#how do people do it? i think i just need to stop overthinking and go for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeahxsurexokay13 · 20 days ago

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wrong guy, lando norris

summary: fans think yn is dating max, but they've got the wrong guy [bsf!reader]

been a min since i posted! honestly, these just take me way too long and i usually end up abandoning them because i start hating them halfway through from overthinking lol. hope you enjoy this one though (: xx

y/n.y/l 📍 Ibiza, Spain

Liked by riabish, carlossainz55 and 159.870 others

y/n.y/l we only argued 3 times, cried 2, and got lost 1 (personal record)

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user9 right so who argued? who cried? and most importantly whO IS THE SHADOW?

user14 can we talk about how u're LITERALLY glowing in that first pic? u look so happy, girl!!

user20 the vibes on this dump… rich people's holidays just hit different.

iamrebeccad ✓ Beautiful girl 😍

y/n.y/l 🫶🏼 miss youu!!

user4 “cried 2 times” is actually impressive ♥︎ by author

user55 lando and max just casually being brothers in the fourth pic 😩❤️

user81 that shot is just *chef’s kiss*!!!! Glad we can always count on this queen for hq content

user63 Okay so I’ve been staring at this shadow pic for like 10 minutes, and I can’t figure it out…

user33 my money’s on max bc that hug pic of them earlier too… feels very coupley.

user63 idk friends to lovers agenda thriving tho

user3 Max and Lando with the face masks are killing me 😂 ♥︎ by author

user6 max or lando? place your bets now. i’m team max but i’ll die on this hill if i'm wrong

user2 which you are, because it’s definitely Lando

user8 guys they’ve literally known each other since forever and go on these friends holidays all the time lmao this is just FRIENDSHIP GOALS. stop romanticising everything!!!

user24 then explain the head kiss?

user8 friendly head kisses???

user24 friendly kisses?? in this economy? be serious. that’s couple behaviour

user12 smells like a third wheel in here…

y/n.y/l sorry, that's just me. i am the third wheel🙋🏼‍♀️

user13 she really said 'stop shipping me with my best friends' lol

user44 max and lando with the face masks in the water might be my new favourite photo of all time

user16 ngl that's not bad statistics for a week long trip ♥︎ by author

user11 If it’s Max, I’ll cry. If it’s Lando, I’ll cry harder. If it’s neither, I don’t know what I’ll do.

user18 i’ve been following these three for years and i’m still trying to figure out if that last slide is supposed to be romantic or not….? HELP I AM SO CONFUSED

user22 what book is that? i need recommendations!!

y/n.y/l just for the summer!!! LOVED it x

user10 i can’t believe she was so chill about posting thAT LAST PIC!??!! miss y/l!!! SPILL NOW

maxfewtrell ✓ Why are you saying 'we'? Pretty sure you were the one who did all of those

landonorris ✓ classic move, shifting the blame

y/n.y/l @/landonorris @/maxfewtrell the getting lost part was definitely a team effort

user1 I need to go on a trip with friends like this ♥︎ by author

user5 being that close to lando AND max and surviving the friendship without catching feelings was too good to be true let's be honest

pietra.pilao 😍😍

y/n.y/l 💞💞

user7 so when’s the next ‘friends holiday'? asking for a friend (me)

15 August 2024

maxfewtrell ✓

Liked by landonorris, y/n.y/l and 98.982 others

maxfewtrell The real girlfriend reveal, for the record 🫡

👤 pietra.pilao

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user1 WAIT WHAT

user6 so it really wasn’t Y/n??

pietra.pilao ❤️❤️ ♥︎ by author

user4 omg she's the girl who commented on yn's holiday dump!!!

user3 We owe Max and his gf an apology 😭 She’s stunning, btw

user2 omg u two are so cuteeeeeeee! happy for u max :)

user5 your gf is so pretty 😭😭😭

y/n.y/l P!!!! 💕💕

y/n.y/l you two make a better couple than you and I ever would anyway 😂 ♥︎ by author

user9 WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS EARLIER?! we’ve been spiralling for WEEKS

user12 actually he's been saying it from the beginning. we just didn't want to listen 😂😂

user8 max: “here’s my gf. leave me out of y/n’s business”

user12 OK but pietra is STUNNING!! Max, you’ve been hiding her for how long?!

user7 the way he had to clarify this because of us is actually hilarious. sorry, Max.

user11 OMG I feel so dumb now we really had y/n in a whole relationship she wasn’t even in 😭

29 August 2024

y/n.y/l

Liked by oscarpiastri, sophiaaemelia and 289.034 others

y/n.y/l outtakes from ai·bee·thuh

view all 930 comments

user1 AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!?? MYSTERY SOLVED IG

user12 I THINK THIS MIGHT BE THE GREATEST THING TO HAPPEN TO MY FEED THIS YEAR I AM NOT EVEN JOKING

maxfewtrell ✓ So Lando gets the cute video and I get the passed out in the car pic? Playing favourites, I see. Noted.

user8 Max calling out Y/n for favoritism is peak sibling energy

user33 i can't believe we were full on shipping them not even a week ago omg

maxfewtrell ✓ Also, can everyone stop tagging me in that shadow pic now? Like, I’m good, it’s definitely not me 😅 ♥︎ by author

user11 pietra honestly deserves a medal for surviving this holiday with these three omg

user17 GUYS I WAS ALREADY PRETTY SHOCKED AT LANDO'S VIDEO BLOWING A KISS I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I HAD COMING

pietra.pilao Special week 🤍 ♥︎ by author

user81 the lift photo with the McDonald’s bag is so relatable. even on a fancy holiday, you gotta have your nuggets ♥︎ by author

user25 turns out Max wasn't lying when he said y/n wasn’t his headache... lando’s the lucky one 😂

user10 and y/n and pietra? they do ✨besties ✨ better than anyone ♥︎ by author

user19 can we get a ‘whoops, my bad’ from the ppl who saw them in Ibiza and STILL missed the fact that Pietra was there?

user2 they literally had a front row seat to the full gossip and still didn’t catch on !!!!! like hELLO? u had one job

user14 THE SOFT LAUNCH TURNED INTO A HARD LAUNCH REAL QUICK I AM SHOOK

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ Ahhh loveeee 🩷🩷 ♥︎ by author

user26 both boys punching above their weight fr. i said what i said.

francisca.cgomes ✓ ❤️❤️😍 ♥︎ by author

user16 The way Max is sleeping in that last pic has me wheezing ♥︎ by author

user3 lando is literally holding y/n like he’s never letting her go boy is WHIPPED

user29 WE'RE GOING TO SEE "LANDO NORRIS' PARTNER" UNDER YN'S NAME NOW WHEN SHE WATCHES FROM THE GARAGE what a time to be alive

user7 not the way y/n is casually posting a McDonald’s bag in a robe and THEN dropping the most beautiful couple pic with lando

user5 waIT SO THE BOY KISSING HER HEAD IN THE SHADOW PIC WAS LANDO??? WE WERE ALL WRONG. I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

maxfewtrell you know, it truly baffles me how this was barely even considered

y/n.y/l no one believed in me enough to be able to pull f1 race winner lando norris. humbling.

user20 YN I - 😭😭😭😭💀💀

user38 it was a couple’s holiday the whole time 😭😭 I need a moment to recover

user9 this fandom’s clownery knows no bounds istg.........

user21 not me crying over the hard launch of the year when I was just admiring Max’s sleeping face 5 seconds ago

user24 Ibiza really gave us everything: friendship goals, couple goals, and max in a food coma

user18 IT WAS LANDO KISSING HER HEAD. I feel so betrayed by my own theories and also pretty disappointed in myself i couldn't tell it was his shadow

landonorris ✓ I see you saved the best for last 🖤

y/n.y/l ☺️☺️

y/n.y/l omg guys i wasn’t being dry i just don’t know what else to say with all you watching 😭😭

1 September 2024

#social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #bsf!reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you

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shiftthemoon · 20 days ago

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reality shifting isn’t hard. you’ve been told it’s hard because everyone’s too scared to admit it’s not. they cling to their 800-step methods, their must-have crystals, their perfect conditions because they think that if they let go of that control, they’ll fail. but here’s the thing: the more you try to control the process, the more you convince yourself it’s out of your control. and that’s the problem. that’s why so many people feel stuck. shifting isn’t some big, far-fetched thing. it’s just you. it’s always been you.

