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Pairing: bsf!Beau Maxwell x Fem!Reader // Masterlist
Summary: After a movie marathon, you decide it's time to go home but Beau doesn't feel the same way. Instead, he starts questioning why youâre suddenly creating distance, as well as doing everything he can to close it.
Content warnings: MDNI +18, smut, (painfully) vanilla sex, best friends to lovers, secret pining, oral (f!recieving), piv ((eventually) unprotected), creampie, unintentional cock warming, hair pulling, illudes to aftercare, L-word later on, hookup culture mentioned, Dean mentioned
Wc: 2.9k
Author's Note: this was inspired by the opening scene of Dawson's creek and also by my love for Beau. can you tell i'm obsessed with best friends to lovers?
The credits roll across the television after two and a half hours of explosions, plot twists, and an ending you could have guessed from the beginning. On your left, Beau Maxwell lies sleeping. He still looks like the boy youâd grown up with, despite everything that had changed. You brush the hair out of his face, but his head falls sideways, and you canât help but smile at the feeble attempt.
The bed creaks as you sit up, slowly sliding your shoes on. His breathing shifts, eyes fluttering open softly.
âWhere are you going?â
âHome, Beau. Itâs almost 1.â
âJust spend the night.â He groans, flipping onto his back.
You glance at the empty side of the bed. âI canât.â
âBut you always spend the night.â He sits up.
âNot tonight.â The floorboards squeak as you walk towards the window.
He falls backwards dramatically, lips forming into a pout. âWhy not?â
âIt's not a good idea for me to sleep over anymore.â You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and sit on the exposed window ledge.
âSince when?â He rolls off the bed, crossing the room. âYouâve been sleeping over sinceâGod knows when, and itâs a Saturday night.â
âYeah, a Saturday night where you should be wasted by now or sleeping with someone. Not watching some stupid movie with me. Youâre captain of the football team for godâs sake. Things are supposed to change, Beau. Evolve even."
He scoffs before sitting down and undoing the laces on your shoes. âWhat are you talking about?â
You attempt to swat his hand away but he persists.
âSleeping in the same bed was fine when we were kids, high school was pushing it, but we're in college now.â
âWeâve been in college for 2 years.â He takes off both shoes and places them behind his back.
You sink down beside him. âIn the 2 years weâve been here, youâve also managed to sleep with half the female population.â
âWhat?â
âYou know, sex, hookups, making out withââ
âWhat does that have to do with you sleeping over?â
You roll your eyes. âI gotta go.â
Both legs swing over the window ledge but before you can reach the ladder, he grabs your waist dragging you into his lap.
âNo, don't hit and run. Come on. Explain yourself.â
âI just think our hormonesâŠmore specifically yoursââ the position youâre in comes to your attention and you shimmy away. ââare destined to alter our relationship. And I'm trying to limit the fallout.â
He canât help but grin. âYour hormones arenât developing a thing for me, are they?â
Your breathing stops momentarily, jaw dropping. âA thing?â
He nods and your stomach twists.
Your tongue runs over your teeth. âI'm not getting a thing for you, Beau. I've known you too long. Which means I'm definitely not getting a thing for you.â
His eyebrows furrow. âThen what's the problem?â
âWe're changing and we have to adjust. Or else the male-female thing will get in the way.â
âWhat is with this? Did your friends say something orâor did you meet some new guy?â
âNo.â
âThen, what is it?â
You take a deep breath and shrug.
His hands run through his hair, brain racking through what might be causing this. But as you look around the room, the photos of the two of you on his nightstand stick out at you.
âWhat do you do with the photos of us when you have a girl over?â Your words cut off his train of thought.
âHuh?â He follows your gaze. âI-I donât do anything, it just stays there.â
âSoââ You canât help but laugh.
âWhatâs so funny?â He covers his face, still stressed. âHow could you be thinking about that right now?â But as you continue laughing, the tension in his shoulders eases.
âYou know, the odds of some girl cumming while looking at that photo of us is probably so high.â
He takes one glance at you before breaking out in laughter. He canât believe that is what you're thinking about right now. A tear streams down your cheek.
âThat is a horrible thing for you to say,â he says, struggling for air.
âRight, of course.â You throw your hands up, âYou canât even make a girl cum.â
You laugh harder but his laughter dies down, expression serious as ever.
