Winter Wonderland || Mitch Rapp X Reader

Winter Wonderland || Mitch Rapp x Reader

Summary : Mitch introduces you to your first snowfall during the Holiday season.

Words : 2.3k

Warnings : swearing, mild angst? couldn't help myself, sweet mitch

Notes : 3rd Installment - YAYA! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! gif credit [unknown / x]

The crisp air of the Russian wilderness nipped at your skin as you stood on the verandah of the small wooden cabin, arms crossed against your chest to defend yourself from the chilled temperature. All that you could see was painted-white forestry as far as your naked eye could go, their branches creating the perfect cover for the shelter you were calling home for the remaining week. You would rather be at your home for Christmas - curled up in your lonely queen bed sipping from a bottle of red wine, crappy holiday television numbing your drunken mind into a deep slumber. Instead, you found yourself held up between four walls that were certainly too small with a moody Agent taking up more space than he should, and a variety of intel to help you bring down Bratva, the infamous Russian Mafia.

Silence captured you in a bubble, holding you hostage from the outside world as the secluded space your cabin occupied remained lifeless - an exception being yourself and Mitch Rapp, just as the Central Intelligence Agency intended. The near dilapidated building behind you was a safe house that only had its moment to shine when a mission in the area needed attention. You had been situated here for six days, the term 'cabin fever' becoming quite literal when all that preoccupied your mind was hunting down your current murderous target. You needed air, you needed change and stimulation. What you truly needed was a bottle of hard liquor to get you through your remaining time here, but that was far from being possible.

That's what led you to stand outside, hoping that your mind would clear itself from the upcoming migraine threatening to spill over behind your eyes. You were in a daze as you focused on the quiet wilderness in front of you, making Mitch's following footsteps seemingly unable to be detected until his frame stood tall beside your own. He could see the stress etched between your eyebrows as worry lines scarred your skin, accompanied by the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek. He recognised your frustration - he felt it before, on many different occasions - which is why he didn't press you into diving straight back into work. You deserved a break. His caramel eyes followed your gaze as they looked over the landscape, comparing the snow-speckled greenery of the trees to the grey skies above. He could easily identify this weather pattern, having learned it from his foster parents when he was fourteen.

"Looks like it's gonna snow." He hummed, matching your stance by interweaving his own arms in front of him. The widening of your eyes alerted Mitch that his words intrigued you, a minuscule smirk now playing upon his lips before he continued to gain your attention. The man cleared his throat, his weight shifting to one side of his body as his free leg stretched out in front of him. He turned his head to look at you but found your hopeful eyes still widening and already staring back to meet his pair. Mitch noticed the optimism, childlike desire boring into him as he discerned the reasoning behind your change in demeanor. The man chuckled sincerely, "You've never seen snow before? Actual snow, falling from the sky?"

Your head fell into a soft shake, embarrassment creeping up your neck and settling on your cheeks, a bright flush pinching almost immediately. Sharing your firsts, in general, was a scary task - the possibility of being judged constantly becoming a possible scenario that had to be faced. You curled in your lips and looked toward the makeshift driveway in front of you, making a noise of a saddened sigh, "Yeah, never. I get it, an Agent in her mid-twenties who has traveled the globe, and never come across any sort of snowfall? It seems highly unlikely." Your comment harnessed a playful tone despite the uneasiness, arms uncrossing to instead wring your hands in a matter of anxious fidgeting. "I'm what you call a rare case of bad timing; never at the right place when it was the right time... but it's always been a childhood wish of mine, even through all this CIA bullshit. It's one of the only things that I could keep from my old life." Shoulders lifted into a shrug, quick to sink back down before eyes returned forward.

"I think you'll be in luck. I'm no fucking weatherman or whatever, but trust me when I say that you might get that wish sorted out a little quicker than you thought."

Mitch tried to remain stoic, a trait that he wore proudly for nearly four years now, but he found it oddly impossible to move beyond caring about making you happy. 'Giving a damn' had been out of his system since he joined the agency, retribution swallowing his head and heart for a long period of time until he was finally set free. Mitch wasn't one to put human emotion at his forefront, but the way your eyes sparkled at his statement, the anticipation building and evident on the quirk of your lips... it prompted serotonin to flood his system and for you, he felt genuinely happy. It made him chuckle that for a moment, a slight peaceful moment, he forgot that on the other side of this chilly porch you were a professionally trained Assassin.