we’re conditioned to think we’re powerless. think about it—school, work, society, all of it drills this idea into us that everything has to be proven, earned, validated. so, when you hear about shifting, your brain freaks out and says, wait, wait, this is too easy, this can’t be real. and then you spiral. you overcomplicate it. you make yourself think you need the “perfect” script, the “right” subliminal, or that you have to meditate for three hours while the stars align perfectly. like, no… you don’t. all of that? it’s fluff. it’s noise.

at its core, shifting is belief. just belief. no, really, let that sink in. you don’t need to “do” belief perfectly. it’s not something you master through sheer willpower. it’s something you already have. you’ve believed in things your whole life. you believed in gravity without needing proof. you believe your favorite songs are beautiful without needing to explain why. belief is natural. it’s effortless when you stop overthinking it. that’s the energy you need to bring to shifting—trust. trust that your mind knows what it’s doing, and that if you let it, it will take you there. every single extra thing you pile on? the overthinking, the doubt, the need for guarantees? that’s what’s slowing you down. not the “lack of progress,” not some mythical “block”—it’s you convincing yourself it’s harder than it is.

and let’s talk about social media for a second. oh my god, the shifting community on social media… i get it. it’s comforting to see other people on this journey. but let’s be honest—how much of that content is actually helping you? like, really? 90% of the time, scrolling through shifting advice isn’t inspiring; it’s overwhelming. everyone’s got their own opinions, their own “best methods,” their own rules. one person says scripting is a must, another says it’s a waste of time. one person swears by affirmations, another says visualization is the only way. and before you know it, you’re sitting there questioning everything you thought you knew, wondering if you’ll ever get it “right.” spoiler alert: you already know how to shift. you don’t need a thousand voices telling you what to do. in fact, the more you listen to them, the harder it becomes to hear yourself.

take a break. seriously. log off the apps. give yourself space to breathe and think. ask yourself: why do i want to shift? what’s stopping me? what feels right to me? no tiktok trend, youtube guide, or reddit post can answer those questions for you. only you can. and i know that sounds scary. we’ve been conditioned to think we need external validation for everything, but shifting is a deeply personal thing. you don’t need a step-by-step tutorial. you need to trust your instincts. that’s it.

and let me be clear: i’m not saying methods or subliminals are bad. they’re fine if they help you feel aligned. but they’re not what makes shifting happen. you are. methods are just tools. if you use them, great. if you don’t, that’s great too. because the truth is, shifting isn’t about doing things “right.” it’s about letting go of the idea that you need to.

so let me break it down for you. the only things you really need to shift are:

1. a desire. you have to want to go to your desired reality. no brainer, right?

2. belief. this is the big one. you have to trust it’s possible. no “what ifs,” no “but hows.” just trust.

3. persistence. if it doesn’t happen right away, that’s okay. don’t give up. if you’ve ever learned to ride a bike, you know that falling doesn’t mean you can’t do it—it just means you’re learning. shifting is the same.

that’s it. no fancy rituals, no endless research, no “perfect” conditions. the process is simple because it’s natural. you’ve probably done it before without even realizing it— the only reason it feels hard now is because you’ve convinced yourself it has to be.

stop making it harder than it needs to be. shifting isn’t this unattainable, mystical thing reserved for “chosen ones.” it’s something anyone can do. you can do it. your mom can do it. that anti-shifter lurking in every crevice of shiftblr could do it. you’ve always been capable. but you have to stop getting in your own way. stop doubting yourself. stop relying on others to tell you what’s possible. this is your journey. own it.

and above all, be patient. shifting is not a race. it’s not about how fast you can get there or how perfect your dr is. it’s about trust, intention, and focus. log off, tune into yourself, and let it happen. shifting has always been yours to claim. it’s not something you need permission for. it’s not something you need to earn. it’s just you, your mind, and your belief. always has been, always will be.

#shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #loassumption #shifting tips #shifting antis dni #shifting script #law of assumption #reality shifting tips #quantum jumping #shifttok

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astropookie · 4 months ago

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planets on your 1H and I’ll tell you somwthing about it

betty boop

mercury 1H: overthinking. always persuading people to do what they want. they’re not as many writers as I thought, they seem to be more attracted to careers where they have to communicate with others, like selling, etc.

moon 1H: pretty sensitive. can be a maniac with manipulative and “I always have what I want” issues. they want someone who’ll understand them 100% the way they want even though that’s not posible. they want to be seen. they can like animals a lot.

jupiter 1H: almost philosophers but not. they want to live in the moment but their thinking keeps them hypnotized. they could be drawn to learn and teach others but they have to have in mind that not everyone wants to be their student.

sun 1H: they’re always talking about what they want to do next, their next plan that’d please their desires and would help to create the person they want to become in the future. takes decisions before thinking about others. their attitude brings attention easily.

mars 1H: take a deep breath, you’d worship your goal as you want, just relax. really confident about your sex appeal. too much energy to contain in one body. realize your stamina in some kind of sport so you won’t yell at me. direct. intense? you know what you want and would do wathever to make it reality.

venus 1H: okay pillow princess -I’m joking😭-. there’s a lot of things you want to do but you want others to help you out. dependent. it’s all good until you have to confront the things you don’t like. stop living in your bubble.

uranus 1H: stop thinking you’re so unique and that the world needs people like you to keep spinning -that was me totally roasting myself-. it’s okay you can open up, people would still have different opinions about you and that’s okay, fuck them. what you’re determined to do doesn’t have to always end up as you want.

neptune 1H: yes, people like you. yes, people adore you but for what? for showing them a person you’re not just because their idea of you wasn’t yourself? also, go outside your head and look what kind of people surrounds you. there’s a conflict between finding your identity bc you weren’t showing how you truly felt all this time.

saturn 1H: just bc you had a trauma doesn’t mean it would repeat and that if it does it won’t traumatized you as before. it would be different, it doesn’t mean you’d feel better👅 just follow your advices. you’re too stubborn to be in tune with your emotions. you’re not gonna have control about everything.

pluto 1H: too paranoiac. they’re not following you pls stop 😭. they keep asking why and when and every question you’d imagine just because they don’t trust you. pretty attractive though, pretty mysterious. people want to k more and more about you bc you give them nothing. magnetic.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ/ᐠ - ˕ -マ.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ♡ ⋆ ˖ ݁ . ₍^⸝⸝> ·̫ <⸝⸝ ^₎ ༘⋆૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა

ꕤ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

ꕤ English is not my first language.

ꕤ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

#astrology #astro observations #pinterest #astro posts #astro placements #astro notes #birth chart #moon 1h #sun 1H #mars 1H #saturn 1H

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tellafairy · 4 months ago

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thoughts on shifting + manifesting with ease. (as someone who's shifted many times, alongside manifesting)

coming back to this side of tumblr after spending years away from it has made me realized how many of you are truly the problem, it might sound kinda harsh but really. so many of you ask the same questions over and over again.. "but HOW do i do it?" "how do i shift" "how do i manifest" JUST DO IT. stop looking for signs, stop looking for methods or "cheat codes". just do it man.

your mind is so powerful and it actually kinda irritates me how many of you doubt it, just because it "seems to easy". you don't understand how you've been manipulated by society to not see your power. how have you been on loa social media, shifting social media, for soooo long — yet still don't see it?? let me tell you..

the moment i got off social media, the moment i took time to erase everything in my head and stop overthinking everything, was the moment everything came to me. i already had it, i just needed to stop telling myself i didn't.

it took me barely any time to get used to convincing myself i had everything i wanted, i shifted to my desired realities, and everything worked out in my favour. AFFIRMING IS ALL YOU NEED. I AM YELLING AT YOU. JUST AFFIRM.

really, please, affirm. the routine is so simple.

1. any bad thought is instantly turned positive.

ex: "i really want her waist"

"am i stupid ... i have her waist.. tbh mine even looks a little better.. am i crazy?? like actually? this must be a glitch or something cause my waist is practically identical to hers.. i literally love my waist"

exaggerate, say what you need to say to erase the negativity.

