#also I looked down at my phone for one second and looked back and it had vanished

[honeyryewhiskey]

when dean falls in love

or, all the little details that run through dean's mind when he's falling in love. and all the fears and self-doubt that come crashing down on him. warnings ! a pinch of angst | mostly feel good | kissing | confessions | dean admiring reader | dean's internal struggles | reader being patient | sam third wheeling j's note ! this is my apology for that sad one i posted last night. also, i had little baby 26-year-old dean in mind for this one. enjoy <3 5k words

Few rules exist in Dean’s life—most are made to be bent, broken, or ignored altogether. But you?

You’re the exception. You’re the rule he refuses to cross.

You are entirely off-limits.

Not that you seem to care. You crashed into the Winchesters' world like a wildfire, all sharp eyes and steady hands, showing up guns blazing in the middle of a nasty hunt. There was no slow introduction, no time for cautious trust. One minute, it was just another night, another hunt—then suddenly, there you were, standing in the wreckage, breathing heavily, covered in blood that wasn’t yours.

Dean should’ve known to let go right then and there—you were too good to be true. But he didn’t. Instead, you stuck to the corners of his mind like sugar between his teeth, sweet and relentless. Your energy, raw and electric, burned through everything around you. You invaded his thoughts, wrapped around his mind like a constant hum.

You were the kind of girl who made a man forget his own damn rules.

At first, Dean tells himself this newfound trio is temporary.

You’re a lone wolf, and the Winchesters don’t do long-term attachments. But somehow, you weave yourself into their lives like you’ve always belonged.

You slip into the passenger seat of the Impala without waiting for an invitation, kicking your feet up on the dash just to piss him off. You steal fries off his plate like it’s second nature, smirking when he glares at you but never stopping. You roll your eyes at his bravado, call him out when he’s being an ass, and yet—when it matters—you’re always there. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed for this life, for them.

For him.

Dean tells himself he doesn’t notice the little things. The way you hum along to his rock tapes like you’ve known them forever, how your hands—so much softer than he deserves—patch him up without hesitation. The way you meet his teasing with just as much fire, never backing down.

None of it means anything.

Because it can’t.

Not when he’s always been too rough, too jagged around the edges to hold onto something as good as you. Somewhere around his twentieth birthday, he made peace with the fact that he was cursed—fated to be nothing more than a soldier, a brother, a blade meant for war.

Being anything else, wanting anything more—wanting you—would only end in tragedy.

But then he catches Sam talking to you in hushed voices over coffee in the morning, like you’re family. As if every diner table and wobbly motel kitchenette was always meant to sit the three of you. He watches you clean his gun without being asked, like it’s second nature now. He hears your voice on the other end of his phone at 3 a.m., always answering when he calls, asking if he’s okay after a rough hunt. 

And just like that, you’re in. You’re a part of them.

A part of him.

And that? That’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Dean doesn’t know when it happened—when the lines started to blur, when the rule he swore by turned into something fragile, something breakable.

Maybe it’s the way you slip so effortlessly into their lives, settling into the spaces he didn’t even realize were empty—mediating brotherly arguments like you were always meant to be their missing piece. Maybe it’s the sound of your laughter, bright and unshaken, slicing through the heaviness of a bad hunt. Or maybe it’s the way you look at him, like he’s something more than the scars, more than the sharp edges—like he’s worth seeing at all.

Or maybe it’s the small moments like this.

The diner is warm, buzzing with the quiet hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates. Sam’s focus is his laptop, half-listening to whatever you’re saying as you flip through the menu, sitting beside Dean, debating tonight’s meal. Dean’s trying to keep up, trying to ground himself in the normalcy of it all.

And then, without a second thought, you reach for his jacket.

It’s been draped over the back of the booth since he sat down, familiar and worn, carrying the weight of long nights and too many miles. And you just take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves, tugging the collar up like it belongs to you.

Dean’s fingers tighten around the menu.

It’s nothing new—he’s handed it over a dozen times before, thrown it around your shoulders without a second thought on cold nights. But this? This is different. You didn’t ask. Didn’t even hesitate. You just did it, like it was instinct, like it was yours.

He clears his throat, trying to force down the feeling clawing its way up his chest. “Comfy?”

You hum, settling into the fabric, your fingers curling into the sleeves. “Mmhmm.” Your voice is light, easy. “You always run so warm. Thought I’d steal a little of that.”

Dean swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Prying his eyes off of you, he tries again to look like he’s reading the menu. Scanning the small font, even though he’s already decided on a burger and fries like he always gets. 

Across from him, Sam sighs, clicking at his keyboard. “You guys do realize you act like a couple, right?”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Your laugh falls out sweet and quiet, the sound pressing against his heart with a persistence to make it move faster. Your boot nudges Dean’s under the table, and he takes it as an excuse to look at you again. “You jealous, Sammy? Want me to steal your jacket next?”

Dean barely hears the response. He watches as you burrow further into his jacket, your nose dipping beneath the collar. Then, with that same mischievous glint in your eye that always spells trouble for him, you lift the collar to make a show of taking a slow, exaggerated sniff.

His brows press down, lashes forming a tight squint around his eyes as he braces himself, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your lips twitch like you’re holding back a laugh. “One thing about this old jacket, though,” you muse, taking another thoughtful inhale. “There’s this metallicy smell… buried under all that cologne you drown this poor leather in.”

Dean scoffs, shifting in his seat and turning his head to save himself from letting you see the pink creeping up his cheeks. “I do not drown it in cologne.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from his laptop, but his chuckle doesn’t help ease Dean’s embarrassment. “You kinda do.”

Dean’s head shoots up, tilting slightly as he glares at his brother. You’re already grinning, undeterred, your fingers lazily tracing the worn seam of the sleeve. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Like… gunpowder. And whiskey, I would assume. And maybe a little bit of blood?” Your teasing gaze flicks up to meet his, “What have you been getting into, Winchester?”

Dean should play it cool. Shrug it off. But he can feel his ears burning red and hot from that little teasing smile on your lips and his brain is a few steps behind, caught somewhere between you’re too damn close and when did this get so hard to ignore?

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. His mind makes quick work to steady buzzing nerves, “Dunno what to tell ya, sweetheart,” he sighs, jaw popping as he finds his barings, “That jacket’s seen more action than you have.”

You feign offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wow. First, you over-season your leather, and now you’re just slinging insults?” You shake your head, dramatic as ever. “I thought we had something special, D.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, yeah. You done sniffin’ my jacket, or should I be concerned?”

You huff, settling back against the booth so that your arms brush against each other when you shrug. “I dunno. Might need another whiff.”

Dean points a warning finger at you, his smile breaks his attempt at stoicism, and all it does is make you grin wider.

Sam lets out another long-suffering sigh, shutting his laptop with a little more force than necessary. “I’m concerned. And I’m officially done with this conversation.”

You smirk, smug as ever, but Dean? Dean’s just trying to pretend he’s not completely, stupidly gone for you.

The rest of dinner passes in easy conversation—at least, for you. Dean is quieter than usual, letting you and Sam fill the space between bites of food and stolen fries. He tries to focus on anything else—the chipped laminate of the table, the hum of the old diner lights, the way his fingers tap absently against the side of his glass.

Mostly, he tries not to look at you.

Not when you lean forward, chin propped in your palm, laughing at something Sam says. Not when you nudge his boot under the table, stealing the last bite of his pie with a satisfied little smirk. Not when you adjust the lapels of his leather jacket like it’s yours now, like it belongs to you the way he does.

By the time the check hits the table, he’s still got too many thoughts in his head, and none of them are ones he should be having.

Outside, the night air is crisp, the motel’s flickering vacancy sign glowing just across the lot. Sam mutters something about research and trudges off toward their shared room, leaving the two of you lingering by the diner’s door.

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is. You shift on your feet, then tilt your head toward the motel.

“What’s it gonna be tonight, D?” Your voice is soft, slipping into the quiet like it belongs there. “You sticking around for a bit, or heading to bed?”

Dean exhales, shaking his head. “Gotta make sure you get in safe.”

Your laugh rings through the empty parking lot, light and easy, curling around him like warmth against the cool night air. And despite only wearing a flannel, despite the late hour and the breeze whispering through the lot, he feels nothing but warm.

“Ah, yes,” you tease between giggles, nudging his arm. “My knight in shining armor, always keeping me safe.”

The short walk across the lot is quiet but never empty—the kind of silence that lingers in the spaces between you, comfortable and charged all at once.

At your door, you unlock it with a flick of your wrist, pushing it open before leaning lazily against the frame. The dim motel light catches the amusement in your eyes as you glance back at him.

“See?” You gesture to the empty room with a grin. “All’s quiet on the western front.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off, stepping inside without a second thought, the door clicking shut behind him.

You move past him with easy familiarity, shuffling through your things while Dean leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. He watches as you slip into your usual routine—kicking off your shoes, pulling your hair back, stifling a yawn with the sleeve of your sweater. His jacket, draped over the chair beside your bed, stays untouched. He doesn’t move to take it. If he’s honest, he kind of hopes you’ll sleep in it. Let it take on your scent instead of his.

When you return from the bathroom, fresh-faced and sighing contentedly, you crawl onto the bed and sit cross-legged, flipping absentmindedly through an old paperback—the one you grabbed from the library when you were supposed to be researching.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” you break into the silence without looking up, voice soft but knowing.

Dean huffs, tipping his head back. He’s trying to find something other than you to look at, he’s gotta stop watching you so often. “I’m always deep in thought.”

You snort, “yeah, okay. Sure.”

Your eyes flicker over him, he’s always following you into your room like a stray pup, like he doesn’t know where else to go. He lingers in your space, but is careful to maintain a set distance. At first you thought he was trying to claim you as another notch on his bedpost, but all that ever happened on these nights were quiet talks until your eyes grew too heavy to keep open. And by morning, you’d be alone, tucked beneath the blankets like someone made sure they were pulled around you just right.

You watch him for a beat, noting the familiar tension winding through his shoulders. “Seriously, though. You were kinda out of it at dinner.”

Dean hesitates, glancing away like he can pretend he didn’t hear you. His eyes settle on the peeling motel wallpaper, tracing the cracks like they hold some kind of answer. He hadn’t planned on sticking around this late—not when his head is already full of you. Not when it’s dangerous for the sanctity his carefully drawn lines to be near you like this, feeling the way he does.

But neither of you move. You, cross-legged on the bed, book in hand. Him, still leaning against the dresser, pretending he has somewhere else to be.

He should make an excuse, crack a joke, steer this conversation somewhere safer. But your voice, soft and steady, tugs at something in him. And instead of fighting it, he lets himself lean in.

“You ever think about what happens when we stop?”

Your fingers still against the worn pages of your book. “Stop what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely, like that explains everything. “The hunting, the moving around. All of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you consider his words, the weight of them pressing down in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. This life—it’s far from glamorous, but it’s all you’ve got. Stepping away from it is a thought you buried long ago, a fantasy that never had a chance. You shrug, pushing the thought aside. “I don’t know,” you say quietly. “Never really let myself think about it too much.”

Dean exhales a heavy breath, eyes dropping to the floor like the weight of your words is sinking in. “Yeah.”

A beat of quiet settles between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s a weight to it that presses against Dean’s chest, making the space feel tighter than it is. You can feel his tension, like he’s holding something back, but he doesn’t look up.

Then, you shift, breaking the silence with an easy gesture—a pat to the empty space beside you on the bed. “Don’t just trail off on me, D. Sit down. Tell me more.”

Dean hesitates for a split second. This is a bad idea. It’s an invisible line he’s been toeing for too damn long, one he’s tried not to cross—never sit on the bed, never get too close when we’re alone. But then again, it’s you. You’re looking at him like you care, soft and patient, as if whatever’s inside his head actually matters.

And just like that, he gives in. One little exception, just for tonight.

With a quiet sigh, he pushes off the dresser, settling beside you on the bed. He stretches his legs out, but the small mattress makes it impossible to keep any real distance. His legs brush against yours, and his arm brushes yours too. He hopes to hell you don’t see the flush creeping up his neck.

If you notice, you don’t mention it. There’s no teasing, no playful smile—just the quiet comfort of your presence beside him. You don’t push, don’t pry. You just sit there, calm and steady, waiting for him to speak.

“I dunno,” he mutters, “just been thinkin’ lately. About what it all looks like when it’s over. If it ever is.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And?”

Dean swallows, debating how much to say. How much to admit.

“And… I don’t see much of anything.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Spent my whole life doing this, I don’t see an ending where I’m not dying at the hands of this. Y’know, going down in the fight.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then—so softly he almost doesn’t notice—you shift closer, your arm snaking its way around his. You’re snuggled right up next to him, watching with careful eyes.

“There will always be monsters to hunt,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady in the dim room. “But you don’t have to be a warrior forever, D. There will always be hunters, too. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Dean chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, more an exhale than a laugh. His gaze drifts toward the bedspread, unable to meet yours. "Yeah, well... I don't know if I could just walk away." His words come out quieter, like he’s unsure if he’s talking to you or to himself.

You turn slightly toward him, noticing the tension still coiled in his shoulders. The quiet settles deeper now, heavier with each passing moment, but he doesn’t seem to notice the distance between your words.

“What’s got you thinking about all of this?” you keep your voice light, though there’s a weight to it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, his thoughts at war with the words he wants to say. "I can’t have the things I want, not really," he finally admits, the confession slipping out before he can second-guess it. His gaze drifts to the side, and his fingertips come up almost absentmindedly, dragging across your temple, pushing stray hairs back into their place.

“This life," he continues, barely above a whisper, "it consumes all the good things in my life."

“Not true,” your voice is firm but gentle, like you’re trying to remind him of something he can’t see.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just quirks a skeptical brow at you.

“You have your brother,” you continue, “and you’ve got me. Nothing in this universe can take us from you.”

Dean’s breath catches, and for the briefest moment, he wonders if you understand just how much weight those words hold. He swallows, trying to hold it together, but he can’t ignore the ache that creeps up his spine. He gives a small, almost rueful chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

You meet his gaze with a steady confidence. "Because I know you wouldn’t let it."

His hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing softly against the warmth of your cheek. There’s an electricity in the touch, something that feels too close and yet too natural. He can feel the way his pulse quickens, how much his body wants to close that last inch of space between you. But he doesn’t.

You don’t push him. You just watch him, like you’re waiting for him to decide whether to take the step—or to retreat.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes drop to your lips for a moment before meeting yours again, like he’s trying to reconcile the gravity of what he’s feeling. His voice drops to almost a whisper, his words thick with something raw. “You have no idea how right you are, little miss.”

Your hand comes up, curling over his with a quiet, deliberate touch. The softness of your skin against his makes it almost impossible for him to remember the times he’s watched you move through the world—handling a gun with precision or a blade like it’s second nature. Most of you makes him forget, really, about everything that doesn’t involve you in this moment.

Your warmth, your softness, it makes him lose himself in daydreams of a version of you—one that doesn’t belong to this life. A version where you’d lean into that gentleness, the part of you that exists outside the hunts and the danger, in a life far away from the chaos that haunts him.

You shift, sitting up, still keeping your gaze on him, and it makes something in his chest tighten. The determined strain in your features catches his attention immediately. It’s the same look you get when you're deep into a lore book, your brow furrowed with that little scowl—like something has piqued your interest, and you won’t rest until you’ve unraveled it completely.

“Dean, there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

He shakes his head, trying to brush it off with a quick, dismissive shrug, his lips pouting up into his best attempt at nonchalance. “Nope. That’s pretty much it.”

You let out an exasperated huff, and Dean can tell you’re seeing straight through him. It’s not enough to deflect you. What he doesn’t expect, though, is the rough shove to his shoulder. It makes him blink in surprise, but before he can recover, your fingers press right back into the tension of his muscles he’s been trying to ignore all night.

“You’re as stiff as a board,” you point out, your fingers digging in a little harder. “Something’s bothering you.”

His breath comes out shakier now, and for a moment, his whole body feels like it’s been wound too tight. You can feel it, he knows you can. There’s no denying it now, but the words feel too heavy in his throat. He wants to argue, to brush it off again, but something in the way you’re watching him shifts. It’s not just curiosity anymore—it’s concern. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him wants to let you in.

But damn if it doesn’t feel like a risk.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull away, but the pressure of your fingers is a subtle anchor, keeping him there. His gaze flits to the floor, anywhere but your eyes, because once he looks at you, he knows he won’t be able to hide.

"I told you, it's nothing," he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, the words escaping before he can stop them. He tries to push himself up, but the weight of your stare presses him back down.

You don’t buy it. You never do.

"No, Dean," you start softly, the concern clear in your voice, "I know you better than that. Something’s been eating at you for a while, and you’re not gonna keep dodging it."

His chest tightens, his heart racing in his ribcage. Every part of him wants to throw up some wall, some excuse. Something to keep you from seeing the rawness of what’s inside. The vulnerability he’s been running from his entire life.

But still, you watch him, waiting, your eyes steady and unwavering.

"Come on, just let it out," you press, your hand moving to his shoulder again, your touch gentle now but insistent. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, you know?”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening, hands suddenly restless at his sides. The fight inside him is crumbling, piece by piece, until he's barely holding on to whatever's left. His voice comes out strained, almost desperate.

“Please, just drop it,” he grinds out, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again, helplessly. “I’m fine. You don’t... you don’t need to know all of it.”

You sit forward, leaning in just a little, your hand still gently gripping his arm as you search his face. The determination in your gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s something softer there now, almost like a plea. “Dean—”

He jerks back slightly, suddenly standing up with a bit too much force, the air between you thickening with a tension that’s making it harder for him to breathe. He takes a few steps away, running a hand through his hair, his back turned to you as he tries to calm the storm rising inside.

"I can’t do this," he mutters, his voice low, rougher now, like it’s been dragged over gravel. His shoulders still tense with the weight of the world pressing down on him.

You’re silent for a beat, and he knows it’s because you’re giving him space. But he also knows you won’t stop until you get him to say what he’s been holding back.

He exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he clenches them into fists, his back still turned, fighting a battle he knows he’s losing. "God, I don’t want to talk about this." His voice cracks slightly as he says it, and he hates how much it betrays him.

His eyes flick to you then, and there's a crack in the armor—a vulnerability that’s almost painful to see. He looks at you, but he’s not sure he can bear the weight of your gaze anymore. Not when all he wants to do is keep you safe from the wreckage inside him.

His body is coiled tight, but his chest feels like it’s going to implode. He wants to walk away. He wants to escape from the weight of this conversation, from the way you're looking at him like you’re waiting for him to finally crack open and spill it all out.

But when he finally turns back to face you fully, all he sees is that unflinching patience, that quiet insistence that you’re not going to let him go until he finally says what he’s been hiding for so long. It makes him want to burn every rule he’s built for himself.

"You don't get it," he spats roughly, eyes flicking to the floor. "I can’t just... say it. It’s part of me, it’s who I am, this thing that I can’t get away from."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room in one smooth motion. There’s no anger in your steps—just a calm resolve that cuts through the tension between you like a knife.

"I'm not an idiot, Dean," you peek up at him, unfamilarly timid as you cross this uncharted territory. "I see the way you look at me. Hell, at first I thought I was imagining things but I can see it’s eating you alive. And I—” your words cut off in your own shock at the confession, the sincerity in your expression making his knees weak, “I can’t bear to see you like this.” 

Your hands reach up tentatively, like you’re scared he’ll tear himself away again. But he stills, letting your warm hands press into either side of his jaw, “you’re my rock, alright?” your words trail into a soft laugh, easing the tension of your own truth. “I don’t wanna live in a world where I’m not by your side, because you make life worth the fight to stay alive. But you can’t just keep me in the dark, I have to know what you’re feeling.” 

His breath catches in his throat, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. The realization that you know, that you’ve seen through all his defenses, makes everything inside him ache.