âOh, trust me, Iâm the best orgasm theyâll ever have.â
âLie to yourself all you want. Dean could probablyâ.â
âDean, could probably what?â He looks exasperated. âHow would you know anything about Dean?â
âFreshman year, remember? I was practically the entry point to his womanizer era.â
You smile at the memory, but he looks irritated.
What you didnât know was Beau was supposed to be Dean that night. The night you and Dean had slept together. In fact, he had orchestrated the whole thing in hopes to finally make his move. He was the one that encouraged you to dance while he made your favorite drinkâwhich Dean stole and brought to you on the dance floor. He even rehearsed the words to say to you with Dean countless times that dayâthe same words Dean used that led you to his bedroom.
Beau could also remember the conversation you had with him at Maloneâs the next morning. The way you described the night, every detail as if it was nothing personal, like he didn't want to be more than your best fried, let alone, he wasnât the reason any of it had happened.
He sighs deeply and you raise an eyebrow, failing to figure out what heâs thinking, youâve never seen this look.
His eyes grow as dark as his tone. âI am better than Dean.â
A cool breeze flows over your head, reminding you that you shouldâve left long agoâthings never shouldâve escalated this farâbut your body stays where itâs at.
âBeauââ
He crawls over on his knees, âI am, I really am.â
âBeau, what are youââ
His lips crash onto yours, knocking the words right off of your tongue. As if instinct, your lips part, meeting his cadence. Inside of you, a warmth spreads between your legs. He hums, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue into your mouth. The warmth spreads, overpowering anything that could tell you this is wrong.
He pulls back and both of you sharply inhale, eyelids fluttering. Everything around feels like itâs spinning but looking at him makes it all go away. You smile and thread your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. His lips curl upwards as you smile against him, letting yourself sink into the moment.
His lips meet yours again, but this time heâs gentler, more patient. You can feel the happiness on his face, but can also hear the quietest hums as you play with his hair.
His hands curl around your waist firmly and he breaks the kiss to flip you over, so that youâre hovering above his upper thighs.
You lower yourself down, knees squeezing the sides of his hips. His head falls as you reach the tent in his sweatpants, and you canât help but chuckle. Your hips instinctively sway, searching for friction and his eyes roll back, mouth falling open.
You fake a pout he canât see before tilting his head further and kissing down his neck. His breath hitches with each sensitive spot you reach and you take the time nipping and sucking, leaving red marks. He whimpers softly and your clit throbs.
His hands press down, forcing both of your hips to collide. The seam of your sweatpants presses itself on your clit as you align perfectly with his cock.
The next roll of your hips drenches both of you in pleasure. His hips buck up, hands grasping you tight enough to leave bruises tomorrow. You can feel all of him beneath you and a breathy moan leaves your lips, head falling to his shoulder while his head flies back, hitting the wall roughly.
Your name leaves his throat like a prayer and all you can do is hum in response. His chin hits the top of your head as he looks down at you.
âI need all of you. Please let meââ
âYes, please,â you whine.
He lifts your hips with no effort, sliding down your shorts and panties. His attention catches on the gleam of your arousal as it connects between you and the fabric.
A guttural groan leaves his chest, vibrating through you.
âYouâre so fucking wet.â
You peck his neck in response before helping him slide off the clothes completely. Your arms lift up as he grabs the bottom hem and raises it over your head.
He memorizes each inch of exposed skin and before you can lower your arms, his mouth covers your nipple, teeth tugging slightly.
Your hands grab onto the window sill, knuckles white as his tongue circles around each tit, giving equal time to each. Small breathy whimpers fill the air as your clit throbs harder, desperate for attention.
He notices and before you can ask, one finger drifts through your wetness, collecting it and spreading it on top of your clit.
âOh Beau,â you moan.
His finger circles around at just the right pace, and just when you thought it couldnât get any better, he adds one more. Your thighs shake, head dizzy with pleasure.
His words vibrate on your skin as he speaks, âPlease let me taste you.â
Your body moves before the words leave your mouth. âYes, please, please,â you beg.
He chuckles, taking off his shirt before lying down. You run one finger along his abs, tracing out each.
âCome here already. I might die if you donât.â
âAlways so dramatic.â
You walk on your knees until youâre hovering above his mouth. He roughly hooks an arm around your hips, dragging you onto his mouth, immediately lapping like heâs dying of thirst.
