Too Many Cooks flashback one shot-> "Flip of a Coin"📚🏒
WC: 3.8k (got a little out of control)
Summary: After an entire summer of stressing over college move-in, the day had finally arrived. Long before Honey was your nickname, long before John Tucker had ever kissed you and called you darlin'. But little did you know how much you two had circled each other since the start of your Briar U journey— AKA you realize life's just a flip of a coin
notes: this is cheesy as fuck and lowkey badly edited but I needed to write this after all the angst I've put y'all through :)
“You got everything?” Your mom pressed, forehead wrinkling as she looked you over. “Nothing you forgot? Because we can drive back right now—”
“Ma,” you cut her off with a giggle, “we’re good.”
Your dad cackled, slapping your back lovingly as he locked the car. “Alright, let’s move our girl in.”
As a family, you three walked side by side, your dad periodically squeezing your shoulder each time a major milestone popped up and you leapt over it without slamming your face in the concrete.
School ID? Check.
Room assignment? Check.
Dorm keys (because this school was apparently so ancient you needed physical keys to get in your room)? Check.
All that was left now was hauling your stuff in, and finally meeting your randomly assigned roommates after only messaging them on instagram.
God you might throw up.
As much as you tried to convince your parents you wanted to be a commuter (truly it was only to save them money), they saw right through it. Your mom specifically put her foot down. Hard. It had been your first real fight since graduating high school, mostly because she was terrified of you being left behind. Of you sacrificing everything except your soul to help them, and never truly living. Especially since your parents had been ecstatic when you got into Briar. Although it was your instate university, it was a damn good one. Everyone there would be a whole other level of committed, in every damn department.
D1 athletics, broadway level theater, world-renowned STEM labs—and for you, one of the only schools with enough funding to have a Bachelors of Culinary Arts and Hospitality. That was big, and it certainly reflected that with the tuition.
But you couldn’t think about that right now, because right now you were trying real hard not to puke on the poor RA helping you with check-in.
“Alright!” She beamed, dropping the key in your clammy palm. “Welcome to Briar! Bristol house has two entrances, but you’re in tower A with most of the other freshman, so you’re gonna wanna use the door right around the corner.”
You gulped, twisting your grimace into a smile. “Uh—thanks so much! Have a great day!”
Soon as you swiveled around towards your parents’ beat up sedan, you almost vomitted the words, “What if they’re crazy?”
Once again, your father barked a laugh and took hold of your shoulders, forcing you to walk along the path towards Bristol House.
“Always a chance, honeybee—ow!”
Your mom had whacked him upside the head.
“What your father means, sweetheart, is that you just have to give it a shot.”
“I was getting to that,” he grumbled. “Okay, think about it like this.”
You groaned, expecting another sports analogy that had absolutely no relation to moving your anxious child into college, but everything to do with the Patriots 2017 Super Bowl comeback as a metaphor for being an turning the tide when the going gets rough. One time he used it to try and calm you down after burning an entire batch of almond croissants.
It did not help. Obviously.
“Hey,” he chastised with a look, “don’t be fresh.” Then he gave another squeeze to your shoulder. “Taking chances like this, big life changing ones, it’s a coin toss. You’ve done everything you can to prepare and you’re gonna do everything you can to deal with it—but you can’t control everyone else, honeybee. So you’re roommates are crazy? Makes a great story to tell your kids in thirty years, huh?”
You snorted and some of that nausea slightly subsided.
“Or,” your mom pressed, absentmindedly fixing the strap of your tank top like she was reorganizing the kitchen counter, a common habit of hers. “Or they could be amazing. Best people you’ll ever meet, best friends for life—like your Aunt Eleanor. She was a cello performance major, I was business. You think I would’ve met her if she wasn’t my roommate sophomore year? ”
You shrugged, still worrying over your lip.
“Honeybee,” your mother cooed, “come on, let’s give life a chance, alright?”
Ten minutes later, you were hiking it up to the second floor (because your mom insisted on getting her steps in). But when you expected to meet a closed door with a gimmicky little name tag on it, you actually saw the door to your triple wide open. No one inside and two beds already decorated.
“Oh. My. Godddd!” A voice squealed from behind you.
You barely had time to turn around before a body was flung at you, arms looping around your neck.
“Oh—”
“Hiiiiii!” The brunette sang, pulling back so her wide brown eyes were basically staring into your soul, a beaming intensity to them. “I’m Allie—and I know exactly who you are!” Her hands spun you around in a hug until you were dizzy.
“Ohmygod—these must be your parents! Hi, I’m Allison Hayes, it is so nice to finally meet you!” She shook both your parents’ hands like their shoulders might dislocate.
“Oh my god!” She spun to face you again, taking hold of your arm before she dragged you into the room. “You haven't met Hannah yet! Hannah you—”
“Right here,” the other brunette giggled, appearing from the hallway and still slightly out of breath as she waved to your parents.
Allie’s brows scrunched. “Where were you?”
“I stopped to tie my shoe like right outside the dining hall,” she said with an easy, beaming smile. “You probably couldn't hear me over the Hamilton song you were playing. Out loud.”
“We were listening to it together.” Allie insisted.
Hannah snorted, still laughing. “I wasn’t next to you for the rest of that walk back, Al.”
“Oh,” Allie sighed, then turned to you with another radiating smile like sadness didn’t quite fit on her face for long. “Anyways—this is Hannah, our third roommate!” Then Allie tugged Hannah’s shoulder so she could squish you both in a group hug.
Once you pulled back, a small, tentative smile lifted your cheeks. “Um, hi,” you giggled shyly, “nice to meet you.”
She smiled even wider as she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “So glad to finally meet you, Allie’s been dying for you to finally move in.”
“I’m just so excited!” She squealed, gripping your shoulders again. “I've been in this room alone for like two weeks—cause the fall play auditions are like stupid early, and I’ve been dyinggggg in the silence.”
You giggled, the nausea completely subsiding as she gripped you tight. “Oh wow, guess I'm late to the party.”
Obviously you knew you were, you strategically picked the very last move-in day available. A fail safe you’d set just incase you weren’t cut out for this. Then you could bail before your parents had to go through the effort of closing the restaurant for the day and helping lug your stuff into a too tiny cement room with minimal airflow or sunlight.
Hannah reflexively smoothed over one of her short braids resting just above her shoulders. “Oh don’t worry, I moved in like two days ago just cause my parents couldn’t take off work.”
Still fiddling with the hem of your top, you smiled at Hannah, “You said you’re from the midwest, right?”
Hannah nodded with another bright smile. “Yep, Indiana.”
Over your shoulder, your dad piped up with his thick accent. “Have ya gotten used to shit drivers here, yet?”
Another resounding smack hit your father’s shoulder, no doubt from your mother’s hand, making both your roommates giggle uncontrollably.
Your mom grumbled, “Ignore him, he thinks he’s some kind of comedian or something.”
“Had to be to bag you, hon.”
Still managing a tiny smile, you rolled your eyes in faux disgust. Scrunching your nose at the two girls as you said, “They’re gross, I know.”
“No it’s so cute!” Allie sighed wistfully with her heart in her eyes. “I just love love.”
Both you and Hannah giggled together until something caught your eye, a movie poster hung up above the baby pink, floral twin bed just behind Allie’s mane of waves.
As Hannah caught where you were looking, her smile turned hesitant and shy. “Oh, uh, yeah, big Jane Austen fan.”
Instantly, your voice tipped to a high squeal as you babbled. “Me too! The BBC version is amazing but I love Matthew McFadyen as Mr. Darcy. Oh! And—”
“And the music!” You both chimed in unison, erupting in a chorus of giggles.
Allie squealed, almost hopping in place as she squeezed both of your shoulders, “AH I know exactly what we’re watching tonight!”
“First things first,” your father chuckled, “is moving your stuff in, honeybee.”
“We’ll help!” Allie now fully jumped this time.