"I don’t know what you want from me," it comes out sounding like a plea, still looking for an excuse to retreat into himself.

"I want you to stop hiding from me." Your words are simple, but they strike right at the heart of the matter. "I want you to stop pretending like you can’t have the one thing you want most."

His throat tightens, and he shakes his head, trying to dismiss it. "I don’t get it," he mumbles, though his eyes are locked on yours, searching for the reprieve he still doesn’t believe he’ll find. "I don’t... I’m not fit for this."

"I’m not either, D. I’m just asking you to let it happen." You’re so close now, he can feel the warmth of your body, the soft pressure of your fingers against his jaw. Your gaze doesn’t break, it never wavers.

And that’s when it hits him. He’s been afraid of this—afraid of the way you make him feel like he can finally breathe, like all of his pain and avoidance can cease in your presence. he’s been holding himself together with tattered shreds for so long, and you’re the only thing that’s strong enough to pull him out of the mess he’s made of himself. 

And letting that security live in someone else terrifies him more than any monster he’s faced. 

“I’m not perfect,” he admits quietly, his words like gravel in his throat. “I’m broken, and I’m scared as hell, but god, if you only knew how much I want—”

You stop him with a soft kiss, the sweetest touch of your lips to his. It's gentle, almost hesitant, but it shatters something inside him, enough to freeze him in place. The weight of everything unspoken presses in, and for the first time, it feels like the walls he's built around himself might finally crumble in your hands.

The chains of his tightly kept composure snap at the delicate pressure of your lips, and without thinking, his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His hands find purchase at your waist, holding you as if you were the only thing that kept him grounded. The kiss deepens, desperate, as if he's trying to kiss away the years of holding back, the silent fear of letting you see the real him, the uncertainty of if you’d stay with him in the wreckage.

When you finally pull back, your lips linger just above his, breaths mingling. Your voice is a soft whisper, but it cuts through the tension like a thread being pulled taut. “Then say it, Dean. Tell me what you want.”

His heart beats in his chest, loud and frantic, as his walls come crashing down, piece by piece. He can’t think straight with you in his arms, all of his steely armor melts at your touch. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets go of some of those fears.

His eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils as he takes in the sight of you slightly out of breath, lips wet and a little more pink. From his doing, from his touch—it makes every broken rule worth the trouble.

“I've fallen for you, Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice is raw, shaky, but it's honest, every word carrying the weight of what he’s been holding back. “I want to keep falling for you, love and all that crap. And I’m terrified of it, but I can’t keep hiding this from you.”

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, the gesture soft, but nevertheless, grounding. A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and your eyes hold nothing but certainty. “You’ll never have to hide any part of yourself, Dean. I’ve been here all along, with nothing but love. Just been waiting for you to see that.”

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis

[daddyissuesbecauseofhotch]

Daddy issues || #3

{masterlist}

There’s a knock on your door late in the morning, just as you are sipping the second mug of coffee of the day. A sigh escapes your lips as you close your laptop, not feeling like talking to anyone right now, but knowing full well it would be rude to pretend you’re not at home, especially since the music you’ve been listening to can probably be heard from outside.

You have a deadline tomorrow, and the goddamn wireframe is not done yet, there’s something that’s missing, you know that. Some results you needed for this only arrived late last night, and your boss didn’t give you much time to work on it. Your teammate promised to take a look at it tomorrow morning, so it had to be done and sent today.

But when you open the door, there’s no one in the hallway, not a single soul. And then you look down momentarily to find an envelope on the doormat with your name written on it. Strange, who would leave a handwritten note these days? In the end, you just shrug and pick it up before heading back inside.

“Dinner at six at our place, don’t be late. Jack wants to get to know you, and maybe we could watch a movie together. He also wants you to know there will be enough popcorn for all of us,” it says, and it’s signed by Aaron. But then your eyes move lower to find a postscript. “Okay, that’s all Jack could see, here’s the thing. I also want to get to know you, preferably after I put Jack to bed. There are topics I’d rather not discuss in front of him. And wear my hoodie, I’m begging you. Anyway, save my number just in case.”

Heat rises to your cheek when you finish the letter, and you automatically reach for your phone to save the number he included at the end. It’s ridiculous, really, but you can’t stop yourself. This man has you in a chokehold, even if you’ve only exchanged like a total of five sentences so far. Maybe you would say no under different circumstances, but this time it’s a cute little boy who insists on having you over, who are you to decline?

You return to the wireframe, but five minutes later your gaze shifts to the phone next to your laptop. You should send a text to him and his son to thank them for the invitation. Just one text, that’s all. It would be nothing more but a friendly gesture, a simple text from a neighbor. With a sigh, you pick up the device and lean back in the swivel chair.

You: Thank you for the invitation.

You: I’m your neighbor, by the way.

Aaron: I’m glad you got the letter. Does this mean you’ll come over?

You: Jack mentioned popcorn, how could I say no that?

Aaron: And what about me?

You: Haven’t decided yet.

Aaron: You’re such a tease.

Aaron: Will you wear my hoodie as I asked?

You: I’m thinking about wearing that with no pants under it, it’s almost as long as some of my dresses.

Aaron: Sweetheart, there will be an underage kid in the apartment.

Sweetheart? God, he doesn’t waste his time. Your stomach does a flip upon reading the pet name, and it’s hard to resist the urge to smile like an idiot. He’s an outrageous flirt. You’re fucked. That’s it.

You: Fine, I’ll wear yoga pants.

Aaron: Perfect.

Aaron: But I won’t complain if you take it off after Jack goes to bed.

You: Oh, you want to see me naked?

Aaron: I was only talking about the yoga pants, but if you insist, who am I to say no?

You: You’re unbelievable.

You: Alright, stop disturbing me, I have a deadline at work. See you tonight.

Aaron: Can’t wait.

[bless-my-demons]

Scared Of Losing You

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: hurt/comfort followed by fluff of course and curse words - PG-13.

Notes: This is literally just a one-shot that would not leave me alone so I had to get it out! It’s all in reader’s pov with no physical description and gender neutral for the most part I think. I also listened to The Wire by the Vancouver Sleep Clinic while I was writing this, if you want the right vibes✨ enjoy my first Paul fic!

Word count: 1700

Masterlist

Beep… beep… beep…

The constant tone is almost soothing, almost, but not quite - there’s too much pain.

The hospital sheets crinkle as I try to shift to find a more comfortable position, but a soft inhale has my eyes snapping open against the bright light above my bed to search for the source of the sound.

“Sam?” I try to keep my voice low, but it comes out as more of a dry croak.

Sam leans forward in his chair to reach for the cup of ice on the tray near my bed, “Yeah, kid.” He keeps his own voice quiet, but I can hear the tiredness in the deep rumble.

It’s after my first sip of cold water that I take in everyone piled in my room. Embry, Quil, Jared, even Jacob - the boys are sprawled out on various chairs and couches, all completely knocked out and some of them even snoring lightly.

But there’s another, Paul. And my heart beats a little faster taking him in, the heart monitor giving me away.

“He’s been here the whole time, hasn’t even left to shower.” Sam shifts back into his chair positioned next to the foot of my bed, directly across from his best friend on the other side, his eyes worrying over said man. “To be fair, none of us have been able to leave.”

“Sam-” I’m speechless for a few seconds, “what happened?”

He loosens a sigh so deep, it pulls something in my chest. God, how long have I been here? Looking over Paul’s sleeping form, I try to put the pieces together - his head is buried face-down in his crossed arms, leaning on the end of my bed near my left leg, one of his warm hands wrapped around my ankle-my uninjured ankle. His shirt is rumbled, but I can see stubble on his cheek peeking out from where his face is hidden. If it weren’t for the pain, I’d be an absolute hot mess at the physical contact; the way his large hand easily wraps around my ankle, how warm my side is due to the heat emanating from this mountain of a man despite the cold of the hospital room.

“You were in a car accident leaving the reservation after your dinner with Emily. You didn’t text her when she expected you to be home, you didn’t answer your phone and it went straight to voicemail…” I can see the genuine concern on his face as he recalls it, “When we got there, Chief Swan was already on scene.”

“How bad? How long have I been here?” I can feel my throat starting to constrict, my heart rate starting to tick a little faster.

Sam’s eyes flick to the monitor, brotherly worry written all over the creases in between his eyebrows and the hard press of his lips.

“Three days.” This time it’s not Sam that answers, it’s the deep tenor that invades my dreams as well as damn near every waking thought of mine, Paul Lahote.

My head whips to meet his intense gaze so fast that it makes me slightly nauseous, his hand lightly squeezing my ankle in a way that tugs at another string in my chest.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam rises from his seat and I panic slightly, he’s leaving me with Paul. Paul Lahote, the guy I have an insanely intense crush on, the guy that doesn’t do feelings. The panic subsides quickly though, I giggle slightly at Sam trying to wake up and usher the boys still half-asleep out of my room.

The door clicks behind them, silencing their grumbles and their absence echos in the room. Sucking all the air out with their departure, it’s damn near impossible to meet his eyes again.

“Sweetheart.” The tenderness and hush in his voice is unfair, coupled with the gentle swipe of his thumb over the skin of my ankle. Damn, he doesn’t fight fair.

It’s like a magnet, the way my eyes draw back to his. They look so fucking tired and it hurts.

“Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a nicked lung, and a broken tibia. Not to mention all the cuts-” he cuts himself off, hands and gaze running over my uninjured leg like he’s trying to reinforce something inside himself.

“Paul-” He stills at his name, eyes closing, inhaling deep. “Paul.”

Finally he turns to me, eyes opening and showing the slightest bit of tears pooling at the edges and its another pang to the center of my chest.

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” My voice is small, not sure how to tread this tense situation.

A wet laugh tumbles out as his hands abandon my leg to rub at his temples. “You.” It’s quiet and I almost don’t catch it over the beeping of monitors.

“What?” I ask, my voice taking on an incredulous tone. Surely I didn’t hear him right, right?

“You.” His eyes lock onto mine with full force, face set. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” he rubs at his chest like it hurts and my breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” The pause hitching his breath, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” his groan of frustration slides over my skin and lodges in my throat with the rest of my guilt. “I-I-”

His stuttering renders me absolutely speechless, Paul Lahote showing feelings? Feelings for me? Is this real life?

“So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” I try to reach for his hands, but a stabbing pain in my side stops me, right - the ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake then they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” The tremble in his hands stop his rant, drawing his attention somewhere else. His next words are a whisper, “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.”

The conviction in his statement makes my chin wobble.

“Sweetheart,” he rises from his chair and cups my cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” the strong thumb swiping over my cheekbone only weakens my thin resolve and a tear spills over.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice wobbles, damn me for not being stronger, but everything hurts and he’s being so vulnerable and-and-and it’s so scary.

He leans down further, forehead pressing to my own, his nose barely brushing mine. My heart rate monitor picks up its cadence once again and that smirk I’ve always loved crinkles the side of his stupid, perfect mouth.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” His admission confuses me, he’s sorry? “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

My heart fully stops functioning and my mouth drops open at this new bit of information.

His lips brush my cheek as they whisper into my ear, “breathe.” My entire body is a live wire as I gulp oxygen down.

“You don’t have to say anything-” his immediate insecurity about his confession is too much.

I cut him off before I lose my resolve, “kiss me?”

His eyes widen comically for a second, as if he didn’t picture the possibility I could return his affections. Silly man.

His fingers gently glide under my chin to tilt it upwards, his eyes searching every inch of my face, like he’s looking for something.

“If you-” his turn to cut me off, his warm lips seal over mine.

Surely I’m dead. I must be, it’s the only logical reason. Either that or this is a really, really nice dream. The immersive kind, where it’s too good to be true. It’s a crime really, for lips to be so full and soft and just right-

The barely audible whimper that leaves my mouth when he pulls away a fraction of an inch is embarrassing. What’s even more embarrassing is the way I reach to chase those lips, but once again my ribs decide to protest the action, goddamnit.

Paul takes pity on me with a chuckle, resealing his lips over mine, thank god. No one should have a mouth this delicious, lips this full and warm. I’m a goner - go ahead and wheel me to the morgue, I can die happy now that I’ve finally found out what it’s like to kiss Paul Lahote.

His hands gently slide into my hair, causing a gasp to punch through from the goosebumps the warm caress pours down my spine. His tongue seizes the opportunity to lick past my lips and I happily swallow the moan he elicits right before he peels himself away.

Backing up and taking a lap around the end of the bed, I catch the flush in his cheeks as he blows out a long breath and grin to myself self-satisfied. I made the Paul Lahote flustered.

“Too much?” I ask, unable to contain myself.

For once he looks like a fish out of water, but before she could scramble a response together, a gentle knock at the door draws both our attention as Emily peeks her head around the edge, “knock, knock.”

Relief at seeing my best friend soothes the burning heat in my cheeks almost immediately.

“Come in.” Paul pushes the chair closer so that he can take my much smaller hand in his, careful of the IV taped to the back of my hand. I can’t contain the butterflies that erupt at the satisfied grin his mouth is set in, eyes glued to our joined hands.

“I’m so glad you’re awake and alright!” Her concerned ramblings fading off as the boys file back in. Sam clapping a hand on Paul’s shoulder and suspiciously empty handed with no promised coffee in sight, but I can’t look away. Not from the man that just flipped my word upside down with a couple words and a kiss.

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Lean On Me

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: minor emergency room situation, injury, fluffy x100, allusions to smut, a lil more coach!steve harrington

author's note: definitely did not write this one clocked in at my desk…i just can’t stay away from these guys.  this is not proofread so please be gentle if there are any mistakes :) also, i’m no medical professional so i’m not exactly sure if this is how one would treat a bruised foot…just go with it. ALSO!!! I had to give our art teacher a last name, and the polls chose 'Ms. Heart.' cute right?

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 3.9k

Ms. Heart🎨: The kids are saying they saw Coach Harrington carrying you out to the parking lot…tell me they’re kidding

Mr. Munson🎸: “Carrying” is an exaggeration…

You see the “Incoming FaceTime Call” notification pop up on the screen of your phone and hurry to shut your classroom door.  Even though it’s nearing the end of the day, and this is technically your planning period, sometimes kids still like to come in and hang out in your classroom.  You had a feeling that Eddie wouldn’t want any students around to hear this call though.

Your anxiety is momentarily forgotten when you see his handsome face on your screen after answering the FaceTime call.  Even after almost three weeks of knowing him, it still surprises you how gorgeous the man is.  You’re focused on the curve of his sexy grin, but you can't help but notice the subtle winces peaking through it.   You can tell he’s in the passenger seat of a truck, Steve’s truck you’re guessing, and your theory is confirmed when the man in question grabs the phone from Eddie’s hands and puts it up to his face.

“Well hello there Ms. Art Teacher!  You’ll never guess what your guy got himself into now–wait a second,” he turns to look at Eddie with an appalled expression ,”Why is your lady’s name in your phone ‘Ms. Heart’?” 

Eddie snatches his phone back from Steve’s hands and can barely hear the sound of you laughing from the other end.  You and him both know that you put your names in each other's phones as your ‘teacher names,’ just in case someone were to see a notification and get suspicious.  You still have yet to go public with your new relationship, and Eddie is counting down the days until he can let everyone know you’re his girl.

“Will you stop calling her ‘my lady’? You sound like a douche.”

Steve lets out a triumphant laugh. “Yeah, right.  This douche is getting laid on the regular pal.  I’ll hear your opinions on my vocabulary when you can say the same.”

Eddie looks back at your face on his screen, noticing how you’re blushing at Steve’s words.  He throws you a wink, just to see your reaction, and he isn’t disappointed.  You turn even redder and throw your free hand over your face to cover your smile.  

Steve’s words don’t bother you exactly, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been devoting a lot of time to thinking about whether or not Eddie cares that the two of you haven’t slept together yet.  It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you want to.  You’ve been wanting to climb that man like a tree since the moment he first spoke to you at orientation.  There just hasn’t been time to even approach that topic with the school year starting and the craziness of it all.  

You and Eddie are smiling bashfully at each other through the screen when he grunts in pain.  The phone shakes at the same time, and you remember that Steve is driving Eddie somewhere.

“Fuck, man.  Can you try not to drive into every pothole you see?”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah sure.  Lemme just swerve around them and into all the other cars on the road.  Then we’d both be injured.”

Both? Both? Meaning one of them already is?

“Eddie?” you ask.  He can tell by the sound of the question that you're on the verge of panic, so he smiles at you through the screen.

“Yes, sweet girl?”  You can hear Steve’s fake gag in the background at Eddie’s use of the pet name for you, but it doesn’t stop the lovesick smile from trying to make its way onto your lips.

Eddie finds it particularly entertaining to try out all the different pet names on you to see which ones will make you blush the hardest.  He says he keeps an Excel spreadsheet so he can track the data…but you’re pretty sure he’s lying.  Okay, maybe 75% sure.

You point a finger at him sternly. “Quit trying to distract me.  Tell me what’s going on please.”  Eddie would have to be a fool to resist your sweet request, so he gives in. 

“There may have been a little incident while I was putting away equipment after 6th period…”

Steve guffaws, “Yeah, I’ll say.  Your man dropped a 40 pound speaker on his foot!”  Eddie’s hand slaps to his forehead with a groan, he had planned on breaking the news a little gentler to you, and perhaps in a way that didn’t make him look like a total idiot.

Your mouth drops in horror, “What?”

Eddie instantly jumps into trying to calm you down, “Honey, it’s really not that bad–”

“–I heard a crunch!”

“Steve!  Please.”

You take a deep, grounding breath.  “Eddie, just talk please.”

Eddie reaches over to smack Steve before speaking.  “Steve was in my classroom because we were planning on moving a couple speakers out to the fields for the game tonight.  The one I was carrying slipped and landed a little bit on my foot, that’s all.”  He tries his best to speak calmly to keep you from panicking, but it’s hard to ignore the throbbing pain in his right foot.  

“Eddie!  Are you okay?  How bad does it hurt?”  You wish you were with him instead of pacing around in your empty classroom. 

“I can barely feel it sweetheart, I’d rate it a three out of ten.”

Steve scoffs loudly, “Okay buddy, that’s not what it sounded like when I was carrying your ass out of school.”

Eddie turns to fix Steve with a glare, “I still had one foot on the ground, dude.  You were not carrying me.”  He turns back to look at your face through the screen, “He wasn’t carrying me.”  

You hear Steve laughing off screen and Eddie rolls his eyes.  You can’t help but to laugh a little too at the absurdity of it all.  “Where are you heading to?”

“We’re going to the ER.  Personally, I think that’s a little dramatic, but mama bear over here…”

Steve passionately chimes in, “It’s important to treat every injury with the same level of seriousness, even the minor ones!” 

“I actually agree with him on this one, Ed.” you say with a soft smile.  Eddie swoons internally.

He’s able to overlook your choice of Steve’s side due to your use of the nickname.  You’ve been a bit hesitant about using pet names with him the way he does with you, but you’ve assured him time and time again that it’s only because you’ve never dated a guy who actually liked any of that stuff before.  You’re working your way up to Eddie’s level of nicknames, and ‘Ed’ has been a recent development in that process.  Eddie loves it.  

“Gimme the phone man,” Steve’s hand juts into the screen expectantly, swiping the phone from Eddie’s grasp.  “Hey Ms. Artsy, do you think you’ll be able to give this guy a ride back home? Our first home game is in a couple hours, and the boys can’t play without their coach.”

You had almost forgotten about the football game tonight.  Your students had been amped up all day long about it, convincing you to help them paint signs to hold up at the game during class time.  You were planning on asking Eddie if he wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how he felt about attending a school event together.  The status of your relationship wasn’t necessarily a secret, but still not very many people knew.  

“Of course I can!  I just have to clean up a bit and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, teach.” Steve hands the phone back to Eddie, who’s been sulking in the passenger seat because he missed your face. 

You smile at him, “Hang tight, I’ll see you soon okay?”