His groans are muffled but you can feel them as they travel inside of you. The stubble on his chin scratches your lips and your head falls onto the window sill, hips bucking as he shoves his tongue inside.
More lewd moans bounce throughout the room and out of the window as his nose rubs your clit. Anyone with their windows open could definitely hear, if they hadnât heard through the walls already.
Behind you, one of Beauâs hands had snaked its way under his sweatpants and was now skillfully pumping up and down, using the precum as lubrication.
Heâs embarrassingly desperate for this, but itâs not like he hasnât been thinking about it for years. All the nights he would stare at the photo of you on his nightstand while fucking another girl. It was wrong, but he couldnât care.
The pressure builds as he sucks on your clit, one hand reaches down tugging on his hair. You throb, sucking him in, and his cock twitches at the thought of you doing that around him. Your fingers grow close to pulling out his hair as the coil tightens in your lower abdomen but right before it snaps, he lifts you off, gasping for air.
Your head flies back, tears welling. Before any words of protest can be spoken, he pulls you down and silences you with another kiss. His legs kick off his sweatpants entirely, joining the pile of your clothes.
Another breeze flows in, draping the both of you with goosebumps despite how hot the room has become. The upper window is now fogged and the DVD player makes weird noises across the room.
âShould we move to the bed?â
He shakes his head, murmuring against your lips, âNo, just stay right here.â
Your eyelashes flutter across his cheeks and he smiles.
âDo you want me to put on a condom?â
Your heart skips a beat at the very thought of him being inside of you bare, but your brain overrides, reminding you heâs been with plenty of other women.
âYeah, if you donât mind.â You swing your leg over, sitting next to him.
He scrambles towards his drawer, praying no one outside is watching or else theyâll get a surprise show. The foil crinkles and he rolls it on with ease. His dick is flushed, vein pulsing slightly. Itâs girthy and bigger than youâve seen but if you had to tell the truthâ
âDonât stare at my dick.â
Your hands cover your vision playfully, a giggle escaping. âI canât help it. Youâre perfect.â
He suppresses a laugh and shuts the curtains before kneeling down in front of you. His hands move yours out of the way.
âYouâre perfect.â
He kisses the tip of your nose, peppering more until reaching your belly button. He peers up, hands coming to your thighs and sliding you down. His legs spread as yours slot between them.
He comes up leaving wet kisses in his path. His hands cage each side of your head, hands caressing your hair.
âTell me if you need to me to stop.â
You scoff, âI can handle you. I'm not a virgin.â
He shakes his head before lining himself up with you.
Your arousal coats the tip of the condom completely and he slides in with ease, filling you faster than he meant to. Both of you moan loudly, bodies trembling in sync with each other. Your walls clench sucking him in and his hands pull on the roots of your hair. His face scrunches up, lips parting with soft breaths escaping.
âPlease, move. Please.â
His hips pull back before thrusting in. Your hands search desperately for something to grab, settling on his biceps. Each sound that leaves your lips causes his pace to increase, but it just isnât enough.
You tap his skin softly. âBeau, I canât.â
He stops completely, pulling out quickly, and backing off.
âIâm sorry, Iââ
You lean forwards, shaking your head vigorously. âNo, no, Iâm sorry. I-â You sigh deeply. âI didnât mean it like that. I just canâtâŠI canât cum like that.â
His brows furrow, shoulders tense.
One hand reaches forward and grabs the bottom of the condom, sliding it off of him. His breathing stops as you toss it into the trashcan by the bookshelf.
You lean forward placing one palm on his cheek and kiss him again, pushing him so he rests against the frame of the bed. You grab his cock, lining it up so that the head presses lightly on the entrance of your pussy.
You donât get to ask him if itâs okay before his hips thrust up, slamming himself into you. The angle is deep and you can feel him entirely. Your hips fall with his, settling on the floor once again.
Rolling forward, you test the waters and he groans. You lift up and drop down, earning moans from both of you. His hands glue to your hips guiding you. As you bounce, he canât help but watch. Your eyes are screwed shut, lips red and swollen, cheeks as rosy as the flowers outside the sorority houses.
He wishes this moment could last forever.
As he tilts your hips forward, he hits the sensitive spot that sends you into a quick orgasm without warning. Your nails dig into his shoulders, body shuddering above him.
