and is just so sweet. He signed my auto saying baby girl, which nearly killed me lol. He tried talking to each fan a little, but there were just such long lines to see him it was crazy. Ronen is so funny, and there's this like quiet chaos around his table from everyone - it was a fun way to kick off the weekend and see him first. Rafael is completely 100% absolutely amazing. I really believe he was given the most bracelets from fans it was so cute. Then these two girls had him sign this textbook that a model photo of his ended up in or something idk but it was funny to see his reaction to it 😂 Jay and Matt were super sweet and nice but unfortunately because of scheduling we were going from one line to another and plus the lines to see them were pushed through pretty quickly. The entire weekend was just amazing. Made some new friends, which is always awesome 😊

[driftershunt]

this was originally meant for top gun anniversary but I got lazy as fuck. anyways

[riahreadz]

Anyone else get the random weird urge to rewatch the Teen Wolf movie? Just to see daddy Derek?? No just me? Okay.

[riahreadz]

Phone was running low on storage so I cleared out like 20gigs. Then I saw pics and vids of Glen Powell at CMA Fest... IT TOOK LIKE 10 MINUTES. Fuck me. My phone has 256 gigs. I'm at 254.8. IT TAKES LIKE 5 MINUTES JUST TO LEAVE AN APP 🤣

[kaizsche]

GLEN POWELL at CMA FEST 2026 for THE COMEBACK KING (2027)

[goddesspharo]

Glen Powell firing the cannon at the Red River Rivalry game [x]

[sportsmusicsoapsmoviesfan]

[shitpostingsterek]

[bootycap]

ao3 mcu a:aou abo bdsm ot3 hs au pwp

[bootycap]

the fact that this is completely understandable and rather descriptive makes me rethink what i’ve done with my life

[prewars-deleted]

#i understand it perfectly but you couldn’t fucking pay me to read it

[bootycap]

this post has ended up in at least 2 masters theses and 1 presentation and im not sure how i feel about that

[captainlordauditor]

but is it m/m/m, f/f/f, f/m/m or f/f/m

[boytranscending]

Dont be silly, a:aou doesnt have three whole women in it

[sam-writes]

This post is just multiple punches to the face

[star-shard]

Sometimes, fanfiction is carefully plotted out stories, with plot points and call backs and themes that all tie it up in a meaningful and exciting way.

And sometimes fanfiction is, ‘Watch me do a fucking KICK FLIP off this cool sentence!! Also here's some sex'

Both are beautiful forms of writing.

[unrelaxing]

Bradley is asexual, and he's open about it, though mostly it's just him reiterating that "he's not interested" whenever his fellow aviators make comments.

Jake has known Beadley for over ten years, and despite Not Knowing The Lingo, he's gotten the message: Bradley Bradshaw does not have sex. Further clarification after a drunk night out: he is repulsed even by the thought of it.

He takes that to mean he doesn't have relationships, because to Jake, they come together.

He learns the difference eventually, but continues to keep Bradley firmly in the NAH category, because Jake fucking loves sex and he's just not interested in being in a relationship without it.

Except... Jake realises he and Bradley are compatible in ways he's never been with anyone else. They talk for hours, once, about everything and anything, a quarter sniping and bantering, a quarter the most delving psychological shit, and half utter nonsense that's still the most invested he's been in a conversation.

Bradley loves cooking but hates cleaning, Jake doesn't know shit about the kitchen but keeps everything spotless.

Bradley gets invited to the Seresin house alongside the Daggers and somehow his nieces and nephews don't even remember anyone else — they're all just obsessed with Bradley.

The worst thing is, everyone starts to see they're perfect for each other, too. Javy starts making comments and Nat starts making Shovel Talk Is Coming eyes at him and Admiral Kazansky Nods at him once and Mav seems to hate him more than ever.