Eddie smiles, “Okaayyy–!” His voice cuts off in a pained grunt before the call ends, leading you to assume that Steve had once again hit a pothole.  

-

You’re a ball of nerves as you pull in to park outside of the emergency room.  Thankfully, you’re the type of person who keeps their car relatively clean, but that didn’t stop you from doing a once over just to make extra sure there wasn’t any mess.  Why were you so anxious to drive with Eddie?  Maybe the stress from the past hour just has you wound extra tight.

Nervous as you may be, you can’t help but to walk with a bounce in your step as you approach the entrance.  Seeing Eddie is always the highlight of your day, and you couldn’t wipe the growing grin off your face if you tried.  You just hope he isn’t in too much pain, your heart lurches at the thought of him being hurt in any way.

Thanks to impeccable timing, you spot Eddie and Steve walking down the hallway you’ve just entered into.  You notice the papers in Steve’s hands, and the crutches that Eddie is already seemingly irritated by.  Your eyes meet as he looks up, and the crease between his furrowed eyebrows is gone in an instant as a smile lights up his face.  Steve can’t help but smile along as he watches Eddie hobble a little faster on his crutches towards you. 

God, he missed you today.  He loves the color of the top you’re wearing, the way your jeans hug your thighs, the curve of your smile, and he might just love you too, although he probably shouldn’t tell you that part just yet.  

Steve checks his watch for the hundredth time since he and Eddie had arrived at the ER, running a hand through his hair anxiously.  He hands you the papers the doctor gave them with care instructions and pain medication prescriptions before you can even say hello.

“Okay, team.  Kick-off is in thirty minutes, and I gotta jet.”  He looks to you, already in ‘coach’ mode.  “Here are the papers from the doctor, the do’s and don'ts for a bruised foot bone, care instructions, ya-da ya-da.  His prescription can be picked up after 6, there’s a pharmacy around the corner that’s open til 10.”  

You take the papers from him and nod your head, trying to commit all the information to memory.

“Wish me luck guys!”  Steve jogs away, fist pumping the air. “Go Tigers!”

You turn to face Eddie, the both of you wearing matching smiles and shaking your heads at Steve’s theatrics.  You move a bit closer to Eddie, yearning for a hug but not sure if it’s a good idea.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie grins, “Can a hurt guy get a hug? I’m not able to hug you back at this moment but I’ll make it up to you later.”

You step into his space and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest and breathing him in.  How does he still smell so good after teaching all day long?  

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, wondering the same thing about you.  How could someone’s hair possibly be this soft and smell this amazing?  This.  This is what he’s been waiting for all day long.  God, you feel so good pressed against him like this.  If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d let the stirring of his cock in his jeans distract him from the pain in his foot, but unfortunately the two of you are still standing in the middle of the ER.  

“Shall we?” 

“Yup!” You reluctantly pull away from his warmth and move to his side to walk with him. You notice him holding his black Dr. Marten’s boot by its laces in one of his hands, then you look down to see his right foot, heavily wrapped in tan bandages.  

“Be honest, does it hurt?” you ask as you take his boot from him so that he can have a better grasp on his crutch.

Eddie sighs, hanging his head.  “I mean, it’s definitely throbbing still.”

“Aw, you poor thing.” You reach up to brush a stray curl out of Eddie’s face, and he can’t help but to lean into your touch like a dog when you use that tone of voice.

You hope he’ll let you take him back to your house instead of his own.  The idea of taking care of him and doting on him has you smiling already.  

“Wanna go back to my house?” Eddie feels his ears perk up at the thought of getting to go to your house again. “I can take you back to yours to get some clothes and stuff, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you there alone when you can’t drive yourself.”

Eddie knows he wouldn’t necessarily be alone, but having Steve Harrington as a roommate often feels like living alone.  Not in a bad way of course, it’s just that Steve is rarely ever at home unless he’s with a woman for the night or hungover in the morning.  

“You sure you want me at your place all weekend long?” Eddie’s giving you an out.  He’s fully aware that the two of you haven’t spent the night together before, and the last thing he wants you to think is that he expects anything from you. 

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ll be super lazy together.  We can watch movies, eat junk food, take naps…it’ll be awesome.”  You look up at him with a giddy smile and Eddie knows he would agree to anything you said. 

“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs against your forehead before pressing two kisses there.

“I parked just ahead in the front row, I didn’t want you to have to go very far but I can still pull the car up here if you feel like you don’t want to go that far.  You must be exhausted.”

He feels his chest warm, you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.  “I’ll be fine, baby.  I can make it.”  He has to work hard to focus on operating his crutches and not your sweet smile, it would be very un-cool of him to fall flat on his face in this parking lot right now.

He manages to make it all the way to your car, putting his crutches in your backseat and hopping over to the passenger side.  You make sure to open the door for him, not moving until you’re sure he’s safe in the seat and buckled up.  You hope he doesn’t think your hovering is annoying.

Eddie thinks your hovering is adorably sweet.  

As soon as you get in and start the car, Eddie asks to see your phone.

“Sure,” you fish it from your purse and hand it to him, “Passcode is 0102.  You gonna DJ?”

“Nope, your car, your tunes honey.  I’m just putting in my address so you know where you’re going.”

“I remember where you live, Ed,” you giggle.  “I’ve been to your place before, remember?”

Of course he remembers, you let him cook you dinner twice and both times you fell asleep in each other’s arms halfway through ‘Back To The Future.’  Maybe this weekend you’ll finally be able to finish it.

“Well, alrighty then.  I’m sorry I ever doubted you, my lady.” You laugh at his dramatics and reverse out of the parking space.

“You’d be wise to never do it again, good sir,” you reply in a medieval accent similar to the one Eddie spoke in.  He’s thankful that you’re distracted by navigating yourself out of the parking lot and not able to see the way his face flushes and his jeans tighten around his groin at your reciprocated dramatics.  You’re so hot when you talk nerdy to him.  You’re so hot all the time.

Eddie sits back and takes in the image of you driving, one he’s never seen before.  He chuckles a bit at how proper you’re sitting, back straight and hands at ten and two on the wheel.  

“Ease up, baby.  You’re not being graded right now,” he laughs.

You laugh along, a little embarrassed. “I know, I drive like a dork.”  You look over at him, exasperated.  “I just don’t feel prepared if I’m slouching or driving one handed!  You never know what could happen.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Steve “Mama Bear” Harrington,” he teases.

You scoff and roll your eyes, still smiling.

“Can you put on some music please?  Driving without it weirds me out.”

“Sure,” Eddie chuckles, opening up the ‘Spotify’ app on your phone. “Uh-oh, look who’s in the hot seat now.  Time to take a peek at your ‘On Repeat.’”

You laugh but hold your head up proudly.  “Peek away Mr. Munson.  I’ve got nothing to hide, I am who I am.”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” Eddie mumbles as he locates the playlist and hits shuffle.  He can’t believe his ears when the opening chords to ‘One Of These Nights” by Eagles play from your speakers.  His head snaps up towards you, and you can’t help but to burst out laughing at the bewildered look on his face.

“You know, I actually feel like a total asshole right now.  This is an amazing song.” He looks at you like he’s proud of you, and your chest feels warmer.

By the time the song is nearing its end, Eddie’s trying to catch his breath from attempting to hit the highest notes and you’re breaking your “ten and two” rule by clutching your stomach because you’ve been laughing so hard that it hurts. 

Eddie vaguely recognizes the next song as a showtune, but doesn’t comment on it because he’s too caught up in you.  

You, still laughing out loud with your widest smile and the setting sun outlining your silhouette in a golden-orange glow.  He can’t believe he’s in your car, that you’re driving him around, the goddess that you are.  You’re ethereal.  Other-worldly.  

You’re starting to look concerned.  

After coming down from your laughing fit, you turn to find Eddie staring at you with a dazed and confused look in his eye.  Being that he’s fresh out of the Emergency Room, you’re instantly a bit concerned for his well being.  

“Eddie?  Are you feeling okay?”

He blinks a few times before responding, “S-sorry, it’s just…you are so goddamn beautiful.”

Will you ever get used to this floaty warm feeling in your chest?  Luckily for you, he says this while you pull your car into his driveway.  You put the car into park, and lean your head back onto the headrest, no doubt sporting a smile that’s as lovesick as you feel.  

You look at him and whisper, “Thank you.”  Shy fingers reach out to take his hand that rests on your center console, and he’s quick to hold on tight.  Without breaking eye contact with you, Eddie brings your hand up to his mouth and presses two warm kisses to your knuckles.  He then uses that hand to pull you towards him, stopping when your faces are only inches apart.  

“Thank you for driving me,” he whispers, unable to look away from your soft lips.  

“You’re welcome,” you sigh, wishing he would just kiss you already. 

Eddie’s loving the effect he has on you.  He notices your chest rising and falling faster, the breathy tone of your voice, the darkness taking over your eyes.  

He finally leans in and presses his lips to yours gently.  This kiss is much softer than your first one, there’s no urgency or tenacity.  This kiss lets you know that there will be many more to come.  You can’t remember a time where you’d been handled any gentler than this.  Eddie’s holding your face like you’re a rare jewel, like you’re priceless and valuable, and he kisses you like he’s trying to worship you.  

It feels like your lips are dancing together, this feels practiced and choreographed and natural.  

You’re so going to fall in love with this man. 

He pulls away after what could’ve been five hours or five seconds, either way it’s far too soon.  Your mouth chases his lips, making him chuckle softly as he drops kisses onto your nose, cheeks, forehead and chin.

You smile, thoroughly enjoying being doted on like this.  

Eddie backs away once and for all, smoothing your hair out of your face with both hands, his smile matching yours.  

“So pretty.”

You blush harder, if it’s even possible, and let out a happy sigh.  

And with both hands on either side of your face, Eddie obviously uses this opportunity to smush your cheeks together so that your lips pucker. 

“Even prettier,” He leans forward and plants one on you, “Let’s get inside, I can hear my bed calling our names.”

He quickly corrects himself when he sees your eyes widen, “F-for a nap!  I’m tired, you’re probably tired.  Nap time.”

Eddie is sure he’s totally mortified you until he spots you trying to hide your bashful smile and pink cheeks as you undo your seatbelt and get out of the car.  Maybe you’d be into more than nap time?  Why the fuck did he call it ‘nap time’?  

You’re an idiot, Eddie.  That’s why.  She’s not going to fuck you while you have a stupid bruised and use words like ‘nap time.’

He’s still shaking his head at himself when you open the passenger door, looking at him expectantly.  Oh that’s right, you’re going to help him hobble to his own front door, because he’s an idiot who dropped a goddamn amp on his fucking foot.

Eddie hits his head backwards on the headrest with a sigh, “I feel so un-cool right now.”

The sound of your laugh eases his pain a little.

“You’ll live.  C’mon, big boy,”  You chuckle, smirking and looking down on him from where you stand outside your car.  

You open the door to the backseat to grab his crutches and your purse, and Eddie starts to question himself as he feels his dick twitch at your use of the new nickname.  Perhaps it’s something the two of you can explore down the line…he needs to stop thinking about sex with you or else he’ll pop a very obvious boner and scare you off.  

A quick recalling of the mental image that’s seared into his mind of Mrs. Bedson, the 57 year old choir teacher, bumping and grinding with the tennis coach at last year’s prom does the trick.  Eugh.  Eddie shivers at the memory.  

You pop back up with his crutches under your arm, reaching your other one down to help him up.  He doesn’t need the help, but he takes your hand anyway because it feels so right to hold it. 

You unlock his front door with his keys, and then the two of you head inside.  After placing your purse on one of the hooks in the entryway while simultaneously toeing your shoes off, you turn to him with a teasing smile.

“Nap time?”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah.  Nap time.”

TAGLIST:

@twihard28 @daveythorntonslocker @yujyujj @perfunctory-username69 @the-fairy-anon @micheledawn1975 @ches-86 @newsiesjathrine @josephquinnsfreckles @anukulee @littlebebebunny @meetmeatyourworst @lalalala-melmosworld @someantics @lokis-army-77 @loserboysandlithium @strangerstilinski @mystra-midnight @lesservillain @queenimmadolla @luveline @munson-blurbs @fairyysoup @urhoneycombwitch @oneforthemunny @rebelfell @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @eiightysixbaby @bettyfrommars @loveshotzz @lovebugism @carolmunson @rustedhearts @lonelysatellites

[bloodysword63]

Becoming One Of The Dudes...

Jack was not in the mood to deal with anybody's bullshit today especially the guys that were watching him as he walked across the common area at the university. He was tall, thin and was going to college for a degree and not figure out how many women he could pick up on the weekend.

"Dude!" one of the guys he was trying to avoid called out but Jack kept walking.

"Hey! JACK! I'm fucking talking to you you little shit!" the guy said for the second time and Jack grumbled and turned to look. "Come on over here Jack... don't be scared!"

Jack rolled his eyes and looked quickly at his phone. He could just turn and walk away but decided what the fuck. He sighed and walked over to the four guys who were more interested in the gym than actually learning anything in the classroom.

"Yeah?" Jack asked disinterested. "What do you want Mike?"

Mike, who was one of the backup linemen for the college football team, smiled and said, "I was just wondering if you could help me with studying for the exam next week. Without a good grade, I'm going to be dropped from the team."

"Well, if you actually did the assignments and read what you needed to read, then you wouldn't have a problem with your grades now would you?" Jack replied.

Mike stood up and glared down at Jack and could feel his muscles flex. For a moment, Jack felt drawn to Mike not only for the feeling of power coming from him but the desire to be just another one of the guys. "Listen you little shit..." Mike said before of the other guys also on the football team interjected. "Mike, relax will you?" he said.

Jack felt weird for a moment as was worried that he was about to become a bloody smear on the ground before Mike relaxed and grinned. "Sorry man... just we've got an important game this weekend and all the stress from that," Mike said. "I just need help and I know you're the one that can help me."

Jack looked at the other two guys with Mike and tried to remember their names. Tyler and James. Right. Tyler was the one who interrupted Mike's rage moment and James looked as thought he was on the poster child for muscle men everywhere.

Jack sighed and said, "Sure Mike. How about tomorrow night? Can you spare a few hours from the gym?"

Mike nodded and said, "Yep. Definitely can. No worries buddy."

Jack turned away and walked on not realizing that Mike and the other two were eyeing him as not a study partner but a new initiate into the muscle world.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following evening, Jack looked around his dorm room hoping that he had everything. Mike had offered the common room in his dorm as a place to study and Jack agreed. Most of the football players were in the same dorm which made it easy to keep an eye on everybody.

Jack walked over just after sunset and the stars were just coming out. He turned towards Mike's dorm and saw him standing outside the front door with a smile on his face. Jack walked up to him and said, "Evening Mike. Ready to cram for an exam?"

"If it's as bad as cramming for a game, not sure if I want to but I'm willing to try," Mike said as he opened the door to the dorm and motioned Jack inside.

A few minutes later Jack and Mike were sitting in the common room where Jack was going through the wonderful world of statistical analysis when Mike turned to Jack and asked, "Dude. Sorry if this is personal but have you always been this skinny?"

The question caught Jack off guard for a moment before he nodded. "I get it from my grandfather. He was tall and thin and no matter what I do, I can't gain much weight."

"Ever think about taking something?"

"You mean what... roids? Is that what you take? Jack asked looking at Mike.

"Roids? Nah. This is all natural work," Mike said as he flexed a bicep. "Well... not all natural."

"Supplements?" Jack asked. "Of course you would take supplements."

"Yeah, something like that," Mike responded with. "Give me a second. Be right back."

Mike got up from the table and Jack's heart raced for a moment. Although he considered himself straight, there was a part of him that was envious of what Mike had.

A minute later, Mike returned with a bottle of what was white pills. "Here," Mike said. "Take one of these before you go to bed and see how you feel in the morning. It's something I took when I was first starting out. I beat you it'll make you feel better."

Jack sighed and heard about the 'get muscles fast by taking a pill' fad that was always on the internet. He grabbed the bottle and sighed before putting them in his backpack.

"Can we get back to work?" Jack asked and Mike nodded.

Later that evening, Jack was sitting on his bed about ready to fall asleep when he saw the bottle in his backpack about ready to hit the floor. Jack got up and grabbed the bottle and walked over to the garbage can to throw it out but after a moment's hesitation he thought what could it hurt. If anything, he would feel sick for a day and go back to his normal nerd self.

Opening the bottle, he took the two pills that were inside and swallowed it. Jack looked at himself in the mirror and saw no instant changes. He went back to bed and laid down and went to sleep.

The following morning, Jack woke up with a groan. Something was different for sure. He sat up and looked down at his body and there was definitely something strange. His pajamas were tighter than normal and just moving felt strange like he had gained a few pounds overnight.

Getting up, Jack went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. What looked back at him was somebody he didn't recognize. His face looked more mature, his hair seemed to be fuller but the biggest change was that he had actually had muscle on his tall frame. Not football level muscle but definitely some muscle. Thinking this was a dream, Jack shook his head and smacked himself a few times.

Looking back in the mirror, Jack laughed and realized that it was real. What the fuck were those pills that Mike had given him? And where the fuck could he get more?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"How did it go?" Tyler asked Mike the same morning Jack realized that his body was changing for the better.

"Just like we had planned," Mike replied. "I'm sure Jack will be calling me shortly."

At that moment his phone rang and Mike grinned when he saw it was Jack. "Morning Jack," Mike said. "How are you?"

On the other end of the phone, Jack said, "We need to talk. Now."

Mike looked at Tyler and nodded. "Yeah. Come over to the dorm," Mike said.

A few minutes later, Mike saw Jack and immediately saw the difference that the former nerd who would be a jock soon had been after two pills.

"What were in those fucking pills?" Jack asked as he looked at Mike. "What the hell dude?"

Mike grinned. "I thought you needed to be shown a new way to look at like," he said. "And I'm sure those pills did it for you didn't they?"

After a moment, Jack nodded. "If this is what two pills did, what would happen if I took more?" he asked almost like a drug addict looking for his next fix.

"That's not how this works," Mike said. "Those pills are just the first step. The next step requires a bit more... commitment."

"Commitment?" Jack asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

Mike smiled and said, "The next step you need to take is from the source." Mike went to lower his pants but waited for Jack to realize what was about to happen.

Jack took a step back and frowned. "No... no... I'm not..." he said in a moment of hesitation. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned and saw Tyler standing there as well.

"We all committed ourselves Jack," Tyler said. "If you want to become a man, you need to do this."

For a moment, Jack could almost hear in the back of his head a protest but Jack realized that all his life this was what he wanted. He wanted to be tough, he wanted to be strong and there was no other way to obtain it.

Mike dropped his pants and knew that his cock was solid and thick and ready to give Jack the gift of jockification. It was how it happened a year ago when Mike was given the gift by his mentor. And now he was going to give it to Jack.

Jack fell to his knees and opened his mouth. The moment Mike's cock hit his mouth, Jack closed his eyes and embraced it. The feeling of belonging filled him with joy and when Mike ejaculated, Jack's entire mind exploded in joy. This was what he wanted. This is what he needed.

After Mike was done, Jack looked up at his mentor and smiled. "That was amazing..." he whispered as he realized that his cock was solid and thick. Without thinking Jack stood up and dropped his pants and looked at Mike. Mike grinned as Tyler watched on as Jack's cock filled Mike's mouth and the process continued.

For Jack, as soon as Mike's cum hit his tongue, the transformation that he had gone through overnight continued to progress. Over the next few hours as Jack's body and mind adjusted to his newfound life, Mike and Tyler watched on with grins on their faces.

Finally, just after noon, Jack finally felt like himself again. He grinned and looked at his new best friends and said, "Thank you" in a deeper voice than he could have possibly imagined. "Thank you for giving me life," he said.

Mike grinned and replied, "Welcome to the brotherhood Jack. Glad you could join us."