“Oh guys don’t worry it’s fine—”
“Course we’re helping,” Hannah cut you off with a smile. “You’re probably gonna have to help me lug one of my mom’s care packages next week. So think of it as a me paying you back in advance.”
As you turned back to face your parents, you caught the fleeting moment that something heavy flashed through your mother’s eyes. Her throat constricting as she swallowed back tears and affixed a big smile.
She cleared her throat first. “Oh you two are the sweetest. How about once we’re done we’ll treat you girls to some dinner? We can hop on over to that diner in town. What was it, um—MacKinnon’s? No, it—”
“Malone’s,” you finished her thought. “I’ve seen people talk about it on TikTok, doesn’t sound bad.”
“Scoping out the competition, huh, honeybee?” Your dad teased with a teasing pinch to your cheek.
“Oh yeah!” Hannah beamed. “You have a family restaurant, right?”
“It’s seriously so cool!” Allie echoed. “Loved the vibes on insta. Very Nancy Meyers, sorta coastal grandma core. Super cute.”
“Oh thank you, girls,” your mother sang, “The Mayflower’s also an inn, so please tell your parents that whenever they come visit there will always be rooms vacant for them—on the house, of course.”
“And free pancakes for you three,” your father added with a fatherly wink.
After a tiring move-in, the August sun unrelenting each time you lugged another stuffed IKEA bags upstairs, your parents drove you three to Malone’s. Still caked in sweat, stomach growling, you downed two cokes and basket of pretzel bites before your meal even arrived. Soon as it had, however, you were diving into the burger and stuffing your mouth with fries. As you should’ve expected, you were unable to turn that nagging food critic part of your brain off, silently deciding the fries were far too soggy and obviously pre-frozen.
Apparently, that pestering part of you was genetic.
Through a mouthful of his burger, your dad huffed, “Gotta say, damn shame a college dive bar doesn’t have cheese fries. That’s gotta be top five best drunk foods.”
Your mother landed another resounding smack upside his head. “Please think before you speak next time—and wipe your face, for god’s sake.”
“Well that’s all part of my charm, dollface.”
Then he ambushed her with a messy, ketchup covered kiss to the cheek before she could swat him away. She squealed and slapped his arms with minimal effort, relenting and rolling her eyes with a faux huff as he looped an arm around her shoulder.
On your side of the large booth, your roommates giggled at them. While your nose scrunched, almost gagging at their PDA.
Little did you know, only two booths over, a sweet southern boy was almost vibrating out of his seat from anxiety.
“JT,” his mother cooed, “you gotta eat somethin’, baby. Gonna be skin and bones before the season even starts if you keep goin’ like this.”
“I know,” he groaned, shoving another greasy fry in his mouth but barely touching the patty melt.
“Baby, it’ll be fine. You said those other freshman boys were nice right?”
Through an anxious gulp of coke, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“One of them’s famous or something', huh?”
He snorted, “Uh yeah, he’s kinda hockey royalty, Mama. His dad’s Phil Graham.”
“Baby, you know I don’t know hockey like that.”
He chuckled, “I know, I know. He’s like if Roger Staubach had a son at a Big10.”
His mother’s brown eyes widened. “My lord.”
Cheeks lifting, he chuckled, “Yeah, pretty big deal.”
“But he’s a nice boy, right? Don’t matter one bit if he’s some Staubach superstar, if he ain’t nice then all that talents gone to waste.”
“Garrett’s actually pretty cool, gave me a whole role of his grip tape when I forgot mine at the dorm.”
His mother beamed. “Oh, that’s a sweet boy right there. You gotta make him something to say thank you.”
He snickered with an eye roll, “Yeah, I know, mama. Gonna give it a couple months before I show up to practice with a whole damn chess pie. Rather not get my ass handed to me the first month—ow!”
She’d used a menu to swat his head. “Watch your language, John Tucker. Better not come back in December sounding like some Yankee.”
“Yankees are New York, mama.”
“Don’t you dare correct your mother when I’m speaking.”
He grumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Jesus H. Christ,” she cursed, fanning herself with the menu. “I’m sweatin’ like a sinner in church. Thought it was supposed to be cold or somethin’ up north?”
“Apparently it’s humid in the summer and below zero in the winter.”
His mother shook her head as she took another gulp of black tea. “And this tea ain’t even sweet. Had to add about a handful of sugar packets and now it’s all crunchy.”
The boy smiled at his mother, savoring the little bits of bickering and complaining he’d get for the next few months.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make my own sweet tea. Nothin’ could take the south outta me, Mama.”
She beamed, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “My sweet boy. By God am I gonna miss you.” Then she exhaled, shaking her head. “But you’re a grown man now and it’s about time you spread your wings.”
Soon as she cleared her throat, he knew to brace for impact.
“Speaking of, we gotta talk about being’ responsible, with everything.”
He groaned, “Mama—”
“Oh don’t Mama me. I’m being serious, JT. Don’t go gettin’ some girl pregnant—”
Tucker choked on his coke. “Jesus—”
“Hey,” she pressed, poking his arm. “You listen here, alright? You train hard, you study well, and you—”
“Be sweet as a peach,” he answered dryly like reciting a psalm. “I know, Mama. Promise, I know.”
“But have fun,” she exhaled, reaching out to quickly smooth over his curls. Her voice caught, already choked up. “And be a good man, aren’t many left in this world so you might have to pull a little extra weight, but somebody’s gotta do it.”
With a small, soft smile, John reached across the table and squeezed his mother’s hand. “How could I not with a mother like you?”
A few tables over, your father clapped in finality after signing the cheque. “Well girls,” he sang, “about time we head back and hit the road.”
“Oh wait!” Your mom chimed in. “Why don’t we stop by Stop & Shop for some groceries. I know you girls only have a mini fridge, but you’re gonna need some snacks for your little movie night.”
“You’re too kind, Mrs—”
“Oh I insist!” She pressed back with a broad smile. “You deserve it after all that work.”
“Strong effort, by the way, ladies,” your father intoned, slapping their backs like he was a high school football coach. “Who needs sons when you’ve got an army of daughters, huh?” He barked out a bellowing laugh, cracking himself up silly.
“Y’know, I tell my father that all the time,” Allie sang, walking side by side with your father out of the front door. “But I think my credit card statements probably don’t help my cause.”
Back at the corner booth, Mrs. Tucker’s smile ticked higher as her eyes followed a group walking by their booth, the bell chiming as the door slammed shut behind them.
“Certainly some pretty girls here,” she hummed.
“Mama—”
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”
Later that night, after a teary goodbye to your parents, you three sat down in front of the old TV Allie’s dad had set up in the dorm. Like a scene straight out of 2000s rom-com, Allie took turns applying her Korean face mask to each of you as Hannah booted up the movie.
“Oh I almost forgot!” You spun around on the bean bag, digging through the mini-fridge that was barely an arm’s reach away in your cramped dorm. “My mom made us chocolate chip cookies.”
Lying straight through your teeth, of course. Your mom had brought up the idea of you making a batch as a peace offering—or as a little something to smooth over the awkwardness you were expecting. But you were still hesitant to admit you’d made them.
Hannah’s eyes bugged out as soon as she took a bite. “Ohmygod,” she mumbled. “These are s’freaking good.”
You giggled. “They’re made with brown butter so they’ve got this kinda nuttier undertone to them, sorta like caramel.”
“Loveee,” Allie sang, throwing her head back dramatically as she groaned. “God I wish I could bake, but like, it’s just so much work.”
You snorted, popping a potato chip in your mouth. “Kinda find it relaxing honestly. Pop on a podcast or an audiobook and just lock in.”
Allie shook her head, sighing, “Alas, my attention span could not survive.”
“Ohmygod,” Hannah squealed slapping her hands on the bean bag as she beamed at the screen. “Hand flex! It’s coming up—ohmygod!”