There is no Big Moment, at the end of the day. Bradley doesn't nearly die during a mission, forcing Jake to realise how much he needs him. It's just all of them hanging out as a group, Bradley doing the UGLIEST honk laugh at a joke Jake has made that no one else finds funny, and Jake realises he wants a relationship with Bradley more than he wants a relationship with sex. That he has his right hand, and his left, and his goddamn foot if that's what it takes, but at some point in his life intimacy has become talking for hours and someone who always laughs at your jokes rather than sex.

And because Jake has no impulse control and no shame, he asks Bradley out then and there, in front of God and every asshole who will never let him live it down.

[steveandbvcky]

[riahreadz]

Okay okay okay. Let's talk Off Campus. I'M A BIT LATE IK. Loved every minute of it. Rather that's the books or the show, gimme it all.

I'm a hard core Garrett book girlie, but a total Dean girlie when it comes to the show.

But the real reason for this post?? THE AMOUNT OF DOPPLEGANGERS IN THIS SHOW IS DRIVING ME NUTS. So without further ado:

Stephen Kalyn as Dean Di Laurentis looks like a mixture between Glen Powell's Chad Powers show as Russ Holiday and Rudy Pankow. Literally the three could be brothers. Kinda wanna see that now ngl. I've seen a few people mention this and i'm glad I'm not the only one thinking it.

Belmont Cameli as Garrett Graham looks like Nick Fink from Legacies. Have not seen anyone say this and it's driving me bonkers.

Mika Abdalla as Allie Hayes reminds me of Sarah Hyland but also someone else that I just can't figure out yet.

Ella Bright reminds me of the Langford sisters but especially Katherine Langford. Haven't seen anyone say this either. What???

Anyone else seeing all this?? It's literally making me go crazy. I could keep going but these are the most identical ones. This show is just full of DOPPLEGANGERS IM TELLING YALL.

[starryinspace]

"Greased up Miles Teller with a moustache, he's a real vibe."

[worldimaginedreaming]

SHE'S SITTING WITH ME !

Pairing : Dean Di Laurentis x Fem!reader Warning : jealousy , possesive Dean, popular hockey boy x shy girl, accidental confession Word Count : 1,6k Summary : When Dean gets unexpectedly jealous at a Briar party and pulls you onto his lap in front of everyone, the line between friendship and something more suddenly disappears.

You hated Briar parties. Too loud. Too crowded. Too many drunk athletes screaming over terrible music.

Honestly, you would’ve stayed home if Dean hadn’t practically dragged you there himself.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he complained dramatically while walking backwards in front of you. “You can’t spend your entire Friday night hiding in your dorm.”

“Yes I can.”

Dean grinned immediately.

“Not anymore.”

Your stomach flipped stupidly. That happened a lot around Dean Di Laurentis. Which was unfortunate because Dean flirted with literally everyone.

Waitresses. Classmates. Random girls at parties.

Meanwhile you could barely survive eye contact with him.

“Relax,” he teased softly once you reached the crowded house. “I’ll protect you from the evil social interaction.”

You rolled your eyes, but still followed closely behind him inside. Dean noticed. He always noticed. That was the problem. People thought Dean was shallow because he joked constantly and flirted with everyone around him. But you knew better.

You noticed the little things:

how he always walked on the outside of sidewalks,

how he remembered your coffee order,

how he touched your lower back in crowded rooms without thinking,

how his eyes automatically searched for you first whenever he entered somewhere.

It was confusing.

Especially because Dean acted like you belonged to him half the time. Even though you definitely weren’t dating. Probably. Maybe. Honestly, you didn’t know anymore.

“Stay here,” Dean said while handing you a drink. “I’m grabbing Logan before he destroys someone at beer pong.”

You laughed quietly.

“Okay.”

“Don’t let anyone kidnap you while I’m gone.”

Heat rushed to your face immediately. Dean winked before disappearing into the crowd. You hated how easily he affected you. A few minutes later, you were standing awkwardly near the kitchen trying not to look completely uncomfortable. Bad idea. Because apparently standing alone at a party attracted attention.

“You look terrified.”

You looked up nervously to find a football player smiling down at you. Cute. Very tall.Definitely drunk.