As Jack walked back to his dorm room, he could see people looking at him as he realized his life had changed for the better.

[scoupsakakitty]

your small reminders are so cute thank you <3 i love all your work i think i almost read every story. may i ask where you're from? and can I also request another seventeen reaction, maybe seventeen reacting to y/n watching their fan edits on tiktok.

How SVT would react to y/n watching their Fan Edits

Aww thank you! I‘m from Germany 👉🏻👈🏻

S.Coups:

Y/n sat on the couch, completely absorbed in her phone. She didn’t even notice that for the past ten minutes, Seungcheol had been quietly standing behind her, watching as she scrolled through his fan edits on TikTok. She was even liking them.

A wide grin spread across his face as he watched her eyes sparkle at one particularly flattering edit where he did that signature smirk of his.

Finally, unable to hold back, he broke the silence, his deep voice making her jump.

“I’ve seen that one on my FYP too,” he chuckled, pointing at the video.

Y/n gasped, her phone nearly slipping from her hands. “Choi Seungcheol! How long have you been standing there?!”

“Long enough to know you have good taste,” he teased, sitting next to her with that smug grin still plastered on his face. “Wanna watch them together?”

Her cheeks burned, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Jeonghan:

Y/n was in the kitchen, scrolling through edits while waiting for the tea to boil. She didn’t realize Jeonghan had been watching her from the doorway, his arms crossed, an amused smile on his face.

“Are you really watching fan edits of me right now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nearly dropped her phone in surprise. “What—no! I mean… maybe?”

He sauntered over, peeking over her shoulder. “Wow, they really made me look like a prince, huh?” he smirked. “But you don’t need those edits. You can just stare at me in real life.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but laughed. “You wish.”

“No need to wish,” he winked, “I’m right here.”

Joshua:

They were on the couch, both casually scrolling through their phones when Joshua noticed y/n giggling beside him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, leaning over slightly.

Y/n hesitated, but then showed him the screen—a fan edit of him playing guitar, the background music making it extra dramatic.

Joshua laughed softly. “They really made me look cooler than I am.”

“You are cool,” she replied without thinking, then quickly looked away, embarrassed.

Joshua smiled, his heart skipping a beat. “Thanks… but I think you’re cooler for actually watching these.”

Jun:

Jun walked into the living room to find y/n laughing on the couch, her phone tilted away from him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, plopping down next to her.

Y/n tried to hide her phone, but he was quicker, snatching it gently from her hand. His eyes widened when he saw a fan edit of him dancing, with dramatic slow-motion cuts and flashing lights.

“Ohhh, so this is what you do in your free time?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Y/n groaned. “Give it back!”

“No way,” he grinned. “I’m sending this to the group chat.”

Hoshi:

Hoshi was sitting next to y/n, leaning over to see what she was watching.

“Are those… my edits?” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

Y/n burst out laughing. “Yes! Carats are so talented, look at this one!”

They both watched an edit of Hoshi doing a fierce dance break.

“Wow,” Hoshi nodded approvingly. “They made me look like a professional or something.”

“You are a professional!” y/n giggled.

“Right, right,” he grinned. “I should hire them to do my PR.”

Wonwoo:

Y/n was quietly watching a soft, aesthetic edit of Wonwoo reading a book, the peaceful background music matching his vibe perfectly.

Wonwoo entered the room silently, as always, and sat down next to her without a word. After a few seconds, he peeked at her screen.

“Is that… me?” he asked softly, his eyes flickering with amusement.

Y/n blushed. “Yeah, but look how good you look!”

Wonwoo chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “I didn’t know reading could be so dramatic.”

“Everything you do looks cool,” she mumbled.

His smile lingered longer than usual. “You’re too kind.”

Woozi:

Woozi was in the studio, deeply focused on mixing tracks, while y/n lounged on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

Suddenly, she started giggling. Woozi looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

Y/n eagerly showed him a cute fan edit of him, with hearts and sparkles floating around his serious face.

Woozi squinted at the screen, then burst out laughing. “Why do I look like an anime character?”

“Because you are one,” she teased.

Woozi shook his head, smiling. “Carats really have too much time on their hands.”

DK:

DK noticed y/n sitting on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Curious, he peeked over her shoulder and saw a crack edit of himself making weird faces during a performance.

“HEY!” he exclaimed, pretending to be offended. “Why are you watching that?!”

Y/n couldn’t stop laughing. “Because it’s hilarious!”

DK grabbed her phone. “Let me see! …Okay, yeah, that’s actually funny.”

They ended up watching more together, both laughing until their stomachs hurt.

Mingyu:

As soon as Mingyu walked in, y/n quickly hid her phone behind her back.

“What was that?” he asked, smirking.

“Nothing!” she replied too quickly.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow and playfully lunged at her, easily snatching the phone from her hands. When he opened TikTok, her search history popped up:

“Mingyu abs.”

He burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Y/n! You’re searching for my abs?!”

Y/n turned bright red. “I was just curious!”

“You could’ve just asked for a live show,” he teased, flexing dramatically.

“Get out!” she groaned, throwing a pillow at him while he laughed even harder.

The8:

Minghao was painting quietly while y/n scrolled through her phone nearby. She let out a soft giggle, catching his attention.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, setting his brush down.

Y/n showed him a beautiful, artistic edit of him from a recent performance.

He watched it silently, then nodded thoughtfully. “Carats have good taste,” he said with a smirk. “But I think you’re more talented for finding these.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Smooth.”

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan noticed y/n trying to stifle her laughter while scrolling through her phone.

“What’s so funny? Show me!” he demanded playfully.

Y/n hesitated, but he snatched the phone, seeing a compilation of his funniest moments.

“Yah! Why do they always make me the funny one? I’m cool too!” he pouted.

“You’re both,” y/n smiled.

Seungkwan grinned, satisfied. “Alright, I’ll accept that.”

Vernon:

Vernon asked y/n if he could borrow her phone to look something up. She handed it to him without thinking.

As soon as he unlocked it, TikTok was still open—and right there was a fan edit of him.

He paused, raised an eyebrow, and slowly turned to her.

“Really?” he said with a half-smile.

Y/n’s face turned bright red. “I—It just popped up!”

Vernon chuckled, handing the phone back. “Sure it did.”

Dino:

Dino and y/n were chilling in the practice room when he noticed her smirking at her phone.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning over.

Y/n showed him a hilarious fan edit of his baby photos mixed with his current performances.

“YAH! Why do they always use my baby pics?!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“Because you were adorable,” she teased.

“Was? I still am!” he shot back, both of them bursting into laughter.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

This Isn't Over

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader (platonic?), Reader POV

Prompt: "You sold my car for magic beans?"/"Hold on, this guy was legit. He had a creepy cloak and everything."

Requested by: @waynes-multiverse

Tropes: Established friendship

Summary:  When Dean plays a prank on you, your only option is to retaliate, but maybe you took it too far. (This can be read as platonic or as a friends with benefits situation- whichever you want it to be 😊)

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Some cursing, Ridiculous Pranks, Friendship, Prank Gone Too Far? Reader and Dean being menaces to one another? Fluff? Reader is described as having hair long enough to put up in a bun.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

A/N: Second fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the lovely @waynes-multiverse ENJOY!

The beans in your pocket jingled merrily as you sat on the bench in the warm sunlight, soaking up the beams like a happy cat on a stoop while the small town of Belleville woke up.

There was a kiss of fall on the wind that played with the hair at the nape of your neck, winding through the strands and pulling them out of the messy bun at the back of your head. 

But it was a good day. 

You’d met Dean here yesterday, your paths crossing as they always did when the two of you were out looking for jobs and it was a happy coincidence. Your friend looked a little more worn around the eyes than he usually did, a few gray strands in his golden brown hair, but he had the same smile that crinkled all the lines on his face and made you feel special. 

Dean didn’t smile like that at everyone, you supposed after ten years of friendship you’d earned that. The two of you had been through quite a bit together and you guessed that there was more than enough to come. 

You smiled to yourself, leaning against the wooden back of the bench with a content sigh.

The leaves on the trees hanging over your head and lining the streets were just starting to brown, slipping into yellows, reds, and happy oranges to herald the changing of the seasons.

Dean had told you to sit in Baby and wait for him before he strode down the street to the newsstand on the corner to pick up a fresh copy of the newspaper to see if there was anything weird happening in this little town.

In your experience places like coffee shops, grocery stores, and diners were usually breeding grounds for the best gossip, where people would congregate and talk in hushed whispers about the happenings in town. 

But not here. There was nothing but smiles and happy chatter that caught on the wind from the cafe just within ear shot that also brought the warm smells of cinnamon and coffee with it. 

The best thing Dean and you had discovered here was the apple pie at the diner he’d taken you to this morning. The same diner where he’d stolen the last bite of flaky goodness from your plate and shoved it into the black hole he called a mouth and earned a slap on the shoulder by you.

Your lips curl slightly on the ends mischievously thinking that Dean had what was coming to him. 

The pie wasn’t the only reason why you’d decided to play a harmless prank on your friend. 

This morning when you’d taken too long in the bathroom, Dean had shoved a giant plastic spider under the door to smoke you out. It had led to an unfortunate incident with you racing out of the bathroom screaming for him to kill it, clad only in a towel while Dean filmed you on his phone and laughed until he had tears in his eyes. 

Your revenge would be swift and merciless.

As soon as he had rounded the corner you’d slid across the worn leather front seat, put Baby in reverse, pulled out of the parking spot and backed her into the adjacent alley, just out of view. You’d then crossed the street to the small grocery store and asked the shop owner if you could borrow five loose dried beans. He’d obliged you with an odd look on his face, but you didn’t care. 

You’d never cared that people thought you were weird, you hunted creatures that no one believed, weird was every day of your life. Not to mention you were sure that you'd go stir crazy if you were stuck anywhere "normal."

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean calls walking towards you, a fresh newspaper crinkling in his hand and a coffee carrier with two mugs sitting snugly inside. His smile drops as he surveys the empty street. “Where’s Baby? Did you take her to a car wash?”

“Dean, the most amazing thing happened!” You bounced from the bench, a wide smile on your face. “I was sitting here minding my business and this guy showed up-“

“He carjacked you?!” Dean shouts, eyes widening. His body tenses and you watch him begin to look up and down the street frantically for some glimpse of Baby.

It was like your best friend to jump to the worst conclusion, and given what the two of you did for a living it was a valid assumption. 

“No, let me finish!” You wave a hand with a laugh. “He complimented the car, asked me what year she was, what engine she had under the hood- etc. Finally, he told me that he wanted to buy her.”

“This better not be where I think it’s going.” Dean’s eyes narrow, suspicion swimming in the familiar green hue. 

Over the years as the two of you aged, Dean’s eyes never did. They were still the same shade of green like the ferns that lived on a well-watered forest floor, the color of a pine tree that unfurled it’s leaves in the warm summer months and reached to the sky, and they were lecked with gold that caught in the afternoon sun when it hung directly overhead. 

You continue hiding your amusement at his reaction with much difficulty, trying to channel the laugh bubbling up into false excitement. 

He really had this coming.

“So I told him. This car is worth more than money and he goes, ‘oh it’s sentimental?’ and I said yes, and I thought he was going to leave, But then he says ‘well I don’t have cash but what I do have are-’“ You reach into your jacket pocket, it’s really Dean’s, but he’d put it around your shoulders at the diner when a blast of air-conditioning made you shiver. “BAM!” 

You hold out your palm and show Dean the five dried beans from your pocket, pausing for effect.

Dean’s gaze drops to your hand, not quite comprehending what you were trying to say. “What the hell are those?" 

“Magic beans!” This time you wiggle your fingers mysteriously, allowing the smile you were trying to hold back stretch over your face.

Dean’s eye begins to twitch. “Please tell me that you stole them from him and you took Baby to a carwash.”

As if Dean would let anyone other than himself wash his car.

“Nope. I told him that he had a deal.” You smile wider. 

Your friend looks like he’s about to faint and spontaneously combust at the same time when he realizes exactly what you said. His expression freezes somewhere between horror and realization, looking from your open palm to the empty street as if to confirm what you’ve already admitted aloud.

 “You sold my car for magic beans?” Dean shouts so loud that you’re sure somewhere in the midwest a murder of crows all rose from the earth in an angry swarm. You can imagine them, black plumage running together into the sky, ink over paper, oil on water. 

The people walking by stop and look at the two of you.

“Hold on, this guy was legit. He had a creepy cloak and everything!” You argue, again fighting a smile. “I’m sure that-”

“That doesn’t matter if he had an eyepatch and a peg-leg! You sold Baby! You sold my car! How would you like it if I took your first child?” The coffee in the carrier sloshes with Dean’s gestures so much that he thinks better of it and puts down the carrier on the bench you vacated to tell him the “good news.”

“Calm down Rumplestilskin! These are magic beans!” You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

It wasn’t so hard to fake it given that you were still angry from the spider prank this morning. 

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you understand what it means!”

“It means that they are worth a million times what Baby was! I could get you a hundred Impalas with these bad boys! And I’ll demonstrate!” You hold them up triumphantly before hurling them to the warm soil underneath the tree to your left. 

You wait a beat, pretending to be interested in the reddish brown kidney beans that turn a burnished orange in the light of the sun. 

A car drives by, the clouds continue to float above your head, the wind picks up to sift through your hair, but nothing happens to the beans

Predictably.

“Huh.” You muse, biting your lip to keep yourself from giggling. “Maybe they’re slow acting?” 

“Or you sold my car for a bag full of shit!” Dean runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands so hard you think he'll pull them out.

“Maybe I’m using them wrong? They didn’t come with instructions.” You say, pating your pockets as if looking for something and continuing to ignore Dean. "Maybe we need to sing or something. Quick, pick a song!"

Your chest was burning from keeping the laugh at bay, jaw aching from keeping the smile that wished to break through. 

I have to be strong. Just for a few more seconds. This will be worth it. 

Honestly, it already was. 

You begin to hum the beginning of ACDC's Thunderstruck, pinching your lips together as you do and avoid Dean's murderous gaze.

“Oh for the love of- CAS!” Dean’s eye is still twitching when he roars the angel’s name, not looking away from you as he does.

“What?” Cas says, appearing behind Dean with his usual frown, eyebrows furrowed together. His trenchcoat is pristine, billowing slightly in the breeze that picks up at his appearance.

“Take me to my car.” Dean demands to the angel, who looks at him like he’s crazy. 

“That’s why you called me here?” Cas raises an eyebrow.

“Yes! Take me to my car CAS!” Dean shouts even louder.

Some of the people at the coffee shop two doors down lean back in their chairs, staring in your direction, curious about what's going on.

“He’s not a lojack system.” You clear your throat to hide the giggle. 

Oh this is so much better than when I changed out his shampoo with blue hair dye.

“I don’t want to hear it from you.” Dean points an accusatory finger in your direction. 

“I don’t know where you car is Dean.” Cas replies.

Dean’s eye continues to twitch, until finally he lets out a high pitched. “Son of a bitch!"

Dean takes off in a dead run down the sidewalk in the direction he came from, shouting "I'm coming Baby! Hold on!" His voice echoes over the buildings that line the street as he almost crashes into an older man who's out walking a small dog in a bright pink sweater.

The laugh finally breaks free from your lips in a strangled cackle as you film Dean running away from you, before sending it to Sam. It was the same thing that Dean had done with his video of you and it was only fair for Sam to give him as much crap as he'd given you when he called to laugh at you after receiving Dean's text.

“You didn’t really sell his car did you?” Cas asks, while you continue to wheeze, gasping for breath on the sidewalk. 

“Nah-" You choke out. "I wouldn’t do that. I know how much he loves her. She’s in the alley.” You gesture with your head back behind you. “Bastard put a plastic spider under the bathroom door this morning. Scared the shit out of me.” 

Cas looks confused. “A plastic spider?”

“Yeah, he knows I hate spiders.” 

“But if you knew it was plastic why were you frightened?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t know it was plastic.”

“Oh.” He still looks confused so you reach over and give him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder to reassure him. 

You didn’t have many interactions with the angel, but you took it as your job to make sure he understood some things about human life.

So far it didn't appear to be helping.

“It’s alright Cas, you can go back to whatever it was you were doing.”

He nods once and vanishes before you can say anything else. 

You sit back down on the bench laughing to yourself into your coffee mug while Dean comes running back up the street.

“Why the hell are you still sitting here? We have to find her! Who knows what that freak could have done to her!” Dean exclaims, shaking your shoulders.

“How does it feel to be faced with your worst fear?” You smirk while taking a calm sip of your coffee. “Payback is a bitch isn’t it Winchester?"

Dean’s face goes from worried to angry in a heartbeat. “Are you friggin kidding me?! You pretended that you sold my car because of the shower thing?”

“And because you stole the last bite of my pie!” 

“I’ve stolen the last bite before-”

“Then you had it coming.” You take another sip of coffee with a triumphant smile.

“Wow. Just wow.” Dean frowns at you. “I hate you.”

“I know.” You smile wider, patting him on the back. “I hate you too buddy. Now come on let’s go see if there’s anything here to do."

“You do realize this isn’t over right?” Dean says as you begin to walk towards the alley where you hid Baby.

You stop to look over at your friend. “Wait, what?”

“This isn’t over.” Dean repeats.

“I think it is-”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, determination flashing in his eyes. “I’m just getting started.”

You stand there for a moment, taking in the serious expression on your friend’s face. You saw all the hardened edges of his jaw, dusted with scruff that made him look just a little more wild. 

Fine. 

You step closer to him, so close you can smell the shampoo he stole from you this morning, without blinking an eye at his display. “It’s cute that you think you can win.” 

Dean’s smirk grows wider, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “I always win, Sweetheart, one way or another.”

The world continues to spin, the birds above caw and flap their wings, the wind brings the smell of coffee and autumn, but Dean’s eyes remain on yours, unmoving, unwavering.

It didn't scare you.

“Then bring it on, Winchester.” 

A/N: This one was a lot of fun to write! Imagining Dean running down the street screaming "I'm coming Baby" made me cackle 🤣 But thank you so much again @waynes-multiverse for giving me this prompt!

If anyone else would like to ask me for a prompt for my prompt celebration there are still some left!

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 🥰 Also, if you'd like to be added to one of my taglists for the characters I write, please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies

[sweetiesicheng]

seonghwa - flight

word count : 741

-

"here, i got it."

the guy in the seat next to yours stands up and helps you put your suitcase in the overhead compartment.

"thanks," you say to him. "i'm in the seat next to yours," you mention, pointing to the empty seat.

the guy nods and lets you go in, taking your seat. the guy sits back down in his seat while you put your backpack away, organizing everything for the long flight.

"do you..." the guy speak up but hesitates. when you look at him, he continues speaking, "do you play animal crossing?" he asks, noticing the case of your nintendo device sitting in the pocket on the chair in front of yours.

you nod with a smile, "i do. do you?"

he grins, "yea. can i show you my island after we take off?" he offers.

"sure!"

—

after the flight takes off, your meal is served so you make sure to eat everything since you didn't bring any snacks with you.

when you're done, your new friend, seonghwa, shows you his island on his switch. he shows you around, his different villagers, and shows you a section he is redoing. you do the same. you show off your island, noting that you're also redecorating it.

"if only the internet was good enough, we could visit each other," you say to seonghwa as you turn your switch off to take a break from playing.

"that'd be nice. maybe in the future," seonghwa replies as he continues playing.

you put on headphones and start watching a movie on the screen in front of you. however, it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep.

—

seonghwa continues playing animal crossing. at one point, he connects his switch to a charger because the low battery notification pops on.

when he finishes decorating one section, he decides to show you. however, when he looks over at you, you're fast asleep with the movie still playing on the screen.

he pauses the movie for you and turns the screen off. you don't notice the changes since you’re asleep, which makes seonghwa relieved so you can rest as comfortably as you can in your seat.

eventually, seonghwa goes to sleep since the flight is a long one. he puts everything away and puts his headphones on before falling asleep.