2. it's yours, so act like it..

ex: talk about ur DR normally. it's your reality, not a fantasy land you made up in a dream. ITS REAL. it's a reality. for example, i'd watch videos of my s/o in this reality, and speak about our lives in my dr. "i can't wait to see __ tonight... god i love __, it's so nice hanging out with them everyday.. wow they look so pretty in this video — i'm so lucky their mine". it's natural, they're yours aren't they? exactly, so act like it.. this is used the exact same way when manifesting..

you see someone with something you want? thinking of something you wanna do? something you wanna be? ... it's urs... so can you act like it?? like whyre u feeling sad someone else got a job promotion 😹😹 you literally got a better one ...

3. that's literally it

you don't need a fancy method (although it can give u some peace of mind.. let's be real, a lot of methods set y'all back and make you overwhelmed, blocking ur beliefs and making everything seem harder). you literally just need to live. tell yourself it's done, over and over again. nothing matters. it's done, it's yours, you have it, you're happy and fulfilled. other peoples sucess should really mean nothing to you negatively. it shouldn't make you stressed, shouldn't make you feel behind.. why would it when you have everything, you can do everything, go anywhere, and you can be anything.

it'll seem like manifesting blogs and shifting blogs just repeat the same things.. which is true, they do, because i'm telling you there's nothing more to it than what you've already read. it is that easy. all it takes is your mind. decide, and tell yourself.

as i said before, it took me barely anytime to switch my mindset once i actually started focusing on myself, my journey and not every body else's results. repeating stuff to yourself WORKS. repeating is literally ALL i did. choose what i want, told myself it's mine in any way i could describe it. and there, it's mine. ive shifted to many different realities, along side gaining a better life in this one after years of convincing myself there was nothing for me. if i can break out of the cycle, trust me you can too. i cannot describe how desperate i was at the beginning, how long i took in false info and wasted time on methods all while doubting every single thing.

so why don't you believe it? you'll sit there and tell yourself over and over again that you're ugly, or broke, or friendless... but you won't tell urself that you've shifted? that you have your dream body...? girl okay i guess....

once you realize nothing besides your mind truly matters, is when you'll be free with yourself. circumstances don't matter, past feelings don't matter, doubts don't matter, your mind is all you need.

yes this is just loa explained longer, that's the point of the post because some of u still can't get it in ur heads

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indecisivemuch · 1 year ago

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Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach.

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine.

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better.

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke.

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside.

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession.

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy.

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call?

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing.

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you.

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before.

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.”

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him.

You deserved better.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first.

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book.

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two.

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this.

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset.

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied.

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip.

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face.

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed.

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be:

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too.

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what.

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings.

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy.

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

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scarletcomet · 2 years ago

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i hate when people ask you what you want to do in the future or tell you need to do something

#ok but what if i just kill myself?#checkmate amiright #i've already worked out the logic of suicide and the only thing stopping me is my family and finding the perfect method #(there's a lot of factors that goes into what's a good method for me but i will not go into it)#people are like it's a permanent solution to a temporary problem. like ok? and? i'll be dead so i don't care #basically i'll be dead so i won't care is the answer to any problems related to why i shouldn't kill myself #i know everyone would be better off without me even if they don't realize it but i know people would be sad #maybe i need to start ruining the relationships i do have so that i no longer have anything keeping me here #i guess one reason i kinda wish i was feeling worse or more like i was a few weeks ago is maybe i would care less #like i was worse then maybe i would be able to not care about my family or other logistics #how do people do it? i think i just need to stop overthinking and go for it #(i won't but a girl can dream)#anyways don't mind me using tumblr as my little diary to express my somewhat concerning thoughts #idk what to do #tw: suicide

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cazshmere · 26 days ago

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Astrology Observations Pt. 9 🐳

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!!

🐳 mercury-mc aspects and people perceiving you as a naturally funny and smart person, SUPER WITTY too. Also could be someone who is known to gossip around🤭😋!!

🐳 venus-uranus aspects in the natal makes the native attracted to people who are “different” from them, say they like people from different cultures from themselves, or different styles or there’s something different about the ppl they like! possibly because of the level of intrigue they bring🤨

🐳 merc-pluto aspects and lowkey (or highkey lmfao) having a superiority complex and thinking you’re better than others especially if you have fire signs in the chart too😭😂, don’t blame y’all tbh, y’all are THAT bitch fr💅🏼

🐳 I read somewhere that the placement of a tattoo is believed to activate the energy of that specific area. For instance, getting a tattoo on your arms, hands, or fingers is said to enhance communication. One example I can think of is Jungkook from BTS, his entire arm is covered in tattoos, which aligns with his role as a singer and could symbolize enhanced communication skills 🎤

🐳 wherever chiron is placed can show what you can do to heal on a deeper level, for instance chiron in the 8th and 12th house, please go deep into spirituality - practice meditation, mindfulness, tarot and another esoteric practices, you will genuinely feel healed.

🐳 whenever venus is in retrograde and you have the urge to reach out to an ex or you feel like starting a new relationship, DO.NOT. Venus retrograde is calling you to find what you need to work on internally and to NOT seek external validation. what you seek in someone else is what you need to work on yourself. Instead of seeking validation from a partner, seek that validation from yourself!!💗

🐳 pluto in the houses shows how and where we self destruct, for instance pluto in the 3rd house OVERTHINKING everything and ruining experiences for you, Pluto in the 5th house getting involved in unnecessary drama, pluto in the 10th house caring too much about how YOU are perceived and willing to step on others to get ahead in life

🐳 uranus in the 1st/3rd/5th/11th and 12th house gives immense creativity when it comes video editing or editing in general! most editors with fan accs probably have these placements 📱

🐳 you tend to get more involved in spirituality, like looking up tarot readings or going through astrology observations, when you have 8th or 12th house synastry with someone lmao. These overlays will have you looking up tarot readings or scrolling intently through Tumblr to learn more and more about this placement or overlay 😭😭😭 feral behaviour frrr

🐳 no cause I wanna talk about how 8th house synastry and missed opportunities are such a BIG thing. It's like when things are finally looking up for you both, something always seems to go wrong and stops you from getting together 💀

🐳 based on personal experience, the worst type of men I've encountered had four common placements, especially in their big 3 and these are taurus, gemini, virgo and scorpio. Me being a sag dom with a virgo dsc and a scorpio venus doesn’t help cause I keep attracting these placements when it comes to men💀💀💀. But fr tho I'm TRAUMATIZED by them😭😭. When I see any of these in a man’s big 3, I'M SPRINTING FAAAAR AWAY💀🚩we outta here

banner & pic credits to the rightful owners <3

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postracehair · 3 months ago

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paying attention

max verstappen x reader | 1.7k

a minor accident on a night out forces you to call the one guy you're not sure about. will a hospital waiting room clear things up between you?

cw: enemiesish-to-lovers, some blood (from charles), drunkenness (from charles), a hospital

a/n: first time here. let's see how this goes. __

The club is loud, crowded, and sweaty. You are tired, sober, and searching the sea of people for a certain silhouette.

"He's not here." Oscar grins at you and takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling. "Max," he says.

You frown.

"I'm not --"

"Sure, you're not," he says.

You're not entirely certain how you got here -- a club in the middle of Monaco with some of the most famous and wealthy guys in the world. An invite from a friend of a friend one time became two times became you rubbing elbows with the likes of Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc and...

Max Verstappen. Who is not here. Which is good, because --

"Why do you hate him, by the way?" Oscar asks. You huff.

This would be much more bearable if you had a drink in your hand. "I don't."

Oscar smirks at you. "It's that time he spilled a gin and tonic on you, I bet. You were so mad, I thought he was going to --"

The Australian keeps talking but you stop listening. Your heart beats in time with the thumping music.

It's not that you hate Max. That would be exaggerating. You just don't know what to make of him. The times he's been out when you're there he's...fine. He makes sure everyone gets on the list, he buys people drinks, and he dances. But you've never really talked to him and maybe you're a little intimidated. Or maybe Oscar is right -- he did spill a drink on you. He probably apologized, but you were too pissed and embarrassed to remember.

It sounds silly when you think about it now.

"--just last week, he was saying that he thinks you --"

"Oh, shit!"

"No, Charles, don't!"

"Fuck --"

You and Oscar whirl around to see Charles pressing a rapidly reddening napkin to his palm.

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What happened?"

The glass crunching under your shoes as you head over answers your question.