“Oh,” you laughed weakly. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” He leaned casually against the counter beside you. “You’ve been hiding over here all night.”

You smiled politely, unsure what to say. Social interaction was already hard enough. Flirting was worse.

“I’m Mason, by the way.”

You told him your name softly. Then immediately regretted it because his smile widened.

“Well,” Mason said, “you’re definitely the prettiest girl here.”

Your face burned.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You here with someone?”

Before you could answer, Mason’s hand landed lightly on your waist.

And suddenly,

“She’s sitting with me.”

The voice cut through the noise instantly. Your breath caught. Dean stood a few feet away staring directly at the football player.

And for once? Dean Di Laurentis wasn’t smiling. Your heartbeat immediately sped up.

Mason lifted his hands awkwardly. “Dude, I was just talking to her.”

“Cool.” Dean walked forward slowly. “Now you’re done.”

The tension shifted instantly.

You stared at Dean in complete shock while Mason looked between both of you confused.

“Wait,” Mason frowned slightly. “Are you guys together?”

Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist without hesitation.

“She’s with me.”

The words hit your chest so hard it almost hurt. Mason looked uncomfortable immediately.

“My bad.”

Dean didn’t answer.

He just guided you away from the kitchen with his hand still firmly against your waist.

Your entire body felt warm where he touched you.

“What was that?” you whispered once you reached the living room.

Dean looked down at you innocently.

“What was what?”

“You basically threatened him.”

Dean scoffed.

“He was flirting with you.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t like it.”

The answer came too fast. Too honestly. Your heart nearly stopped. Dean seemed to realize what he’d admitted because his expression shifted slightly. But instead of taking it back… His hand tightened against your waist.

“You’re sitting with me,” he decided suddenly.

Before you could process the sentence, Dean dropped onto the couch and pulled you directly into his lap. Your entire brain short-circuited.

“Dean!”

He looked completely relaxed despite the fact that your heart was trying to kill you.

“What?”

“I can’t sit on your lap!”

“Too late.”

Around you, several hockey players immediately started staring. Logan nearly spit out his drink. Garrett looked deeply unimpressed.

And Allie whispered:

“Oh my God finally.”

Your face burned hotter. Dean only looked smug. One of his hands rested casually against your thigh while the other held his drink. Completely comfortable. Like this was normal. Meanwhile you could barely breathe.

“Dean,” you hissed quietly. “Everyone’s looking.”

“Let them.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

“How are you acting normal right now?”

He leaned closer slightly.

“I’m always normal.”

“You’re literally holding me hostage.”

Dean grinned lazily.

“Sweetheart, if I was holding you hostage, you’d know.”

Your brain stopped functioning. Absolutely stopped. And the worst part? You didn’t even want to move. Because sitting in Dean’s lap felt stupidly safe. Warm. His fingers absentmindedly traced circles against your leg while he talked to Garrett about hockey, completely unaware he was actively ruining your life.

Or maybe he was aware. That was somehow worse.

“You’re quiet,” Dean murmured eventually, looking down at you.

“I wonder why.”

He laughed softly.

Cute.

Dean Di Laurentis was annoyingly cute.

Which felt deeply unfair considering he looked like that and had the personality of a menace.

“You okay?” he asked more gently.

The softness in his voice caught you off guard. You nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Dean studied your face for a second too long. Then his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your thigh. Your pulse jumped instantly. And suddenly something shifted. The teasing atmosphere faded slightly.

Now it was just:

Dean looking at you,

your body pressed against his,

and way too much tension between both of you.

“You know,” Dean said quietly, “I really hated watching him flirt with you.”

Your breath caught.

“Dean…”

“I’m serious.”

His expression softened completely now. No jokes. No flirting. Just honesty. And somehow that terrified you more.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Dean admitted softly. “Or touched you.”

Your heart pounded painfully.

“Why?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Dean stared at you silently for a second.

Then laughed quietly to himself.

“Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

Your stomach twisted.

“Know what?”