The timing could not have been more impeccable as you both remained still in silence, a gust of icy wind prickling your skin and provoking a shiver to dance up your spine. Small stars of ice began to flutter from the sky, and it felt like an odd chance of perfect coincidence. More began to fall at a faster pace, raining down over the lush green foliage surrounding you both. Your eyes were wide once more with utter starstruck from the beautiful image of fragile snowflakes decorating every inch of the scenery - it was a Christmas miracle, a reason to believe in magic, something so absolutely picturesque and stunning.

Your breath had hitched in your throat, and for a second you didn't notice, but Mitch did. He watched as your facial expressions contorted into a child-like version of yourself, even wondering if you had the smallest beads of tears gathering over your lashes before your hand wiped at your eyes. The silence was broken as you scoffed, playfulness hugging your words tightly, "You sure you're not Mitch Rapp, Meteorologist? Or are you a witch and this is one of your freaky lil spells?" Your frame turned until you were facing Mitch, your grin wide in benevolence.

"I swear that it's just coincidence! Scout's honor." Mitch's right hand pressed proudly to his chest as he laughed; a joyous sound stemming from the butterflies in his stomach, complementary to the scrunching of his nose and pinching in the corners of his warm eyes.

You couldn't help but revel in the happy noises he made - his laughter low and rumbling, but absolutely evident and wholehearted. His chest would rise and fall, head falling back, only with minimal incline, as it projected to the roof. It was hard to believe at first, but now you know, Mitch Rapp is capable of human emotion besides fury and sadness. You offered him a thankful smile as your eyes locked together, his head now nodding in acknowledgment before you ran inside. Your heavy parker as hanging on the back of the nearest armchair, material warm from the budding fireplace - one of the few things that Mitch was determined to keep alive. It was a mere few seconds until you were back out on the porch and your arms weren't even fully submerged into the sleeves yet.

You hummed, eyes shamelessly raking over your partner in his black knitted sweater and cargo pants. You clicked your tongue, looking to him in fake disapproval, "Well? Are you gonna grab your jacket or what? Come on, Rapp!"

If there had been a race for who had gotten in and out of that Cabin the quickest, it would be a very close tie with Mitch suddenly pushing back past you, a high-spirited nudge to your shoulder, and stretching out his legs in the new covering of soft snow. His smirk grew wider when you chastised him under your breath, the mock anger dissipated instantly when you felt the snowflakes gather on your rosy cheeks. They melted within half a second due to the heat of your flushed skin but were quickly replaced by more and more tiny flakes before the cycle would start again. Your heart thumped against the caging of your chest; the purity and innocence of the falling snow adorning the tips of trees and blanketing the cabin behind you only caused a warm sensation that usually isn't found in this climate, your veins spreading the welcomed feeling.

"Stick out your tongue," Mitch said, your focus breaking as you looked toward him. He was already demonstrating his suggestion, the pink muscle protruding from his mouth before he played a small game in catching the snowflakes as they fell. You complied without question, embracing the idea and savoring the experience as specks of ice decorated your own tongue. It was short-lived before a surprising intrusion of solid snow hit your side, your body shuffling forward slightly as you gasped. Foggy condensation hovered around your lips from the immense drop of temperature, the fog evaporating as your head turned within to face the perpetrator of snow. Mitch was grinning, his teeth on show proudly as he tossed up another ball of snow, catching it as if it were a baseball and he was preparing to pitch.

"You want to play a losing battle, huh? I was on the girls' softball team for most of High School. You can't outdo me." You taunted him, hands sitting with pride on your hips.

Mitch scoffed, another hearty laugh slipping past his lips and settling deep in his chest, "You're preaching to the wrong choir, Y/L/N. Scholarship at Syracuse for Lacrosse and I was the seventh-grade Baseball star in Middle School. You literally don't have a chance. I'm not just an Assassin for my day job, I'm Assassin on the sport's field too."

Your hands held in the air, a defensive gesture for your playful banter, "Okay, okay. You win, Rapp, geez. Way to make a girl doubt her snowball throwing skills. Such a gentleman."

You shook your head, amused over his attempt to joke with you. He could tell that you thought he was a moron, the way you bit your lip to hold back your near-inevitable smirk was a sure sign, and he started to feel as if he did his good deed for the day by making you smile. Mitch didn't want to break the progress already gained, but the man was curious - it was written in his blood, his skill set, his personality - the question that had been burning in his mind for just under a week sat on the tip of his tongue. But, is it worth the possible reverting of your new optimistic attitude? He took risks, it was in the job description, so what was the harm in just prying, even a little bit?