Soon as he appeared, Mr. Darcy assisting Elizabeth into the carriage with his face in such resigned agony, you all swooned.
Allie groaned through a mouthful of chips, face mask slipping over her eyebrows. “Why can’t men actually be like that? Like, just, so distraught over a simple touch of your skin.”
“Yearning,” you sighed gravely, nodding with Hannah. “A dead art, like chivalry.”
“Yes!” Allie moaned. “Yearning! I want a man who yearns for me like the mere thought of a life without me is positively torturous.” You all giggled at her terrible posh British accent tacked on at the end.
She shoved another cookie in her mouth with a frown. Grumbling as chocolate smeared across her cheek, “Instead we live in the era of you up texts and snapchat nudes.”
“Hey, we gotta be thankful for some things,” you joked, lounging back on the bean bag with a chuckle. “Rather have the right to vote and the freedom to show my ankles in public than a man with overgrown sideburns professing his undying love.”
Allie threw her hands up, bowing her head like she was praising God in the middle of baptist church. “Amen to that sister—Fuck men.”
Hannah cackled, lifting her Diet Coke can like she was cheersing a mug of mead. “Here, here!”
In the end, maybe it was a coin toss. Your luck for the next year—possibly the next four or even the rest of your life—coming down to one housing officer’s ability to select roommates only off a ten question personality quiz.
Maybe it was a coin toss, but at least you were brave enough to flip it. Whether it disappointed you or not, you’d been brave enough to let life happen to you. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be brave enough approach the rest of college like that.
This Monday was your FDOC. Your very first day, your very first lecture. The start of your next stage of life. So maybe it was time to be brave and not curl in on yourself the second you walked into that classroom. Maybe you’d say hi to someone in your first class, offer the person sitting next to a piece of gum, even ask them where they were from or something simple like that. Ease in to it—if only you could try.
*Ding
Both roommates still swooning over the movie, you flipped your phone up on the bean bag, instinctively grinning at the family group chat.
Mom: how’s it going?
Dad: they go crazy yet? was really looking forward to some drama
Your fingers tip tapped against the screen.
Me: nope, sorry to report dad, they’re still really nice
Dad:😒
Me: love you both, gotta get back to the movie <3
Mom: love you! Call me after your class tomorrow, wanna hear a full report!!
Oh boy, did she.
The next day, you ended up leaving that lecture hall with steam puffing out your ears and a stick planted firmly up your ass again. As your dad ended up joking, though, everyone needs a campus enemy, you just got a head start.
Meanwhile, John Tucker walked out of class wanting to brain himself against his steering wheel. After an early morning practice, and some early morning hazing from the senior starting line, he’d stumbled into his first ever hospitality class embarrassingly late.
And without a damn pencil. Like an idiot.
Then, like an angel dropped right in the seat next to him, this cute girl had offered him one of her own. No doubt trying to save him from the extra embarrassment—and then he froze.
And he didn’t even get her name.
Cause he was an idiot.
Soon as he keyed into his dorm, John slumped face first on his twin bed, groaning into the sheets.
His roommate snickered, “You good, Tucker?” Zipping open his practice bag to chuck his grimy practice socks in the already overflowing laundry bin. “Godrick’s making us run suicides at the rink in an hour, so I wouldn’t get too comfy.”
Still with no reply, he threw a sweaty knee pad at Tucker’s head.
“Dude!” Tucker scrambled off the bed like shaking off a bug. “What the fuck, Dean?!”
The blonde cackled, blue eyes glimmering with mischievous glee. “Tuck, man, you were brain dead over there.”
Tucker groaned and angrily pushed his curls out of his face. “I was resting my eyes, asshole.”
“No you weren’t. If I hadn't saved you, Godrick would’ve come banging down our door and pulled you out by underwear.”
Tucker shivered. “Okay, yeah, maybe he would. Fuckin’ asshole.”
Dean smirked victoriously. “He’s an asshole, man, but he’s also captain—and we’re newbies, barely bottom of the barrel. So for right now, you’ve gotta tough it out, man. Be lucky we’re not little Graham, that kids getting fucking reamed by Godrick.”
Tucker grumbled in agreement, peeling his shirt over his head to start changing for another round of hazing.
Like a nosy little rat, Dean’s eyes narrowed, watching as Tucker’s shoulders pulled straight to his ears. “Something happen in class? I know day one in cutesy little cooking class must be hella stressful, man.”
Tucker chucked his dirty shirt at Dean, but the blonde easily dodged it with a giggle.
“Seriously, man. What’s up?”
“You don’t even wanna know.”
“Actually I like really, really do.” He hopped back on his bed, clapping in finality. “All ears, Tuck Tuck.”
He rolled his eyes as the stupidly kiddish nickname, but still turned around. Heaving a sigh that shook his breath before he said, “So there was this girl....”
Pairings: Off Campus boys (Tucker, Dean, Logan and Garrett) x mom!reader
Summary: Times your kid has left you and your partner stunned at their words.
Word count: 260-380 words each.
⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ I wrote this quickly on my phone so they are short, but a little treat while I'm busy and you're waiting for college baby!
Off Campus Masterlist
Logan Grows a mustache, your son gives him a nickname.
Logan started growing his facial hair for the Bruins’ playoff run and you were convinced he’s finally shave once they were over but weeks after the team got eliminated he still insists on keeping the beard and mustache.
Truth is, he’s over it by now but he was so insistent on growing and keeping it even after you begged him to shave it off that now he feels obligated to keep it.
Tonight, your son’s been misbehaving for a while and Logan’s had enough after he threw a tantrum and launched his legos across the room.
“Okay, that’s it” He gets up from the couch and starts picking the legos up and throwing them into their box “No more legos for you, actually, no more toys for you, we’re giving these to kids who actually want to play nicely with them”
Logan is mid packing the scattered toys around the room in the box on his arms when your son crosses his arms and with as much seriousness as a 5 year old can conjure and says “Calm down Mr.Mustache”
Your husband freezes, your son stares blankly and you almost choke while trying your best not to laugh.
Later, after you’ve put your son to bed and finished your nighttime routine you wait for Logan to shower so you can both go to sleep together.
“Hey, I was thinking this weekend we could…” Your voice trails off as he comes out of the bathroom with a freshly shaved face “Oh that nickname actually hit you hard huh?”
“How did he ever come up with that? And not even just the nickname, the tone he said it with, like he wanted to be mean about it”
You laugh “Babe he’s five”
He groans “Imagine what he’ll come up with when he’s a teenager”
“Oh I don’t even want to think about it”
Garrett has a fight with your picky eater.
Your toddler has always been good with food, ever since you started her on solids you and Garrett made it your mission to have hear try everything she could so she wouldn’t be a picky eater like you were. But the terrible threes were kicking your asses and your daughter had suddenly decided vegetables were her biggest enemy.
“Come on darling” Garrett tried feeding her some more carrots “You gotta eat these so you’ll grow tall and strong like daddy”
“Mmm” She acted like she was considering it “Nope”
This fight had been going on for about 15 minutes now and all of your food was growing cold but Garrett had declared no one was eating until your daughter ate a spoonful of carrots.
“Gar, chicken’s getting cold” You told him.
“We can reheat it” Garret said “Come on baby just a spoonful”
“No daddy!” Your daughter argued pushing his hand away and making a face at him.
Garret sighed and turned to you “I used to captain over 20 college guys and be respected, they listened to what I said”
You chuckled and got up taking the plates to reheat your dinner.
“You know, your face is gonna get stuck like that if you don’t stop” Garrett’s words made her deepen her expression “You’re gonna have a real ugly face for the rest of your life”
“Garrett!” You gasped placing the plates back on the table.
“At least i’m not arguing with a 3 year old” Your daughter stuck her tongue out to him shocking both of you. You could see Garrett’s internal fight not to laugh at her words because he didn’t want to encourage her to talk back, something you and him had talked about after she’s said something smart to her teacher at the 3K kindergarten program she attended three times a week.