Dean looked almost frustrated now.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “I’ve been obsessed with you for months.”

Silence. Complete silence. The party noise faded into background static. You stared at him, convinced you misheard.

“What?”

Dean’s hand moved carefully to your waist again.

“You think I drag you to parties because I enjoy watching you avoid eye contact with everyone?”

Heat rushed violently to your face.

“You flirt with everybody,” you whispered.

Dean immediately shook his head.

“Not like this.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Then what is this?”

Dean smiled softly.

“This,” he murmured while pulling you slightly closer, “is me losing my mind over one shy girl.”

Your heart completely melted. And suddenly everything made sense. The constant attention. The touching. The jealousy. The way Dean always looked at you like you were something precious.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Dean laughed quietly.

“Yeah. Oh.”

You stared at him nervously.

“So…” Your voice came out tiny. “You like me?”

Dean looked genuinely offended.

“Baby, I’m one bad day away from writing poetry about you.”

A startled laugh escaped you instantly. Dean smiled immediately like hearing you laugh was his favorite thing in the world. God. You were so done for.

“You know what the worst part is?” you admitted quietly.

“What?”

“I think I liked when you got jealous.”

Dean froze for half a second. Then a dangerously smug grin appeared on his face.

“Oh, you’re into possessive behavior?” he teased.

Your eyes widened immediately.

“No!”

Dean laughed loudly while your face burned alive.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“You’re horrible.”

“And yet,” he murmured while leaning closer, “you’re still sitting in my lap.”

Your breath caught instantly. Because he was right. You hadn’t moved once. Not even a little. Dean’s eyes flickered briefly toward your lips. Then back up again.

“You wanna know something?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second week I knew you.”

Your heartbeat became unbearable.

“Dean…”

“Tell me to stop.”

But the problem was… You really, really didn’t want him to stop. So instead, you whispered:

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Dean stared at you for half a second before kissing you immediately.

Warm. Confident. Perfect.

One hand settled against your waist while the other tilted your chin upward carefully, like he wanted to make absolutely sure you felt everything behind the kiss. And honestly? You thought Dean flirting was dangerous. Kissing him was worse. When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. Dean rested his forehead lightly against yours.

“Well,” he murmured lazily, “that’s gonna make parties way more interesting.”

You laughed softly despite yourself. Across the room, Garrett looked exhausted already. Logan looked deeply entertained. And Dean? Dean looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Still hate parties?” he whispered.

You glanced at him before smiling shyly.

“Maybe not this one.”

Dean grinned immediately before kissing your forehead. Then, because he was incapable of behaving normally for even five seconds, he looked around the room proudly and announced:

“Everybody relax. She likes me back.”

You immediately hid your face in his shoulder while the hockey team erupted into chaos.

A/N : Here's my third fanfiction on Dean Di Laurentis!!! Hope u like it ! Don't forget to LIKE,SHARE, COMMENT & SUBSCRIBE !! Next one gonna be GARRET GRAHAM !

[newobsessionweekly]

Three times is a pattern

Main masterlist | Off Campus masterlist

Dean Di Laurentis x Reader

Fandom: Off Campus

Summary: You transferred to Briar U to become a ghost, desperate to outrun your controlling ex. When your past finally catches up to you in the middle of a lecture hall, Dean Di Laurentis makes one thing perfectly clear: you are under his protection now.

Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: not proofread yet, probably shitty because I haven't written anything in months, mentions of toxic/controlling relationships, stalking, anxiety, graphic violence, Protective!Dean in full force

A/N: I don't know how good it is because it's been a while since i've last written something and tbh I didn't finish the first season, only read the books 5 times. But I hope you like it and after my finals I will be back with more fics. You can totally spam my box with requests if you's like. But I won't be writing anything for like 3 whole weeks. I am so stressed I can't even exist. Anyway. Feedback is much appreciated. Take care of yourselves and lots of love! What do we think of a part 2?

Words: 2.6k

Requested here!