"So... I know it's Christmas in two days... you have anybody you could've spent it with back home? Missing out on some quality family time, or anything?" He looked away as the questions spilled, unsure of how you would react. He didn't know much about you, seeming that your private life was rarely exposed and often under lock and key. He was very similar on that front, but the past couple of years had taught him to let go a little, that not everybody in this large scary world is actually a bad guy. He also knew that Stan filled you in on his file before you departed for Russia, and he wanted to be the one to level the playing field.

"I don't have a family. I don't have time for a special someone. And my apartment doesn't allow pets." Was all that you said, your positive demeanor briefly slipping away to expose a cold indomitable face. Being alone allowed you to focus on your duties as an Agent, the thoughts of worry about not returning home weren't playable cards in your deck and it allowed you to not just be an Assassin but to be a deadly one. It was as if Mitch was looking into a mirror of the man he used to be four years ago - it was frightening and all-around sad.

Mitch piped up, taking a tentative step toward you, "I understand, you know. My parents died when I was young, and I haven't seen my brother in so long... I doubt he even knows I'm alive, to be honest. So, guess I'm alone too." He looked toward the nearly white trees, a deep breath sucked in, and spat back out with the same fog that surrounded you earlier.

You dared to reach out to him, your left hand gently placed over his bicep before you squeezed him tightly, reassuringly. "We can be alone together." You said with a small smile and now softened eyes that held so much admiration and passion. It was proof that Mitch Rapp could melt away the coldness that you often found entangled with your heart. An absolute miracle.

"But right after the snowball fight, right? Because I am very prepared to fucking dominate you, this isn't a game anymore. It's actual war."

You nodded, the lift of your lips indicating a silent thank you for moving past the mushiness route that your conversation took. Instead, you growled with impishness, "Bring it on, Rapp, but I'll let you know, I'm not going to back down so easily again."

can we have ‘ do you touch urself think my of me’ w dylan for ur 500 sleepover thing’ thxx

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sexual language, sexual activity, female masturbation

"DO YOU TOUCH YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK OF ME?"

You shuddered; large hands ghosting over your sides, radiating dizzying warmth through the terrycloth of your towel. You could feel his movements so clearly despite the lack of physical touch, and it was beginning to make your mind sway with increments of a lustful haze. It was absentminded as your head gently fell back, lulling to the side as his warm breath fanned down your neck, each small exhale feeling like a fiery kiss against your sensitive skin. The man knew exactly what he was doing - the ability to arouse you already easy enough, but executing it without the usage of his masterful hands and lips only added to his adept skillset. You offered a gentle nod of your head, a response that you could only muster from the small amount of sanity he was letting you have. Dylan's lips curled into a generous smile as they dragged under your ear, a tender peck placed over the still wet skin from your shower.

He carefully pulled the abundance of your wet locks over your other shoulder so that his access to your neck became facile, lips now able to properly envelop your skin and leave behind an array of moan-inducing kisses. The man couldn't help but press himself against you, one hand now gripping your waist tightly as the other sat just above your thigh. Even though your eyes were closed, you were sure that you could sense the inevitable swelling of the veins in his arms, an indication that he was trying to hold himself back - that whatever self-control he harnessed was holding on by a whimsy thread before he would eventually have you backed up against the basin and screaming out every goddamn syllable of his name.

"Dyl..." You moaned softly, and if he wasn't focusing so hard on enhancing the purple bruise near your clavicle, he would have missed your near-silent plea. By now, your arm had been thrown behind you to allow your fingers to thread through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as your other hand entangled with the one guarding your waist. You could feel the upturn of his nose nuzzle into the curve of your neck as Dylan reveled in the soothing attention you were feeding him. He hummed lightly against your skin, his lips unable to stop the small litter of pecks that now trailed across your shoulder as he gently pulled down the material shielding your body. You were immediately covered in goosebumps; the cool air meeting your hot and flushed skin spiking the small bumps and provoking a display of shivers down your spine.

"Does the thought of my fingers make you feel good?" He wondered aloud, voice raspy as it was whispered against the shell of your ear. You could only manage another nod as your teeth sunk deeply into your bottom lip, tugging at the reminiscence your body felt as you remembered how good his hands treated you. It was now more obvious that your thighs had been rubbing together from the arousal he easily prompted - ankles crossed over and a small patch of red skin that was caused by evident friction near your heated core. Just the thought alone of the man behind you harassing your moistened sex was driving you absolutely insane.