—

"ladies and gentlemen, please mind the lights as we begin our second meal service. your choices for this meal—"

you open your eyes and squint at first due to the lights. you yawn and stretch your arms as much as you can.

it looks like seonghwa has been awake for a little bit, but he still looks tired.

"good morning...or afternoon? i forgot what time we're landing at," you say to him.

seonghwa chuckles and brushes his hand through his hair. "it'll be morning still when we land," he says to you. "sleep okay?"

you shrug, "as much as i can on a plane. you?"

"the same."

the flight attendants start serving food. you and seonghwa get your trays and eat together. you end up trading your snack bar for his yogurt while eating.

—

when the flight lands, everyone is eager to get off. you eventually get off the plane and head through immigration.

once you're through everything, you stand in an open area and try to figure out the train schedule. you look at your phone screen for awhile before hearing someone speak to you.

"you look confused."

you look up and see seonghwa standing in front of you with two suitcases with him.

"i'm trying to figure out how to get to the train and which one to take," you mention.

"show me. i might be able to help," he says. you show him your phone and tell him where you need to go. "oh, don't take that way. it'll take too long," he says. "listen, i know we just met on the plane, but i'd be happy to drive you. i have to take a taxi home, but i can drive you afterwards."

you shake your head, "i can't do that."

"i insist, or else you'll be on the train for two hours," he replies.

you think about it for a second but quickly make a decision. "alright, i'll take you up on your offer, but i'm paying for the taxi and at least a meal."

seonghwa smiles, "deal. we can visit each other on animal crossing if we have time later."

[meowmoew3]

IN MY ROOM - Satoru Gojo

- PLAY! ˚⋆⭑:: SATORU GOJO ONESHOT

summary - Based on Julia Wolfs, In my room <3 word count - 1.3k content warning - angst, gojo sucks, mentions of smoking, slightly implied cheating if you squint masterlist // not proofread

February 7th, Friday 8 pm

You miss him. You couldn't deny it, you couldn't deny the way your eyes were tearing up at the sight of his old sweatshirt sitting in the corner of your room. You couldn't deny it when you came home crying, you couldn't deny the way you stumbled on your words while you informed your roommate on what the hell your boyfriend had done.

Satoru Gojo, the love of your life, well you thought he was. Until he dumped you right in front of his friends at the same restaurant he had asked you to be his girlfriend at two years ago.

"We could never work out, you know this. We both want different things baby." He had said, both of you were sitting down at a similar table to the one you had grown fond of sitting at during each of your anniversaries. You remember the tug at his lips when he had mentioned it being a nice tradition, but even while breaking up with you he was still using that same damn nickname you were growing tired of.

Was it so wrong to want to settle down with the man who once told you that he too, wanted kids and to have matching rings that go further than the promise rings he had gotten you both for your one year anniversary?

That all led up to now, packing up his things in a large box for the exchange you two will be having two days from now. You were dreading the day February 9th came.

February 9th, 10 am

Despite the lack of sleep and motivation you had, you still got up. Your roomate, Shoko, being there every step you took, you could tell she's worried about you.

"You know, you don't have to go. We could stay in, order food, have Suguru pick him his shit." His, Shoko being nice enough to avoid saying his name. The name Satoru had become a sacred word, a word you felt as if you didn't have a right to say.

"I know, but I also have some stuff I had left as his place." Your breath came out shaky, your sitting down on the shared couch and yet you still feel like you're out of breath. Shoko walked from the kitchen to sit across from you,

"Do you want me to come with you?" Before you could answer with a simple ill be fine, it died on your tongue at the sound of her next words. "Look, you didn't hear it from me but, he's seeing someone else. Suguru blurted it out on accident when he found out you're still cooping yourself up in your room." She finished with a loud sigh, well, you definitely didn't expect that.

"Oh." How do you respond to this? During the break up he had mentioned staying friends, you agreed. Not willing to give him up completely. "Uh, do you," you looked up, finally looking her in the eyes, "Do you know who it is..?" The silence consumed you both as she shook her head.

You stood up, grabbing the box full of Sat- Gojos stuff. "I'll be back in a few 'ko." You gave her a weak smile, you had better things to do than allowing the fact he had moved on so fast to bother you.

Dropping the box off in your cars backseat, the teddy bear you had purchased for his birthday a few months back bounced out of the box and onto the floor. It smelt like him still, he had left it behind the last time he had spent the night, much to Shokos to dismay.

Instead of putting it back in the box, instead of listening to your thoughts screaming at you to not bring it into the frontseat with you. You did anyway, grabbing the passengers seat seatbelt where Gojo used to sit, you plugged the seatbelt in across the stuffed animal and continued on your way to the park where he had asked you to meet him.

Upon your arrival to the park you pulled out your phone, he had a thing for being late.

He had unfollowed you on all social medias when you had broken up, not wasting a second on switching your matching profiles and taking your initial out of his bio. You had laughed it off on how his social media presence was a hint you missed on the breakup. His bio changing from, "I love my cute girlfriend y/n <3" to " I love my gf" to "i 💙 my gf" to "y/n <3" all the way to "y/i<3" and finally, to just the plain first letter of your name.

The tears welled up in your eyes as you unprivated your account. Hoping that one day he'll stumble upon your profile and realize that he didn't completely break you, he totally did though.

Reorganizing it, changing your profile pic, your bio, removing highlights and deleting posts on your instagram.

Stalking yourself on the internet just to get a glimpse at what he might see.

When you see his profile you can tell he's barely affected by the breakup, his story lingered with posts of him smoking, partying, and of course,

his arm wrapped around a girl, offering her the same smile you had loved, looking at her with look in his eyes that screams, I love you.

How does he make moving on and throwing you away look so easy?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw him and his new girlfriend walking towards a bench nearby, he hadn't noticed you. His girlfriend was holding the box full of your stuff, she set it down and dug through it. If you didn't want your things back before you definitely don't now.

"Hey," Gojo giggled out at his girlfriends wondering hands, "She'd notice if anything of hers is missing, if you want it that bad i'll buy you a new one."

"Aw cmon! Look at this!" She held up the teddy bear. You both had bought each other bears, you looked down at your passenger seat to see the other half of it, one that represented him a little too much.

This wasn't worth, it was it? Seeing him again, hearing his voice only kills you more, would he even care? The junk in the box in your backseat was all easily replaceable and worth nothing to him.

As you continued to let your thoughts scatter you noticed the tears falling, yeah, it wasn't worth it. You told yourself it wasn't worth hearing his silky voice being directed towards you, the voice you knew would make you fold and beg him to take you back.

So you pulled out of the parking lot, the sound of your breaks that you definitely needed to get fixed based off the loud squeak they just let out, had caused him to look up. Looking into his eyes had only motivated you to drive faster. He saw you drive away, your phone didn't ring, not even after you had pulled into your apartments parking lot.

Shokos cars gone, so as you marched up the stairs and threw yourself onto your bed to sob into your pillow you were met back with silence.

He didn't call to ask for his stuff.

You thought he'd call at least.

The box of his stuff sat nicely on your desk.

Despite it only making you miss him more

You've learned to accept the fact you'll miss him all of the time.

You could deal with his stuff in your room.

#BREAK ROOM!⭑─

AYY FIRST ONE SHOT!! lmk if this sucks + tell me if a part doesn't make sense or if i spelled something wrong.. I think i got the ao3 writer effect bc i have been feeling like crap 😭😭 Im so behind in school too but im using my break to write this >o<!!

CREDITS ⭑─ 

Inspired by In My Room by Julia Wolf

please do not copy, translate, or reupload my work to different platforms. I do not own music, photos, or characters used. Things written in quote ( that isnt a character talking ) does NOT belong to me, I am not claiming to own any of it.

RULES ⭑─ 

Honestly there are no rules.. but try to keep it positive. Idc for mdni but small warning, i am not responsible for what you see on social media. if you see something you dont like please scroll it is not my responsibility to tell you who and what to interact with.

[ashleyreyland]

On You They Bloom

[How'd your finals go?]

It had been two weeks since Tim had met up with Danny at the coffee shop and they had been texting almost constantly since then. Danny, Tim discovered, was not only good looking, but smart and funny and charming which really was just incredibly unfair all things considered.

[I want to die. Again]

Tim couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the response he got. He was also dramatic and often used the fact that he'd legally been dead once as the punchline of a lot of jokes.

[At least they're over. You want to grab dinner?]

The three dots that showed typing appeared and disappeared for a few moments. Tim felt his anxiety spike.

[I uh, don't exactly have the funds for that]

[On me]

Tim chewed his lip as he watched Danny type a response. He knew that Danny was on the Wayne Grant and likely was just getting by, but Tim had more than enough for the both of them. And it was normal for one person to pay for a date anyways.

[You sure?]

[Positive, what do you like to eat?]

There was another pause where Danny seemed to hesitate to answer and Tim got anxious all over again. This was ridiculous; they'd been talking for weeks at this point and they were soulmates. What did he have to be so anxious about?

[Thai?]

[I'll pick you up at the dorms]

Tim closed his laptop and packed it up before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and heading out of the office. Tam looked at him in obvious surprise as he walked by and he offered her a wave.

"You're leaving? On time?" She asked, looking confused.

"I uh," Tim could feel himself blushing, dammit, "Have a date."

Tam grinned a bit in response, "Well then don't let me stop you."

Tim huffed at her and continued on his way out of the office. He made it down to the parking garage and his car, tossing the laptop into the trunk and got into the driver's seat. He took a steady pace to the Gotham U dorms, pulling into a short term parking space in front of them before grabbing his phone.

[Here]

A moment later the door to one of the dorm buildings opened and Danny walked out. He looked around and Tim waved from the car. Danny headed over, getting into the passenger seat and looking around.

"Nice car."

"Thanks," Tim replied before turning his attention to the road, pulling out of the parking spot, "Is there a specific Thai place you were thinking of or…?"

"Oh uh, no, not really. I'm not super familiar with places around Gotham."

"I know a good spot," Tim said changed lanes to get them to the place he had in mind.

It didn't take long for Tim to park in front of the restaurant in question and get out of the car. Danny got out as well and followed Tim. Tim offered him a smile and opened the door, holding it open for him. Danny stepped inside and looked around before looking back at Tim with his own smile.

God he was so attractive.

The hostess was quick to seat them, getting quickly flustered once she realized that it was Timothy Drake-Wayne who was standing in front of her station. Once she dropped the menus on the table and made her way back to the hostess station, Danny raised an eyebrow.

"You uh, get that a lot?"

Tim shrugged a little, "Only when people realize who I am."

"Oh so I have that to look forward to for the rest of forever," there was a teasing smile on Danny's lips that assured Tim that he didn't mean it.

Tim's heart still skipped a beat at the thought of this being a forever thing.

"You get used to it," Tim said, taking a sip of his water, "But uh, yeah, you're likely going to be mobbed by the press once they realize who you are and you'll probably get the same treatment."

"Boy you make this entire situation sound better and better by the second," Danny replied as he looked over the menu.

"I don't know if you saw the press coverage of my tattoo from four years ago."

"No, I didn't really pay much attention back then."

"Yeah, well, everyone was obsessed with figuring out who had a scar that matched."

"Joke's on them; lichtenberg scars fade."

Tim frowned a little at the reminder of just what had given Danny the scar that had killed him. He had explained how his parents had created a portal that went into another reality that was connected to theirs and how they, for some inexplicable reason decided to put the 'On' switch on the inside of the machine. How he, as a stupid teenager, had gone inside the machine for a picture his friend was taking and ended up accidentally hitting the switch.

How he had died from the amount of electricity that had run through him when the portal opened.

He hadn't explained just how he had come back to life, but Tim could only imagine the panic that had set in and the mad dash to the hospital or maybe calling an ambulance that had happened. Maybe his parents had medical equipment in the lab just in case of emergency. All Tim knew was that Danny had somehow survived the horrific ordeal.

"Yes, well, that's going to cause them to ask all kinds of questions that I'm telling you right now, you don't have to answer," Tim said as he looked over his own menu.

"They'd never believe me if I told the truth anyway," Danny quipped, setting his menu down.

Tim eyed him for a moment, "Did you tell me the truth?"

Tim knew that he did. Danny hadn't shown any of the classic signs of lying and Tim was pretty well versed in them at this point. He trusted that Danny hadn't made up any of that story.

"Of course. Do you not believe me?"

"No, I do, but I can understand how others might not."

"It's a pretty wild story," Danny agreed, playing idly with his fork, "And it just gets more wild from there?"

"Oh?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny just grinned at him before turning his attention to the waitress that had just walked over to them. They placed their orders and Tim sipped his water again, wondering what Danny could possibly mean by that. He seemed a little nervous about it, whatever it was.

"I don't really want to explain here," Danny admitted after a long silence and Tim gave a nod in response.

"Yeah, there are things that are best kept out of public spaces."

"It sounds like someone has a secret."

Tim bit his lip. He had a lot of secrets, and he technically had Bruce's permission to tell them. It was just a matter of when and how.

"Are you busy after this?"

"No, why?"