The booth at Malone’s was designed to comfortably fit six people. Currently, it held four massive hockey players, Hannah, and you. Which meant you were practically sitting in Dean Di Laurentis’s lap.

Not that he was complaining.

"I’m just saying," John Logan argued from across the sticky table, pointing a french fry at Tucker, "if you actually passed the puck instead of trying to be the hero, we would’ve scored in the second period."

"I was open!" Tucker shot back. "You’re just blind, Johnny!"

Garrett Graham, wedged next to them, rolled his eyes and stole a sip of Hannah’s beer. "You’re both idiots. Just drink."

You tuned out the hockey talk, mostly because Dean’s fingers were currently drawing lazy, distracting circles on the denim of your jeans, right at your knee.

When you transferred to Briar to escape the wreckage of your last relationship, your plan was simple: keep your head down, go to class, and stay invisible. You didn't plan on meeting Dean Di Laurentis. You definitely didn't plan on sleeping with him.

Twice.

The problem? The sex was mind-blowing, and Dean was shockingly attentive, which meant you had to pull the emergency brake. Two hookups could be written off as a fluke. Three times was a pattern. Three times meant you were knocking on the door of a relationship, and you didn't do boyfriends anymore. Not after the suffocating mess you’d left behind in your hometown.

You’d drawn a hard line.

Dean, however, treated that line like a mild suggestion.

"I'm going to grab another round before Logan and Tuck start throwing punches," Hannah announced, sliding out of the booth. "Don't kill each other."

"You're ignoring me," Dean murmured. He dropped his arm over the back of the booth behind your head, leaning in so close you could smell his expensive cologne mixed with draft beer.

"I'm listening to Logan and Tuck," you replied, keeping your eyes on your cup. "It’s very educational."

"I can think of better things to do than listen to Logan." Dean's voice dropped to that low, raspy pitch he knew exactly how to use. His thumb dragged a fraction higher on your thigh."You're wearing that perfume again," he murmured, a sound that completely bypassed your brain and went straight to your stomach.

"Shut up, Di Laurentis," you shot back, taking a desperate sip of your drink.

"I know you have this ridiculous rule about a third time meaning we're suddenly married, but come on, beautiful," he chuckled, his breath ghosting over your jaw. " You can’t stop thinking about it either. I promise I’ll make you forget why you ever made that rule in the first place."

"Read my lips, Di Laurentis," you said, turning your head just enough to give him a flat look. "We are done."

He just smirked, his thumb pressing a little firmer against your thigh. "Liar."

You opened your mouth to tell him his ego was writing checks his charm couldn't cash, but Hannah suddenly slid back into the booth, thumping a heavy plastic pitcher onto the table.

"Malone's is officially a zoo," she announced, dropping into the space next to Garrett. She wiped condensation off her hands, then paused, her eyes darting over to you. "Hey, did you tell someone we were coming here?"

You frowned. "No. Why?"

"Because some guy just stopped me by the bar," Hannah said, her brow furrowed. "Tall, dark hair, preppy polo shirt. He had this crazy intense look on his face. He asked if I knew a Y/N who just transferred here. I told him no, but... It gave me the creeps, honestly."

The buzz from the vodka evaporated.

Your stomach did a horrific, Olympic-level flip. It was an instant, violent spike of adrenaline. A cold sweat broke out across the back of your neck, and suddenly the loud, chaotic noise of the bar felt like it was pressing against your eardrums.

He’s here.

You stared at the condensation pooling on the wooden table, your brain short-circuiting.

Beside you, Dean completely misread the situation. He thought you were just giving him the silent treatment. He leaned his weight against you, his chest pressing into your shoulder.

"Come on, beautiful," Dean coaxed, his voice dropping right into your ear. "Stop playing hard to get. Let's get out of here."

The feeling of being boxed into the booth suddenly shifted from annoying to terrifying. You felt trapped.

You snapped your head up to tell Dean to back the hell off, your heart hammering against your ribs. But as you looked past him, your eyes landed on the front entrance.

Standing by the bouncer, looking exactly like the entitled prick he was, was your ex-boyfriend.