Dylan untangled your hands before setting his lightly over yours, his movements slow as he dragged your touch down the front of your body. You opened your eyes, lashes fluttering against your cheek before you focused on your boyfriend in the reflection before you. He was mesmerised - eyes detailing the way you were reacting to his touch and intimate maneuvers - until his gaze finally fell on yours, causing a smirk encased in mischief to curl at his lips, complementing the heavy wink that fell from his right eye. He maintained eye contact as his pointer finger directed yours to your clit, the nub incredibly sensitive as he controlled your caress in a circular motion. He was guiding you to pleasure yourself as your chest instantly swelled with a deep intake of air, mouth falling ajar and eyes slowly becoming hooded.

You eventually sighed out in contentment; leaning back against Dylan when your legs began to grow unstable, his spare arm reaching across your chest. He grasped one of your fleshy mounds as he began to squeeze, his thumb and forefinger pinching an exposed peak to draw out your building moan. Dylan smiled as he watched your face contort with pleasure before murmuring in your ear, "Whatever you do, don't stop." His voice fractured with his own arousal, despite wanting to push it aside to focus primarily on you. He let you continue rubbing an array of shapes against your clit, his second and third finger now sliding into his mouth as he coated them with oral lubricant. You watched him intently, and you knew what was coming.

His lips brushed against your neck, "Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see how I make you feel when you cum on my fingers."

It was a growl that entered your ear, the beautiful caramel tone of Dylan's eyes now clouded with a dark chocolate hue, fervor for your pleasure now etching across his features quickly. He managed to suction his lips back to your neck, eyes still boring into the mirror. You couldn't look away from him, you didn't want to, which is why it took you by surprise when he pushed both fingers deep inside of you. An involuntary gasp squeaked past your open mouth, soon followed by a throaty moan that echoed loudly off the tiled walls. His pace was relentless as his fingers thrust quickly, the curl of their tips brushing over your rigid roofing and eliciting a whine of desperation. You didn't dare slow down your harassment on your clit, even pressing down harder when Dylan's nails scraped over a sensitive part of your core.

It was a quick set decision as he reached up to grasp your chin, turning it toward his awaiting lips before he pressed them harshly against yours. He didn't start to take your bottom lip between his own pair until he felt you relax slightly into him, an indication that you were content with the kiss. He sucked, teeth dragging your lip away as he pulled back, only to immediately dive back in and soothe his tongue along the graze. You were receiving amounts of pleasure all through your body, head now spinning with all sorts of romantic sentiments and lustful sensations. You took the opportunity to drag your tongue over his, pulling your boyfriend into you even more by the union shared between your mouths.

It was his turn to groan, only to be swallowed by you as you took leadership in the kiss. Dylan, though, still had reign over your upcoming orgasm as he thrust faster, angle changing until he found the special spot that made you scream between his lips. The room echoed with your joint sounds of satisfaction, complementary to the slick wet noises of his fingers drenched in your arousal as you neared your orgasmic high. You explored his mouth with the desperate muscle, recognising every nook and crevice as if it were the back of your hand. You provoked grunts from Dylan as he sucked the air from your lungs, needing to survive on your taste and feeling, nose dragging across your face as he fought the metaphorical battle of tongues.

It didn't take long for you to pull back, your voice crying toward him with furrowed brows and an incredibly heaving chest, "I'm gonna cum..." You breathed, whinging tangled with your tone as you found his spare hand. It was second nature as you grasped him, fingers sliding between his own, wanting to hold your boyfriend for support from what you anticipated as a body shaking high. He sped up even further, the contraction of your walls around him making his groin twitch and harden. You could feel it as he spontaneously pushed against your backside, the throbbing of his member settling into your lower back. Knowing that this was turning him on threw you over the edge, completely.

Eyes rolled back as you convulsed; the heated ache in your pelvis spreading through your veins as your body erupted in euphoric fire. A loud cry escaped you, "Fuck... fuck, Dyl-Dylan... baby... shit..." Your words were incoherent, unable to form proper sentences as you spoke absentmindedly in time with the stars exploding over your eyes. You could, however, see the familiar orbs of your partner as you maintained eye contact, Dylan's brows furrowing as he bit his lip with enough force to draw blood. His pace began to slow, only stopping when your frame collapsed against his chest. He pulled the tired digits to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your juices and moaning at the taste he often dreamed about.

"That was so hot." He breathed out, your hearts thumping in unison as the only sounds now surrounding you both were the jagged breaths you shared.

You agreed as you reached up to him, your arm still shaky as you cupped Dylan's face and rubbed your thumb gently over his flushed cheeks. "You, are, incredible." You huffed, smiling sincerely despite the tiredness that now blanketed your face. He could tell by the lidded eyes you flashed him that the pleasure you felt took a lot out of you, prompting your boyfriend to lean in and tenderly kiss your swollen lips. His soft actions made your shoulders slump in serenity as you remained settled against him, only to be held flush further against his chest as his arm protectively sat at the base of your ribs. You managed a chuckle, "Guess I'll have to have another shower to clean this mess up." You gestured to the dripping juices falling down your inner thighs.