"Whoops," Charles says, shrugging. His eyes are glassy and cheeks pink and you know before you lift the napkin that he needs stitches.

"We're going to the hospital," you say. You think through the logistics -- can you get him there without calling an ambulance? You're not certain where the nearest emergency room is, nor if you can avoid the paparazzi.

"Call Max," he protests, seeing your mind spinning even through his drunken haze, but you ignore him.

"Now, Charles." You tug on his sleeve. "Keep this arm up."

It's clear that you're the most sober one here, so you tell the group you're taking him. Hardly anyone notices. Maybe they're all drunk or they just trust you with the Prince of Monaco. Who is being very annoying as you pull him out of the club and into the warm night.

"Call Max," he says again.

"I heard you, Charles," you say. "We don't need to call him, I'll just call a car--"

"Nooo," he whines. "Just call Max. He'll take us." He shoves his phone at you and holds his injured hand high in the air like you told him to.

Max will... probably answer. It's summer break and Charles seems to think he's at home. On his sim, or streaming, or whatever really rich guys do at home on a Friday night in Monaco.

Before you can overthink it, you press the name on Charles's phone and hold it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, man," Max says.

"Um, hey." There's a pause, and then Max says your name.

"Why do you have Charles's phone?"

You look over at your friend who is examining his poorly bandaged hand. "Du, du, du, du, Max Verstappen," he hums.

"Can you come get us? Charles cut himself on a glass and needs to get stitches."

"He -- what?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late --"

"Where are you?" It sounds like he's moving around, keys jangling, a door closing.

"I can call a car, but he told me to call you --"

"Where are you?"

You tell him the club name and he hums. "Be there in 10. Don't leave."

"We're not going anywhere," you huff, but he's already hung up.

"Told you," Charles says, knocking his shoulder with yours. You roll your eyes and push his elbow back in the air.

Max pulls up in a sleek four-door car in way less than 10 minutes. Charles happily gets in the back before you can say otherwise and you only hesitate for a second before sliding into the passenger seat.

"Don't bleed on the leather, man," Max says, stepping on the gas as soon as your door is closed. The car hums under you and the streets of Monaco start to fly by. "And put your seatbelt on."

"It's not that bad," Charles whines. "She's worrying too much."

You huff. Max slows to a stop at a red light.

"Hey," he says. It takes a second to register that he's speaking to you. You finally look at him and find his brow furrowed, jaw tight, almost as if he's actually worried. Maybe he is, even if it's just a cut. Or maybe he really is afraid Charles will get blood on the seat.

"Hi," you say. He looks amused for a second then flicks his hand at your waist.

"Seatbelt applies to you, too."

"Oh," you breathe. "Sorry." Your brain does something funny -- for a second, you imagine Max reaching over you to grab the belt and pull it across your torso, clicking it tight at your hip.

You blink the image away, cheeks hot, and buckle it yourself.

"Thank you," Max says before he steps on the gas again.

Charles rambles in the backseat about something and Max humors him while you swallow down whatever the hell the sudden tightness in your chest is. What an inconvenient time to realize you might have a crush.

There's little to no traffic and you make it to the hospital quickly. Max drops you both at the doors and Charles is stumbling his way through them before you can say thank you. You swallow the unfamiliar taste of disappointment at no longer being in Max's company and get Charles situated.

The waiting room is nice, obviously, but empty. You can hear the hum of the overhead lights beneath the faint classical music playing from somewhere and smell whatever bleach they use to keep this place clean.

"Hospitals are so depressing."

You straighten in your chair and turn to see Max. You let yourself look. Green hoodie, sweatpants that look soft and expensive, and sneakers.

"I thought you'd go home," you say. He shrugs and flops into the chair next to yours, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You'll both need a ride when he's done."

God, he looks tired. "Sorry."

Max leans forward, elbows on his knees, and turns his face to you. "For what?"

"Calling, I guess." His hair is a mess and you tuck your hands under your thighs so you don't reach for it. God, what is happening to you? "I bet you were busy."

He laughs and it's so unexpected that you laugh, too. "I don't think I'd call cleaning litter boxes busy."

"Well, still," you press. "Thank you."

Max's jaw works like he's chewing on something, eyes on your face. You try very hard not to squirm in your seat. "I think you don't like me very much," he finally says.

"I -- what --," you sputter. He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Why?" you manage to say.

"We don't speak," he says. "You avoid me when we're out, you didn't even call me from your phone--"

"I don't have your phone number," you mutter.

"And it's fine if you don't," he continues. "I just want to know if I'm right."

He looks unbothered, eyes bright and jaw relaxed but his knee is bouncing. You realize that he's been paying as much attention to you as you have to him. You've been watching each other.

"No," you say, softly. "You're wrong."

His knee stills. "So why the distance?"

You sigh. God, this is not how you expected the night to go. You think back to what Oscar said in the club, to Charles demanding you call Max. Maybe this is something everyone else has seen but you. I thought you didn't like me, you don't say. I thought you didn't even care.

Something about the quiet, empty waiting room and the fluorescents and Max's tone when he told you to put on your seatbelt make you want to be honest.

"I think you're intimidating," you confess. A glance at his face reveals that you've managed to surprise him. His eyes are wide and is he...blushing? "And one time you spilled a drink on me."

That gets him to laugh.

"Oh, god," he huffs. "That was not very well done of me." He looks at his hands, then back at you. "I owe you one."

"A drink? You didn't spill my drink," you remind him. "You spilled yours on me."

"Ehh," he says, waving his hand in the air. "Details."

Is Max Verstappen asking to buy you a drink? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. Who knew you'd be so affected by this man?

Before you can reply, Charles shoves the ward doors open and calls your name.

"Stop flirting," he says, holding up his bandaged hand with a grin. "Time to go home."

Max glances at you and rolls his eyes but his cheeks are still pink. He stands with a huff, digging his keys out of his pocket.

Charles, still drunk, clearly, rambles about the stitches and how nice the doctors were as you walk to the car. Max sticks to your side.

"Hey," he says. "Give me your phone."

"Why?" you ask, even as you hand it over to him. His thumbs tap on the screen.

"Now you can tell me when you're free for that drink."

He passes it back to you and you see that he's added his number.

"Are you guys even listening to me?" Charles whines.

"Okay, Max," you say softly.

He grins at you.

"Oh my goooood," Charles says. "Come on."

"We hear you, mate," Max says. "Let's go home."

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #my writing #mv33 #fic: paying attention #rpf i have returned to you

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signum-malum · 2 years ago

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overanalyzing past events again ✌️

#september 2022. we're in their room. the door is open their mom is at the pool near their apartment townhouse thingy with my mom.#their head is in my lap- we're watching youtube on my phone. they're dozing. their mom comes in and gives me a strained smile. i do a #little 'shh' movement at her to indicate that they're asleep. i try to use my best 'nothing funny is happening' reassuring smile.#she leaves then asks them to talk to her. they go out to the garage. they come back i ask them what that was about. they say that their #mom was just reminding them to keep things sfw. we sit awkwardly side by side afterwards. they lay their head in my lap less from then on #a bit of context they were raised a little conservative or at least not open like me. catholic. you know how it is #was it something their mom said? was it them thinking on their own? are they scared of me?#and i cant just fucking ask you know. that isnt how people work. and im overthinking one day from like half a year ago they probably dont #even remember. and their mom likes me i try to suck up to her as much as possible! their mom should trust me. ive worked so hard for that #i try not to act like im hiding anything from her. and i try to seem trustworthy. i'm good at techy things like her but i have more street #smarts i guess on what websites are safe for them to visit so i can convince her with that.#do they not trust me! does she not trust me! im fucking exhausted by overthinking this but i cant think about anything else!#i had my arm around them all day. found out later they hated it. ive felt awkward about touching them ever since #i thought id established that they need to tell me if they dont like something. but apparently they won't do that.#idk what my train of thought is at this point. idk what im thinking about #its too fucking late for this goddamn i need to stop overthinking shit

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reginamillls · 18 days ago

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I Saw My Uncle Kissing Santa Claus

"You really gotta tell him man," Tommy hears Howie's voice coming into the kitchen from the hall. He's about to come in, but the answering voice makes Tommy stop.

"I know," Evan says, sounding odd. "I can't keep this a secret for much longer, it will just make things awkward for Tommy. He needs to be prepared for whats to come."