“Okay” He choked his laugh down and let out the first excuse he could think of “I’m gonna go check on my phone”
After Garrett left the room your daughter looked at you and rolled her eyes “Welp, the problem’s gone” And started eating her chicken.
You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you’d just have to talk to her about her comebacks and smart remarks another day, for now you just couldn’t help bursting out laughing.
Dean takes your daughter grocery shopping and they have a little accident in the cereal aisle.
You’ve been calling your daughter Girly Pop ever since she was born, it was a silly nickname that had stuck up until now four years later.
As soon as she started talking she’d started calling you it back, you were all used to it in your household, most of the times your baby girl would call you mama or mom or mommy but every now and then the name ‘Girly Pop’ slipped out.
She never calls Dean that though, the nickname is reserved between the two of you. Today Dean’s taken her grocery shopping for the house,it’s the middle of summer and the store is packed so instead of risking losing her, Dean seats her on the cart and the two go on with their shopping.
“Okay, cereal” He mutters while browsing the aisle, your daughter sings a tune she made up while swinging her legs “Let’s get mama’s favorite yeah?”
Your favorite cereal sits at the top of the shelves and although Dean is tall, he still needs to reach up a little to get it and when he does he’s at just the right level for one of your daughter’s legs to swing up perfectly to kick him hard on his balls.
He grunts loudly as he doubles over in pain, his breaths coming out in wheezes, the people in the aisle stare in shock and your daughter? Well she can only look at him with those eyes she got from him filled with concern and lets out “I’m sorry Girly Pop”
“You’re okay babygirl” Dean tells her once the pain has gone down.
When they get home and he tells you about it all you burst out laughing “She called you Girly Pop”
“She called me Girly Pop” He nods with an amused smile “This old lady couldn’t believe it and there was some teen girls who almost cried laughing”
“I can’t believe that happened” You wipe your tears away.
“She has a strong kick” He jokes “Might have to get checked if we ever want to give her a sibling”
Tucker just wanted to catch up with your son but it was too early for the boy.
It’s one of those days when your husband goes over to the bar early in the morning to check on what needs doing so you’re in the dining room table doing some work while your son watches TV as you wait for Tucker to come home with breakfast.
You can hear the faint conversations of cartoon characters playing in the background when Tuck walks in and places the brown paper bags full of food on the table leaning down to give you a kiss.
“Hey, how was it?” You ask.
“Good, Danny’s got things handled” He replies and gestures at your son “He didn’t even look at me when I walked in”
“He’s really into that show” You chuckle “I’ll plate this up for us”
“Nah, finish what you’re doing and then we can eat” He kisses your forehead and goes to sit by your son “Hey bud”
“Hi” The boy doesn’t even look at him.
“What are you watching?”
“Paw Patrol”
“Hmm” Tucker leans down “They fighting crime?”
“Yep”
You chuckle, your son is not a morning person and he’s only been awake for an hour so he’s still sleepy and it’s very evident in his short responses.
“What did you do today bud?”
Your son sighed, turned to his dad and grabbed one of his hands muttering “Quiet time now daddy” while patting it.
Tucker sits there stunned and you laugh, when he turns to you, you signal a shushing motion by putting your pointer finger up to your mouth while still chuckling, Tucker widens his eyes and mouths a “Can you believe him?”
summary: dick grayson was the perfect man for going undercover. handsome, smooth talker and charismatic enough that he could get information out of anyone. on a mission to spy on tony stark, dick finds a bump in the road, you, his asset's daughter and high school sweetheart. oh, how much you've changed since he last saw you.
cw: mentions of espionage, alcohol, angst, fluff, second chance trope, a man who yearns is a man who earns, mentions of breakups, allusions to virginity loss?, hurt/comfort.
It was surprising how many billionaire, playboy philanthropists who were vigilantes existed in the world. Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne, for example. But one stood out of all of them.
Tony Stark.
The only billionaire who publicly showed his vigilante persona with no shame. And he got even more praise from it.
Vigilante or not, he was still a threat that Bruce monitored. To make sure he wasn’t abusing his tech.
Which led Dick Grayson to here, the famous Stark tower located in the heart of Manhattan.
Usually, it was Tim that did this type of field work, due to his position in Wayne Tech.
It made sense for such a tech savvy dude to be here, hell, Barbara was twice as qualified to be around people at this gala.
But Tim was busy, and Babs was currently the cricket in his ear telling him what to do.
Dick wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here, given his previous history with the Stark family.
He just prayed you were abroad during this whole gala.
.
.
.
.
You truly were your father’s daughter.
You were the ‘result’ of a previous affair of Tony Stark, in which he gained custody of you by the time you were six years old.
By the age you were eighteen, you already started the biomedical engineering program at MIT, followed shortly by a small stint in Oxford before coming back to the States as top in your father’s company, leading a research team in technological advancements for enhanced individuals.
Dick couldn’t help but admit you had quite the resume since you last saw him. And that’s without mentioning any other side quests you entertained yourself with.
You had clearly changed from being the daddy’s girl he dated to a cunning woman.
Currently, you sat in front of Pepper and Tony, carefully applying lipstick.
“Oh, that's not what you want.” Pepper sighed, eyes on her phone.
“What’s up?” Your dad asked, looking past her shoulder.
She gave a tight lipped smile. “We have one of Bruce Wayne’s boys at the gala.”
Tony snorted, fixing his watch. “Perfect, another meddling businessman in my own house.”
You frowned, lips pursed as you put the lipstick back in your Channel purse. “Which one is it? He’s got like a bunch.”
Pepper hummed with a nod. “Richard Grayson. You know him?”
Your heart sped up at the name, your lips pulling up in a mischievous smile. Oh, the night was gonna be a fun one for sure.
“I’ll handle him, Pepper. Don’t worry.”
.
.
.
Dick was waiting outside by the time the limousine pulled up.
He froze when he saw the first person to exit the car was none other than you.
You, clad in a deep red dress, a beautiful diamond necklace resting on your neck, a yellow diamond dangling in the middle of the chain. Just stunning.
Dick gulped, the flute of champagne slipping from his fingers from all the perspiration that suddenly made his hands clammy.
Luckily, the broken glass was hidden by all the flashes of camera and questions from the paparazzi.
“Oh fuck.” Dick cursed, hauling ass to the door of Stark tower, heading directly to the bar.
“You okay, Dick?” Barbara’s voice chirped from his ear piece.
He nodded, as if Babs could see him before sighing. “Yeah. I just…My ex is here.”
His face fell when he heard Babs chuckle over the line. “You’re telling me you dated Stark’s daughter? As in one of the snobiest women in New York.”
Dick pursed his lips, shooting a look in your direction. “She’s not…She’s not like that. That’s just a front she puts on for the cameras. She’s not actually a bimbo. She’s actually very sweet.” He mumbled, a soft smile pulling at his lips.
“So why did you break up?”
It was dumb, truly. He remembered it like it was yesterday.
The two of you, freshly seventeen, hanging out in your villa in the Hamptons. The two of you were cuddled up on one of the lounge chairs, basking in the sun after a quite pleasant day in your bed.
You had broken the news to him that you got into MIT, and that you would be moving there for the next few years.
You had invited him to live with you for those few years. And just like that the gravity of the situation had fallen on him.
You two had been secretly dating since you were fifteen, and you thought that it was a good time to ask him to take the next big step.
He firmly turned down the offer, and when you kindly told him that it was okay and that you’d still visit him, he snapped. He broke up with you, admitting to his nightly activities and calling you selfish for trying to pull him away from his duties.
Truth be told, it was a dick move (no pun intended). He was simply put off by your acceptance and willingness to compromise, something that he was never used to ever since Bruce took him in.
“Uhm, I was still Robin. And I wanted to protect her.” He lied straight through his teeth.
“Well, I guess you’ll take one for the team.”
Dick frowned, standing straighter. “What…What do you mean?”