Dylan pulled back, at least two steps away from you as you braced yourself against the counter. He smiled gingerly as he removed his shirt, thumbs tucking into the waistband of his sweats and boxer briefs, "Good, I'll join you."

Where Stiles Lives Out His Dream.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings : just cuteness, maybe like one swear word?

Notes : had this idea for a while, NWH definitely boosted it though!

it started in kindergarten

a five-year-old stiles wearing the same spiderman shirt every day for the first week

surprisingly, claudia wasn't bothered washing it each night

especially when he got it covered in paint and food and.. god knows what actually caused the stain on the left hand sleeve..

one would think that he had that darn action figure superglued to his hand

he refused to let it go, just like that shirt

his obsession never faltered, though

only growing more the older he got

and when he finally watched the movies.. his life changed

stiles was nine-years-old when his dad let him watch the first two tobey maguire movies

he was enthralled by watching spiderman swing around on his webs and fight the bad guys

his large honey eyes were glued to the screen and widened in wonder

and when peter parker finally got the girl, he felt a warmth settle in his chest

a strange warmth that he couldn't describe, not until he was old enough to properly understand

noah stilinski was looking over case files when he felt his son tug at his shirt

stiles only grinned, "dad can i have a mj?"

and noah only shook his head

he smiled back though, admiration etched over his worry lines

"not yet, son"

"dad... is mom your mj?"

and noah only laughed, eyes flickering to a sickly looking woman grinning at her boys' interaction

"she definitely is"

it was freshman year and stiles had turned fifteen-years-old

he wore a large grin to complement his red t-shirt and dark flannel

a large black spider symbol gracing his chest

by now his ADD has grown and he wasn't very good at focusing

it wasn't until he walked straight into another body that he snapped back into reality

abandoning his conversation with his best friend scott to help the poor girl that fell

this is when you first laid eyes on the adorable doofus you'd quite quickly call friend

you grasped his hand tightly as he pulled you up

the boy even dropped back to the floor to pick up your belongings

you thanked him and offered a smile

but you saw his shirt and bit your bottom lip

stiles very much noticed

"i like your shirt" you said before your eyes glanced up from his chest

all that stiles did was laugh nervously

he was shaky and you could tell he was highly-strung

what you couldn't tell though is that he was actually breathless

you were beautiful

kind of like lydia martin beautiful

but your cute attitude and kindness is what set you apart

and when you said you liked his shirt it meant you liked spiderman

that made you automatically perfect to stiles

eighteen-years-old and stiles was now in his jeep, driving to yours

you had been dating since you were sixteen

he asked you at your birthday party if you'd like to go on a date

this was after he handed you a giant present half the size of roscoe

you said yes immediately, and that warmth returned from when he was younger

the warmth that he got when he saw peter in love with mj

it made him think that one day, you'd officially be his mj and the thought made him smile so fucking wide

presently, you were receiving a text to meet your boyfriend outside

you were expecting him, but usually, he'd make his way inside your home

with a key that he acquired from a source he wouldn't tell you about

you walked outside and it was dark

the jeep was in your driveway but stiles was nowhere to be found

you made a move to walk down the steps of your front porch

but a yell scared you into jumping back

a scream escaping through your lips

stiles appeared in front of you, his body hanging upside down from the roof

he had a large grin between his cheeks and his eyes glistened with mischief

he crooned, a little chuckle sounding his words

"hey baby"

reaching out to hit his chest was a bad idea when he slightly maneuvered

your fingers grasped his shirt to hold him still before he could fall

and then

....trust your luck....

the ten o'clock sprinkler system was activated and you both began to get soaked

you glared at stiles

he laughed

and soon you were laughing too

your fingers remained holding his now crumpled, and soaked, spiderman t-shirt from freshman year

you hummed, "you know what this looks like, right?"

and stiles shook his head, but

his eyes were stuck to your wet matted hair and glowing skin from the water beads

