Story: F*ck, I Love You
F*ck, I love you by starshineandhappythoughts
Fandoms: นิ่งเฮียก็หาว่าซื่อ | Cutie Pie Series (TV) RPF, Thai Actor RPF
Rating: Mature
Ship: Max Kornthas Rujeerattanavorapan/Nat Natasitt Uareksit
Tags: Max Kornthas Rujeerattanavorapan, Nat Natasitt Uareksit, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, a little tiny bit of angst, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending, No Archive Warnings Apply
Summary: Max’s delight was one of his favorite things to witness, and even more so if Nat caused it himself.
“Fuck, I love you,” Max said through his laughter, peppering kisses over Nat’s face. He stopped a moment later, noticing that Nat had gone still. Then, in the quiet between them, his eyes went wide, huge and surprised as he thought about what he’d said. That hadn't been part of their arrangement.
“Nat, I - “ His voice shook and Nat couldn’t, he couldn’t.
“I have to go,” Nat said, pushing himself up from the bed and looking for something, anything, that he had been wearing last night.
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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f! reader
Description: After the events of the last hunt Dean goes to check on Y/N and help her with her injuries.
Warnings: bruises, slight mentions of choking or the aftermath of choking, Possible ooc, First Pov of Deans, fluff, Dean being a big ol’ sweetie pie worshipping, you can read this as a stand alone, sorry no gif couldn’t find one, Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls reference (i love this song)
Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra, @fablesrose, @ada--44
Word Count: 937
You’re not him
(Master list, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)
Deans POV
My knuckles rapped at her door, the midday sun shining right in my eyes forcing my gaze down.
She crept open the door a little hesitant until she made eye contact with me opening the door further. Her hair was still damp, most likely just gotten out of the shower, and knowing her routine, having seen it countless times before, probably was just doing her hair.
“Sorry if I kept you waiting I was just doing my hair” she explains unnecessarily, pointing behind her to the bathroom, proving me right.
“I had a feelin’ ” I smile at her, she moves aside letting me in to her motel room that was identical to the room me and Sammy were sharing.
She shuts the door behind me, locking the door, she twirls towards me, her back against the door, her arm leaning on the knob with her head tilted in this cute innocent way (her oversized white knitted sweater and black pajama shorts not helping.)
“What can I do for you Mr. Dean Winchester” She asks me, smiling wildly, my heart lurching at my name on her lips.
“I wanted to see you” I shrug, sitting on the edge of her bed. She pushes herself off the door, her sweet laugh filling the room, “I think it’s definitely more than that.” She sits next to me on the bed slightly behind me, her legs underneath her as she leans on one arm. I lay back on my elbows looking up at her.
“Alright sweetheart, you caught me” I give up, “I wanted to see how you were doin’, I wanted to help” I confess my eyes dropping down to her neck where bruises were present, poorly hidden by her sweater.
Her smile falters, her eyes downturned, not willing to keep eye contact, “I don’t even know how to help myself.” It felt like my heart was just punched.
I’m not sure how she can even look at me the same when a creature wearing my face made the bruises on her. “I think ice might help?” I offer in an attempt to bring her some relief from the pain or soreness she must feel.
“Okay” she mumbles.
With swift movements, I leaped from the bed and hastened to the mini fridge in her room. The little freezer compartment has ice already there, unlike a lot of hotels, neatly stored in a ziplock bag. My next stop was her bathroom, where I located a washcloth to provide a barrier for her skin against the cold ice. When I returned back to her, I found her sitting at the end of the bed, one leg tucked underneath her, nervously toying with her fingers.
As I drew near, she stood up. With a deliberate and gentle motion, I approached her, giving her space to move if she wished. I lowered the collar of her sweater to reveal the fresh bruise. It hadn't even been a day, marked by dark purple and black discoloration in the unmistakable shape of fingers—my fingers—encircling her throat. My other hand, holding the ice in the cloth, held it to her, my palm on the base of her neck keeping it in place. Her eyes closed, and I shifted the hand that had pulled down her sweater to gently cradle her cheek, my fingers intertwining with her hair.
I study her neck, my eyes burning into her skin, and probably haven felt my gaze her eyes open, “Are you okay?” she whispers and it’s only then that I realize how close we are, our noses almost bumping. I gulp trying to keep my eyes from falling to her lips, to keep myself from kissing her.
“You can talk to me” She adds, mistaking my gulping and quietness for a different kind of nervousness.
“How can you look at me…let me touch you when-“ I partially confess my guard instantly thrown down by her just looking at me.
“You're not him” She smiles softly.
“Yeah but-“ I try to say but she cuts me off, “You’re not him” she repeats herself, adding “You would never hurt me.”
“I wouldn’t” I answered eagerly, my head nodding.
She laughs sweetly with a big smile on her face and I truly think this is the closest to heaven that i’d ever be.
“You Dean Winchester are an adorably sweet man regardless of that hard exterior you put up” She marvels, and I swear she says my name like it’s a prayer. Her eyes sparkle in a way that makes my knees a little weak and it takes everything in me to not kiss her until she can’t breathe when she says my name like that.
She moves her palms to lay flat on my chest and I wonder if she can feel it pounding wildly, how it beats for her alone.
She may say my name like a prayer but she was the goddess and I’d worship her if she’d let me, my knees scuffed from how much I’d fall to them for her. All she needs to do is say the word and I’d kneel before her, looking up at her, like no one else exists.
“Dean?”
“Yeah” I answer, my breath heavy and my voice low, my eyes stuck on her lips. All I need to do is move my head a fraction of a breath closer and my lips would brush hers.
“I think the ice might have melted,” She replies. My hands reluctantly leave her skin, opening the wash cloth to reveal a ziplock bag of cold water with small, barley, ice floating in it.
“Oh.”
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