#lvstqrs

[lvstqrs]

who wanna be mutuals i want more tumblr friends

[lvstqrs]

posessive - john logan

pairing ! john logan x fem!reader

summary ! john gets possessive over you, ending in sex in his truck.

warnings ! literally no actual plot, all smut. mdni 18+ technically public sex but no one's around. overstim (slightly), odd positions because he's huge and you're in his truck lol. he's angry (giggles)

wc ! 1.3k

author's note ! ugh i need him so bad. so bad. so so bad.

to be added to my taglist.

The air in the truck was tense. Logan hadn't moved. Hadn't started the truck. Hadn't looked at you. The silence was crushing everything around you. Everyone had left by now, leaving you and him in his truck, alone in the arena parking lot.

He'd had a bad practice. A really, really shitty practice. All he wanted to do was take you home after that. But then he saw some douchebag flirting with you in the hallway. He dragged you away as quickly as he could, jaw clenched tight.

For a while, you didn't speak. You knew he needed time to cool down. But eventually it got too quiet for too long. "Baby—"

Logan inhaled sharply, eyes closing. You cut yourself off. He opened the door, getting out. You furrowed your brows, watching as he rounded the truck, opening your door. "Scoot," he said, his voice deep and rough and full of emotion.

You did as told, watching as he climbed in, slamming the door. Silently, he pulled you to him until you were on his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rested his head back against the back window.

He breathed out, eyes dark as they looked at you. You swallowed, feeling the arousal creeping up on you. You knew you shouldn't feel so turned on by him being like this, but you couldn't help it.

He yanked you closer, grinding your hips against his as he pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. You moaned softly, clenching around nothing. He groaned at the feeling. His teeth nipped at your sensitive skin, his hands forcing your hips to grind against his once more.

He was hardening quickly under you.

Your hands dragged up his arms and into his hair, holding him close as you let him do what he wanted. "Fuck, you're so fuckin' good f'me," he groaned, sucking on your neck. Not soft and sensual like usual, but rough. Like he was trying to devour you.

He was.

His fingers slid inward, roughly squeezing your inner thighs, massaging them. You moaned softly, kissing his jaw, his stubble tickling your lips. He breathed out, relaxing slightly against the seat, continuing with your thighs.

He reached up, unbuttoning your shorts, slipping his fingers inside. "Mm, fuck," he breathed out as he felt you over your wet panties. He didn't move, just cupped your mound. Your hips jerked against his hand, trying to create friction.

He grabbed your hip with his other hand, stilling you. "No," he said. "Be a good girl and listen to me tonight, hmm?"

You bit your lip, burying your face in his neck. "Mhm," you hummed, licking over his pulse point. 

He took his hand out of your pants, and you whined slightly from the loss of contact. He gripped your hips, manhandling you until you were beside him, lying down against the seats, your legs on his. He maneuvered so that he was facing you, his hands tugging your shorts down.

Your panties came next, then his sweats and boxers. It was slightly difficult in the confines of his truck, but neither of you cared.

He moved so he was hovering over you, leaning down and finally capturing your lips in his. His kiss wasn't sweet. It wasn't kind and soft. It was rough and hungry. His teeth nipped at your lip and his tongue invaded your mouth as he tried to devour you whole.

You moaned into the kiss, grasping his face as he ground his hips into yours, his cock rubbing up and down your slit.

"So fucking wet," he murmured into the kiss. He pulled back, resting on his knees as he looked down at you. His fingers slid through your slit, teasing your entrance, before two fingers slipped inside.

He wasn't patient. He was rough and fast like he needed this to ground himself. He groaned at the feel of you clenching around his fingers, and you gasped, a whimper leaving your lips as you tossed your head back.

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as he fingered you. His eyes never left you, watching as your chest rose and fell and your back arched, hips bucking into his hand. He removed his hand from you quickly, forcing a whine from your lips.

"John," you whimpered, looking up at him.