Tommy's brows furrow at that, and his palms feel sweaty all the sudden-

Things were going good between them, slow sure, but better then it was before. Stronger. This is their first Christmas together since their last one was spent apart and Tommy-

Is overthinking.

Tommy steps into the kitchen then and is met with two identical looks of surprise.

He's been caught.

"No time like the present, hey Buck," Howie grins as he claps Buck on the back before walking past Tommy. Howie then winks at Tommy, and any thoughts he had to worry melt away.

"You know you should really be the one to tell him-" Evan starts but Howie interupts him.

"You owe me big time, good luck, thank you!" Howie sing songs before he's stepping out of the kitchen, leaving a pouting Evan behind.

Tommy decides he just has to kiss that pout and Evan smiles against his lips before grabbing at Tommy's waist and bringing him in for a deeper kiss.

"You're-" A kiss. "Stalling."

"Okay," Evan admits. "I have something to tell you, and ah - I guess, I guess ask of you to." He starts, rambling. "And it-it's kinda cute?"

"Cute?" Tommy asks, raises a brow. "What-"

"Jee thinks you're Santa." Evan blurts out and Tommy's eyes widen.

Out of all the things he expected, that wasn't one of them.

"She. Thinks. I'm. Santa."

"Yup." Evan pops the 'p' at the end.

"Um, why?" Tommy asks, and he's leaning against the counter now, confused at the turn of events.

"She has a list," Evan says and he pulls it out of his pocket to present it to Tommy. The piece of paper has Jee-Yun all over it, from the stickers of every genre to the glittery writing. It makes Tommy smile when he looks at it.

"Why Tommy is Santa-" Evan starts and he clears his throat, being a little dramatic.

"One. He flies." Evan starts and Tommy nods his head.

"I do fly-"

"And so does Santa," Evan pokes at Tommy's chest. "Can I continue?" Tommy makes a motion to do so, and Evan lifts the list off again to read it off.

"Two. Tommy took us to see reindeer, and Santa has reindeer." That was true, Tommy knew a guy who worked for the zoo and was on a team that was rehibiliating some reindeer. Tommy had taken Jee and Evan there a few weeks ago.

"Three. He has a long red coat." That one was a stretch, but Tommy wouldn't argue against it. He had a long wool coat for when he camps out in the mountains, and it was indeed red, though it was a more muted shade then he thought Santa would wear. Jee had seen it last week when she had been over for the night with her brother to give Maddie and Howie a night off.

"Four - and this is where it gets cute," Evan says, completely fond of both his niece and his boyfriend. "He has a big smile and he laughs and makes people happy."

"That's sweet," Tommy says, blushing. He ducks his head and Evan steps closer into his bubble, wrapping his arms around Tommy.

"There's more, like how you always remember what kind of gifts people want and ah-" Evan pauses briefly something that happens sometimes whenever their breakup came into the conversation. "You were gone last Christmas, and I think she thought you were busy."

"Being Santa." Tommy huffs, shakes his head. "Better than what actually happened."

They've talked about it, how Tommy threw himself into work to cope with everything. It wasn't healthy, but he's working on it.

Evan nods his head and the hand on Tommy's waist squeezes.

"She still believes," Evan says. "And with the baby this year, I think she feels a little left out. So when they got into Christmas folklore at school, I think she latched onto the idea that you were Santa. It's why she's been so shy today."

"Okay," Tommy nods his head. He gets it. Believing in something when things were a little difficult could get you through hard times. His old man had told him the truth about Santa when he had been young, and Tommy didn't have that little bit of Christmas magic growing up.

"Do you want me to tell her I'm not?" Tommy asks, undure what they should do here. Evan shakes his head then and Tommy relaxes.

"Chimney and Maddie want to talk to her about it, they just didn't want you to think she was ignoring you-" Evan grins. "I think she's trying to be on the good list. I've never seen her room so clean."

Tommy huffs out a laugh at that. He had thought it was a little strange that Jee hadn't come running to them for a hug when they came, but he figured that she was just being quiet for her brother's sake.

"And what list are you on?" Tommy asks Evan, voice low as his eyes dart over Evan. The other man snorts out a laugh then before he pulls Tommy in for a kiss.

"I think I've been on the good list, Santa-" Evan whispers in Tommy's ear.

Tommy tries.

He really does, but he lasts about two seconds before he bursts into laughter. Evan joins him then, and it feels good, laughing with his boyfriend.

"Uncle Buck?" Tommy hears, and he sees the very person they were talking about coming into the kitchen. "Can we play cowboys and princesses and aliens?" She asks and Evan straightens away from Tommy and he gestures as if he's wearing a cowboy hat, tipping it to Jee and the girl giggles in return.

"I reckon the Princess Cowboys have a lot to do before Christmas Evan tomorrow." Evan says in an exxagerated southern accent.

Tommy is completely charmed by him.

"Are you too busy to play Uncle Tommy?" Jee asks and Tommy feels like his heart skips a beat.

That was the first time Jee has ever called him 'Uncle.'

"Yeah, that sounds fun. Can I be a Princess?" Tommy asks and follows Jee and Evan back into the living area.

He prefers Unlce to Santa, anyday.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #chimney han #jee yun buckley han #my writing #tevan #911 abc #totalnerdwrites #christmas #all mistakes are my own

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself.

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac.

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services.

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself.

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface.

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation.

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true)

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier.

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work.

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful.

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me?

Yes, he can hear you.

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep.

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail.

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train.

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think.

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room.

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway.

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively.

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in.

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him?

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse.

— Where do you want me to start, sir?

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry.

— The living room. If it’s not too much.

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker.

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless.

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch?

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it.

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes.

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit.

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left.

— Alright. Anything else?

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway.

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself.

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you.

And he only knew you for an hour tops.

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours?

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits.

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service.

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember.

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body.

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died.

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad.

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be.

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face.

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself.

— What is it, liebling?

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss.

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him.

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow.

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already.

He might not even let you go after.

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment.

— Alright. I will do it right away then.

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless.

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside.

— I will divide everything into categories, alright?

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces.

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is.

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely.

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate.

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours.

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in.

#cod #call of duty #cod x reader #konig x reader #yandere konig #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig #konig x you #konig cod

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dollishmehrayan · 22 days ago

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# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )

a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.

He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).

If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”

Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”

But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)

Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.

JASON TODD ── .✦

At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.

“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”

But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”

He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.

Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”

Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.

He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”

If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.

Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.

Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”

He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.

“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”

He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.

Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”

You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.

Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.

He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”

At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.

Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.

When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.

You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.

He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.

977 notes · View notes

wolvietxt · 28 days ago

Text

ᰔ what really matters !

pairing : dean winchester x fem!reader warnings : shy!reader, crazy overthinking, friends to lovers, insecurities, implied anxiety, crying, hurt / comfort, jealousy, kiss, dean flirts w other people to show off, happy ending, size diff wc : 6.5k a/n : currently working on a part 2!

it was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. sam had found a lead on a restless spirit haunting a small-town diner, and dean, ever eager for some pie and action, had jumped at the opportunity. you’d tagged along, like always, quietly sitting in the back seat of the impala, offering occasional input between the brothers’ banter.

the plan was clear: investigate during the day, torch the bones at night. simple enough. yet somehow, being in close proximity to dean for an extended period always felt anything but simple.

“you’ve been awfully quiet back there,” dean said, turning slightly in the driver’s seat to glance at you. his green eyes lingered a moment too long, forcing him to correct the car’s steering. “everything good?”

you nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “yeah, just… thinking.”

“uh-oh,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “are you thinking weird again? i told you, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that with us. leave the worrying to sammy.”

sam huffed from the passenger seat. “thanks for that, dean.”

you offered a small smile, unsure how to respond. dean’s words felt warm, like a blanket, but your mind couldn’t stop picking them apart. was he teasing, or did he mean it? did he think you worried too much? was it annoying?

you shook the thoughts away as the car rolled to a stop in front of the diner.

inside, the place was charming in that worn-down, small-town way. red vinyl booths, a jukebox in the corner, and a waitress who seemed to know everyone’s name. dean leaned against the counter, his usual swagger on full display.

