Description: you’re a famous writer dating Harry, and he finds the notebook you’ve had since you were thirteen.
A/N: hi idk if the ending is a bit cliche but I spent a long time on this and would really appreciate any feedback you have in whatever form you want to give it! please don’t just consume fics on here, let authors know what you think it means a lot :)
Content Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 7920
My Writing
Harry never invades. He asks. Listens. Takes what you give him and fashions it into a map to the center of your heart, like he’s found some side door even you don’t know about. It would be less annoying if it ever actually felt like a trick. Instead, you’ve come to recognize it as one of those invaluable people skills of his he uses to care for the ones he loves and even those he doesn’t know.
So, you know he hasn’t so much as rifled through the title page of the notebook he’s holding when you walk back into your bedroom with your waters. It may look harmless in his hands, in the way that most things look harmless in his hands because they’re his, but the battered spine and broken and re-tied elastic strap give enough warning. Its contents carry a little more emotional weight than the other journals strewn across your apartment, which is saying something for you.
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if you think dean winchester DOESN'T eat pussy then you need to see a therapist
Inferno :: abandon all hope, ye who enter here
Summary: Dean confesses to you in a photo booth with the hope that you will reject him so he can move on... things don't go exactly as planned.
Warnings: mild cursing
A/N: I've never written for Dean before so please have mercy on me if this sucks
.........................................................................................................................
He can not believe he let you drag him into this stupid booth. It's not big enough for the two of you, so you're sitting cheek to cheek, and you're practically on his lap. Dean knows he's probably acting like an idiot because of the proximity. He keeps thinking about how easy it would be to just grab you by the chin and kiss you right here. But instead, he just smiles into the camera with you.
3...2...1...flash!
"Okay, now a silly one!" you say, returning his attention to the booth's camera. Dean uses his fingers to pull back his lips and expose his teeth while he crosses his eyes. You start laughing at him; god, he loves your laugh; he would make a million more stupid faces to get to hear it. He shivers to think how Sam would tease him for his usually stubborn attitude turning complacent just because it's you he's talking to.
3...2...1...flash!
It's not just the proximity that makes him think of you; even during long weeks apart, you are all he can think about. He tells himself he prefers it when you're apart because at least his chest doesn't ache with the weight of how much he cares for you. You put a hand behind his head and give him bunny ears.
3...2...1...flash!
Dean can't take this anymore. He's got to do something to help soothe the burning he feels.
3...
"I love you."
2...
You turn to him in shock, your eyes wide as you observe him. This is what Dean needs, rejection. He needs you to shoo him away and tell him to get lost so he can get over this stupid infatuation he has with you and get on with his life.
1...
"I love you too."
You gaze at each other for what feels like an eternity before closing the gap between you with a searing kiss. Dean feels incredibly grateful for the invention of the photo booth.
Flash!
I feel like everything I write is actually ass. I think I have some really good ideas but I don't know how to put them together. That, or I overthink every small detail and it consumes me.
I think I’m gunna renovate my Masterlist cuz she is not pretty and I want different lists for Dean and Harry (idk when I’ll be writing for H next but might as well)
I just know if Jensen joined the Quinn app he’d take the whole thing over. I’d sell my soul to hear him read some filthy ass shit out loud