He moans loudly into your ear as you squeeze him so tight he canât pull out. The warmth of his release mixes with yours.
The last of your orgasm rides out and your head falls into the crook of his neck. Your chests heave, breath fanning across his neck, as his does across your shoulder. His fingers run up and down your back softly.
He mouths I love you against your skin and you smile, not hesitating before whispering it back. Youâve said it a thousand times before, but somehow, this time, it feels like the first.
You move to kiss him softly, but he doesnât let it last long before sliding his tongue in. Your hands melt in his hair, soothing it after all the roughness it endured.
You both take a second to catch your breath, but he breaks the silence first.
âI think you were right."
You tilt your head, confused.
âMy hormones were always destined to alter our relationship.â
You laugh and he kisses the corner of your mouth.
Your fingers meet his, playing with them before you confess. âI might have developed a thing for you too.â
He smiles big and bites his lip, head falling back with laughter and you canât help but giggle.
âCome on, letâs get cleaned up.â
He grins, âIâm only getting up if you stay the night.â
You fight off a smile, âI was staying the night regardless.â
His jaw draws slack at those words and you wiggle off of him.
âIf I wouldâve known that I couldâve saved so muchââ
You smack his chest lightly before walking away. âShut up before my thing for you goes away.â
His face scrunches, voice echoing through the room, âYou know thatâs not possible.â
âAnd why is that?â
The floorboards squeak as he walks into the bathroom, his arms wrapping around you from behind. âBecause you love me.â
You look up, pretending to think about his words, but your mind drifts back to 2 years agoâto when you were desperate for the closest thing you could have to Beauâand that was Dean.
But now Beau is hereâwith you.
His arms loosen as he leans over, turning on the water for a bath.
Warmth settles in your chest. âI love you Beau.â
His heart swells and he glances at you over his shoulder. âI love you too.â
children of darkness era bestie lowkey pouting by her window bc she misses armand :( he should be able to sense her mood and just appear beside herrr :(( ugh.
when he actually does show up, she remains a little moody. heâs been away for too long, and she is not happy about it. meanwhile armand is just like âshe :) missed :)) me :)))â. he tells her that he tried to get away sooner, but they need to be careful, and he canât risk letting anything seeming out of the ordinary.
itâs an okay excuse. thatâs the most sheâll give him because she still isnât happy about it. he teases her about her pouting and reminds her that it will never help her get her way. (he then proceeds to show up at her window promptly for the next week, a total coincidence thatâs based on his schedule and not bestieâs wants at all.)
you know how in twilight edward breaks the headboard of the bed with his vampire strength the first time he and bella sleep together? i feel like armand would do something similar with bestie đ
itâs not even about the twilight parallel, heâd just lowkey snap after finally getting that cookie đ
pairing: garrett graham x reader, dean di laurentis x reader
description: your boyfriend finds out you were horny the night before but didn't wake him up
warnings: suggestive themes but no smut
word count: 538 for garrett, 749 for dean
a/n: based off a tiktok video i saw a couple days ago, dividers from @designlikenonsense
âgarrett grahamâ
Being the captain of the Briar U hockey team meant that Garrett had a very busy schedule most days, which meant that he would sometimes get into his room and just crash. Like last night, when he belly flopped onto the bed and was out like a light in a matter of secondsâa new record for him, actually.
By the time he wakes up the next morning, all the other boys have already left to whatever plans they have for the day, leaving you to sit in the kitchen enjoying a nice cup of tea. "Morning, baby." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple as he opens up the fridge.
"Good morning. Did you have a nice night of sleep?" You ask, hiding your grin behind your mug as you watch him fumble around for a bottle of water.
"Yeah, it was great. Especially after last night's practice; Coach really had us working hard last night." He explains as he takes a sip of his water, coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. "What about you? You seemed wide awake when I got back last night."
You giggle softly, melting into Garrett's touch as his arms wrap around you. "You know that I always sleep better when I'm next to you. Even if I was feeling a bit horny." You say casually as you run your finger along the rim of your mug. You can feel Garrett tense up behind you as he takes in the words you just said.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Garrett asks as he stands up straight, turning you around to face him. He almost looks like he's pouting, like he finds what you've said offensive in some way, but you know that he'd never admit to it if you called him out on it.