"you're like spiderman and i'm like... mj"

he realised the scene you were referring to

the warmth returned

this time it was stronger

it had a forceful pull that gravitated his lips to yours

and finally, it ignited his body with fire coursing through his veins

your lips were joined and your hands moved from his chest to his cheeks

holding him

caressing him

stiles moaned softly as his right hand snaked around to your back

pushing you closer to his saturated frame

your bodies stuck to one another but you didn't care

not when your tongue slipped past his desperate lips

his needy teenage hormones got the best of him , though

he wanted to merge your bodies even closer until all he could feel was the slick wet skin under your shirt

and one move of desire later nearly led stiles to fall once again

you pulled back to hold him steady

lips swollen

his face now turning red

only, it was from the blood rushing rather than just a bashful flush of rosy cheeks

stiles didn't care though, despite your worrying and cursing under your breath

he smiled, teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling

he felt everything all at once when he kissed you

the kind of emotions and sensations that meant that his love for you preceded everything else

and he knew

he... just knew

"you're my mj"

uuuuuuhhh, prompt requests open!!! Im going for escort with Dylan pleaseee!!!

send me a PROMPT for a 'yearn for you' blurb -

[ ESCORT ] : sender accompanies the receiver home late at night, in order to ensure they’re safe.

"You didn't have to walk me to my hotel, you know. I'm sure I would've been fine on my own." You mentioned, hands deep in your pockets as two sets of feet walked side-by-side along the wintery streets of Manhattan. A deep chuckle sounded beside you easily bringing a smile to your face, before a large shoulder was nudged against yours.

"Perhaps, but in all honesty, I saw the opportunity to escort a pretty girl through possible dangerous streets, so I took it." He spoke pragmatically, allowing a contented sigh to slip past his lips, a fog of condensation appearing in front of his face. It had been just over five minutes since you were saying goodbye to your castmates; the late Friday evening spent at a local bar destressing about the week with a few drinks and a few laughs. It was then that Dylan decided to continue his night by your side, insistent in walking you to your hotel as his New York apartment was only a little further along.

The thought brought a smile to your own face, accompanied by a gentle shiver of the growing cold atmosphere. Dylan caught your movement out the corner of his eye. With a forced clearing of his throat and nervous stretch of his fingers, the man turned to you, the whisky shade of his eyes waring you instantly, "You cold? Get under my arm." You gazed across to his now held-out arm, a further invitation to share his body heat as you cuddled into his side.

You nodded your head once before looking down, trying to hide the growing crimson blush gathering on your cheeks. Any form of hesitancy melted away as you moved closer to him; Dylan almost immediately tugging your smaller frame flush against his own, the comfort becoming enough for you to place your head against his chest as his large arm dropped to your shoulders. Molding into his side allowed you to feel safe from the impending vexatiousness of the cold snowflakes landing on your cheeks; the known danger of late night Manhattan streets that came a close second now fading away.

"You can be such a sap when you want to be." You spoke, the gentle tone of your voice posing as a welcomed interruption to your comfortable silence. Fingers tapped against your shoulder and his arm remained weighted, the small act of affection provoking a quirk of your lips and a bashful smile to appear between your continuously growing blush. You could feel his chest shake with laughter under your cheek before your threaded your hand in between the tapping fingers, "But it's sweet, you're sweet. I have a feeling you already know that though."

"Does it make me a sap to say that you're the one who makes me sweet?" Dylan retorted, his voice playfully nonchalant. The spark between you both was obvious; seen in the way you would tease each other, eventually ending with a severe case of flirtation and giddy happiness. Being in his arms even now was a regular occurrence - but it never went past the intimacy of your friendship - nervousness always standing in the way. His words resonated in your mind as you reciprocated his earlier laugh, nudging him as much as you could with your shoulder.

It was only mere minutes before your feet shuffled to a stop outside of your hotel room; Dylan was unwilling to let you go from the moment you left the city streets, to where he nuzzled his nose into your snowflake decorated hair in the elevator. Your eyes bored into his whisky-shade pair, your teeth absentmindedly holding your bottom lip captured. You glanced over to your unlocked door before back to the taller man, his facial features still contorted in a drunken-like haze of contentment.

You cleared your throat, "Thank you for walking me home... did you, I mean - did you want to come in? I don't think I'm ready for you to go just yet."

Dylan released a breathless sigh; as if he was holding his breath in anticipation, as if he was waiting for you to ask. The over-exaggerated nod of his head was an indication that he, too, wasn't ready to leave. His voice dropped, raspiness tickling the ends of his words, "I'm up for anything if it means staying by your side."

congrats on 500!!! you so deserve it, i love your writing! 🤍 could i have “i’ve been flirting with you for the last six months, thanks for noticing.” with dylan pleaseeeee?

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

**thank you thank you!!! such a sweetheart <3

“I’VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR THE LAST SIX MONTHS, THANKS FOR NOTICING.”