His eyes were still dark, his jaw still tight. He moved back to hover over you, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing the tip over your clit. "You're mine, baby. I don't share," he told you, pushing the tip inside of you.

You moaned, eyes closing as he grabbed your legs and pushed them toward your chest. "I know," you whined out, nodding.

He smirked, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "Yeah?" He pushed in deeper, hard but not fast, giving you the time you needed to adjust to him. You bit your lip, and he groaned. He kissed your calf, teeth scraping skin gently. "So tight, baby."

His hips rocked forward more, until he was so deep you were already shaking, crying out softly. "F-fuck," you moaned.

"This pussy is mine, hm?" He started thrusting, deep and slow at first, letting you feel every drag of his cock against your walls. You moaned in response, but that wasn't enough for him. He grabbed your jaw, not hard, but with command. "Answer me, pretty girl."

You nodded. "Fuck- yes!" You cried out a little louder as his thrusts got faster, hitting that deep spot perfectly.

He hummed, leaning forward and resting his hand against the door to hold himself up as he started pounding into you. "All of you is mine. Got it? I'm not fucking playing. I will mark every part of your perfect body if I have to."

You whined, grasping at his hair and tugging to try and ground yourself. He groaned, kissing you deeply. "Fuck, fuck, do it," you sputtered into his mouth, your lips parting in loud moans as he continued to fuck you.

He thrust harder, head moving so that he could suck on your jaw. "Yeah?" he murmured into your skin. "Wanna show everyone that you're mine?"

You nodded frantically, feeling so full of him that you could barely think. He growled softly, teeth sinking into your jaw just enough to make you cry out as he fucked you with abandon. He pushed your legs further into your chest, forcing you to take more of him as he sucked on your neck.

The marks were deep and visible and he fucking loved knowing he was doing that to you. That you wanted him to do that to you. His hand came down, fingers rubbing your puffy clit roughly. "Squeezing me so good, baby. Fuck, you were made for me."

Every slide of his cock had you moaning, your legs shaking from the pressure. Every rub of your clit had you crying out, your back arched into him as you got closer. He hummed, feeling you start to pulse around him.

"There ya go, pretty girl. Let me feel you." He sucked harder on your neck, keeping his pace on your clit and in your pussy as you cried out, orgasm taking over.

Your hands grasped at his hair and shirt, legs shaking as you pulsed around him. He moaned, teeth nipping at skin as he continued fucking you. "O-oh, fuck. John, I can't—"

"You can. You will. Be my good girl."

You whimpered, overstimulation quickly starting to take over as he continued fucking you, his fingers never stopping on your clit. He was getting closer, his thrusts a little sloppier as he felt you continuing to squeeze his cock so good.

Your toes curled as your legs shook, another orgasm crashing over you much more powerfully than the last. Tears welled up in your eyes as you cried out, and that's all it took for him. Two more deep thrusts and he was spilling inside you, cock twitching as your pussy pulsed.

Slowly, he stopped, not pulling out but pulling his fingers away from your clit. He panted in time with your pants, kissing from your neck to your lips. "So good. You're so fucking good for me," he murmured into your lips.

You moaned, kissing him back deeply. "F-feel better?" you whined out, still sensitive.

He chuckled. "I don't know, maybe I need to do that again."

[lvstqrs]

first date - dean di laurentis

pairing ! dean di laurentis x golden!reader

summary ! it's your first date with dean.

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 to—"

"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.

That was the sweetest date you'd ever had.

[lvstqrs]

thank you so much for 500 followers what!!!! that’s insane!!!! new posts coming very soon!

[lvstqrs]

the art of un-casual - dean di laurentis

pairing ! dean di laurentis x golden!reader

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."  

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."

"Good thing or bad thing?"

"Good," you replied. "Definitely good."

[lvstqrs]

SHE'S GOT GLITTER FOR SKIN. . .