“This is an intelligence mission, Dick, charm her into giving you information. But don’t break code.”
“What constitutes breaking code?”
Babs smiled, eyes on the security cameras. “Whatever you do, don’t sleep with her.”
Right.
Dick Grayson was a man filled with self control. He’s on a mission.
Dick Grayson was not going to sleep with you.
“Oh my god, Dickie, what the hell are you doing here?” Dick’s heart practically fell to his stomach at your soft tone.
You were there, right beside him and flashing him a charming smile.
It was off putting, frankly. He expected something worse, like a slap in the face, or a knee in the balls.
He said your name, a polite smile on his lips as his eyes drifted downwards.
Focus.
“That’s no way to greet an old friend.” You said teasingly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
He cleared his throat, pulling away from you with blushing cheeks.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
“Uhm, how…how have you been?”
You lit up at the question. “Oh, great. I’ve been recently working on-” You cut yourself off, ordering a drink.
He nodded mindlessly, trying to get more info on your projects.
You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what? It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about work.”
Dick smiled, internally freaking out and trying to come up with a way to get something out of you. “Why’s that?”
You pouted, resting a hand on his, your fingers caressing his knuckles. “I’ve just…I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time for anything. I haven’t tanned, worked out. Heck, I had to decline a Victoria Secret collab for their new line of winter lingerie.” You whined, looking up at him.
Dick’s throat went dry, nodding mindlessly. “That…That sounds amaz- I mean, I’m sorry for your troubles.” He mumbled, your words painting a pretty…vivid image.
You nodded, matching his pace. “And…well, I’ve been working on something pretty important, too.”
“What?”
“Contacts that can detect any metal or wiring on a person.” You said, looking up at him with a smirk.
Dick froze at your words, blinking before pulling away. Shit, so you already knew what he was trying to do.
“Look, I’m sorry-”
“Did you really think I’m that dumb?” You huffed, sitting up. “I’m an MIT and Oxford graduate, Dick, with honors. I have my own division of Stark enterprises. I own over ten charities helping millions around the world. And you think that a bit of sweet talk will make me blab?”
Dick stayed quiet, watching your furious expression. God, you were just as beautiful as the day he left you.
Abruptly, he took his earpiece off, dipping it in his glass of whiskey. He did the same with the wire taped inside his suit jacket, ripping it off and tossing it in a passing tray of trash.
You frowned at his display of honesty, not sure where he was going with this.
“There. Now we can talk.”
You pursed your lips, looking away. “There’s nothing to talk about, Dick.”
He shook his eyes, blue eyes staring deep into you. “I got sent here to get information on your dad’s tech. To make sure he was using it for good.” He said earnestly.
You raised an eyebrow, heart speeding up a bit. “You didn’t come here to say sorry too?”
“Now I am.” He declared, taking your hands in his.
You froze, heart stuttering at his touch. A decade later, and Dick still had that boyish charm that made fifteen year old you fall head over heels with him.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I…I ever made you feel less.” He started softly, clearing his throat. “It wasn’t right of me to do that. We were just…dumb and in love. And I ruined it because I thought I wasn’t worthy of you. Because I thought that…everything was moving too quickly. I should’ve communicated that.”
Your face remained neutral, nodding at his words as he paused for a deep breath.
“But…I learned that now. And I understand if you reject me, throw a drink at me, hell i’ll let you get three shots in.” He said with a fragile chuckle.
“I’ll hold you to that offer.” You said softly, eyes tearing up as you took in a deep breath.
He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re an amazing woman, Miss Stark, and only a dickhead like me would fumble such a beautiful and kind girl.”
You blushed at that, pursing your lips to avoid them from trembling.
“Nothing will ever make up for what I did, but…maybe a dance will lighten the pain?” Dick proposed.
He looked down at you, eyes glinting in hope and a slight bit of desperation.
You stayed quiet before sniffling, letting out a chuckle. “One dance.” You said, holding up a finger.
“Yes ma’am.” Dick nodded, gently leading you to the dance floor.
.
.
.
You, in fact, did not share just one dance.
More like five dances, a hundred stories, a whole bottle of white wine and currently the same chair.
You giggled drunkenly, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m starving, pretty boy.” You slurred softly, your calf in Dick’s hand as he gently massaged your aching foot with the other.
“No worries, Miss Stark, I’m sure we can find some leftover caviar.” Dick teased in a posh accent.
You smacked his chest, letting out a soft snort. “I’m thinking cheese burgers.”
He hummed, pretty blue eyes taking in your lax state. “You read my mind, baby.”
You smiled, sitting up as you reached for your phone. “I’ll tell Happy to start the car.”
And like that, you two started walking. He held your heels in his hand, careful not to bang them up too badly.
Just as you were about to leave, you heard a call of your name. You turned, smiling as you saw Tony approach.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He said with a teasing smile. You gave him a mock pout.
“We’re getting burgers, Tony.”
“Who’s driving?”
“Happy.”
Tony hummed, eyeing Dick who stood beside you.
You let out a small sound of surprise. “Daddy, you remember Dick, right?”
Tony raised an eyebrow, glaring daggers into Dick. The younger man gulped, holding out a hand to shake.
“The pool boy?”
You let out a huff at his words, rolling your eyes. “My ex. Oh, Happy’s here.” You said, scurrying away to get in the car with surprising coordination.
You were probably trying to get away from the awkwardness of the situation.
Dick gulped. “Sir.”
Tony sighed, gripping his hand harshly. “One scratch on her and I’ll personally demonstrate my fire power on you, boy.”
Dick nodded quickly, shaking his hand. “Yes, of course sir.”
Tony pulled away, nodding before dipping a hand into his suit pocket, slapping some cash into Dick’s hand.
“Get mine with extra pickles. Oh, and one of those chicken burgers for Pepper, she hates beef.” Tony ordered before walking away.
Dick sighed, his nerves calming down as he stared at the bills in his hand.
“Oh, and maybe come with us when we do our trip to the Hamptons, Happy needs a break from carrying my babygirl’s bags.”
Wow, that was the closest he’s ever gotten to trust from Tony Stark.
Jake Seresin who walks into every conversation fully intending to get under your skin and somehow always ends up leaving wondering how you managed to turn it back on him.
Jake Seresin who calls you "Counselor" with the most infuriating grin you've ever seen.
Jake Seresin who discovers that the quickest way to get your attention is to challenge one of your arguments.
Jake Seresin who has absolutely no legal training but still insists on arguing with you because he likes watching you get fired up.
Jake Seresin who pretends not to notice when he's smiling halfway through one of your debates.
Jake Seresin who somehow always finds an excuse to wander into Legal.
Jake Seresin who leans against your office doorway like he owns the place, despite being repeatedly told to stop.
Jake Seresin who insists he just "happened to be passing by."
Jake Seresin who has never once been "passing by."
Jake Seresin who deliberately invades your personal space just enough to see whether you'll back away.
Jake Seresin who is caught completely off guard the first time you step closer instead.
Jake Seresin who forgets what he was about to say because you're suddenly standing far closer than he planned.
Jake Seresin who has discovered that your unimpressed look is somehow more addictive than flirting with people who actually fall for his charm.
Jake Seresin who acts like every tiny smile he earns is a personal victory.
Jake Seresin who absolutely lives for verbal sparring.
Jake Seresin who has never found anyone who can keep up with him until you.
Jake Seresin who accidentally flirts in the middle of an argument and doesn't even realize he's done it.
Jake Seresin who catches himself staring for just a second too long.
Jake Seresin who loves that you're impossible to intimidate.
Jake Seresin who learns very quickly that trying to outsmart a military lawyer is a dangerous game.
Jake Seresin who enjoys it anyway.
Jake Seresin who leans over your shoulder to look at a document and suddenly becomes acutely aware of how close the two of you are.
Jake Seresin who holds eye contact just a fraction longer than necessary before one of you clears your throat.