"You looked like you were dead on your feet, baby. I didn't want to keep you up any longer than you already had been, so I just lived with it. It's not like not having sex for one night is gonna kill me, Garrett." You say with a shrug, leaning back against the counter as you look up at your boyfriend.
"Honey, let me make something clear to you, okay?" Garrett starts off as he rests his hands on your hips, rubbing small circles through the fabric of yourâhisâshirt. "I don't care how tired you might think I am, or how much sleep you think I need; if you're in the mood, wake me up immediately. Doesn't matter if it's 3 in the morning and I spent 5 hours on the ice, please wake me up as soon as you know you need me."
"So you're saying that you would rather have sex with me than get some much needed rest?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. "You do realize how insane that sounds, don't you?"
"Don't care. If my girl needs me, I'd do anything she asked of me, no matter what." He says as he pulls you in closer, his head dipping in between the crook of your neck to place soft kisses. "Now, what do you say we make up for lost time from last night?"
âdean di laurentisâ
Considering Dean Di Laurentis' reputation, you would have thought that the two of you would be having non stop sex since you two started dating, but that's not exactly how things played out. The two of you absolutely had an amazing sex lifeâthe best sex you've ever had, really, not that you would be telling Dean thatâbut when he was deep in the middle of a season? You went from having sex multiple times a day to just having sex every few days. Which was still a lot for your average couple, but Dean was great at making you crave things you never knew you needed.
So the two of you decided to take an extended trip up to New York for a bit, but it couldn't start until his final practice for the week. And then he insisted that he be the one to make the drive into the city for the two of you, so by the time you made it to his apartment he was struggling to carry himself up the stairs and into his room.
And he looked so cute when he was cuddling up to you in his sleep, blowing soft breaths out through his mouth. It would have been selfish of you to wake him up for something as trivial as sex, so you decided against it and just went to bed for the night.
You wake the next morning to an empty bed, the sound of Dean's music and the sizzling of a pan competing for space throughout the apartment. When you walk down the stairs and into the kitchen, you're met with the sight of Dean's back and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
"You seem to have a lot more energy this morning. I take it that you slept really well last night?" You ask as you take a seat at the kitchen island. Dean turns around at the sound of your voice, smiling wide when he sees you there in just his shirt.
"Yeah, that might just have been the best sleep I've ever had, made even better by the beautiful girl sleeping next to me." He says, pausing his cooking to press a couple kisses around your face.
"It probably would've been even better if we'd gotten to have sex last night." You say with a wistful sigh as you tap your fingers on the countertop.
"Well yeah, but you were already tired, baby. I know you're not really in the mood when you haven't slept." Dean says as he turns back to the stove, pouring some pancake batter into the pan.
"Actually, I kind of was in the mood last night, but you seemed pretty tired so I just let you sleep." Silence fills the room for a few seconds as Dean slowly turns towards you once more, pancakes forgotten as he shoots you an appalled look. "Why are you looking at me like I just shot your cat or something?" You snort.
"You're telling me that I could've had sex with my favorite person in the world last night, but you didn't wake me up because you thought I was too 'tired'?" Dean's mouth is agape and he has a hand pressed to his chest, as if he's hearing the most world ending news of his life. "Baby, I don't care if the god damn world is ending and falling to a million pieces around us, if you want me, wake me up! In fact, just climb on top of me and have your way with me, I'll wake up and catch up eventually."
"I can't do that, that'd be taking advantage of you!" You say, failing to hold in your laughter at how dramatic Dean can be when it comes to you.
"Not if I'm standing here giving you permission right now, it's not." Dean counters, standing with his arms wide. "You can have me right now, actually, just give me a second."
You watch in amusement as Dean scrambles to turn the stove off, throwing all the dishes he'd dirtied in the sink before grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder. "Dean!" You squeal, your legs flailing slightly as you try to keep your balance.
"Sorry, can't talk right now baby. Have to make it up to my girl." He says, taking the stairs to his room two at a time, making sure that his grip on you is secure. "Can't leave you unsatisfied, now can I?"
Dean Di Laurentis had been planning this date for two weeks.
That was already suspicious.
Dean did not plan anything unless someone forced him to or he wanted to make a point. So when he showed up at your apartment in a dark button-down and a jacket that made him look unfairly good, you knew immediately that something was happening.