"Why don't we go back to my place and we can talk about some things."

~~~~~~~~~~

Danny let out a low whistle as he looked around the penthouse, "If I didn't think you were telling the truth before, I certainly do now."

Tim snorted in response, hanging up his jacket and toeing off his shoes. Danny mimicked him quickly. Tim stepped into the apartment and gestured toward the couch in the living room, just off the entry way, "Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink?"

Danny shook his head in response and gracefully flopped down onto the couch with a small sigh. Tim followed him, sitting on the other end of the couch, sideways, pulling his legs up under him so he was facing Danny but they still had some breathing room.

"Where should we start?" Danny asked, knowing where he was going to start but uncertain if Tim wanted to go first.

"Do you want to start or…?"

"I can," Danny shrugs a bit, shifting so that he's turned more toward Tim, "I kind of already mentioned that I, well, died."

"Yeah, that came up briefly," Tim deadpanned in response and Danny chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, well, there was a bit more to it than that. It's kind of hard to explain… but long story short, I uh, was electrocuted and brought back to life over and over again. The thing that brought me back to life sort of gave me… powers?"

"You're a meta?" Tim breathed in surprise and Danny shook his head a bit.

"Not… technically. It's complicated?" Danny ran a hand through his hair in frustration, "But um, anyway, being that I suddenly had powers I uh, kind of took up a vigilante career when I was around 14. Which is why I get injured so often. Sorry, by the way, but you seem to give as good as you get so..."

Tim was staring at him with slightly wide eyes at the admission before he started laughing. Danny blinked in surprise, "What's so funny?"

"What vigilante are you?" Tim asked instead and Danny blinked again.

"Oh um, small time, you probably haven't heard of me. Phantom was my moniker."

Tim laughed again, covering his face with his hand and relaxing significantly, "Are you still doing the vigilante thing?"

"Not since coming to Gotham," he admitted, "I've been a little busy and Gotham seems mostly taken care of already so I don't usually feel the need to step in."

"Yeah, Gotham is taken care of," Tim agreed with an amused smile, "By me."

"…what?" Danny's brow furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"I'm Red Robin."

There was dead silence for a moment before Danny started laughing, "You're kidding!"

Tim shook his head, "That's what I was going to tell you. I can't believe that you're a vigilante too."

Danny grinned in response, "So then… We're good."

"Yeah, we're really good," Tim said with a smile, "I was worried about how you'd take that…"

"Yeah, yeah me too. Can I um.."

"Hm?"

"Kiss you?"

"Yeah," Tim uncurled himself from his position and met Danny halfway.

[fangirlmermaid]

may i requested Luke Hughes x Reader with Independent reader x let me spoil you bf luke

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Luke wants to spoil you

notes: quickly proofread, Spelling and grammar errors

Hope you guys like it!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you first started to date Luke you learned a crucial lesson.

DON’T MENTION YOU WANT ANYTHING!!!

You hate it when people spend money on you. Don’t remember when you became like this. You never allowed anyone to spend their money on you, an independent woman.

This always leads to stupid, small arguments with Luke. He tries to spoil you, but you won’t let him. You can’t even look at anything for longer than a second, or Luke is already at the cash register. 

The same goes for food. One time, you saw a new bakery opening in the next town over that you wanted to try but were too busy due to work. You briefly mentioned it to Luke, and the next day, he came to your job with sweet treats from the bakery. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You and Luke head toward his car; you want to get a new dress for the upcoming Devils charity event. Luke insisted on coming so he could see what color you picked so he could match (You knew that’s not the only reason, but you can never say no when he pouts). 

Luke pulled into the parking lot of your favorite cafe because you needed fuel for your shopping trip. At this point, you two had a routine.

Fight over who pays

Luke opens the car door for you 

You go in and order while Luke keeps the car warm for you 

You never mind the last part.

You had a plan: run into the cafe, order, and pay. When Luke put the car in park, you grabbed the door handle and tried to open it, but it was locked. You felt Luke's grip tighten on your thigh. “Now, where do you think you're going, pretty girl?” Luke wondered with a teasing smirk.

FUCK!!

“To get coffee,” You murmured, hating that your plan didn’t work out. Luke took out his wallet and handed you his card. “Luke,” You groaned, giving him a warning look. Luke doesn’t back down; he would buy the moon and the stars if you asked him to ”Angel, I insist.” Luke laid your hand flat, about to place his card down, but you made a fist. Now Luke is trying to open your hand.

“I have my own money”

“Save your money, let me treat”

“You always treat”

“Angel”

“Lovie”

At this point, you guys were doing rock, paper, scissors, which is the only way to end these types of arguments. Luke wasn’t giving up; he wanted to take care of you no matter how many times he had to have the same disagreement with you.  

You won 

Before you could brag Luke pulled you into a passionate kiss catching you off guard. When you opened your hand so you could grab onto the back of his head Luke slipped his card into your hand. It's a cheap move and he knows it but it was the only idea he could have thought of. Plus he loves kissing you.

“Take” kiss “my” kiss “card” Luke mumbled pulling away by a few inches, you sighed in frustration glaring at the window not wanting to look at him. Luke delicately grabbed your chin and pulled you back to face him, your anger was disintegrating at the sight of Luke’s puppy dog eyes.

“Angel, I know you don’t like people spending money on you but you're my girl and I want to spoil you” Luke admitted, you softly smiled cupping his cheek “I can spoil myself. I got me and you got you” you told, Luke kissed the palm of your hand.

“But I also got you because I love you” Luke admitted his eyes full of love causing your heart to melt. “I love you too” you smiled, placing his card into the wallet on the back of your phone case, finally accepting that you're not going to win.

“Fine but I’m buying my dress” 

“We’ll see”

You opened the car door but Luke slammed it shut, you raised an eyebrow at him “I got you” Luke whispered before hopping out and running to your side. He opened the car door and held his hand out towards you, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You took his hand and he helped you out of the car “I love you, (Y/N)” Luke smiled pressing a soft kiss on your forehead “I love you Luke” You smiled pressing a quick kiss on his lips before heading inside the cafe.

Luke sat in the driver's seat staring at the rearview mirror waiting for your return so he could open the door for you. Luke never felt this way about anyone before, he loved you with every fiber of his being and wants to show you how important you are to him. He’ll wait a million years for you to finally let him spoil you because to him you’re worth the wait.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi there 🙏 thanks for answer me, you can take your time 😊 I am such a fan of some of your fanfics so I know you can write something for me.

I wasn't really feel comfortable with my body like the usually, so I would really love something about Benny comforting reader about her body issues, something like soft but also smutty.. all the smut you can bring to the table (I read your work so I trust you can do it 😂❤️) it can start softly and then go to the dirty smut... That's all I ask for 🙏.

Take your time of course I'll wait excited ☺️

I'm Really Into You - Part 3

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader "Poppy"

Word Count: 1900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Hi Nonnie! I'm so sorry to make you wait! I hope it's ok, but your ask reminded me of another ask I had received years ago that had 2 parts. So I made this a part 3! I'll have parts 1 and 2 linked below in case you haven't read them. Thank you so much for waiting!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I’m Really Into You Part 1

I’m Really Into You Part 2

I hate our bi-annual meetings at work. They’re supposed to be “fun team morale building”, but all they do is make me feel like shit. Because, inevitably, someone is going to comment on my weight. “You’ve lost weight!” or “Oh, you look the same!”. I once had someone tell me I looked like I had gained weight. People tend to not have filters when you’re not a size 2. I hit Benny’s speed dial on my phone and he picks up after the second ring.

“Hey sweetheart! You on your way over?” I sigh. “Hey, you ok?”

He always seems to know. “Yeah.”

“Poppy?”

I pause a moment. “Just…people at work suck.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No…yes? I don’t know. Maybe I should just go to my place tonight and we can do dinner tomorrow.”

There’s a pause. “If that’s what you want, sure. But I really want you to come over. I miss you.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “You just saw me yesterday.”

He lets out an overly dramatic whine. “That was forever ago!”

I can’t help but chuckle, picturing his beautiful face and bright blue eyes with a dramatic pout on his lips. “Ok, ok. I’m coming.”

“Yeah you will.”

“Benny!”

“What? I’m psychic too! I can see your future!”

15 minutes later, I pull into his driveway. I glance in the mirror, patting down my hair a little before saying “Fuck it” and just grabbing my bag and walking to the front door. I barely raise my fist to knock before he opens the door, immediately cupping my face and kissing me. It takes me a second but finally I respond, leaning into his kiss as best I can with my bag in one hand and my travel cup in the other.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Benny pulls back just enough to look at me, his large hands still cupping my face. 

“Hi Benny.”

He drops my face and takes my bag, letting me enter and take off my shoes while he closes and locks the door. He hangs my bag on a hook and I follow him over to the couch, where he has a drink and some snacks already sitting out. I sit and look at the snacks, tears welling in my eyes.

“Hey hey! No, I didn’t get the chips you hate, I promise!”

I smile sadly, the tears starting to fall as I desperately try to choke them back, wiping at my face with my sleeve. “N-no, you’re perfect.”

He places his hand on my leg. “Then what is it? Was it work?” When I don’t answer, a flash of anger crosses his face. “Those fuckers.”

I let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, they mean well. I think? It’s just…nevermind.”

Benny squeezes my leg. “You can tell me anything, Poppy.”

I take a deep breath. I promised myself I would be open with Benny, especially after he bared himself to me, telling me all about his ptsd and his nightmares, his insecurities, all of it. 

“At these big team meetings we have twice a year, I see people I don’t normally see. There’s the usual small talk, but someone almost always talks about my weight. Whether I look like I’ve lost a few pounds, look the same, or even gained weight. Once I had lost about 10 pounds and someone asked if I had gained.” I bury my face in my hands, the tears flowing out. “I’m used to the comments but they still hurt,” my voice is muffled but he hears me. 

Gently, Benny grips my forearms, pulling them away from my face before he cups it, waiting for my eyes to find his. “Fuck them, Poppy. You’re gorgeous.”

That sad smile crosses my face again. “You have to say that since you’re my boyfriend. For some reason.” I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, but I did. 

“What?” Benny said in disbelief.

“It’s just you’re so-” I gesture at him. “-hot. And I’m just-” I gesture at myself. “-me.”

“Poppy, I have thought you were gorgeous from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted all of you. Your curves, your tits, your ass, your eyes, you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I don’t know what I did to deserve you because I’ve definitely done some fucked up shit in my life.”

I open my mouth to reply, but he presses a finger to my lips. “Let me show you.” He replaces his finger with his lips, soft at first, his tongue gently pressing against my mouth. I part my lips and he slides his tongue in, dancing around with my own. He gently presses on my shoulders to get me to lie down on my back and I comply, his lips kissing down my jaw and sucking on a spot on my neck that has me gasping. His fingers deftly undo the buttons on my shirt and he flings it open, his lips starting a path down to my chest. 

“Ooo front open bra!” 

I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm, the laugh catching in my throat as he pops open my bra and immediately starts lapping at my chest, tongue swirling around my nipples. He sucks one in his mouth and I groan, pressing my hips up against his, feeling how hard he is in his pants already. He pulls his head back and grabs a boob in each hand, kneading and squeezing them as he brushes his thumb over my peaked nipples.

“These are the best tits I’ve ever seen. And I get to put them in my mouth.” He resumes lapping at them, chuckling darkly when my hips buck up again, a quiet moan all I can manage in response. He pulls the top of my skirt down slightly and starts to move down to my stomach, and this is where I twitch. He knows it’s a sensitive area for me, always self-conscious. But he takes his time, kissing and licking and gripping me, bucking his own hips into the couch. 

“Fuck you are so hot. I love your curves.”

He bunches the edges of my skirt up in his fists, kissing my thighs as he does so. Then he looks up at me, a sparkle in his eyes as he winks, his head disappearing under my skirt. He presses my legs apart more and before I can say anything, he slides my underwear to the side and licks straight up me, my hips bucking into his face. He slides an arm across my lower belly, firmly keeping me in place as he laps at me, his tongue swirling around my clit as I gasp and moan, my hands twisting into the couch cushions as I could not grip his hair. 

“Oh fuck, Benny! There!” He found a spot that makes my leg twitch, massaging it with his tongue for a moment before he slides 2 fingers inside me, immediately curling them and finding that magical spot. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he speaks lowly against my cunt, his voice vibrating through me and I lose it, his name tumbling from my lips in praise as wave after wave of pleasure passes over me. I start to come down, but he doesn’t move, reaffirming his grip on my stomach.

“Not done with you yet,” he mumbles, diving back in, his tongue finding another spot that makes both of my legs twitch this time. I manage to prop myself up enough to look between my legs, his broad shoulders poking out from under my skirt where his head is fully lodged. When he licks against me again I come undone, hips twitching as I cry his name. I come down and he pulls his head out, hair all mussed up, his chin glistening with me, a big stupid smile on his face.

“I want you to think of me between your legs every time you wear this skirt.”

That rushes straight between my legs, despite the last several minutes. “Fuck yeah I will.”

He sits up and reaches over his back, pulling his shirt from himself. I lean up and start to undo his pants, Benny chuckling as he watches me. “Can’t wait, huh?” I shake my head as I pull down his zipper. He pushes my legs wider as I pull down his boxers and lay back, slapping his dick against my overstimulated pussy and I jolt. He grips my knees and pushes them a little more wider, notching himself at my entrance.

“Now I’m going to fuck your gorgeous self into this couch and you’re going to take it like my good girl, right?” I nod furiously. 

He slides himself in with one push of his hips and I cry out, his body laying over mine as he pounds into me, praise whispered in my ear between grunts. “You’re so fucking hot, Poppy…never been this turned on in my life…I swear it’s like I’m a teenager again…I just want to be inside you all day or between your legs…fuck your tits have good bounce!” 

I reach up and pinch my own nipples, eliciting a moan not only from me but from Benny too. “Fuck yeah, Poppy. You’re so hot - touch yourself. Show me how hot you are.”

I hesitate a moment, having never touched myself in front of him, or anyone, before. But I trust the man currently buried inside of me with my entire heart. So I lift two fingers to his mouth and slide them inside, Benny swirling his tongue around them with a groan before I pull them out and place them on my clit, teasing myself how I like. The difference is, I’ve never had a man pounding me senseless while I did this and oh fuck this is hot. Benny pushes himself up, his eyes watching where I’m touching myself.

“Just like you like, Poppy. Oh fuck, this is hot, I’m gonna…cum with me!” 

And I do. I cum yelling his name as he continues to press deeper into me, my fingers still dancing across my clit as my legs twitch, my pussy tightening around him as he spills into me, my name a chant on his own lips. He leans down, still inside me, as he presses a soft kiss to my lips. 

“Feel better, sweetheart?”

I’m smiling genuinely this time, my entire body warm and relaxed as I nod. “Feeling loved.”

Oh. Fuck. What did I just say?

My eyes fly open as I look at him. We had never said that out loud. But Benny’s smile is wider than mine. “That’s because I love you, Poppy.”

“Y-you do?”

He kisses me again, still soft. “I have for a while.”

“I love you too, Benny. So much.”

The kiss heats up and I feel him twitch inside me. “Let’s go to the bedroom. I want to spread you out and show you how much I love you.”

—----

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@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk 

[pascaloverx]

RAGE

sneak peek

Author's note: if you like this little sample of the fanfic idea, kraven x reader. Interact with the story, so I can see if I continue or not.

Summary: You are secretly Dmitri Smerdyakov's bodyguard, though over time, you've developed a friendship with him. However, you share a complicated past with his brother, Sergei Kravinoff. Now that Sergei is back in town, who knows where this will lead you?

AO3 LINK

PREVIEW

Dmitri is late, which is unusual for him. You, who have been not only his close friend for years but also his almost-secret protector, are on the verge of losing your mind trying to find him. He is not in his dressing room, where he usually gets ready. Growing more anxious by the second, you head to his apartment. He is not answering his phone, which only heightens your nerves.

A few years ago, Nikolai Kravinoff personally sought you out to ensure his son's safety. Before that, you had worked as a security officer in dangerous places that paid extremely well—one of them being an underground laboratory. There, they conducted experiments involving snakes, specifically black mambas, using human test subjects. You were one of them. Those were desperate times when you would take almost any job for money. Nikolai recruited you after you saved Dmitri from a thief during one of his performances. But Dmitri has no idea that you are his bodyguard. To him, you are a friend, a confidante, and his assistant.

When you finally reach Dmitri's apartment, your stomach tightens at the sight of blood trails on the floor. Without hesitation, you raise your weapon and shoot at the door handle—there is no time to knock. Kicking the door open, you step inside, weapon raised.

"Where I come from, breaking and entering is considered a crime," Sergei says, aiming a crossbow at you. That damned birthday gift he gave Dmitri some time ago. His eyes scan you from head to toe as you keep your gun trained on him.

"I could say the same. What are you doing here, Sergei?" you ask harshly, a flicker of anger in your gaze.

"Missed you, kitty," he says with a smirk. You have always hated when he calls you that, but it's the price you pay for sleeping with him once. One night. One mistake.

"Don't call me that unless you want to lose your claws," you reply, casting a glance around the apartment, deliberately ignoring the crossbow still aimed at you. At some point, Sergei lowers the weapon and steps closer, his scent filling your senses. Sweat mixed with blood.

"You're injured?" you ask while continuing your search, your eyes scanning the dimly lit space for any sign of Dmitri.

"What exactly are we looking for?" he murmurs near your ear, his voice low, almost teasing, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Your brother, to be precise," you snap, turning to face him so he can see just how pissed you are at his stupidity. His expression remains unreadable, but there's a glint of amusement in his eyes, as if he enjoys pushing your buttons.

"He went out—to the pharmacy. Stocking up on supplies to patch me up," Sergei says casually, as if the sight of blood on the floor is nothing to be concerned about.

You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before tucking your weapon into the small compartment at your waistband. "And you let him go alone to get bandages for you? Brilliant. Truly, the best damn brother in the world," you say sarcastically while inspecting his injuries. Without hesitation, you start pulling at his clothes—not that it’s much of a challenge, considering he barely wears any to begin with.

Sergei watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Trying to get your hands on me? If you want to touch me that badly, you’ll have to beg for it," he teases, a smug grin on his lips. You ignore him, finishing your assessment. He looks like he got hit by a damn truck.

"Would you give me the pleasure of having you in my bed like the good little feline you are?" you murmur, dragging your fingers over his chest, scratching lightly across his bruises. He lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"You have no idea what I’d let you do to me," Sergei murmurs, stepping closer, his breath warm against your skin.

"I feel the need to make my presence known," Dmitri’s voice suddenly cuts through the tension, startling you both. Instinctively, you turn toward the doorway, where he stands watching with an unimpressed expression. "Because it seems like you two are about to start ripping each other’s clothes off."

"Dmitri!" you exclaim, rushing toward him. "You should have warned me about your brother. Your show starts in less than an hour." You gently touch his face, your concern evident.

He holds up two bags filled with bandages and medicine for Sergei. "He showed up looking like a stray cat that fell off a moving truck, and I had to help him. That’s what brothers do. We don’t abandon each other," Dmitri murmurs, a trace of melancholy in his voice. Sergei had left him behind with their authoritarian father years ago, making their relationship… complicated.

"I appreciate your help, brother, but if Lady Y/N doesn’t want me here, I’ll leave without protest," Sergei says smoothly as he approaches, his eyes soft as he looks at Dmitri. Manipulative down to his very last breath.

"My dear brother, there is no show more important to me than you. And my beloved friend here surely agrees," Dmitri responds warmly, his words making Sergei’s smirk widen in victory.

You exhale, trying to be reasonable. "Fine. Your driver should be here any minute. Perform as always, and remember, an important journalist is coming to see you tonight. I’ll take care of Sergei."

"I knew you’d save me in the end," Dmitri says with a knowing smile, handing you the bags before pressing a kiss to your cheek. He embraces Sergei briefly before heading out, leaving you alone with his ever-troublesome brother.

"Looks like it’s just you and me now, little snake," Sergei murmurs near your ear, his hands trailing lightly down your back in a slow caress.

"If that hand moves any lower, you’ll lose it," you warn, shoving him onto the couch. Not only were you Dmitri's bodyguard—now you were Sergei's damn nurse too.

[timideartilleur]

"It's just another day at the Committee of Public Safety (21th Century AU)"

Episode 1 - "Fixed hardware, broken heart"

What follows is a tiny script I wrote many months ago, set in a modern AU. The main characters, as you might have already guessed from the title, are the CSP members. Thanks to @mathildeaquisexta for giving me the courage to post it, as I wasn't convinced at all... Hope you enjoy!

Billaud: [frowns] Guys… This stupid machine has broken again [hits the monitor of his PC].

Carnot: If you keep doing that of course it will break. What happened?

Billaud: It’s already broken!! [whines] I told you!...Internet Explorer stopped working so I deleted “explorer.exe” from the task manager to then open it again…

Carnot: You did what!?

Billaud: [angry] I did what you told me to do in these cases…!

Carnot: I never sa-

Hérault: Aaaaaah… You and your cryptic, diabolic machines! I find myself so good with pen and paper.

Carnot: Cryptic…? Come on, even Lindet managed to learn how to send emails…

Collot: [laughs immoderately] Have you heard, Lindet?

Lindet: [with his head stuck on his paperwork] No, I haven’t. Usually when Carnot speaks, all my ears can grasp is an indistinct cacophony.

Carnot: [indistinct noises of annoyance].

Billaud: [sobs] I’ve lost all of my work now!!

Saint-Just: Haven’t you done a backup of your files?

Billaud: Oh… [puzzled] What do you mean with “backup?

Carnot: Supreme Being… [rolls his eyes, gives a quick look at Billaud’s monitor]. It’s not broken, just stuck.

Collot: [with impatience] And what are you waiting for!? Fix it, would you? We’re having a call with some representatives in half an hour.

Carnot: [narrows his eyes, in a passive aggressive tone] You know what? I won’t. I’m tired of constantly fixing your devices and, most importantly, not being listened to!

Robespierre: Nobody ever asked you anything.

Saint-Just: Can’t Prieur do it? He’s quite good with technology.

Robespierre: Isn’t he on mission?

Saint-Just: [sighs] Not that Prieur, the other one there [points at Prieur de la Côte-d'Or on the opposite side of the room].

Robespierre: Aaaah! [smirks] You mean Pierre-Louis!

[Saint-Just facepalms.]

Collot: Geez Robespierre, how can you still confuse them?