Jake Seresin who acts insufferably smug whenever he catches you looking at him first.
Jake Seresin who catches you glancing at his forearms exactly once.
Jake Seresin who proceeds to roll his sleeves up at every possible opportunity.
Jake Seresin who notices the way your voice gets quieter when you're genuinely focused.
Jake Seresin who deliberately lowers his own voice during those moments, forcing you to lean in just a little closer to hear him.
Jake Seresin who has to fight the urge to grin every time it works.
Jake Seresin who loves how dangerous it feels standing just a little too close to you while neither of you acknowledges it.
Jake Seresin who eventually realizes he doesn't flirt with you because he expects to win.
Jake Seresin who flirts with you because you're the only person who's ever made him work for it, and he's never wanted anything more.
★・・・・・・★
a/n: jake is so ennemise to loves core, sorry but i dont make the rules imagine hate sex that isn't really hate sex, then you guys become FWB and your arguments are just like foreplay and then maybe he find out that your partner, who he always thought was awful to you, has crossed a line in someway that you end up physically or emotionally hurt (yeah cheating ik is bad but i feel it works plot wise -- kina like cheating but in a waitress kinda way) and then from that moment you see his tender side then the dynamic shifts and you guys don't fuck anymore you just care for each other and then its like an emotional slow burn, then you guys finally 'make love' then a love confession follows while in his arms.... I have too many ideas, i may write that eventually
𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕: [ Jake should've realized how good he had it with you before you left ] (dw this story will end happily) inspo by like three country songs & @zablife 's fic.
𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: Jake Seresin x female reader, italics are actions and thoughts
𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2,989
[ 𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 ]
-𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒕-
He's so damn glad that he got into Top Gun, but he has been so spacey, and the only time you ever get him to pay attention to you is when he wants something. If this relationship had been just casual it probably wouldn't have been an issue but that's not what this is this is supposed to be a full-blown complete relationship, he has completely ditched you on dates last minute because he's been focusing on work, there's been several nights he's come over in the middle of the night and left by the morning before you'd even woke up.
You told him over and over that this isn't a life and it's like dating a ghost, but he didn't listen. He thought it would be fine, just like every other time that he's done this. You've been breaking, and he just hasn't seen it because he doesn't want to.
So just like any other night, he doesn't text or anything; he just comes over to your apartment. Jake tries his key, and it doesn't work; his brows are fraught with confusion, and he goes to call your phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. He goes to his text messages to text you and see what the hell is going on, and he sees a text he hadn't even noticed
My Guardian Angel 😇🙏🏻: "Jake, I love you, and it's killing me to do this, but I can't keep going on like this. You mean so much to me, but it's so clear that I'm not your priority... Don't come look for me because I don't want to be found. I have tears in my eyes as I type this. I don't want to do this, but I think we need some time apart."
His heart sinks, and he knows now that you're not at your apartment. Jake knows he's fucked up; when he tries to respond with a text, it won't go through. Did you block him? Is he out to lose the best thing that he's ever had because he's neglected her for so long? Jake gets into his truck, dialing Phoenix, but she doesn't pick up, instead shooting him a text.
Phoenix 🐦🔥: "Go fuck yourself, Bagman."
Hangman 🤡 : "Please tell me where she is, Nat."
Phoenix 🐦🔥 : "Even if I knew where she is, which I don't, I wouldn't fucking tell you. You know you're such a selfish asshole. Even though I am working just as hard as you are, I find time for her and everyone else I find important. Is this job even worth it if you have no one to go home to?"
Jake's heart sank into his ass because she's right; who would he go home to if not you? All this hard work and for what, the possibility that he might fly this single mission? The mission is always important, but if something fails or he can't fly anymore...what's left? He blinks a few times as his vision starts to blur, starting the truck up to look anywhere and everywhere he can. Jake calls your mom, voicemail. He tries to call Bradley and only gets a middle finger text message back.
Where could you be? Your mom's... he drives there rather quickly, speeding way past the speed limit; the trees blur as he shoots past them down the road. Jake doesn't notice it yet, but his hands are shaking, and he's so damn scared that you won't want to see him again, that it's all over because he decided to neglect you on something you had inspired him to do. His head fills with the memory of how it had happened.
You had sat on his lap with the computer in your hand, "Baby, I know you can do it. I don't understand why you just won't apply."
"I mean, that's a big deal, and I don't know that I can do it." He rubs your thighs and buries his face in your hair; you've always been so supportive of him even when he thinks he can't do it. The only person he ever would think to take his guard down around.
"If you don't apply, then I'm going to do it for you. I mean it scares the shit out of me thinking of you out there, but I know you want this and I believe in you. I know you'll always come home; no one's a better pilot as you always tell me." You gently set the laptop on the couch beside you both and rub your nose against his, pressing your forehead against his as well.
"If you really think I can do it, I'll sign up, Darlin." Jake grabbed the laptop and started to fill out his application to go ahead and try to be in the Top Gun program.
The memory fades as he pulls up to a stoplight, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder and harder. Everything he's done, he's done for you... At least that's what he's told himself, but in striving to be the best. He's put you on the back burner, the one person that would bend over backwards for him, and he's treated her like complete garbage. Another memory comes forward.
"Babe, what the hell? You said we were going out tonight. You promised. This is like the third time this has happened." You're all dressed up, and you look amazing, and it's clearly taking you quite a while. Several times you asked him if he was getting ready, and he said yes because he's not paying attention.
"Mav says-"
"Oh, here we go. Mav says...Baby, I love you, but Mav's not fuckin here right now! This is supposed to be me and you, you and me, not you and him! I'm tired of being a fucking convenience for you to just want whatever is convenient, or you just want sex! You go out with the guys all the time, but you never fucking make time for me!" Tears have filled your eyes, and you've thrown up your hands with annoyance, your lip trembling as your heart shatters, but he let his ego fuel him and told himself he wasn't the problem. He heard the door slam, but he didn't get up. The memory fades, and Jake picks up the phone and texts Bob.
Hangman: "Please, for the love of God, tell me you know where she is."
Baby On Board ⚠️: "I do."
Hangman: "Tell me where she is."
Baby On Board ⚠️: "She told me not to."
Hangman: "Is she at least okay?"
Baby On Board ⚠️: "She's alright. Just give her some time, Jake. She's pretty broken up."
Hangman: "I'm not going to push her... I just wanted to know I love her and I hope it's not too late."
Baby On Board ⚠️: "Listen man, I'm not even supposed to talk to you about her. I mean, you've kind of been ditching her a lot. For us...For the job... I'm not going to go against her wishes, especially right now."
Another memory flashed in his mind. "Where are you going?" He had seen you all dressed up, looking like a goddess personified. Jake didn't know this til now, but you were doing this on purpose to try to get his attention. You were trying to make him jealous just so he would pay attention to you, but he didn't.
"Oh, I'm just going out to the bar." You had smiled that same sort of smile you gave him when you had initially seen him all those years ago, flirty. The kind of smile that had made him and every man in the vicinity weak in the knees. He didn't even fully notice it, and he just waved you on your way. Unbeknownst to him, you didn't go out that night; you went over to Phoenix's place for some comfort because he had yet again refused to notice you as he studied on his laptop with a beer in his hand.
Hangman: "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Look, man, I'm really sorry for getting you involved. I guess I'll just go home and give her some space. And if she's truly done with me, just let her know it's not her fault. If I had done more, maybe she wouldn't be gone."
~ A Few Weeks Later ~
You sat there with black streaks of mascara running down your cheeks, spaced out as you stayed in your car wondering how you were supposed to get through this funeral, burdened with guilt. Was it your fault he crashed? Is it your fault he's not here anymore? Every time before a test flight or mission, you'd always wish him luck, and being how you've been, you didn't tell him that.