Your breath caught in your throat. Fight or flight kicked in, and your body chose flight.

You didn't care about looking cool, and you didn't care about explaining yourself. You just needed to get out of his line of sight before he spotted you.

You shoved Dean’s arm away and scrambled to get your feet under you.

"Move," you choked out.

Dean looked startled. "Whoa, hey, what—"

"Dean, let me out!" you snapped, practically climbing over his knees. You abandoned your jacket, hit the sticky floor, and bolted toward the back hallway. You pushed past a group of frat guys and burst through the heavy metal door into the freezing alleyway.

A second later, the heavy door swung open again. You heard Garrett swearing under his breath, followed by Hannah’s worried voice.

The night was officially over.

The heavy front door of the house slammed shut, cutting off the biting wind.

Garrett took one look at you—at the way your arms were wrapped tightly around your ribs, your face completely bloodless—and didn't ask a single question.

"Upstairs. Now," he muttered, shoving Logan and Tucker down the hall before they could open their mouths.

Hannah hesitated, giving you a tight, worried smile, before following Garrett's lead.

You walked straight into the kitchen on autopilot, grabbing the edge of the marble island to keep your knees from buckling. You were shaking like a leaf, and it definitely wasn't the weather.

Footsteps squeaked against the hardwood floor.

Dean walked into the kitchen and stopped a good five feet away, leaning his hip against the opposite counter.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

"I’m an ass," Dean said.

His voice was flat, totally stripped of its usual lazy drawl. You looked up. He was running a hand through his blond hair, his jaw tight, looking genuinely stressed.

"Dean—"

"No, let me finish," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm an idiot. I completely misread that," Dean dragged a hand down his face, dropping his gaze to the floor. "We had a deal—you said two times was it, and I kept pushing. I crowded you in that booth, and you looked like you were suffocating. I crossed a line, and I’m sorry."

You let out an exhausted breath. Dean Di Laurentis—actual playboy extraordinaire—was standing in his kitchen apologizing because he thought his flirting had sent you into a panic attack.

"Dean," you said softly, your voice shaking. "It wasn't you."

His brow furrowed, his hazel eyes snapping up to meet yours. "What are you talking about? You couldn't get out of that booth fast enough."

"I wasn't running from you," you admitted, hugging yourself tighter. "I panicked because of what Hannah said. And because when I snapped my head up to tell you to back off... I saw someone."

Dean went perfectly still. The confusion on his face lingered for a split second before sharpening into intense focus. "Saw who?"

"My ex-boyfriend." The words tasted like ash. "The guy I transferred here to get away from."

Dean didn't move. "He was at Malone's?"

You nodded, a humiliating tear spilling over your lashes. "I didn't move to Briar for a fresh start. I came here because I was running away from him."

Dean stayed quiet, letting you set the pace. He didn't pace the room, and he didn't raise his voice.

"He didn't hit me," you said, your voice cracking. "I know people always assume that's what it takes to run. But he just... he owned me. If we had an argument, he would literally stand in front of the door so I couldn't leave the room until I gave in and apologized. He alienated my friends. He made me feel like I was crazy for wanting to exist outside of his control. By the time I finally packed my car and left, I felt like a ghost."

You wiped angrily at your cheek, staring at the marble counter. "I moved here to be invisible. I thought I was safe. And he was standing right there by the bouncers."

The air in the kitchen completely changed.

The guilt that had been weighing Dean down evaporated, swallowed up by a profound, heavy stillness. You could see the exact moment the pieces clicked together in his head—the realization of why you hated feeling cornered, why you were so fiercely independent, why you put up so many walls.

Dean was a hockey player; he had a temper. You could see the anger flare in his eyes, dark and sharp, but he brutally forced it down. He seemed to understand, instinctively, that you didn't need to see another man lose his temper right now.

"Okay," Dean said softly. His voice was incredibly calm, level, and steady. "Did he see you?"

You shook your head, "I... I don't think so."