You opened the door and stared at him. âWhy are you dressed like that?â
Dean smiled, very pleased with himself. âHello to you too.â
You crossed your arms. âDean.â
He leaned in and kissed your cheek before stepping back. âGet dressed.â
You frowned. âThat is not an explanation.â
âIt is if you trust me.â
You stared at him.
He stared back.
You hated that he won that stare-down almost immediately.
âFine,â you muttered. âBut if this is another one of your stupid ideas, Iâm making you suffer.â
Dean grinned. âThatâs the spirit.â
You changed into the nicest thing you owned while he sat in your living room pretending to be patient and failing because he kept checking his phone like he was nervous.
That alone should have warned you.
When he finally got you outside, he opened the car door for you with exaggerated charm and said, âReady?â
You squinted at him. âWhy do you look like youâre about to ask me a question?â
âIâm just being polite.â
âThatâs suspicious.â
He only smiled.
The restaurant he drove you to was not the kind of place you usually went to with Dean. Not because he didnât like nice things, but because the two of you were usually much more chaotic than formal. This place had candlelight, white tablecloths, and actual jazz playing softly in the background.
You stopped just outside the door and looked at him. âDean.â
He looked back. âWhat?â
âThis is fancy.â
âYes.â
âToo fancy.â
He raised a brow. âYou donât like it?â
You searched his face for a joke. âWhy are we here?â
Deanâs mouth curved, but there was something softer behind it now. âBecause I wanted to take you somewhere nice.â
You blinked.
He held your gaze for a second, then added, âAnd because you keep pretending you donât deserve nice things.â
That caught you completely off guard.
The words hit a little harder than they should have. Not because they were dramatic. Because he said them so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious.
You looked down for a second before he held out his hand.
âCome on,â he said. âYouâre making me nervous.â
You laughed softly and took it.
The evening started perfectly.
Which, in hindsight, was the first sign it was doomed.
Dean was charming in a way that made the waiter smile, you smile, and the older couple at the next table smile like they were watching a movie. He pulled your chair out. He ordered wine without pretending to know more than he did. He listened to you when you talked, really listened, like every detail mattered.
You were beginning to relax.
That was when the first disaster happened.
The candle on the table tipped.
Not dramatically, not dangerously, but enough that Deanâs hand shot out too fast and knocked over the water glass instead. It crashed to the floor with a very loud shatter.
The entire restaurant went silent.
Dean froze.
You stared at him.
He looked at the broken glass, then at the waiter, then at you.
And then, because he was Dean, he did the worst possible thing.
He laughed.
It started as a single helpless breath, then got worse when he realized how absurd the whole thing looked. You covered your mouth, trying very hard not to join him, but once you saw the waiterâs expression shift from alarm to patient resignation, you lost it too.
The waiter, clearly used to this kind of thing, came over with a fresh napkin and said, âItâs all right.â
Dean looked horrified and apologized three times in a row.
You were still laughing when the second disaster hit.
The bread basket.
Dean reached for it at the exact moment you did, and because neither of you was paying attention anymore, the basket tipped over into his lap. Several rolls rolled onto the floor. One hit the leg of the neighboring table. Somebody gasped.
Dean looked down.
Then up at you.
Then at the bread.
Then back at you.
You both stared at it for one second before Dean leaned back in his chair and said, in complete deadpan, âI have no idea how this happened.â
That was enough to make you snort so hard you nearly choked on your water.
And then the candle on the next table flickered too close to Deanâs sleeve.
He jerked his arm back too quickly, caught the edge of the wine glass with his wrist, and sent half of his drink over the table.
You blinked.
Dean blinked.
Then he put both hands over his face and muttered, âI cannot believe this.â
That made you laugh so hard you had to set your head on the table for a second.
When you finally looked back up, Dean was staring at you with the kind of fond, helpless expression that made all the disasters suddenly feel worth it.
âWhat?â you asked, still smiling.
He shook his head. âYouâre beautiful when youâre laughing.â
Your face warmed instantly.
âDonât say that after you just destroyed half the restaurant.â
He looked unbothered. âIâm serious.â
You looked at him for a second, then smiled because there was no good reason not to.
The rest of the night was a disaster in smaller, funnier ways.
Dean spilled a little sauce on his cuff and tried to hide it.
You dropped your napkin and he picked it up only to knock his fork under the table.
The waiter returned three times with increasingly polite concern.
At one point Dean tried to help you cut your food and somehow managed to shoot a piece of bread halfway across the room.