“so, martha,” he said, flashing the waitress a smile that could’ve melted butter, “anything weird going on around here lately? cold spots, flickering lights, mysterious whispers…?”

you hovered awkwardly near sam, feeling out of place. martha’s eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to dean, completely ignoring you and sam.

“oh, weird stuff always happens around here,” she said with a giggle. “but nothing too scary. why, you boys hunting ghosts or something?”

dean chuckled. “or something.”

you shifted on your feet, pretending to study the menu even though you weren’t planning on ordering anything. dean’s charm was undeniable, and you’d seen him use it a million times to get information, but it always left you with a strange, hollow feeling.

not that it mattered. it wasn’t like he meant anything by it.

“you alright?” sam asked softly, pulling you from your thoughts.

“yeah,” you lied. “just tired.”

sam didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.

the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of questions and notes. martha had mentioned a former cook who’d died on the job and hinted at some unusual occurrences in the kitchen, which gave you all a solid lead.

“we’ll dig up his records, find the grave, and salt-and-burn tonight,” sam said as you walked back to the car.

“easy peasy,” dean added, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he held the door open for you. “see, this is why you keep us around. all the hard work, none of the worrying.”

your heart jumped at the casual contact, but you forced yourself to focus. it didn’t mean anything. he was just being dean.

the graveyard was damp and cold by the time you arrived. armed with shovels, salt, and gasoline, you worked as quickly as possible, trying not to draw attention.

“you’re sure this is the right spot?” you asked, glancing at the headstone.

“positive,” sam said. “records match up.”

“don’t worry,” dean said with a wink, “we’ve got this.”

you weren’t sure how he managed to be so confident all the time. it was like he didn’t feel fear, or at least he never showed it. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what might go wrong. as the brothers dug, you stayed on lookout, flashlight in hand. the woods were eerily quiet, every rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge.

“hey,” dean called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good over there, sweetheart?”

you nodded, gripping the flashlight tighter. “yeah, just keeping watch.”

“you’re cute when you’re focused, you know that?” he said, grinning as he tossed another shovelful of dirt aside.

your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to scan the trees. cute? he probably didn’t mean it. he said stuff like that all the time.

still, the word echoed in your mind, making it hard to think straight.

the ghost showed up right on cue, just as dean and sam hit the coffin. it was a tall, shadowy figure with glowing eyes, and boy did it move fast. too fast.

“stay back!” dean shouted, stepping in front of you as the spirit lunged.

sam was already throwing salt and iron, keeping it at bay while dean lit the match and dropped it into the open grave. flames roared to life, and the ghost let out an ear-splitting scream before vanishing.

you stood frozen, heart pounding as the grave smoldered.

“you okay?” dean asked, turning to you. his hands landed on your shoulders, steady and warm.

you nodded, your voice stuck in your throat.

“you sure?” he pressed, his green eyes scanning your face.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you managed to whisper, hoping the fear in your eyes wasn’t too obvious.

he didn’t look convinced but let it go, giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.

the ride back to the motel was quiet, exhaustion settling over the group.

“not bad for a day’s work,” dean said, trying to lighten the mood.

you offered a small smile, but your mind was still racing. every little thing he said, every glance, every touch — it all felt so significant, and yet it probably meant nothing to him.

“you’re thinking too much again,” dean teased, catching your eye in the rearview mirror. “what’d i tell you about that?”

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, hoping he’d drop it.

but dean being dean, he didn’t.

“come on,” he said, turning in his seat to face you. “spill it. what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

you froze, unsure how to respond. sam shot you a sympathetic look but didn’t intervene.

“seriously,” dean pressed, his voice softer now. “are you good?”

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, ‘m just tired.”

he studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the road.

back at the motel, you retreated to your room as quickly as possible, needing space to breathe.

dean had always been a little too much — too loud, too charming, too... everything. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, even if you knew it was hopeless. you sighed, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling.

somewhere in the room next door, dean was probably cracking jokes with sam, completely unaware of the chaos he caused in your mind.

it was fine. it had to be fine.

because as much as you wanted to believe he saw you as more than a friend, you couldn’t risk getting your hopes up.

the day started like any other, with sam at the laptop, you poring over your notes, and dean bustling around with an air of restless energy.

“coffee?” dean asked, holding up a cup for you.

you nodded, offering a small smile. “thanks.”

he plopped down beside you at the motel table, his knee bumping yours. “so, what’s the game plan today, professor?”

“um…” you hesitated, flipping through the notebook in front of you. “so, i think we should — ”

“let me guess,” dean interrupted with a grin. “the safest, most boring route possible, right?”

you blinked, taking a second to process what he’d just said, hurt surely beginning to form in your features.

“it’s not boring,” you mumbled.

“sure thing… but hey, relax!” he said, patting your shoulder. “you’re good at what you do, even if you’re a little… well, a lot predictable.”

your stomach twisted. predictable? was that how he saw you?

“thanks, dean,” you muttered, staring down at your notes to hide the burn in your cheeks. sam noticed though. sam always noticed.

sam shot dean a look from across the room. “hey, maybe ease up a little, man.”

“what?” dean said, shrugging him off, a deep chuckle reverberating from his chest. “i’m just messing with her.”

the lighthearted tone didn’t soften the sting. you knew dean teased everyone, but his words stuck like a burr under your skin, refusing to let go.

soon after, the three of you piled into the impala, the rumble of the engine filling the silence as dean cranked up the radio. you stared out the window, letting the music blur into background noise while your mind replayed the conversation from earlier.

predictable. you thought, the word echoing in your head.

you weren’t mad at dean — how could you be? he didn’t mean anything by it. but the overthinking wouldn’t let up, weaving a web of doubt and insecurity that clung to you like static.

“you okay?” sam asked from the front seat, glancing back at you.

you forced a smile. “yeah. just tired.”

sam didn’t press, but his concerned expression lingered.

the diner was bustling with mid-morning activity when you arrived, the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. you slid into the booth, hoping the noise would drown out your thoughts.

“what can i get ya?” the waitress asked, her voice cheerful as she slid the menus across the table.

“just a coffee, please,” you said quickly, barely looking up as your fingers fumbled over the paper.

“and a stack of pancakes,” dean added, leaning forward and giving her a grin that was just a little too easy. “extra syrup. gotta start the day off right, y’know?”

the waitress’s eyes lit up, and she laughed, her attention lingering on dean as she jotted down the order. there was something almost playful in the way she looked at him, an expression that made your chest tighten.

“you sure know how to charm, don’t ya?” she teased, her voice warm and full of flirtation.

“what can i say?” dean replied, that easy smirk tugging at his lips. “comes pretty easily when i’m speaking to women like you.”

you forced your eyes back to the menu, though you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the way the waitress’s fingers lingered on the pen, her attention still fixed on dean. the two of them seemed to be in a world of their own, and you were just... here. watching. waiting.

“what about you, sweetheart?” the waitress turned to you, her smile softening just slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“uh, just coffee, please,” you mumbled again, feeling heat crawl up your neck. your voice felt small in the noise of the diner, a whisper lost among the clatter of plates and low hum of conversation.

“gotcha,” she said, giving you a brief, almost dismissive nod before turning and making her way to the kitchen. you could still feel her attention on you, like an echo, but this time, it was empty, no warmth behind it.

dean shifted beside you, leaning back and letting out a low chuckle. “she’s got quite the smile, huh?” his eyes were teasing, his grin crooked as he looked over at you and sam. the joke was light, but there was an edge to it that made you feel off balance.

you forced a laugh, but it came out hollow, cracking under the weight of the moment. “yeah, sure,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed on the coffee cup in front of you, the porcelain cool and solid beneath your fingertips.

“you okay?” sam’s voice broke through the silence once again. dean’s teasing slipping away as his eyes studied you too. there was a flicker of concern in them, but before you could let yourself get lost in it, he added, “didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart. it’s just... that kind of smile, you know?”

the question hung in the air, and you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the waitress or you. but the sharp sting of jealousy you felt at the thought made your throat tighten. you forced a smile, though it felt like a lie. “i’m fine. just... not hungry, that’s all.”

“you sure?” he pressed, his expression softening as he reached for his coffee. the playful energy had faded, and now there was something else, a vulnerability that felt rare for him.