Saint-Just: Anyway… Prieur, can you please unstuck Billaud’s pc? Since Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint-Louis here refuses to do it?

Carnot: [angry, raises his voice] How did you call me!?

C.A. Prieur: [smiles embarrassed] B-but, but… No I… I can’t. [Blushes] I’m not as good as Carnot with these things… I don’t think I…

Billaud: [rushes towards Prieur, folds his hands in front of him] Pleeeeeeease, dear Prieur! It’s essential for me to have my files back…!... And for Collot too: he has to receive an important message…!

Hérault: [confused] Why can’t Collot use his computer? He has a fancy Apple one. Also his phone can-

Robespierre: Believe me, you don’t want to know what happened neither to Collot’s pc, nor to his phone… And what might happen to yours in case you have the foolish idea to lend them to him.

C.A. Prieur: Fine, fine I’ll see what I can do… [stands up and timidly approaches Billaud's desk]. Oh, it’s actually not that hard: you press the power button for a few seconds forcing the machine to shut down. Just that! Next time you turn it on, it should be alright, see? [does what he has just said, showing Billaud that the pc is working and no data have been lost.]

Billaud: [amazed] Wooooooooooh!!

C.A. Prieur: By the way, it’s correct to delete processes from the task manager when they stop working, but in this case you deleted “explorer.exe” instead of “iexplorer.exe”, which is the process tied to the Internet browser.

Billaud: Thank you!! [squeezes Prieur in his arms.]

Saint-Just: Well done, Prieur. A quick and effective solution combined with a clear explanation of the problem… [glances at Carnot to tease him]... Without wasting words on dramatic tirades.

Carnot: [blushing with rage, tries to pull himself together] Very well. Since my contribution not only isn’t appreciated, but it’s also mocked, there’s no need for me to stay any longer. [Quickly packs his stuff up and leaves the room shutting the door.]

Robespierre: What a drama queen.

Collot: Dude, you acted more or less in the same way just a few days ago, when he told you your poems are stupid.

Lindet: Can someone please go calm him down? He still has to give me back some reports I sent him a while ago.

C.A. Prieur: [sighs and frowns] I fixed Billaud’s pc… Guess it’s my duty to fix Carnot’s wounded heart too… [takes his cane and leaves the room.]

Hérault: How poetic…! But human hearts aren’t like machines!

[Barère abruptly enters the room.]

Barère: [joyful] Bonjour, mes amis!!

Robespierre: [serious, points at his watch] Do you know what time is it?

Barère: [smile proudly, nods] I’m perfectly on time!

Saint-Just: It’s 10 am.

Barère: Oh well… [embarrassed] Today is my day off, so…

Collot: [astonished] Day off!? Since when have we had days off!?

Billaud: The revolution never goes on holiday!

Barère: [a bit disoriented] But, but, but… I asked permission to-

Saint-Just: You asked permission to none and are blatantly lying.

Barère: [frowns, in an emotional tone] But, but… Listen, it’s complicated… There was a little problem with my wife and I have to go ba-

Hérault: [shocked] Married!? You are married!?

[General stupor. Even Lindet raises his head from the paperwork.]

Collot: [nonchalantly] Yes yes… With a vain, spoiled, noble brat.

Saint-Just & Robespierre: What!?

Barère: [blushes] Hey…! [looks down] Don’t call her like that… Besides, how do you know!?

Hérault: Indeed…

Collot: [grins] Fouché told me.

Barère: [annoyed] And how the hell he knows!?

Fouché: I know everything.

[Everyone turns around towards Fouché who’s standing behind them.]

Hérault: And where do you come from!?

Billaud: [sobs] Man’s truly in the walls of this room… 

Fouché: [creepily smiles with widened eyes] I was simply looking for Collot, he doesn’t reply to my calls.

Collot: Ah, right, yes huh. [Takes his coat left on a chair and joins Fouché] Excuse-me, nerds. I have some matters to settle.

To be continued...

[maretinelli]

FOR A NEW BEGINNING

Daniel Ricciardo X Journalist!fem!reader

Summary: Years after ending his career, Y/n, now a sports commentator, meets Daniel Ricciardo again in a special interview. The unresolved breakup still hangs between them, and the old flame has never gone out. But is Y/n ready to revisit the past she tried to leave behind?

Words: 7.5K+

Warnings: Mentions of accident, protagonist ex-pilot, distressing beginning, separation, crying, but happy and somewhat open ending??? I don't know.

Author: English is not my first language, so please excuse any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story.

MASTERLIST

The Imola paddock was vibrant as ever, charged with that electric energy that precedes a Grand Prix. The smell of gasoline mixed with the hot asphalt, the sound of engines being tuned, the voices of engineers, mechanics and journalists mingling in the air. It was organized chaos, a place where the adrenaline never stopped.

Y/n walked through the paddock next to Olivia, her journalism teammate and photographer, who carried the camera and some equipment on her shoulders. In her hands, Y/n held the microphone and the sheets with the questions prepared for the day's interviews. His gaze wandered around the garages and pits, absorbing the environment as if it were an extension of what he already knew so well.

She had been there before, but in a different way. Not with a microphone in her hand, but with gloves and a helmet, ready to face the track. And also as a companion to one of the drivers at the time.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and felt that familiar butterflies in his stomach, the anticipation before getting into the car, the quickening of his heartbeat at the mere thought of the green light going out.

"Do you miss it?" Olivia asked beside her, noticing Y/n's nostalgic silence.

She opened her eyes and let out a light laugh.

"I miss the energy before the start. That moment when everything around disappears and there is only the track."

Olivia smiled, adjusting the camera strap on her shoulder. "I imagine it's hard to replace that feeling."

Y/n just nodded, letting the moment pass.

But the calm he felt disappeared as soon as they passed the Red Bull garage. The blue and red logo shone in the sunlight, mechanics hurried back and forth, engineers checked data, and in the middle of it all was the team of one particular driver.

Your ex-boyfriend.

The tightness in her chest was instantaneous, as if someone had cut off the oxygen around her. Her steps faltered for a second, but she soon picked up her pace and hurried on, pretending to be focused on her conversation with Olivia.

She didn't need to look to know Daniel Ricciardo was there. She didn't need to see him to feel the tension building inside her.

Quickening their pace, the two went down some stairs and arrived at the place reserved for the interviews: at the exit of the track, near the paddock. A strategic place, where the drivers would stop to talk to the press after qualifying.

Olivia began to prepare the equipment, turning on the camera and adjusting the supports. Meanwhile, Y/n leafed through her files, mentally preparing herself.

“Who are we going to interview after qualifying?” He asked, without looking up.

Olivia shrugged, searching for her phone in her pocket. "I don't remember, let me check..." She slid her finger across the screen and then read aloud. "Daniel Ricciardo."

It could only be a joke.

Y/n's fingers tightened around the chips. The world seemed to slow down for a moment.

Two years. Two years without seeing him in person.

The breakup had never really been resolved. They had fought badly, words said in the heat of the moment, resentments built up, until Y/n said she was leaving. And that was it. No conversation afterward, no closure. Nothing.

And now, fate brought them face to face again.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, she spotted some pilots approaching the interview area, accompanied by other journalists.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile, trying to hide the tension that had just taken over her.

Y/n tried to ignore the slight tremor in her hands as she adjusted the files. Other pilots arrived for interviews, journalists chatted among themselves, and she forced her mind to focus on the work at hand.

But then Olivia, completely oblivious to the weight of that moment, laughed lightly and commented: "Are you so tense because it's Ricciardo? Relax, he loves giving interviews."

"Yeah...I know..." Y/n forced a smile, not having the courage to tell the truth.

The tension grew even more when Daniel's press secretary approached them, finalizing the last details. As Olivia talked to the woman, Y/n felt her hands start to sweat.

And then, Daniel appeared.

She only asked that she not stutter during the interview. This would be handed to Ricciardo on a silver platter, clearly showing the effect he still had on her. As much as she hated it.

His eyes met hers, and for a second time stood still. He smiled. That smile.

The same mischievous smile that Y/n remembered so well. The smile he gave before teasing, before making a joke or making a comment that would leave her speechless.

But inside, Daniel felt his heart racing when he saw her there. After so long. After how it all ended.

Y/n took a deep breath, adjusted her posture, and smiled back, maintaining her professionalism. She could deal with this. She needed to deal with this, actually.

Daniel approached and, in a natural gesture, placed a hand on her shoulder in greeting.

“Hi.” Yin said quickly, looking back down at her files. She needed to focus on her work. “Let’s talk a little bit about what you expect from tomorrow’s race. Okay?”

"Sure, let's go." Daniel replied.

Olivia then nodded, letting him know they were recording.

"Good morning everyone! We're here with one of the drivers on the grid after qualifying. Daniel Ricciardo, welcome!"

Daniel looked directly at her before looking back at the camera. "Thank you! Nice to be here." He paused, and then added, looking at Y/n. "A lot more than I expected, to be honest."

Y/n kept her smile, pretending she didn't get the double meaning. "Daniel, you finished qualifying in a good position. How are you feeling for tomorrow's race?" She directs the microphone to him again.

"Very excited. I really like this track, I have good memories here." He looked at her again and continued. "Sometimes old places bring back unexpected memories, don't they?"

Y/n’s heart gave a little lurch. But she wouldn’t let that get to her. “What about the strategy? It’s going to be a tricky race, with rain forecast. Does that change anything for you?”

Y/n felt her stomach drop.

Daniel smirked. "Ah, rain can be tricky, but I like a challenge. I adapt quickly." He tilted his head slightly, looking directly at her. "You know that..."

She kept her smile, but the tone in Daniel’s voice was clear. He wasn’t just talking about the race.

She took a deep breath and decided to ignore the provocation. "What about the car? Do you think you have the pace to fight for the podium?"

"We'll find out tomorrow. But if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that nothing is guaranteed until the checkered flag." His eyes were fixed on hers, "Sometimes, we think something is over, but fate has other plans."

The microphone felt heavy in Y/n's hand. She knew Daniel was playing with her. That he could sense her nervousness.

But before he could say anything, Olivia signaled that the interview time was up.

"Well, thanks, Daniel, and good luck in the race!"

"Thank you, Y/n." He held her gaze for a moment longer before adding, quietly, only for her to hear, "It was good to see you again."

Y/n just nodded, swallowing hard.

Daniel gave one last smile before walking away, sipping his energy drink. As he joined the Red Bull team, his advisor turned to Y/n and Olivia with a professional smile.

"Thanks for the smooth interview, girls. It's always nice when everything goes well."

Olivia smiled and nodded. "We thank him for his time."

Y/n muttered a quick "thank you" before busying herself with the chips, trying to hide the trembling in her fingers. She could feel Daniel's gaze on her even without turning around. And when he finally disappeared from sight, her body relaxed for a brief second—but the nervousness still consumed her inside.

Olivia, who didn't let anything go, arched an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes." Y/n answered too quickly, putting the cards away in the notebook and feigning concentration.

Olivia crossed her arms, studying her. "Are you sure?"

But her colleague wasn't satisfied. "You froze for a second when you saw that I was going to interview you. Now you look like you've seen a ghost. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Sure." She replied quickly, again.

Y/n sighed, trying to maintain control. But Olivia's insistent look made her realize that there was no way to escape so easily.

She ran a hand over her face and looked to the side, making sure no one was paying attention to them. "I... haven't seen you in a long time."

Olivia tilted her head. "How long?"

"Two years."

The photographer's eyes widened slightly. "Wow. So you two knew each other?"

Y/n hesitated, but in the end decided it was best to be honest. "We dated." She whispered. "For three years..."

A silence fell between the two before Olivia let out a surprised laugh. "WHAT?! You and Daniel Ricciardo? What do you mean? When?"

"Shiiii, Liv. Keep it down" Y/n looked around, shaking her head and lowering her voice. "A few years ago. But we broke up and never spoke again. Today was the first time we've seen each other since."

Olivia blinked a few times, processing the information. "That explains a lot. The way he looked at you, the hints in the interview..."

"He's always been like this." Y/n grumbled. "Tease."

"And you clearly still feel something." Olivia pointed out. "Because you were nervous from start to finish."

"It's not that." Y/n protested, but even to herself it sounded like a weak excuse.

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "If you say so..."

Y/n looked around, the journalists were leaving the room and she turned to her friend. "Do you want to go out for lunch now? I can tell you a few things." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sure. We can. Because right now I'm really curious." Olivia sends her friend a friendly smile and then they start walking back to the paddock, climbing the stairs and talking quietly about the subject.

And from the way he looked at her, maybe she wouldn't leave his mind either.

The day had barely begun, and she already felt like her head was going to explode. But the worst part was knowing that that unexpected encounter with Daniel Ricciardo would not leave her mind any time soon.

During lunch, she and Olivia sat at a discreet table, away from prying eyes, and Y/n began to tell everything about her relationship with Daniel.

Each word felt heavy, as if the weight of the years had been transferred from her chest to the conversation. She talked about how it all started when they met at a race, what seemed like a friendship that quickly turned into something more. She also talked about how strong their love seemed, but also how the pressure of their lives, with constant travel and focusing on their careers, ended up separating them quickly.

Y/n narrated the last time she saw Daniel before they drifted apart, which seemed like the final end, with some bitter words exchanged and an emotional distance she never imagined reaching.

Olivia stood frozen as Y/n spoke. She listened intently, her eyes wide with surprise, but she didn't interrupt, letting her friend express herself. When Y/n finished, the silence between them grew heavy, and Olivia didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to react to such a revelation.

After that moment, the rest of the day passed almost automatically for Y/n. Although she conducted interviews with other pilots as efficiently as ever, her mind was far from there.

The memory of Daniel still haunted her thoughts, and no matter how much she tried to concentrate on her work, the flashes of that look and the weight of his smile distracted her. With each new question asked of a pilot, Y/n felt as if she had lost part of herself in the conversation with Daniel.

When the afternoon finally began to fall and they were heading back to the hotel, the weight of the day seemed even more intense.

As they walked toward the elevator, Olivia, ever witty, broke the silence with a lighthearted comment. "Have you ever thought about giving Hamilton a chance, huh? He's a handsome, kind, and friendly man... maybe to get over an ex, right?"

The elevator doors started to open, but Y/n didn't let the joke go unnoticed. She looked at Olivia, one eyebrow raised, and pressed the elevator button, causing the doors to close soon after.

"And who said I need to forget an ex?" Y/n replied with a subtle but mysterious smile, while Olivia giggled.

The two continued chatting about random and relaxed topics, with Olivia talking enthusiastically about an idea for her next photography project.

When the elevator doors finally opened on the requested floor, they stepped out, Y/n adjusting her bag on her shoulder while Olivia carried some camera supplies. The tone the photographer's voice was excited, but Y/n, with her eyes on the hallway, found herself suddenly stopped, her heart racing.

She saw Daniel. With his back turned and his hand resting on the door, talking to Verstappen. The sight was enough to paralyze Y/n for a moment.

Without thinking, she grabbed Olivia's arm firmly. "Stay still and run!"

Olivia, surprised, didn't have time to ask, but was dragged by her friend through the corridors. The sound of running footsteps echoed in the silent corridor as the two walked away.

When they were far enough away, Olivia finally asked, breathing heavily from the sudden rush. "Why were we running, Y/n?"

Y/n didn't answer right away. She was trying to catch her breath and process what had just happened. Finally, she looked at Olivia, with a tired smile. "I saw Daniel over there. And apparently, he's staying on the same floor as us."

Olivia was silent for a moment, before letting out a nervous laugh. "Well, that's what I call 'copycat'."

When they finally arrived at the room, Y/n couldn't avoid the thought that haunted her: Daniel was nearby, and destiny seemed to want to make the past not so easy to forget.

The two walked for about ten minutes, trying to avoid the moment when they would have to go back into the hallway and face the fact that Daniel was nearby again. They chatted about trivialities, as if nothing unusual had happened.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Y/n was sitting at one of the tables near the window, her elbows resting on the cool surface and an untouched coffee in front of her. The steam that had previously risen from the drink had already disappeared, and the liquid was now lukewarm, maybe even cold. But she didn't care.

The cafe in the paddock had a modern charm, with elegant furniture and large windows that allowed a privileged view of the track in the distance. The place was still peaceful, a contrast to the hustle and bustle that would soon take over when fans, photographers and journalists arrived.

Her eyes were fixed on the track in the distance, lost in thoughts that pulled her to a past that she had long tried to leave behind.

The memory came to her in a flash, clear and charged with heavy emotions. Suddenly, she was no longer in the paddock. She was in Australia.

The silence around her made the moment seem almost unreal. It was too early for the pre-race rush to begin, so she allowed herself this brief moment of peace. However, her mind wouldn't cooperate.

The rain pelted the apartment's windows, the drops running down the glass as if reflecting the turbulence inside the room. The air was thick, and the smell of wet earth wafted through the cracks in the balcony.

Y/n was standing in the middle of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as if trying to contain the avalanche of feelings that were bubbling up inside her. Her gaze was fixed on Daniel, who remained near the couch, his hands in his hair, clearly frustrated.

"I can't do this anymore." Y/n's voice was firm, but choked with emotion. "I'm trying, Danny. Trying to keep this going, trying to make it work, but it feels like it's just me."

He let out a heavy sigh, turning his face to the window, avoiding her eyes. "You know that's not true."

"Then prove it to me!" She exclaimed, anger and hurt mixing in her voice. "Prove to me that this still means something to you! Because as it stands, it seems like I'm the only one who still cares."

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to find patience. When he opened them again, his gaze met hers, and there was something there—weariness, frustration, maybe even pain.

"I care, Y/n. But I can't be in two places at once. Do you want me to drop everything?"

She laughed, a bitter, humorless laugh. "I never asked you to give anything up, Daniel. I just wanted you to remember that I exist."

Y/n shook her head, taking a step back, as if she physically needed to distance herself from that conversation.

He ran a hand over his face in exasperation. "That's not fair. You knew how it would be." Daniel sighed. "You have the same job yourself! You should understand!"

"I knew it would be hard, but I didn't know it would mean being put on the back burner every time." Her voice was quieter now, more broken. "I'm tired of being the one who always waits."

The silence between them was piercing.

Daniel opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

And it was at that moment that Y/n realized. He wasn’t going to fight for this. He wasn’t going to fight for them. Her chest ached, as if something inside her was breaking.

"Maybe it's better this way," she whispered, before turning her back and leaving the apartment, leaving Daniel behind, alone, with the sound of rain beating against the windows.

With one last look, she took a step back, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

Y/n blinked, returning to the present. That year had been the worst, because months later she had to quit racing because of the accident she had.

And the coffee was still there. The track was still in front of him. But now, the memory burned inside her as if it had happened yesterday.

The day was gray, and the dark cloud forming in the sky indicated that rain was coming. She looked at her cell phone when the sound of the whistle interrupted her thoughts. It was a message from Olivia.

"Even though it's about to rain, it's a beautiful day for a walk along the track. How about coming with me?"

Y/n smiled as she read Olivia's words. The invitation was the perfect distraction, a way to escape the memories that still insisted on invading his mind.

She stood up and put her cell phone in her back pocket, as she answered, already with a small smile on her lips.

She picked up the cup of coffee she had forgotten there for too long and downed the rest in one gulp. A mistake. The bitter, watery taste spread throughout her mouth, making her frown in disgust. He was definitely not good anymore.

She walked slowly, her gaze wandering absently between the garages, until she felt a firm touch on her wrist. Before she could react, she was pulled to the side, her body being dragged into a narrow space between the garages.

With a quick wave to the café attendant, Y/n pushed open the door and left the establishment. The cold Italian wind hit her body, making her huddle inside her denim jacket.

"AAAH!" The shock made her let out a short scream, but before she could say anything else, a finger gently landed on her lips.

Her eyes widened as she recognized Ricciardo. His signature smile was there, but something about his expression was different.

Before she could even process what was happening, Daniel grabbed her hand and pulled her into the alley, pressing her against the wall. The space was small, narrow enough that Y/n could feel his warm breath against her skin.

She hit his chest, not hard, but enough to show her dissatisfaction. "You scared me, you idiot!" She said, crossing her arms with a serious expression.

Daniel let out a low laugh, not sounding too remorseful. "Sorry." He held up his hands in surrender.

"What do you want?" Y/n asked directly.

Daniel's smile slowly faded. He took a deep breath before answering. "I want to talk to you. Because we have a lot to talk about."

Y/n blinked slowly, feeling a sudden wave of irritation wash over her. "That's nice of you. But you're two years late for that." Her voice was sharp, laced with irony.

The answer caught him off guard. He blinked once, surprised by the harshness of her words. "Y/n..."

"If you'll excuse me, I have more to do." She tried to leave, but Daniel was faster, holding her shoulders and preventing her from moving.

The action made her heart race. Her eyes widened, feeling his warm touch through the fabric of her jacket. He was so close she could see every detail of his expression.

Daniel noticed her reaction and pulled back a little, letting go of her shoulders. "I'm sorry." His voice came out lower, almost a whisper. "But I really need to talk to you about that day."

Y/n held her breath. She didn't need to ask which 'day' he meant. The weight of the words fell on her hard.

Tears began to form in her eyes. She looked down at the ground, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to protect herself.

"Here? In this alley?" Her laugh was sarcastic, bitter. She looked down at her sneakers, avoiding his gaze. "You can't just show up after two years and think that...that we can have this conversation here, now." Her voice wavered at the end, and she hated it. Hated how he still had that effect on her.

Daniel watched Y/n with an expression full of regret. He took a step back, as if recognizing that he was invading a space that perhaps was no longer his.

"I know I have no right to ask for anything..." He began, running a nervous hand through his hair. "But I've never stopped thinking about you. That day. Everything that happened.

Y/n tightened her arms around her body, as if trying to shield herself from his words.

"Then why didn't you ever try to look for me?" Her voice was firmer now, with a trace of pain that she tried to hide. "Why didn't you look for me? Oh my God!! Months later I had an accident on the track that could have left me in a coma and where were you? That was your chance to look for me, ask how I was and support me in that most difficult moment of my career!" She pushes the driver against the wall. "Damn it, Daniel!" Y/n cries.

He felt the impact of her words, each syllable like a punch straight to the chest. The pilot closed his eyes for a second, trying to compose himself before looking at her again.