You were laughing so much your stomach hurt.
By dessert, the two of you were openly making jokes about the candlelight, the broken glass, and the fact that Dean now had a bread-related criminal record.
When the check came, you looked at him and said, âSo this was your big romantic plan?â
Dean leaned back in his chair and smiled like he had finally accepted defeat. âYeah.â
âIt failed.â
âIt really did.â
You grinned. âYouâre not very good at fancy.â
He shrugged. âIâm great at you.â
That one stopped you.
Deanâs expression softened when he saw it. He reached across the table and took your hand, thumb brushing once over your knuckles.
âI wanted to do something special,â he said quietly. âI know weâre usually a mess. I just thought maybe tonight could be different.â
Your chest went soft.
âYou think this wasnât special?â you asked.
He looked around the wreck of the table, the bread on the floor, the candle wax on his sleeve, and then back at you.
He smiled. âIt was special because it was with you.â
That did it.
You squeezed his hand and laughed a little because he was too good at saying things that hit you right in the chest when you were least prepared for them.
By the time you got back to the car, you were still smiling.
Dean turned to you before starting the engine. âOkay. Be honest.â
You looked at him. âAbout what?â
âDid you hate it?â
You stared at him.
Then laughed. âDean, no.â
He looked relieved immediately.
You leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. âIt was ridiculous.â
His mouth curved. âYeah.â
âAnd terrible.â
He nodded. âAlso yes.â
âBut it was still you trying to make me feel special.â
Dean went quiet.
Then he smiled, a little shy under all the chaos, and rested his hand over yours on the console.
âMission accomplished?â he asked.
You looked at him and felt all the frustration and embarrassment and laughter from the night settle into something warm and sweet.
âYeah,â you said softly. âMission accomplished.â
He looked absurdly pleased with that answer, then finally started the car.
And because this was Dean, and because he could turn even a disastrous dinner into something memorable, he reached for your hand again before pulling out of the parking lot.
You laughed under your breath, and he smiled to himself like the whole mess had gone exactly the way heâd hoped.
Can u please do a freaky adapt and y/n smau? And like photos on instagram from both of them like on their stories (it doesnât have to be freaky,just if u can add a little freakiness it would be goood) :)
texts with bf!adapt
‷ ăbf!adapt x fem!reader ËËË
messages
insta stories | y/n (last one is close friends)
insta stories | adapt (last one is close friends)
AMOURIIESS SPEAKS: thank you sm for this request!! i know itâs now exactly how you wanted it and i do apologize for that but i also didnât make it so explicit because my next adapt post is smut so i didnât wanna do two explicit ones back to back if that makes sense? again so so sorry!!!
spent a lifetime looking for somebody to give me love like you | garrett graham
A lot of people know Garrett Graham as the burly, relentless captain of Briar Uâs hockey team. They see the drive and the passion to chase after the puck, the goals he scores, the games he wins. But very few people know the man who softly, lovingly, patiently wakes at the ass crack of dawn to run you a bath, quietly change the sheets while humming his favorite song, and wash your clothes by hand for you without so much as a complaint. You think youâre by far the luckiest woman in the world to know this version of Garrett.
contents â period comfort, tooth-rotting, self-indulgent fluff, soft!garrett, he might still be ooc but iâm working on it <3 | word count â 1.1k | title â baby now that iâve found you by the foundations
gabby says â this is a repost from my old blog, @fictionallygabby. i have decided to start my blog all over, so please feel free to read here for the explanation.
You slowly blink awake, and your eyes adjust to the almost pitch black darkness enveloping Garrett's bedroom. The room is illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains, and the digital clock on the nightstand that reads 3:22.
It's only been a few hours since you and Garrett practically collapsed onto his bed and passed out. You were awakened by a slight discomfort in your lower abdomen, which you chalk up to your need to run to the bathroom.
You lift the blanket and carefully untangle your boyfriend's arms wound around your waist. He stirs, but thankfully settles again, rolling onto his back on his side of the bed. Having memorized the layout of every corner of his space, you step into the bathroom without turning the lights on, and you finish your business as quickly as possible.
When you return, Garrett is in the same position you left him in. You lift the sheets, ready to crawl back into the bed beside him, but you freeze when you notice something that definitely was not there right before you had gone to sleepâa dark patch on the pristine gray sheets of Garrett's bed.