“yeah,” you said, voice quiet. “just... never mind.”

he leaned back, eyes still on you, but this time, there was a shadow in them, a shift that made your heart twist. he looked away, watching the waitress as she came back with a smile that was just for him. his eyes softened, and he laughed as she spoke to him, teasing and warm.

it was almost too much, the way he could be so effortlessly charming. your chest ached with the realization that the way he looked at her was the same way he looked at you sometimes, though it felt different when it was just the two of you, alone in the dim light of the bunker.

by the time the food arrived, your appetite had disappeared. dean was still chatting with the waitress every time she came by, his voice low and easy in a way that made your chest ache.

you stared at your coffee cup, your fingers tightening around it as your thoughts spiraled. was this what dean wanted? someone confident, flirty, and self-assured? someone like her?

the sting of earlier comments layered on top, building a weight that felt impossible to carry.

“you sure you’re okay?” sam asked again softly, his voice cutting through the haze.

“fine,” you said quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.

sam’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.

dean, oblivious, kept talking. “man, this coffee’s strong enough to put hair on your chest. might wanna ease up, professor,” he teased, nudging you lightly.

that was it. the dam broke.

you barely registered standing up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“excuse me,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

you hurried out of the diner, your chest tight and your vision blurred.

sam found you a few minutes later, sitting on a bench just outside. he didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside you and offered a quiet, grounding presence.

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, his tone careful.

you shook your head, unable to form the words.

“okay,” he said gently. “you don’t have to talk. just breathe.”

his arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close. the dam fully burst then, tears streaming down your face as you buried your head in your hands.

sam held you, his voice low and steady. “you’re alright. just let it out.”

his hand alternating between rubbing soothing circles on your back and tapping you lightly to the beat of your heart, the steady motions helping to calm the blur.

“‘m sorry, sam,” you choked out between sobs.

“don’t apologize,” sam said firmly. “you don’t even owe anyone an explanation. especially not dean.”

you flinched at the mention of his name, fresh waves of doubt and embarrassment washing over you.

sam seemed to sense it, his tone softening even more. “he doesn’t mean half the crap he says, you know. he’s just… dean.”

you managed a shaky nod, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully ease.

“hey,” sam said, tipping your chin up to look at him. “you’re okay.”

he pressed a light kiss to your forehead, the gesture warm and comforting in a way that made you tear up all over again. sam had always had a way of calming you down, knowing what was wrong and when. you were very similar in lots of ways.

inside, dean sat in the booth, fidgeting with his coffee cup.

“where’d they go?” the waitress asked, dropping off the check.

“outside,” dean muttered, his gaze fixed on the window.

he watched as sam wrapped you in a hug, his jaw tightening.

“everything okay with your girl?” the waitress asked, her tone light.

“she’s not my girl,” dean said quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

the waitress raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, the hint of a smile ghosting over her features.

dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. he hadn’t meant to upset you — he never did — but the sight of you crying, with sam comforting you, made something twist in his chest. he threw some cash on the table and stood, his mind racing with a mix of guilt and something else he couldn’t quite name. jealousy, maybe?

he pushed the thought aside, heading toward the door.

“dean?” sam’s voice cut through the noise of the diner.

dean turned, finding his brother standing outside the far doorway, his arm still draped protectively around you.

“give her a minute,” sam said, his expression firm.

dean nodded, swallowing hard as he watched you lean into sam’s side.

he retreated back and stood in the doorway of the diner, his boots scuffing against the floor as he watched you outside with sam. his jaw ticked, the familiar burn of guilt twisting in his chest.

you’d looked so hurt when you bolted. he hadn’t meant to upset you — hell, he rarely thought before he spoke, but he hated that his careless words had made you cry.

and then there was sam, playing the role of the comforter, his arm draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

dean hated how that made him feel. jealousy wasn’t a look he liked wearing, but damn if it wasn’t fitting him like a glove right now. he shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at the worn linoleum. when sam finally walked you back in, dean forced himself to meet your eyes.

you glanced at him briefly, your cheeks blotchy and red, before dropping your gaze to the floor. the pang in his chest deepened.

sam gave him a pointed look, one that said, don’t screw this up, before gently nudging you toward the booth.

you slid in first, keeping as much distance between you and dean as possible.

“hey,” dean started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.

the waitress returned, her cheerfulness only adding to the tension at the table.

“ready for the check?” she asked, glancing between the three of you.

“yeah, we’re done,” dean said gruffly, tossing some cash onto the table without counting it. “keep the change.”

the waitress hesitated, her gaze lingering on dean for a second too long before she turned and walked away.

sam cleared his throat. “we should probably hit the road.”

“yeah,” dean muttered, sliding out of the booth.

the ride back to the motel was quieter than it had ever been. the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of paper as sam reviewed the hunt notes. dean kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, but you didn’t notice. you were too busy staring out the window, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

“so,” sam said awkwardly, breaking the silence, “any ideas on how we’re gonna track this thing down?”

dean grunted. “same as always. follow the trail, kill the thing.”

sam shot him a look but didn’t press further.

you stayed quiet, your thoughts miles away.

back at the motel, you retreated to your room almost immediately, mumbling something about needing to check your notes. dean and sam both watched you go, the motel door clicking shut behind you.

dean’s jaw tightened as the guilt settled deeper in his chest. he wasn’t used to feeling like this — so unsure, so aware of every single way he’d messed up. he rubbed a hand over his face, frustration building as he stared at the floor. he could feel sam's eyes on him, the tension thick in the air. he didn’t know how to fix it, and that made everything worse.

“dean, what the fuck? that shit you pulled at the diner… it doesn’t impress her you know. flirting with other people. christ.” sam said, his voice getting louder with every word, visibly stressing out. evidently, he’d been holding that in for a while now, waiting to get dean alone.

“i know i fucked up. okay, sam, i know.” dean snapped back.

“you’re gonna talk to her, right? you better.” sam asked, leaning against the kitchenette counter.

“yeah,” dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just… give me a minute.”

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the thin motel walls didn’t leave much to the imagination.

hearing dean pacing and muttering under his breath made your stomach twist. you couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was talking about you. the familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, louder than ever.

he’s probably frustrated with me. i overreacted. i always overreact.

you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands.

dean knocked on your door a little later, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood.

“hey,” he called, his voice hesitant. “you busy?”

you hesitated, then opened the door a crack. “no.”

he stood there, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“can we talk?” he asked.

you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

he glanced around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “listen,” he started, “about earlier…”

you shifted nervously, not meeting his eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i was just… being a bit of an idiot, like usual.”

you looked up at him then, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quietly.

“yeah, i did,” he admitted, his green eyes locking onto yours. “i was an ass, and you didn’t deserve that.”

the honesty in his voice made your chest ache.

“it’s okay,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it.

“it’s not,” dean insisted. “you’re… you’re important to me. and the last thing i want is to make you feel like crap.”

your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he took a step closer, his gaze searching yours. “are we okay?”

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“good,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing.

he seemed to hesitate a little before taking another step closer, looking down at you as he seemed to study your expression. he smiled once again, a big cheesy dean smile and then after he seemed to contemplate what to do he turned on his heel after planting a soft kiss on your head. as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just imagined the way his eyes lingered on you, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

inside his own room, dean collapsed onto the bed with a groan. he stared at the ceiling, replaying everything over in his head.

he’d apologized, sure, but it didn’t feel like enough. not when you’d looked so… defeated. for one of the first times in his life he felt awkward, he hoped you hadn’t thought too much of the kiss, however short lived. his chest tightened at the memory of your tear-streaked face in the diner. it was like a punch to the gut every time he thought about it.

“damn it,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

he hated this. hated feeling like he was losing his grip on something that mattered so much to him. because you did matter — to him, more than you probably knew. and that was the problem. he wasn’t sure how to show you without screwing it up further.

the tension you thought was resolved seemed to linger between you and dean the next day, hanging over the group like a storm cloud. sam did his best to fill the silence, but it was clear neither of you were really in the mood to talk.

“i’ll check out the library,” sam said finally, grabbing his bag. “you two stay here, see if you can dig up anything online.”

dean nodded, not meeting your eyes as sam left. the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone.