Going through the motions, your feet just move on their own, and somehow you're now sitting down in front of a large coffin...with his photo beside it. You've bitten your fingernails down to the point they're bleeding, but you need something to distract you from this pain...the entire funeral was a complete blur. They're the tightness in your throat, and it feels like you can't breathe. You're freezing even if his jacket rests around your shoulders.
Is it your fault that this happened? Was he distracted because you left without saying goodbye? Your whole body is shaking, and your face is so puffy. Tears roll down your cheeks, down your neck to the extra set of dog tags that gave you...The tears darkened the deep voided color you're wearing. This isn't how this was supposed to happen... The two of you were supposed to get married and get a house together... fight over stupid shit like whoever forgot to take the laundry out of the washer, fight over whose side of the bed was whose, even though you knew he wasn't going to let you sleep next to the door... You were supposed to have all those small, trivial moments that every couple hates and takes for granted.
Were you so wrapped up in your own self and your own problems that you just didn't even remotely take the time to see him and his perspective until it was too late? A sudden gunshot has you jumping out of your seat...Every single shot in the volley after making the hole in your chest even larger and your throat even tighter... You can't even sob at this point because you can't breathe. His sisters and his mother wailing like all hope has just dried up even as his father tries to comfort them...
You look up as you hear him call your name, and then you feel sudden pain in your chest and a loud noise. Looking down, there's nothing but blood, and you realize you've been shot.
AH AH AH AH AH
The alarm blares as you wake up fully, sitting up abruptly. Your nails are digging into your palm, and you've made yourself bleed a little. Face extremely puffy, and your pillow is soaked with tears. Running your fingers through your hair, you decide to sit up more fully even with the pounding in your head... taking a few deep but shaky breaths.
You look over at your phone on the charger, several texts from Jake that you've been avoiding, but he keeps on sending them because he knows you unblocked his number.
1 Week Ago - My Devilman 🤭: Thank God you unblocked my number. You should have seen the flight today; it was fucking crazy. Of course, but because it's yours truly, I had no issue."
1 Week Ago - My Devilman 🤭: "You know it's all cause of you that I've succeeded the way I have; if you never pushed me to be something greater than what I thought I could be, and if it wasn't you that put up with my bullshit every day. I know you're mad at me, and you have a good reason to be, but I love you, and I'm not gonna stop loving you even if the feeling isn't mutual anymore."
6 Days Ago - My Devilman 🤭: "I went out with the boys tonight...I stopped myself from asking them how you are, even if I wanted nothing more than to know that you're okay. I fucked up, and I miss you so much."
5 Days Ago - My Devilman 🤭: "You know every time I close my eyes I see you... Thinking of you is the only reason I can sleep at night. I don't think I can thank everyone else enough for taking care of you, Angel."
3 Days Ago - My Devilman 🤭: "I know you're seeing my messages because I can see that you've read them. I'm just letting you know in case you want to turn that off. Maybe I'm just overthinking, but I'm hoping that it means maybe you want to try again even if it isn't right now."
1 Day Ago - My Devilman 🤭: "Happy birthday, My Angel. I'm sorry I've been such a jackass... I used to think it was part of my charm, my ego, but turns out I'm just an asshole. I hope you have a good day, and I hope you know I care about you and you're not alone."
.... ..... .... typing
You instantly picked up the phone and called him sobbing...You didn't know what to say or how to say it, so you just sat there on the phone crying. "Hey- Hey, Honey...Are you okay?" His voice sounds so remorseful, and just the tiniest sound of him has you sobbing even harder. "I know... I know, Sweetheart, I've been an asshole...Are you all right? You don't got to tell me where you're at; you just got to tell me you're okay, Baby."
You broke down sobbing even harder..."I- Is...Is this..." You choke on a sob, your throat still tight. "This..."
"Take all the time you need...Breathe." His voice is so gentle and so soothing, and it's the one thing you need at this moment besides an overwhelmingly tight bear hug, to bury your face in the warmth of him, the sound of his heartbeat, and the smell of him.
"Is this real? Are you?" You ask yet again, choking on a sob. This isn't the first time you've had an extremely realistic nightmare about him dying. It's not the first time that you've had to call him to make sure he's real and he's alive. The last time was because you couldn't get a hold of him; no one was answering their phone, so you just had to spiral for several hours, and so he told you, if you need to know, always just ask him if it's real.
"Yes, Angel...I'm real...I'm alive, Honey. Do you want me to come pick you up? I mean, I have no idea where you're at, but I'll cuss out Mav if it gets me there to you....If- If that's what you want." He's trying to joke about doing something he never does, like cuss out Mav, even as he's so desperately worried for you.
"I'm at Bradley's..." You sniffle and hold the phone tighter. He's not even remotely mad at his colleagues; Jake's glad they gave you a place to stay. All this bullshit being his fault, he's not surprised every single one of them was pissed off at him even if they understood a little, and he's glad they are because this situation isn't even remotely your fault. You tried so many times to get him to pay attention, to see how badly you were struggling, and he wishes he would have realized a lot sooner... it would have saved you both a lot of pain.
"Don't worry, I'll be there before you know it." He didn't say anything else, but he didn't hang up on you either...You hear him ask Maverick if he can leave; of course, he knows about the, and he feels for him because he knows he's done the same type of shit, so he lets him go... You hear him race to his truck, the door to the vehicle opening and closing before he turns it on...the keys jingling...driving to you...hearing the sound of the tires on the road...
You try your best to calm yourself and work through breathing... even as your hands shake and you have to tighten your grip on the phone just so you won't drop it. You're freezing, and it's not even cold in here, but before you know it, you hear a knock on your door as the phone call ends.
"Pizza Delivery Service." You hear Jake's voice; he's joking to try to make the very heavy moment lessen in tension. The corner of your mouth turns up just a little before you bolt to the door, throwing it open and hugging him as tightly as you can.
"I don't actually have pizza; that was a lie." He again jokes as he wraps his arms around you tightly and buries his face in your hair; He hasn't realized it until now, but he's shaking too. Jake's so goddamn sorry for everything that's happened...He picks you up around the waist, letting you wrap your legs around him...your body trembling as you let out silent tears and sobs. He sits down on Bradley's couch, pulling you into his chest as he rubs your back.
"Darlin, I ain't ever leaving you again. I'm never letting you feel like that again... I'm so goddamn sorry for making you feel like you were anything other than a priority. You're the best part of me...and if you let me, I'll be the rest of my life trying to prove to you how sorry I am, Angel." He kisses your forehead, silent tears falling down his own face. Jake's honest; he almost lost the one true thing that he's fully cared about, and he wouldn't let almost become fully realized as actuality.
Song Inspo: She Wouldn't Be Gone - Blake Shelton, Just A Dream - Carrie Underwood, The Man I Want To Be - Chris Young
summary: joanna walks in on you and beau backstage, discovering that her brother has been secretly dating her best friend for months
secret relationship
warnings: basically just fluff!!!! beau’s a sweetheart and don’t worry joanna comes around at the end ;)
word count: 2.4k
a/n: based on this request!! i hope you like it<3 gosh guys i truly think theater!reader is perfect for beau
beau maxwell masterlist off campus masterlist
── ᵎᵎ ✦
by the time the curtain fell, you were still somewhere between the character you’d spent the last three months becoming and the person you were supposed to be when you stepped offstage.
the applause rolled through the theater in waves. you could hear it from behind the curtain, loud enough that the floor seemed to hum beneath your shoes. your chest was still rising and falling too quickly, adrenaline refusing to disappear simply because the final scene had ended. somewhere beside you, joanna was laughing breathlessly, her hand finding yours as the cast gathered together for the final bow.
you squeezed her fingers and she squeezed back. when the curtain rose one last time, the two of you stepped forward together.
the lights were blinding, and for a second, you couldn’t see anything beyond them. then you caught the familiar shape of beau somewhere in the audience, causing you to smile before you could stop yourself.
backstage was a completely different world once the audience began leaving. the polished illusion of the theater disappeared almost immediately.