GOLDEN!READER !

chubby.  crystals.  raspberry  ice  cream.

art.  strict  program.  dean  di  laurentis.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who knows her worth, far past what any man could ever tell her.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who gets along with everyone and everything, finding kindness in every situation.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who hides insecurities behind smiles and jokes, because she knows how most people react when a chubby girl finds herself attractive.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who loves earth, and everything to do with it. some consider her a hippie for it. she doesn't mind.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who's sure as hell not going to fall for any games a man tries to play. she's been around far too long for that.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who secretly yearns to feel loved the way all her friends do. she'd never tell anyone, though.

GOLDEN!READER. . . who practices peace, but knows how to fight just in case.

psd made by me.

[lvstqrs]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𐙚. smut ✧. fluff. ❥. angst.

( oneshots )

calm in the chaos ❥✧

( x golden!reader )

the art of un-casual ✧

first date ✧

[lvstqrs]

BOOK SPOILERS!!

Hiii! I saw your requests for Off campus are open :)) Im not sure if this concept has been done before but what about a Dean fic where he falls in love with one of the nurses that takes care of Beau after the car crash (he survives in this universe but still pretty bad) it can be angsty or fluff!!

calm in the chaos - dean di laurentis

pairing ! dean di laurentis x fem!nurse!reader

summary ! beau almost dies, in the midst of it, dean finds comfort in one of his nurses

warnings ! angst. medical talk (nothing too description aside from general hospital stuff), fluff, hurt/comfort, beau is my baby and he's alive forever (canon), dean is an emotional wreck, open ending.

wc ! 2.7k

author's note ! i've not read the books(ik fake fan)(no worries abt spoiling i already knew) but i hope you enjoyed my take on this! this lowkey made me emotional for so many reasons. probably not the most accurate medical fic ever but who cares. not proof-read.

to be added to my taglist.

When Dean got the call, everything stopped. Not in some dramatic way. In the slow way. Like everything that was meant to move just wouldn't.

His heart dropped, his hand letting go of his phone and letting it fall to the floor. Everything came crashing down all at once, and he was surprised he even made it to the hospital in one piece.

The building smelt of chemicals and latex, but the smell didn't bother him. It was the view. A waiting room full of people, some full of hope and others full of sorrow. Nurses running everywhere. Gurneys. Blood on the floor of a room behind a glass door.

None of it felt real. Tucker was the first one to him. The only one there. "What happened?" Dean choked out, shaking his head.

He couldn't cry. Not right now. Not yet. Not until he knew the facts. Tucker started talking. A crash, Beau, broken bones and blood everywhere. Alive.

Dean breathed out slowly. Alive.

Beau was alive.

"He's in the ICU. I can show you."

Dean nodded, once and slowly, before following Tucker down the hall. The lights were bright, chaos was everywhere. Dean was focused on one thing. Beau. Tucker stopped at the big, metal doors. "I can't go past. I'm not immediate."

Dean nodded again, like he understood. He wasn't paying much attention. He walked over to the nurse's station, his body basically on autopilot as he told her who he was here for and who he was. Dean Di Laurentis. Beau Maxwell's emergency contact.

They'd made each other their emergency contacts three years ago, when they were the closest ones to each other to do anything immediate. It made sense. Right now, Dean was grateful for it. He couldn't handle not seeing him.

The nurse led him back to the room, opening the glass door and allowing him inside. The sight made Dean's stomach drop. He had a tube in his throat, his body beat to hell and wires poking out of every possible spot.

"It's scary to look at," you said. Dean's eyes flickered to you. You were doing something with his IV. "I promise it looks scarier than it is. He's doing quite well so far."

Your voice was calm, collected. There was a small, sympathetic smile on your face. Like you knew all too well what Dean was feeling. He swallowed. Once. Twice. Then he cleared his throat. "How bad is it?" he managed to ask.

"I'm not allowed, really, to tell you the full details," you replied. Dean sucked in a breath. "But the doctor will be in soon. She'll explain everything in full detail. She'll have the answers to your questions."