“you want the laptop?” dean asked, his voice gruff.

you nodded, taking it from him without a word.

he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “look, i don’t know how many more times i can say i’m sorry, but — ”

“you don’t have to keep apologizing,” you interrupted, your voice softer than you intended. a stark contrast to his.

he blinked, caught off guard. “i just… i hate that i made you feel like that.”

you glanced at him, your heart aching at the genuine regret in his eyes.

“it’s okay, dean. you’ve already said sorry, i thought that was it,” you said, even though part of you wasn’t sure it really was.

he nodded, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

that night, dean stood outside your door again, debating whether or not to knock. he hated this distance between you two, hated feeling like he was walking on eggshells. but most of all, he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it.

finally, he knocked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“come in,” you called softly.

he opened the door, hesitating in the doorway.

“hey,” he said, his voice quiet. “you doing okay?”

you nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise.

he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“look,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m not great at this kind of thing, but… i care about you. more than i probably should.”

your breath caught, his words hitting you like a freight train.

“dean, i…”

he held up a hand, cutting you off. “just… let me say this, okay? i care about you, and i hate seeing you upset. especially if it’s because of me.”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you fought back tears.

“you’re not just a friend to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. what could he mean by that? what you’d always wished he felt for you?

“dean,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “you mean a lot to me too.”

he looked at you, his green eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“so… are we good?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the tension.

“yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time.

he smiled back, the tension in his shoulders finally easing fully. and for the first time in days, things between you felt like they might actually be okay.

you weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow you and dean ended up crammed together in the tiny motel room armchair, your knees brushing his and his warmth radiating off him like a furnace.

sam had taken off to follow a lead, leaving you and dean to man the research front. but the computer battery had died, the coffee had gone cold, and now you were both lazily flipping through books neither of you were really reading.

dean tilted his head, watching you as you squinted at the small print. “you always make that face when you read?”

“what face?” you asked, looking up at him.

“that cute little scrunched-up thing,” he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

your stomach flipped, and you ducked your head, suddenly very interested in the book in your lap. “i don’t scrunch my face.”

“yeah, you do,” he said, leaning closer. “like this.”

he exaggerated a dramatic squint, furrowing his brow and twisting his mouth into something ridiculous.

you couldn’t help it — you giggled, the sound soft and bubbling out of you before you could stop it.

dean grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “there it is,” he said, his voice warm.

for a moment, everything felt easy, natural, like the awkwardness and tension of the past few days had melted away. but then your eyes caught the faint smear of grease on his hand, and your mind drifted.

you thought back to the first time you’d realized you had a crush on dean winchester.

it had been a quiet night in the bunker, just the two of you tinkering with the impala. he’d handed you a wrench, his hand brushing yours, and you’d felt it — a spark, like a live wire connecting the two of you.

he’d smiled at you then, soft and genuine, and it had made your heart race.

you’d brushed it off at first, chalking it up to admiration or something equally benign. but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized it was something else entirely.

you’d fallen for him — hard.

and it wasn’t just his looks, though you’d be lying if you said those green eyes and that cocky grin didn’t make your knees weak. it was everything about him: the way he protected the people he cared about, the way he laughed, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and still managed to crack a joke.

but he’d never see you that way. how could he? you were just… you.

and then there was the size difference. it wasn’t something you normally thought about, but around dean, it was impossible to ignore. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and solid in a way that made you feel both safe and utterly self-conscious.

you, on the other hand, felt small in comparison — too small, too quiet, too unsure of yourself to ever catch his attention.

“hey,” dean said, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good?”

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile.

“you sure? you spaced out there for a second.”

“just tired,” you lied.

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.

dean wasn’t immune to overthinking either, though he’d never admit it out loud. he’d had a thing for you for what felt like forever, but he’d always convinced himself it was a bad idea.

you were shy, sweet, and way too good for someone like him. besides, he didn’t want to scare you off — not when having you around was one of the few things that made the job bearable.

so he kept his feelings to himself, content to just be your friend, even if it killed him a little every time you smiled at him like he hung the moon.

but there were moments — moments like now, with you sitting so close, your leg brushing his and your eyes darting to his every so often — that made it damn near impossible to keep his cool.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you don’t have to keep everything to yourself.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… you can talk to me,” he said, his gaze steady. “about anything.”

your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice.

“i know,” you said softly.

he smiled at that, a small, lopsided grin that made your chest feel warm.

“good,” he said, leaning forward slightly.

the proximity made your breath hitch, your eyes locking onto his for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. but then the moment passed, and he leaned back again, running a hand through his hair.

later that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts wandered again.

you thought about all the little things dean did — how he always walked on the side closest to traffic, how he made sure you ate on hunts, how he was quick to tease but just as quick to defend you if anyone else tried.

he cared about you. you knew that much.

but as a friend, or something more?

the uncertainty gnawed at you, and you rolled onto your side, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

dean wasn’t faring much better. he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, his mind racing.

he thought about all the times he’d come close to saying something, only to chicken out at the last second.

he thought about the way you’d looked at him earlier, like you were trying to figure him out. he thought about how often he fucked up infront of you, trying to distract himself from his silly crush only to regret it afterwards. and he thought about the way you made him feel — like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought he was.

“screw it,” he muttered under his breath, standing up and heading for your door.

a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, startling you. you sat up in bed, heart thudding.

“it’s me,” dean’s voice came softly from the other side, muffled but familiar.

“come in,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

the door creaked open, and dean stepped inside, his movements careful. he closed the door behind him quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way, his gaze briefly flicking to yours before darting away.

“yeah, me neither,” you murmured, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket draped over your lap.

he hesitated for a moment, standing awkwardly near the door before crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of your bed. the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

finally, dean broke the silence. “so i’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice quiet but deliberate. “about us.”

your stomach flipped, your pulse quickening as his words hung in the air. “us?” you echoed, barely audible.

he nodded, his jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. “you mean a lot to me,” he said finally, his voice rough around the edges. “more than i’ve ever really let on. i regret that.”

your breath caught, your chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in his tone.

“dean…” you began, but he held up a hand, his eyes meeting yours fully now.

“let me say this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i’ve spent so much time trying to keep things simple, to keep things from getting messy. but with you…” he trailed off, his expression softening as he searched your face. “it’s never been simple. and i wouldn’t want it to be.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut — raw, honest, and so undeniably him.

“i don’t know if i’m any good at this,” he admitted, his hand brushing yours where it rested on the blanket. the touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver up your spine. “but i want to try. if you’ll let me.”

your heart raced, a thousand emotions swirling inside you. “dean, you don’t have to…”

“i want to,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “i care about you. more than i probably should. and i don’t want to keep pretending like that’s not true.”

your hand was fully engulfed in his now. you swallowed hard, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. he looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

dean’s gaze flickered, his lips parting slightly before he closed them again, his hesitation palpable. his other hand hovered near yours, fingers brushing faintly, the touch so light it was almost imagined. the space between you seemed to shrink on its own, the weight of the moment settling over both of you. his eyes lingered, tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.

his fingers shifted closer, finally grazing yours with deliberate care. the air grew warmer, each heartbeat louder than the last, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting.

“can i…?” he started, his voice trailing off as he leaned slightly closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes.

you nodded, unable to find your voice, your chest tight with anticipation.

his hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in. his lips met yours softly, testing, like he was afraid to push too far. but when you didn’t pull away, he pressed a little closer, his warmth grounding you.

the moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to tilt. his kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your fingers clutched at his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath your grip as a quiet whimper escaped you.

dean groaned in response, the sound low and rough, reverberating against your lips. it sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing hotter. his other hand found your waist, firm but gentle, anchoring you to him. his thumb traced the curve of your jaw as he deepened the kiss, his touch igniting something that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded and his breathing slightly uneven.

“i’ve wanted to do that for so damn long,” he confessed, his voice low and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“me too,” you whispered, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.

he chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “guess we’re both a little stubborn, huh?”

you smiled, a weight lifting off your chest as his words settled into your heart. “maybe just a little.”

dean’s fingers traced the edge of your jaw, his touch lingering as if he wasn’t ready to let go. “you’re fuckin’ awesome, you know that?” he said softly, his voice almost reverent.

you giggled quietly, the sound light and easy. “if i’m fuckin’ awesome, what are you?” you said, mimicking his much deeper voice,

he smirked, his expression softening as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “just lucky,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity that made your chest ache in the best way.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

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