A sharp jolt of panic rushes through you, and you turn on the lamp on your side. You slowly peel the duvet off to see better, and lo and behold, your suspicion is confirmed. You had started your period while you had been asleep, had bled through your nightwear onto your boyfriendâs sheets. You realize now that the slight ache in your lower abdomen is actually from your period, and nothing else.
You try to think of ways to carefully remove the sheets without waking Garrett, but your boyfriend is about 200 pounds of pure muscle and is an incredibly light sleeper, so you are left with no choice but to wake him up, despite the embarrassment and shame running through your veins.
âGarrett,â you whisper as quietly as possible as to not scare him awake, but he jolts up anyway, sitting up on the bed to look at you properly.
âWhatâs wrong?â He is immediately asking, his voice groggy from the lack of use and thick with concern. He runs his hands over his face to rub the sleep away, and he looks at you, his eyes scanning your face carefully. âWhat happened, baby? Are you okay?â
âSort of,â you whisper, and his brows crease further at your vague response.
âSort of? Talk to me, baby. What happened?â His hand comes up to hold your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.
âMy period started while I was asleep, and I kinda bled through and stained your sheets,â you mumble, barely audible for him. âIâm so sorry.â
The furrow of his brows softens, as does the rest of his face. An easy, relieved smile grows on his face before he even realizes, an affectionate chuckle slipping out almost against his will, and before you can ask why heâs laughing, he has your pouted lips pressed softly against his. âYou are so cute, and I love you,â he whispers against your lips before pulling away completely. âStay here for a bit, baby,â he murmurs as he leaves the bed.
You watch him disappear into the bathroom, and a few seconds later, you hear water running, unmistakably filling the large tub he has. He spends a little while inside the bathroom before the tap turns off, and he emerges.
His face softens when his eyes land on your timid, unmoving form on the bed, your face twisted in embarrassment. He walks over slowly and kneels on the floor in front of you, his soft, worried eyes trying to catch your gaze. âBaby, hey, what are you so ashamed about?â
You stay silent for a few beats, your eyes looking into his, before your tense body starts to relax. âI stained your sheets,â you say quietly, âI was trying to change them without waking you up, but I canât exactly push you around without waking you up, can I? And I canât push you around, in the first place.â
A laugh escapes him as he leans in to kiss you again, the gesture quick but sweet. âYour period started, so what?â He says gently as he pulls away. âItâs normal, baby, itâs okay. I promise you that a little blood wonât scare me away. Iâm completely in it with you, okay? I love you.â He stands up, gingerly taking your hands in his. âCome on, baby. Warm bath for you. Donât worry about anything else.â
Soon enough, youâre submerged in the warm water of the tub, surrounded by the scent of the bath oil you have always found comforting, especially during your period. You didnât think he paid enough attention to remember how much oil you liked using.
You hear rustling and shuffling from outside the bathroom as he undoubtedly changes the sheets and the duvet, his favorite song from The Foundations playing softly from his phone. You hear him humming along to the song quietly, and you smile.
He appears by the door, carrying the bunched up sheets and tossing them into the basket to wash in the morning. He then turns to you and leans against the doorway, his gaze soft and warm, and your heart flips at the sight of him looking at you. âHow are you feeling, baby? Do you need anything else?â
âIâm feeling so much better.â You sigh, sinking deeper into the tub. âAnd no, I donât need anything else. This is more than enough. Thank you, and I love you.â
He smiles, walking over and pressing a gentle kiss to your head. He then picks your dirty clothes off the floor and walks toward the sink. He turns the tap on and starts washing your soiled sleep shorts, as well as your underwear, rinsing the blood stains from the fabric.
You do not know whether to feel guilty, or horrified, or overwhelmingly loved, so you settle on feeling all three of them at once, and Garrett notices just by how you are looking at him. He smiles at you like heâs not washing your underwear for you, and you think you can melt into the tub.
A lot of people know Garrett Graham as the burly, relentless captain of Briar Uâs hockey team. They see the drive and the passion to chase after the puck, the goals he scores, the games he wins. But very few people know the man who softly, lovingly, patiently wakes at the ass crack of dawn to run you a bath, quietly change the sheets while humming his favorite song, and wash your clothes by hand for you without so much as a complaint. You think youâre by far the luckiest woman in the world to know this version of Garrett.