Dean nodded, slow and unsure, his eyes going back to Beau. "He can't breathe?" Dean knew what the tube down the throat meant. It meant he wasn't breathing on his own.

"He's in a medically induced coma to help his body heal. He can breathe on his own otherwise," you said softly.

Dean let out a small, shaky breath. "What's your name?" he asked, trying to distract himself. Everything was running in his head and he couldn't focus.

"Sit," you told him, motioning over to the chair in the corner. Dean listened without hesitation. He was sure his legs were going to give out soon. "I'm Y/N. And you are?"

"Dean. I'm-" Dean's voice hitched, and he cleared his throat of a voice crack. "I'm Beau's best friend."

You nodded. "Well, he's lucky to have you. You may not realize it, but the body is a mysterious thing. People heal much better with the company of their loved ones."

Dean's eyes met yours. Soft and unsure, searching for answers you didn't have. He could tell that you wish you did, though. "Yeah?"

You smiled softly at his quiet voice. "Yeah."

The glass doors slid open and the doctor came in. You nodded, walking out of the room without another word. Dean's eyes watched you as you went. Something about you soothed his racing heart.

  ++

  The following days were hard. He spent every second that he could in the ICU with Beau, and when he couldn't, he spent it in the waiting room. He hadn't showered, had barely ate. If it wasn't for the guys, he'd probably be a walking zombie by now.

Garrett sat next to him in the waiting room. Dean's leg bounced. Beau was healing. Slowly, but he was. He was still in the coma, still needed more time, but the doctor was optimistic. That made Dean feel a little better.

Beau's parents and sister were there most of the time, meaning Dean had even less time in the ICU than he did the first night. It was okay, he knew that. Beau would want his family there. Dean, however, wanted to be there as well.

He needed it.

"How's he doing?" Garrett asked, voice soft and sympathetic in a way all of their voices have been since that first night.

Dean swallowed. "Better. Healing slowly. Just...wish it was faster." Dean shook his head, rubbing his hand over his stubble.

Garrett put a steady hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "You need to shower. Sleep. Eat. You can't do anything if you're like this, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I can't leave, man."

Garrett sighed. Dean continued before he could say anything. "What if-" He sucked in a breath. "What if I leave and something happens? I leave and he..."

Garrett shook his head. "No. Hey, no. You can't think like that, Dean. You can't."

Dean shook his head again, hand coming up to wipe the tears from his eye before they could spill over. "Someone has to."

"That's the doctor's job. They're here all the time. He has the best he could have to help him recover. You have to take care of yourself too, dude."

Dean sighed. Once, and then twice. He slowly nodded. "Fine."

Dean went home with Garrett. He showered and ate a quick meal Tucker had cooked, and then took half an hour nap that Logan supervised. That was the only reason Dean even managed to fall asleep.

Then he was up, heading back to the hospital with no complaints for the guys because they knew he wouldn't listen. He found a seat in the cafeteria because he had promised that he'd find something more to eat when he got back to the hospital.

A small sandwich was in front of him, along with a bottle of water. Untouched. Dean's leg bounced, his mouth worked around his nails that he'd nearly bitten all the way down.

Dean didn't bite his nails. He didn't worry like this.

But this was different. This was Beau.

His eyes shot up when he saw you, sitting down in front of him, a tray of food in your hands. "Seat taken?" you asked softly.

He shook his head silently. You sat the tray down, scooting the chair closer. For a moment, no one spoke, and then you did. "Beau's doing better. He's improved a lot. Dr. Anderson thinks he'll be able to be taken out of the coma soon."

Dean appreciated the update. He hadn't been back in the ICU since last night and he'd been worrying like hell since he left to go home. "Good. That's...that's good."

"That's great," you corrected, opening a cup of yogurt. "He's doing great, Dean."

Dean's leg stopped bouncing. His mouth paused its gnawing on his fingernails. "Yeah?"

You smiled softly. "Yeah."

Dean slowly pulled his fingers away from his mouth, swallowing. "Thank you. For taking such good care of him."