"I... I'm a coward," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I was scared. Scared of hearing that you didn't want me anymore, that my chance had passed. Scared of facing the pain I caused. And I know that doesn't justify anything, Y/n, but I was so lost...

Y/n shook her head in disbelief. "Lost? What about me, Daniel? I was alone, facing all of that with no one by my side. I thought I could count on you, even after everything. I needed you."

Ricciardo stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes pleading for a chance at redemption. “I know I failed you. And I hate myself for it every day. But I’m here now, trying to be better. Trying to fix what I broke.”

She looked away, staring at the floor. “Sometimes what’s broken can’t be fixed, Daniel. Sometimes it’s best to leave the pieces where they are and move on.”

"But do you want to move on?" He asked, hope tinging his words. "Because I want to try again. I want to be someone you can be proud of."

Y/n looked up, tears still shining in her eyes. His words now hit her in the chest.

"I...don't know, Daniel. I really don't know."

Did she want to move on? Did she move on after all? No and no.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything that was left unsaid, all the missed chances and regrets held.

"Give me a chance to prove to you that I've changed?" Daniel asked, almost in a whisper. "Let me try to fix this, even if it's just a friendship. I miss you every day."

Daniel watched the tears slide down Y/n's face, fighting the urge to wipe them away with his thumb. He wanted to hold her, kiss her cheek, tell her that everything would be okay. But there was a barrier there. A barrier that she herself had put between them, and he couldn't cross it without permission.

Y/n sobbed softly, looking away. Her eyes were bright, full of feelings that Daniel couldn't fully decipher.

"I... I need to think about this. About us. To make sure you won't let me fall again." The words stabbed like a knife into his chest.

He knew he had done wrong, he knew he had hurt her in the past. But hearing it directly from her, feeling her pain etched in those words, made it all the worse.

The Red Bull driver licked his lips, trying to find the best way to respond. In the end, he couldn't promise that he would never make mistakes, but there was one thing he could guarantee.

"I would wait years if it meant having you in my arms again," he said, sincerely.

She looked away, and it was at that moment that Daniel saw the scar on her neck. The memory of the accident hit him like an electric shock. He had watched it all on TV at the time, and that day was one of the worst for him too, thinking that he had lost the love of his life to an accident on the track.

But he forced his mind to stay in the present. This was not the time to revisit those other ghosts.

Y/n let out a sigh and gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Good run, Daniel." And then she walked away, leaving him behind.

Daniel stood there for a few more minutes, absorbing the weight of that conversation. Two years had passed since what had happened, but the past was still there, between them, like a specter that refused to disappear.

He just smiled in response, even though inside he was a complete mess. Y/n always had this habit of encouraging others, even when she was the one who needed strength the most.

The rain started to fall heavily the moment Y/n found Olivia. Without exchanging words, she just threw herself into her friend's arms and cried. She cried everything she had kept inside, without needing an explanation. Olivia just held Y/n, offering a silent shoulder, a safe space for her to break down.

The race continued under overcast skies. Daniel finished second, Max third, and Mercedes took the win. The podium came, and so did the interviews. But perhaps luckily, she didn't have to interview Ricciardo again that weekend.

Olivia never left her alone, being the support her friend needed. Every time Y/n started crying again, Olivia was there, making sure she didn't have to face it all alone.

And once it was all over, the only thing Y/n wanted was to go back to the hotel and disappear under the covers until her flight to Australia the next day.

••••••••••••••••••••••

Night fell, and the weather became even colder. Sitting on the balcony of the hotel room, Y/n stared at the illuminated city, lost in her own thoughts. The conversation with Daniel repeated in her mind like an incessant echo.

Did she really want to get back together with him? Even if it was just a friendship? What if, God willing, something more?

The thought made her suddenly get up from her chair. She needed answers. She needed to fight a little longer.

As soon as she entered the room, she began to look for her sneakers in a hurry. Olivia, sitting at the desk in the room, turned with a questioning look. "What are you doing?" She asked, frowning.

Yin quickly put on his sneakers, grabbed his room card, and was already at the door when he answered, "Fighting a little longer." And he left, closing the door behind him.

When he finally stopped in front of the right door, he hesitated.

The hallways were silent, only the muffled sound of the air conditioning filled the room. Y/n walked, trying to remember which room was Daniel's, that she had seen him at the entrance the day before, before running out with Olivia.

Your brain said NO, but your heart screamed YES.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice on the door, putting her hand in the pocket of her loose jeans. She was wearing a white Metallica t-shirt, a little loose, and her glasses, because she was too lazy to put in her contacts after washing her hair. Her hair was still a little damp, tied haphazardly with a clip.

It was an unpretentious look, but Daniel always liked her that way, without any effort.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

Daniel emerged, wearing a black sweatsuit, his curls still a little damp from the shower, and prescription glasses perched on his nose. He expected anyone there—a teammate, an engineer, even his own mother.

Less. Y/n.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to. But after everything she’d said this morning, he’d expected her to take more time to think. And so, the smile that appeared on his face was genuinely surprised.

"Were you too lazy to put in your contacts after your shower?" Y/n joked, pointing at his glasses.

"Yeah. It was easier to just put it that way." Daniel laughed, and his laugh was filled with relief, as if that little detail broke the tension between them a little.

Y/n laughed too, a little relieved. But as soon as the laughter died down, she looked down at the floor, hesitant. "I... I was thinking about stopping by the hotel bar..." The woman pointed with her finger, as if the bar was right next door. "Liv stopped by on Friday and told me the drinks were good... do you... do you want to go with me?"

Daniel blinked, processing the invitation. Y/n was giving him a chance. Not a guarantee, but an opportunity to be close to her.

He smiled and nodded excitedly. "Sure. Let's go. Yes." He trailed off, and Y/n laughed softly, still with her hands in her pockets, shy as a teenager. "I just need to put on my sneakers. And I don't know where they are," Daniel finished, rolling his eyes.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, but smiled. "No rush. I'll wait as long as it takes."

And then the pilot held up a finger. "I'm going, but I'll be back. Just wait here a minute."

Daniel's heart raced. From the tone of her voice and the look in Y/n's eyes, he knew that this sentence had so many meanings in their lives. And then he smiled, knowing that the sentence didn't just refer to his sneakers.

Daniel left the room in search of his sneakers, leaving the door open. Y/n leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a small smile. And a few minutes later, he appeared again, already wearing his shoes and with the room card in his hand.

The pilot smiled at her, closing the door behind him. "So? What are we drinking? Tequila, vodka, beer..." The two began walking towards the elevator.

Y/n chuckles softly and looks at him as she presses the button for the elevator to go up to their floor. "A beer or two. I don't want to catch my flight tomorrow with a hangover." Her voice was much softer than the one she used that morning with him.

“Okay, fine. That’s smart.” Daniel smiles, making room for her to enter the elevator first as the doors open.

The atmosphere was welcoming, with warm lighting and a soft soundtrack filling the space. Y/n and Daniel sat at a table away from the main hustle and bustle, creating a small refuge for the conversation they knew was necessary, and then they ordered drinks.

The beginning was hesitant. Their presence still carried the weight of the past, but little by little the barriers began to fall.

Between casual sips, Daniel remembered moments that had been happy, while Y/n tried to understand what had changed since then. The breakup was still a sensitive topic, but for the first time, it seemed like they could both talk about it without exploding or pulling away.

Small smiles appeared between the words, and by the end of the night, the weight on Y/n's shoulders seemed a little lighter.

When the subject got heavy, one of them would change the direction of the conversation to something trivial. They talked about racing, about the new coffee shops that had opened in the paddocks and about the upcoming vacation.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Time did not heal everything, but it allowed reconstructions. Y/n didn't feel ready to open her heart again, but she was willing to let Daniel back into her life initially. as a friend.

In the days that followed, he respected her boundaries, without forcing anything, just being present. During the races, they exchanged friendly glances and greetings between the day's tasks. Sometimes, he would make a funny comment as he passed her, and she would just shake her head, not hiding a smile.

When they went out with the Red Bull team and Olivia for an afternoon coffee, the dynamic was light. Daniel made jokes that got laughs, and Yin, without even realizing it, was starting to feel comfortable around him again.

And then, during the holidays, Daniel showed up in Australia to visit his family. And since Y/n lived in the same city as his parents, he knew that this would be a great time for them to get a little closer again.

At first it was just a casual message: "I'm going to be in town for a few days. Coffee sometime?"

But it soon turned into bike rides along the city's waterfront, conversations under the scorching sun, and spontaneous visits to her apartment, with the excuse that he was passing by and wanted to say hello.

He said it was just friends days. That was it. But deep down, Daniel knew it wasn't that simple. He still had feelings for Y/n, feelings that had never really gone away.

However, I didn't want to confess so soon, I didn't want to scare her and see her run away like a frightened bird in a park.

That late afternoon, Y/n was in the kitchen of her apartment, decorating a cake with purple and green whipped cream. Soft music echoed through the speakers, filling the room with a nostalgic melody. Daniel was sitting on the other side of the counter, a glass of wine in his hands, watching her with a half smile.

He always liked seeing her focused. The way she would lightly bite her lower lip or frown when something required her attention.

"You still make that face when you're focused. I remember it well..." But as soon as the words were out, he regretted it. He stopped mid-sentence, as if only then realizing the weight of what he had said.

Daniel let out a short sigh and looked down at his wine glass. "Sorry..."

What he remembered was not just any detail. They were moments that belonged to a time when they were more than friends.

Y/n, who had also stopped for a moment, looked up at him. Her feelings were confused. But she still felt something. There was still a remnant of that connection, something that neither time, nor distance, nor the breakup had completely erased.

"It's okay, Daniel." She said with a smile, raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip of the wine. It was easier this way, hiding behind the taste of the drink than facing the turmoil inside her head on.

The music in the background seemed more present now. Y/n didn't need to look at her phone screen to know what it was. She knew that playlist by heart. They had made it together, years ago. A mix of songs they both liked, that they used to listen to on long trips or lazy afternoons on the couch.

She would never admit that she still had it on her phone. And even less so that she sometimes listened to it alone.

Y/n focused back on the cake, sliding the piping tip over the top with precision, as if that simple gesture could organize the messy thoughts in her mind. Daniel, on the other hand, twirled the wine glass between his fingers, unhurriedly, watching her with an indecipherable look.

"Do you still make cakes out of thin air?" He broke the silence, trying to bring back the lightness. "Or do you have a special reason for this one?"

Y/n let out a small laugh, not taking her eyes off the cake. "You know, I like to bake cakes to relax." She shrugged and glanced at him. "Well... you're here today and I thought it would be nice to bake a cake for us to eat after dinner."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, an amused smile forming on his lips. “So does that mean I’ve been promoted from ex to cake-worthy?” He joked, lifting his wine glass to his lips. “That’s a big step forward, Y/n. I’m thrilled.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but laughed, shaking her head. "Don't think so much, Ricciardo. It's just a cake, not an invitation to share an apartment again."

"Wow, and I was already planning where I would put my shirts in your closet again."

Satisfied, she put down the piping nozzle and wiped her hands on a dish towel before crossing her arms and facing him. “Some things really don’t change…” She said, arching an eyebrow. “Like the fact that you always exaggerate everything.”

She let out a laugh and looked back at the cake, analyzing her work. The purple and green whipped cream was perfectly distributed, and the sweet aroma filled the room.

Daniel gave a lazy smile, leaning his elbow on the counter. "And others change... like the fact that now I have to settle for cake and not a thank-you kiss."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up slightly, but she maintained her composure. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip before replying, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, Ricciardo... enjoy the cake. Because that's all you're getting today."

Daniel laughed out loud "Touched."

But while she laughed and busied herself putting some things away in the kitchen, he continued to watch her, feeling deep in his chest that, even with all the changes, some things between them were still there, waiting for the right moment to be rediscovered.

The soft strains of Photograph began to play throughout the apartment. At the same moment, she let out a low, almost automatic laugh, shaking her head slightly.

Daniel, who was distractedly swirling the wine in his glass, looked up at her, intrigued. "What it was?"

Y/n bit her lip, trying to contain her smile, but it was impossible to hide it. "The music..."

It was enough for Daniel to understand. He leaned back against the counter, a small, nostalgic smile appearing on his face. "Ah!!... That song."

The two were silent for a moment, just listening to the melody. It was impossible not to remember. They used to joke that Photograph was 'theirs', mainly because they spent a lot of time apart, always with the promise that one day they would be in the same place again.

Y/n rested her hands on the counter, looking at him. "Are you still listening?"

Daniel shrugged, but the gleam in his eyes gave him away. "Once in a while." He took a sip of wine before adding, in a lighter tone, "But only when I want to torture myself a little."

She laughed, but deep down she felt her chest tighten. It was funny or maybe sad how some things never completely leave the heart.

Y/n gave a friendly smile, the kind of smile that hid more than it revealed, and turned to put some things in the closet.

"Dance with me?" His voice sounded low, almost like a request.

She didn't notice when he stood up, but she felt his presence right behind her. When she turned, she met Daniel's serene gaze, soft but full of meaning.

Y/n blinked a few times in surprise. But then she looked at him, at the way he held out his hand, at how Photograph still filled the room, and something inside her gave way.

Without saying anything, she placed her hand on his. Daniel smiled slightly and gently pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine when his hands found her body so naturally, as if no time had passed.

She hesitated for a second, but then she wrapped her arms around his neck and, in an almost unconscious gesture, rested her head on his shoulder.

Daniel froze for a moment, as if his body wasn't sure how to react. It had been so long since he had held her this close, since he felt her warmth, since he could hold her without there being an invisible barrier between them.

He closed his eyes and pulled her even closer, resting his face against her neck.

And then he smiled. Her perfume was the same. The same familiar smell that always made you feel at home.

As the song came to an end, Y/n slowly lifted her head, her eyes meeting Daniel’s. He saw the silent tears that slid down her face and, without hesitation, he reached up to wipe them away with his thumb, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

Y/n lowered her head a little, a small smile playing on her lips. "I wanted to kiss you right now..." She confessed, her voice low, almost a whisper. "But I can't."

Daniel arched an eyebrow, surprised and amused at the same time. "And why not?"

She let out a light laugh and looked up again. "Because I said you only deserved cake tonight."

The pilot laughed, a genuine, warm sound. "Oh, sure, how could I forget?"

Y/n smiled wider and added, with a playful expression but with real weight behind the words: "But if you want something more... you'll have to start from the beginning."

Daniel's smile grew. His hands were still firm on her waist, and hers, warm, rested on his shoulders.

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes, a few more tears escaping in the process. She shook her head, lightly slapping his chest. "Not with that start!"

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture but not letting go of Y/n. "Okay, from the beginning." He cleared his throat, taking on a dramatic tone before smiling. "My name is Daniel Ricciardo, I'm a Red Bull driver. I live in Australia and... I'm in love with you."

Daniel let out a laugh, understanding exactly what she meant. "But hey, I'm not done with the introductions!!" Y/n laughed and he continued with a fond glint in his eyes: "And I want to take you on a date."

Y/n took a deep breath, feeling her chest tighten, but not from pain or uncertainty. It was that warm feeling, that sweet shiver when something right was happening.

She smiled, genuine and bright. "Good. That's good..."

Daniel chuckled softly, brushing a strand of her hair away and tucking it behind her ear. His touch was gentle, but enough to make Y/n's heart race.

"As much as everything we've been through has brought us here... I don't want to live without you anymore. I've changed. You've changed, We've changed. But I still love you... So? Do you want to go out to dinner with me?"

She bit her lip for a moment before taking a deep breath and finally confessing, "I love you too, Daniel. And I'll go out to dinner with you."

The pilot nodded, a satisfied and affectionate smile on his lips before pulling her into a tight hug.

As he held her against him, he leaned in slightly and whispered in her ear, his tone amused, "Now that you've said you love me, I think I deserve a kiss."

Y/n pulled away, laughing, and shook her head. "First the date, then the kiss. Last time, you didn't come in and kiss me before taking me out."

And for the first time in a long time, everything seemed exactly where it was supposed to be.

Daniel laughed along, accepting the provocation. He held her face gently and placed a kiss on her cheek. "That's enough for me for now."

[starlightsuffered]

hi! I think I requested before but I heard about your last account so I just wanted to ask through here in case it was lost. Also, sorry about that, that must be so annoying. Could you do something with a reader who is dominate in all ways, except the bedroom? Like, the second they’re behind closed doors, she loves it when Timmy takes control, and overall babies the shit out of her. Maybe he can even be a little teasing about it, but still soft Dom’s her cause otherwise she’ll cry and be all pouty lipped?

A/N - I tried my best at this, I didn’t really know what to do

Working Girl

Info - soft dom Timothée, fingering, boss and agent relationship, a bit of pouting, teasing

“Hey y/n,” he called to me. I didn’t look up from my phone because I needed to finalize this last thing. Sighing, I hit send on the email, and finally looked up.

“Hey superstar,” I answered. My eyes felt tired and worn. So much planning, so much responsibility, it was all pulling me a hundred different ways. I did enjoy it. I liked being on top of my life and Timothée’s life.

“You look cute,” he purred, eyes scanning up and down my body. I rolled my eyes.

“So tomorrow, you are doing an interview on Fallon. After that you have a spa treatment appointment. You need to remember to be there about twenty minutes prior to the appointment. That stylist LOVES punctuality, it goes a long way with him. Then there’s that fitting you need to go to, and you have a call back for that role in the new Wes Anderson movie-“

“You’re just on top of everything aren’t you?” He asked with a smirk.

“Don’t be cheeky-“

“Well there is one thing you aren’t on top of that I’d love you to consider,” he began.

“There’s a gala on Friday. I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’re expected to wear something extremely unique so work on that please. I also borrowed your credit card to pay the bill you ran up at Viccidi’s.”

“You’ve sure done a lot.”

“You need to start thinking about what your acceptance speech for the BAFTA’s may be if you end up winning.”

“Maybe I do need to do that,” he mused. “But what do you need?”

He sidled closer to me. My resolve to never engage in this again was waning. I felt myself quivering under his granite gaze.

“Tim,” I gasped.

“Shhhh, you can let go baby girl. Let go of that control,” he soothed me.

“But, I’m, I need to- and it’s wrong on so many levels,” I mumbled helplessly.

I let him spin me, I let him push his long fingers down into my panties. I hissed as he dragged them through my folds. He lifted them to his magenta lips and slurped off the arousal.

“Mmmmmm, seems like you want me to take over,” he chuckled. He was slowly pulling down my pants. His large hands crept up my torso and grasped my breasts. He massaged gently, tweaking a peaked nipple every now and then. I was gasping for air.

I tried to find my voice, to find that confidence I’d had only moments ago. It was all gone. I knew this was wrong but I wanted to melt into his arms, and into the pleasure he could provide me.

“Timothée,” I gasped when he started on my shirt buttons. He quieted me with a slow rub of my clit.

Soon, I was all bare. My hard nipples were tingling in the chill air. My panties were around my ankles, and I knew I should stop him but the wrongness of it made it feel even more right!

“We shouldn’t- OHHHH!” I called out as he lifted one of my legs for me. It gave him much better access to my gspot as his fingers curled.

“S’okay princess,” he purred in my ear. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head. He kissed a wet trail up my neck. His cock was extremely hard against my ass.

This was heaven, and just how I liked it. He was shutting off my brain. I should have been embarrassed that my own client had me on display like this. He hadn’t shed an article of clothing but he had so much control and power over me.

I was panting as I listened to every wet sound my pussy made. He was crooning praise in my ear. I usually took compliments with a grain of salt. Everyone wanted to flatter the agent of Timothée Chalamet, but his meant the world to me.

“Such a good girl, planning all that stuff for me. You’re so strong and independent aren’t you princess?” He asked me as his fingers rolled my clit even faster. He almost completely supported me now. It felt amazing to be so reliant on someone else for once. I knew I could go completely boneless and he’d catch me.

“Yes,” was all I could manage to gasp out.

“Until you need some pleasure. You’re like a doll baby, letting me move you around. I love giving you the treatment you deserve. I just need to shut that pretty mind off for a while,” he continued to encourage me.

“That’s it, that’s it!” He praised as I made small sounds of need.

“Timothée, ohhhh, fuck, feels so good,” I whined.

“Haha, I knew you’d cave. You’re such a little slave for me-“

“Hey!” I snapped. He backed off, knowing his cocky hard dom attitude would turn me off immediately.

“I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean it. You know you deserve this,” he cooed.

“That’s right I deserve it,” I moaned. I was bucking into his hand. I felt so amazingly good I could hardly breathe. I loved the way his hand still held my leg up, not making me do any of the work. My whole body was beginning to tingle and shake slightly.

“Yeah, you like to be babied don’t you? Huh? Let Timothée take Care of it,” he coaxed,

“Oh, oh, oh, I’m gonna, Tim, gonna-“

“Let go Princess,” he whispered.

I exploded. I swear I saw stars as my whole body ran cold and then fiery hot. My knees gave out but Timothée kept me up. My body jerked as pulsations of pleasure just bucked through my body.

The moment after was only filled with heavy breathing. He lowered us to the ground, holding me in his arms.

“Kiss me, kiss me please,” I begged him. After an orgasm like that I needed the soft touch of lips.

“Why don’t you kiss me, since you’re the responsible, confident, executive woman,” he teased.

“Please,” I pouted. I didn’t have the energy to beg much more. Thankfully he gave into me.

He leaned down, cupped my jaw and let his lips brush against mine. I deepened meeting of mouths. I wanted him to spoil me with kisses. I felt him smirk, but he didn’t deny me what I wanted.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker @therealbeabodoobee