You watched as Dylan's head tossed back, the neck of his bottle funneling chilled beer into his mouth as he shot a lazy wink in your direction. The lively laughter mixed with tunes from indie rock bands created a quintessential atmosphere in the dive bar, only enhanced by the warm tones of the coloured downlights that accentuated the golden specks in Dylan's caramel eyes. You were both here for your friends' engagement; the party already a few drinks in before you decided to slip away to the bar. Your drunken state allowed you to feel the vulnerability easier to the point where it drove you to inevitable loneliness. It was hard when you were surrounded, quite literally, by love - an abundance of couples adorning the space in front of you with intimate dances, longing embraces, and tender kissing. It reminded you of how utterly alone you really were.

Dylan found your retreat for a stronger drink amusing when he slipped into the seat next to you, a smile that was so warm and familiar playing upon his lips. Your reasoning, however, caught his attention the most before his confession was released so nonchalantly, his calmness bringing a shocked expression to your facial features. You thought he was joking as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, tugging lightly to conceal the grin that began to creep between your cheeks. A soft giggle filled the air before your head shook, eyes flickering from the fiddling hands in your lap to his composed and complacent expression.

"You're kidding, right?" You queried in reply, glancing over the softness that stemmed from his eyes and the temperate smile that curled higher with each passing second.

Dylan chuckled before taking another sip of his drink, his tongue quickly darting out to catch any stray droplets from his lips. He placed the bottle down upon the bartop, next to the freshly poured concoction of spirits you ordered not too long ago. He was serious - he had no reason not to be, but the way your saddened composure changed so quickly to joyousness had him erupting with serotonin. It was his turn now to shake his head as he wondered how you couldn't see his advancements over the past few months. He was basically throwing himself at you. At first, the man considered you weren't interested before he realised that you were just simply oblivious. It made the sparkle in his eye for you shine brighter.

"I'm far from kidding." He started, dropping his elbow to the bench before sitting his cheek within the large palm of his hand. By now, Dylan was grinning widely, another spurt of laughter slipping past him in a drunken haze. He sighed, "I mean, fuck, you're gorgeous. And hilarious... some of the shit you say is just so fucking funny, truly. You're also kinda badass, and it's hot. You're hot. Why wouldn't I wanna flirt with you, seriously, I'd have to be stupid or something." His spare arm flailed in time with his wording, exaggerated gestures setting the scene as liquid courage sunk deeper into Dylan's system. You could tell by the glaze settling over his eyes that the hangover tomorrow would be a brutal one.

His tangent brought a deep rosh blush to your cheeks, a visual form of flattery as you looked away from the man in slight embarrassment. Evidently, you never knew of the characteristics that Dylan found so enticing, especially seeming that you never considered yourself even possessing such qualities. His intoxicated version of a silver tongue painted a picture of you that he found attractive, but you never saw it, maybe you weren't supposed to. Maybe... what Dylan saw in you was perfect for his eyes only.

A rare encouraged braveness prompted your eyes to glance back toward him, focusing primarily on the eyes that were the epitome of every doodled love heart ever drawn - they complemented the sincerity that graced his smiling lips, and together, you could see that Dylan O'Brien was very much being serious. He was looking back at you like you were the rainbow that graced his rainy day, additional to the newly light shoulders he carried after offloading just how he really felt about you. He was finding your reaction immensely endearing, and if he had slightly less self-control, he'd already have you curled against his chest as he held you within his arms.

"You never said anything, ya know, before now." The obvious was stated within a softened tone, your voice carrying until it was stopped by the glass pouring fruity flavours into your mouth. You felt looser, less constricted, as you continued to question the man, "Why is that?"

He was slowly becoming more liberated with the supplementary help of his near emptied beer bottle, the ideal usage of a filter for his words dissipating immediately as his comfort grew in your presence. Dylan bit his lip as he began to pick subconsciously at the label disintegrating from the moistened glass, his focus never leaving your face, "I thought you weren't interested at first, which was a major buzzkill, by the way. All that pining for nothing, but I couldn't stop it if I tried, and fuck, did I try." He sighed loudly, head nodding in the direction of your half-drunk beverage. He reached for it when your smile was provided as permission, humming in acceptance to signify that he liked what he was tasting. You didn't speak, noticing that he just needed an extra kick to continue his telltale explanation. He really was going to feel this in the morning now.

Dylan licked his lips, the glass returned to its rightful place at your side before he continued, "And then I saw the genuine smile you would shine my way when I spoke, and how you wouldn't shy away when I put my arm around your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed and you stood by my side, never leaving for anything. So, I began to think, maybe something really was there between us. A spark that needed igniting. But... I didn't want to force that on you, so I waited. Very patiently, might I add."