You nodded, grabbing your plastic spoon. "Of course."

The silence that followed was softer. Less traumatic. It was a light quiet, full of thoughts Dean couldn't quite figure out and a small relaxation to his chest that he wasn't aware was there yet. You moved delicately as you ate.

Your touch never rough, your movements never quick. Like you had all the time in the world even though Dean knew you didn't. He watched, a little transfixed. You kept a calm demeanor, a safe one. He felt invited into it. Like everything would be alright if you were there.

Finally, he spoke. "How long have you been a nurse?"

You smiled, a small but genuine one. "First year, actually," you said.

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? You..." He smiled, shaking his head. "You can't tell."

You laughed softly. "Good. It means I'm doing my job right."

Dean laughed back. Small and quiet, but there. The first laugh he's cracked in four days. "How are you so...calm. I'd be freaking out."

You shrugged. "Hospitals and I have a long history."

That got his interest, but he didn't pry. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he nodded, looking at you curiously. "Well, it suits you. You...I mean, you're good at it. Certainly have helped me."

The words hung in the air for a second, before they settled in your chest. You smiled, a little bigger this time. "Thank you, Dean. I appreciate that."

Your pager went off, and you glanced down at it, your demeanor changing. Never panicking, never tensing, but it was different. Like the weight of the world rested upon your shoulders. It kind of did.

Dean's changed too. "It's not Beau," you said quickly, standing up. Dean's eyes watched you with panic, and you paused for a second. "It's not Beau," you repeated, a little softer this time. Making sure he heard.

He let out a small sigh, nodding, and then you were gone. Lunch left behind and the calmness disappearing.

That was when Dean felt it. The way you helped his nerves. He didn't notice until they were back again in full force. But with you, they were still. Not gone, but still. Like sparks of worry remained in his blood instead of filling every vein and artery with concern.

He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

Eating lunch sounded like a good idea right then. Mostly to distract himself from the insane amount of panic that coursed his bloodstream. The thought of you lingered in his head.

   ++

   On the sixth day, Beau was awake. Groggy and in pain, but awake and out of the ICU. Dean got to see him then, and everything felt a little better. The room was sterile and stiff, but Beau had a smile on his face when Dean walked in. "Hey, dude," he croaked out, and Dean chuckled.

Tears flowed freely then down his face, and he didn't stop them. Couldn't. He was too focused on Beau living and breathing and talking in front of him. "Hi," Dean whispered, shaking his head. "Fuck, man. You scared the shit out of me."

Beau nodded, weakly and barely there, but there nonetheless. "Yeah, I heard."

Dean sniffled, shaking his head again. "Don't ever do that shit again. I'm serious."

"I'll try not to."

"I love you, dude."

Beau smiled. "Aww, you love me?"

Dean rolled his eyes playfully. "Can you be fucking serious right now? You're in the fucking hospital."

Beau laughed, groaning from it, but laughed still. "Nah, one of us has to stay silly."

"Hey, I am the king of silly." Dean pointed at Beau seriously, and Beau shook his head.

"Does not look like it."

Dean rolled his eyes again, still playful. His chest felt lighter, his breathing was better. The worry wasn't gone, not until Beau was cleared and out of the hospital, but it was less. More like a ghost than a weight on his chest.

The two sat and talked for what felt like seconds but was in reality an hour, before Beau tapped out and went to sleep. Dean let him, he clearly needed it, but he didn't move from his chair. Instead, he went to sleep as well.

Finally, he felt like he could. Like everything might just be alright if he closed his eyes for a little bit.

When he woke up, he was wrapped in warmth, and the sound of the TV echoed through his ears. "You look like a sleeping baby," Beau mumbled, and Dean flipped him off without even really needing to wake up for it.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down, seeing a hospital blanket on him. Clearly fresh because it was still warm. He looked at Beau questionable. "That hot nurse covered you up. I think she likes you."