"Good." He took a slow, deliberate step forward, keeping his hands visible and his body language completely relaxed. "He doesn't know where you live. He doesn't know who you're with."

Dean slowly reached out. He just offered his hand, palm up, resting it on the marble counter between you. An invitation, not a demand.

You stared at his large, calloused hand for a second before slowly sliding yours into it. His fingers immediately wrapped around yours in a warm, solid grip.

"I know we have an arrangement," Dean said, his thumb brushing a slow, rhythmic circle over your knuckles to help ground you. "You call your own shots. I respect that."

He paused, making sure you were looking him in the eye.

"But you are my friend," Dean continued, "And you are standing in my house. Which means you are officially under my protection. I don't care how annoying this guy is. He doesn't get to breathe the same air as you."

The quiet, absolute certainty in his voice did more to calm your racing heart than any loud threat ever could. He wasn't posturing for his own ego; he was just stating a fact.

A small, surprised laugh escaped you. "You're going to act like my bodyguard now, Di Laurentis?"

A faint, familiar smirk finally touched the corner of Dean's mouth, though his eyes remained entirely serious. "Somebody has to keep the country club rejects away from you. Besides, Garrett would kill me if I let a guy in a polo shirt terrorize our house."

It had been four days since Malone’s, and you were almost convinced you were safe.

You were sitting in your Tuesday morning Psychology lecture, tucked into your usual seats near the back. Dean slouched next to you, his long legs stretched out into the aisle. He tapped his pen rhythmically against his notebook while the professor droned on about cognitive dissonance.

The heavy doors at the front of the lecture hall swung open.

A guy walked in and handed a slip of paper to the professor. A transfer student.

One look at the arrogant set of his shoulders, the dark hair, and the expensive preppy sweater sent all the blood rushing out of your head. The air vanished from your lungs. You shrank back against your plastic chair, your hands immediately curling into tight fists in your lap as a cold sweat broke out across your skin.

He had actually enrolled at Briar.

Beside you, Dean felt the violent shift in your posture. The tapping stopped. "Hey," he whispered. "What is it?"

You gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of your head, keeping your eyes fixed on the front of the room.

Dean followed your line of sight. He studied the new guy finding a seat three rows down. The pieces clicked together instantly in Dean's head—the preppy clothes, the dark hair, and the sheer terror radiating off you. He recognized the guy from the door at Malone's.

Dean sat up straight, locking his jaw into a hard, rigid line. For the remaining forty minutes of the lecture, he remained terrifyingly still, his eyes burning a hole into the back of your ex's head.

"Class dismissed," the professor finally announced, snapping his laptop shut and briskly walking out the side door.

The hall erupted into the chaotic noise of zippers, scraping chairs, and overlapping conversations. You shoved your notebook into your backpack with shaking hands, desperate to blend into the crowd and escape through the back doors before he spotted you.

But your ex was already turning around. His eyes locked onto yours.

That familiar, entitled smirk crawled onto his face. He grabbed his bag and marched up the stairs, heading straight for your row.

Dean stood up. He slung his backpack over his left shoulder and stepped smoothly out of your row, planting his massive, athlete frame directly in the middle of the aisle to block the stairs.

Your ex stopped a few steps below him, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Excuse me, buddy. You're in the way."

Dean held his ground, staring down at him with a look of cold, absolute apathy.

Your ex scoffed, his ego flaring up. "Hey, deaf guy. Move. I need to talk to my girlfriend."

Dean dropped his backpack, shifted his weight, and threw a brutal, devastating right hook.

The sickening crack of Dean's knuckles connecting with bone echoed sharply in the thinning lecture hall.

The force of the punch lifted your ex entirely off his feet. He flew backward, crashing hard into a wooden desk before crumpling to the linoleum floor in a heap. A few remaining students gasped, freezing in their tracks. Nobody dared to intervene.

Your ex groaned, rolling onto his side. He clutched his face, blood instantly pouring from his shattered nose and dripping onto his pristine sweater. He looked up at Dean, his eyes wide with genuine shock and pain.