Your eyes rolled back, playfulness etching at the happy creases beside your eyes and growing grin that Dylan couldn't look away from. This newly profound information made your eyes metaphorically widen, opening to the signs that were missed, and the small compliments and tender touches that you had overlooked as plain friendly. The brief realisations were interrupted by Dylan's hand reaching for yours on the bench, his fingers sliding carefully over your skin and leaving curt fiery trails behind them. He was hesitant, but calmed almost instantly when you flipped your hand around for him to slide his fingers in between.

He took a deep breath, "Then I saw how sad you looked tonight. You thought nobody noticed, but I did. I always do. So I bit the bullet and decided that I was finally going to tell you how I feel, hoping that there's even the slightest possibility that you felt the same way in return."

"And what do you think?" You finally spoke, voice surprisingly steady as you gave his hand a soft squeeze as it remained encased around yours. "Do I feel the same way?"

Dylan blinked a few times as he assessed the situation, as well as he could due to the level of alcohol he'd ingested - you'd yet to run away, yet to object or reject his hand, your smile hasn't faltered and your eyes only harnessed more beauty than he'd ever seen before. Your focus was primarily stationed on him, watching carefully with the utmost forbearance.

Dylan exhaled in content, "I think you do. I really think you do."

When Dylan Proposes.... || Headcanon

Pairing : Dylan O'Brien x Reader

Warnings : nothing, just fluffy business

Notes : first actual headcanon - woohoo!

first of all, it would always run through his head how he would propose

on constant replay

so many people go out of their way to compose a HUGE celebratory ordeal

however, he always knew that he didn't want to go over the top

dylan realised a while ago that he wanted to marry you

but he never proposed because he didn't how HOW

he's had the ring hidden on the top shelf of the wardrobe

because you couldn't reach up there

it was hidden in between some sweaters - dylan was quite proud of the spot, in all honesty

you were cooking one night when he poked his head into the kitchen, body leaning against the doorway, arms crossed

you were too consumed to notice him there

because you were singing his favourite song...

dylan would play it all the time, on replay, non-stop

you'd heard it THAT many times that you learnt it off by heart absentmindedly

now it was your favourite too

his lips lifted when he saw you wearing your apron

it was a gift from his grandmother for christmas two years ago

it was the first gift she'd given you, after he would talk her ear off about how much you loved to cook and how good you were

it meant a lot that she gifted it to you, which is why you wear it everytime you cook, without fault

and dylan always smiled with the biggest of heart eyes

seeing you singing his song in that cliche' sloganed apron made him realise right there and then that his love for you is inevitable

you were everything to him, you were it for him

you fought and you both cried, but you always came back with the biggest smiles and hearty laughs

and the roller coaster that is life is a ride that he never wants to get off

if it means spending it forever with you

so he went to get the ring

it glistened when he opened the box, the light of your bedroom catching it just right

and he knew straight away it was perfect

both the ring and the moment

and you, of course

by the time he made it back to the kitchen, you started moving your hips

dancing a little

singing louder

evidently getting lost in the moment

and dylan could watch you forever

that's when he fell to one knee

his eyes remained on you, not even realising what he'd done

the small black velvet box was clasped between his shaky hands

he didn't know why he was nervous

he loved you

you loved him

he had been calling you wifey for at least two months now

so why. was. he. so. nervous??

but maybe... it was just excitement

knowing that he could hold you in his arms forever

he'd wake up with you by his side every morning for the rest of his life

he could kiss you whenever he wanted

most of all, he could be his true and utter self and you would never judge him

not even once

dylan's focus broke when you turned around and saw him there

you froze

but you did manage to let his name fall from your lips so softly

honey brown eyes looking up to you and just sparkling so sweetly

he sighed, laughing under his breath, "i don't even know where to start..."

reminiscing about when you met, how he noticed your big and beautiful eyes before anything else

how their colour quickly became his favourite, and still is

and then on your first date when he discovered your food allergy at the fancy restaurant he took you to

still to this day you're too embarrassed to go back there.....

he absolutely lit up when he explained the exact second he fell in love with you when he woke up with you clinging to his arm, face buried in his neck, and just how beautiful you looked

dylan began rambling though when he was telling you about how much he actually loved you, and everything he did love about oyu

by now your cheeks were decorated with rolling tears

of happiness, duh

and it's when the box opened, dylan's hands still shaky

an exemplary sized ring sitting in the centre

with a deep breath, he asked, "would you marry me?"

and with an equally as deep breath, you replied...

"over and over again"

which means yes, by the way