Dean chuckled, soft and breathless, but the words stuck. He couldn't help but replay them. Beau was just fucking with him, he knew that. But he also knew Beau didn't know just how much you had helped Dean over the past few days.

"If all goes good, Doc said I get released tomorrow," Beau said.

Dean's eyes shot to his, a small smile on his face. "Good. You going to your parents?"

Beau nodded. "Yep. Round-the-clock care for little ole' me, apparently."

Dean chuckled. "Needed."

Beau scoffed. "Totally not needed."

"Dude, look in the mirror."

The two laughed at that.

Dean stayed with Beau through the night and into the morning. When Beau was released and Dean knew he was safe with his parents, he finally went home. The guys were waiting for him, Tucker with a meal and Logan with a towel.

"Go shower," Logan told him, pointing at him. Dean laughed.

"Eat first," Tucker said, sliding the plate across the island.

"Yes, dads." Dean saluted, feeling much more like himself than he had in a while. He shoved the meal down his throat, a lot more hungry now that Beau's almost-death wasn't lingering over his head anymore.

And then he showered. Long and hot and he let the water soak into his skin. Now that Beau was okay, only one thing stayed on his mind. You. He knew it was impossible, and probably incredibly inappropriate for him to think about you like that, but he couldn't help it.

Your entire self was something he wanted to be wrapped up in.

Although, he hoped he never went back to that hospital.

  ++

  It'd been a week. Beau was feeling much better and Dean was pretty much back to his usual self. Aside from the lingering thought of Beau's hot, incredibly comforting nurse. Dean found himself at a bar downtown, needing some time away from the frat life he lived.

Everything felt different now. Like he'd grown ten years somehow.

The bar was on the quieter side, more cozy. He hadn't realized how close it was to the hospital until he recognized some nurses' faces in the crowd. He shrugged it off, sitting at the bar and ordering a drink.

It'd be a hell of a practice, and he'd missed so many he wasn't sure if he'd ever catch up. Still, he didn't regret it. Beau's life meant more than any fucking sport. Even hockey.

Dean sat there, nursing his drink for about an hour before it was gone. That was unusual, but then again, Dean was a little unusual all the time now.

He almost didn't notice when a body slipped next to him at the bar. Not until your voice ordered a drink. His eyes shot up faster than he'd like, and then your eyes met his, lighting up. "Dean," you greeted smoothly.

Dean swallowed. "Y/N."

"How's Beau?"

Dean smiled, his chest feeling a little lighter now. "Beau's good. He's real good."

You nodded, your smile brightening. "Good. I'm glad."

The conversation between you two was light and casual for a little. Basic chit chat, but it was the most raw and real he'd felt with a woman in...well, ever.

He finally asked the question he'd been wanting to ask since you brought it up. "Why'd you become a nurse? I mean, was it the long history with hospitals, or something else?"

Again, your demeanor changed. Small and barely there, but enough for him to notice. He couldn't take it back before you started speaking. "The long history was it, for sure." You sighed, taking a sip of your whiskey.

"My brother was in and out of hospitals for most of his life. Thus, so was I. I spent more time there than I did anywhere else."

Dean's head tilted, his eyes softening. The topic was heavy on your shoulders, he could tell. Still, there was light in yours eyes, like the weight of the world was something you carried like air.

He let you continue when you felt ready. "When he died...I knew I wanted to help. Help others like him, help families like me. The hospital is home to me in ways I'd never wish on anyone, so I try and make it the best I can for the patients and their families."

The words sank slowly into Dean's chest, filling it up with a feeling he wasn't used to. Something raw and real and entirely too emotional. "That's..." Dean paused, searching his brain for the right words that he couldn't seem to find. "You do," he said instead. "You make it something better."

You looked at him, a smile spreading across your lips. "Yeah?"

He nodded, a smile spreading across his. "Yeah."

Something felt certain now, and although Dean couldn't figure out what, he felt at peace with it. Like something had finally found its place inside him. Like he'd finally found home.