"What the hell?!" your ex yelled, his voice thick and nasally. He scrambled backward against the desks, staring at Dean like he was a monster. "What the hell was that for?! I don't even know you!"

Dean stood over him, breathing evenly, casually rolling his shoulders. He flexed his right hand once, his eyes dark and completely devoid of mercy.

"You know why," Dean said. His voice was deathly quiet, carrying a promise of so much worse if the guy ever tried to get up.

Dean held his gaze for three agonizing seconds, making sure the message was received loud and clear. Your ex stayed frozen on the floor, too terrified to reach for his fallen bag.

Satisfied, Dean smoothly bent down and picked up his backpack by the strap. The cold, lethal hockey player vanished in a fraction of a second as he turned back to you.

His hazel eyes softened instantly. He stepped back into your row, gently placing his uninjured hand on the small of your back.

"Come on," Dean murmured, his voice warm and perfectly calm, acting as if he hadn't just committed assault in front of a dozen witnesses. "Let's go get some lunch."

[lacyydollette]

₊  ֹ  ˖ BF!DEAN WHEN HE’S JEALOUS ᱺㅤㅤ   ୨౿ 

he’s staring at you from across the overcrowded frat party, sipping on his drink and smiling like a fool.

your in your usual element, bubbly and laughing while you’re dancing with your girls, looking utterly beautiful in the short mini skirt that’s so short you could flash the whole party with a slight bend, and a skimpy top that’s tied at your back, and dean’s pretty sure he could untie it with a tug of his teeth.

the outfit is beyond dangerous and scandalous, but that’s why your boyfriend’s here, right? and he can fight too, so that’s a bonus.

eventually that smile on dean’s face turns into an annoyed look when you move around all sweaty, trying to get a drink from logan, and that gives the perfect opportunity to some short frat guy making his way towards you, flashing you his cheap boy‑next‑door smile and trying to make small conversation while you look him up and down, answering his questions in boredom.

and dean’s teammate logan has the audacity to leave you alone as he makes his way towards his own girl. the conversation looks innocent, but not until shorty has the audacity to put a hand on your hip, whispering something in your ear, pretending like it’s sooo loud and you just can’t hear him!!

and that’s what motivates dean to leave his drink nearby on a table and strut his way towards you as he rounds a large hand over your tummy, pulling you into his hard chest and making you relax.

the guy you’re talking to falters slightly, letting go as he gapes at him.

“hey man, saw your game last night—” he blabbers, but dean could not care less, using his free hand as he tilts your chin to his smirking face while you grin at him.

not long before he brands his lips and tongue on you, you struggle to kiss him back.

the frat guy is long forgotten, melting away into the background as dean deepens the kiss. your hands find purchase on his shoulders, gripping the firm muscle through his shirt as you press closer.

you’re drunk on his scent.

he’s drunk on your mouth.

shamelessly, he takes full advantage, pressing open‑mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. his hand continues its journey upward until he reaches the knot of your top, his fingers toying with the strings.

“dean,” you whisper, a half‑hearted protest as your body arches into his touch.

he smirks against your skin. “what? just making sure it’s secure. can’t have you flashing everyone now, can we?” but his fingers continue to tease the knot, not quite untying it but definitely testing its strength.

you hear a loud “get a room!” and you both know it’s one of his idiot friends, but he doesn’t even care as he grins into you.

your own hands begin to explore, sliding down his chest to the hem of his shirt. you slip beneath it, your fingers tracing the ridges of his abs while balancing your drink on the other hand.

dean groans into your mouth at your touch, his hips pressing forward instinctively.

“maybe we should find somewhere more private hmm,” he suggests between kisses, though he makes no move to pull away.

you’re about to agree when someone bumps into you, breaking the moment. you both look up to find a drunk girl apologizing profusely before stumbling away. the spell broken, dean takes your hand.

“come on,” he says, his eyes gleaming with desire. “we’re getting outta here.”

who knew dean di laurentis. famous party boy was so desperate to leave a party.