costumes were being peeled off and thrown over chairs. makeup wipes littered the counters. someone was carrying an enormous fake plant through the hallway while apologizing to everyone they nearly knocked over. voices came from every direction, overlapping as actors replayed moments from the performance and stage crew members began dismantling pieces of the set.
you loved it. you’d always loved this part almost as much as the performance itself. there was something strangely comforting about the mess.
the little rituals that happened after every show; someone always cried, someone always forgot something onstage, someone always insisted they’d completely ruined a scene that everyone else swore had been perfect.
you’d spent enough time backstage to know exactly where everything belonged.
you slipped through the crowded corridor without thinking, returning costume pieces to their racks and stopping twice to congratulate castmates before finally reaching the dressing room you shared with joanna.
you pushed the door open and stepped inside before closing it behind you. for a moment, you simply stood there, enjoying the quiet. your reflection stared back at you from beneath the bright bulbs surrounding the mirror.
your makeup was still perfect from a distance. up close, it was another story. there was a faint smudge beneath one eye, your lipstick had faded slightly, and a few strands of hair had escaped from the carefully arranged style you’d spent nearly an hour perfecting before the show.
you smiled at yourself. you looked exhausted, but happy. there was no other feeling quite like performing.
the moment before you stepped onstage, there was always that tiny voice telling you that you’d forgotten everything. your lines, your blocking, your cues, your entire reason for being there, but then the lights came up.
you picked up one of the makeup wipes from the counter and began carefully removing the first layer of makeup.
you’d barely gotten halfway through when the door opened. when you looked toward the mirror and saw beau step inside, you smiled.
he closed the door behind him, shutting out most of the noise from the hallway. there was something about the way he looked at you after performances that you never quite knew how to handle.
he’d seen you as yourself hundreds of times; in sweatpants with your hair tied up, or half-asleep over a script at two in the morning. but he’d also seen you onstage, completely transformed. and you knew he found the distinction fascinating
“you were incredible,” his voice was quiet enough that it almost disappeared beneath the muffled noise outside.
you smiled at his reflection, “you don’t have to say that.”
you continued wiping makeup from beneath your eye, pretending you were much more interested in the task than you actually were. beau stepped farther into the room and leaned against the counter beside you, “i know.”you looked at him and he met your eyes through the mirror, “that’s why i’m saying it.”
something warm moved through your chest. you’d spent the entire evening surrounded by people telling you how good the performance had been: your director had hugged you afterward, one of the older cast members had told you she’d cried during your final scene, and joanna had insisted you’d nearly made her forget she was supposed to be waiting for her own cue.
you’d loved every bit of it, but this was different. beau didn’t just tell you that you were good. he knew how much the show meant to you, because he’d listened to you complain about rehearsals. he’d heard you obsess over one particular scene for weeks. he’d watched you run lines until you were sick of hearing your own voice. he’d seen the nights where you’d come home exhausted and still sit on the floor surrounded by your script, determined to fix a moment that nobody else thought was broken.
so when he told you that you’d been incredible, you believed him. “what was your favorite part?” you asked, turning slightly in your chair.
he thought about it, “the last scene.”
“really?” you raised an eyebrow, “that’s the one i nearly messed up.”
his expression softened, “i know.”
“how?” you stared at him.
“you looked nervous before it.”
you laughed quietly, shaking your head as you turned back toward the mirror, “you notice too much.”
he watched as you carefully removed the rest of your makeup. then, after a moment, he reached over and took the wipe from your hand. you looked at him through the mirror, “what are you doing?”
“helping.”
“with my makeup?”
“you’ve still got some here,” his thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, careful not to smudge anything farther. you smiled, “you’re getting very good at this.”
the two of you smiled at each other, and for a few moments, neither of you needed to say anything.
eventually, you turned fully toward him and your hands found the front of his jacket, while his settled naturally around your waist. you leaned into him just as he lowered his head. the kiss was soft and familiar. quiet enough to feel like it belonged entirely to the two of you.
you smiled when you pulled away, your forehead resting briefly against his, “i’m glad you came.” you’d meant it as a simple statement, but something in your voice made him look at you a little more carefully, “i wouldn’t miss it.”
you smiled, “even if you don’t really understand theater?”
“i understand you,” the answer was so sincere that you didn’t have a comeback. you simply looked at him before laughing softly and tucking your face against his shoulder, “that was disgustingly sweet.”
he smiled against your hair, “you liked it.”
“maybe.”
his arms tightened slightly around you, and for a few seconds, the entire theater outside seemed very far away. until the door opened, “hey, have you seen my—”
joanna stopped, the words dying somewhere in the middle of the sentence. you felt beau’s arms go still around you, and slowly, you lifted your head. she stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle and a costume bag hanging from the other. her expression was impossible to read as her eyes moved between you and beau.
nothing happened for several seconds. the silence became so complete that you could hear the faint music playing somewhere farther down the hallway.
you stepped away from beau and he let you go immediately, but joanna still didn’t speak.
you’d known her for years. you’d seen her angry, excited, upset, and embarrassed. you’d seen her cry during rehearsals and laugh so hard she’d nearly fallen off a chair, but you had never seen her look quite like this.
“joanna…” your voice came cautiously.
she blinked, her eyes still moving between you and beau, “what?” it was barely above a whisper.
you didn’t know how to answer, because there was no version of the truth that didn’t sound insane. beau, apparently, was equally at a loss as he rubbed the back of his neck.
joanna’s eyes immediately flicked toward the movement; she knew that habit, “why are you doing that?”
beau looked at her, “doing what?”
“that thing,” she gestured toward his neck, “you only do that when you’re uncomfortable.”
he immediately dropped his hand. you looked down, trying desperately not to laugh, which joanna noticed, “don’t laugh.”
you immediately pressed your lips together, “i’m not.”
she stared at you for another moment then her eyes narrowed, “okay.” she looked around the room as though maybe the answer was hiding somewhere between the costumes and makeup brushes, “i’m going to ask a very simple question.”
you swallowed as beau shifted slightly beside you. joanna looked directly at him, “why are you in our dressing room?”
beau opened his mouth, but closed it again as looked at you. you gave him the smallest shake of your head and you could see the exact moment he understood.
he looked back at joanna, “i came to see the show.”
“i know,” she nodded slowly. there was something about her tone that made both of you go quiet, “i watched you come backstage.”
she looked at you, “i saw you go into the dressing room,” then back at beau, “i saw you follow her.” another pause, “and now i’ve walked in here and…” she stopped, and her gaze flickered between the two of you again, “i’m clearly missing something.”
you couldn’t think of anything to say, so joanna waited. eventually, she exhaled, “right.”she nodded to herself, “okay.”she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. the click of the latch seemed far louder than it should have, “we’re not doing this here.”
“what?” you frowned.
“whatever this is,” she gestured vaguely between you and beau, “i’m not having whatever conversation this obviously is five minutes after opening night.”
you watched her carefully, “joanna, i—”
“no,” she held up a hand, “i’m serious.”she looked at you first, then back at beau, “we’re going to talk about this later.”
“okay,” you nodded slowly as she picked up the garment bag she’d dropped against the wall. for a moment, she paused at the door and looked at beau one last time, “don’t disappear.”
beau shook his head, “i won’t.”
joanna nodded before disappearing, the door closed behind her. you stared at it as beau stared at you. neither of you spoke for a few seconds, but eventually you sighed, “she’s going to kill me.”
he stepped closer again, “probably not you.”
“that’s not comforting,” you looked at him.
“wasn’t meant to be.”
you let out a small giggle; and somehow, despite the disaster that had just occurred, the tension eased slightly.
joanna didn’t talk to you immediately. she simply disappeared into the post-show celebration as though nothing had happened and you knew her well enough to understand what that meant. she was thinking, and when joanna was thinking, she became very quiet.
you and beau eventually joined everyone else at the party being held a few blocks away. it was the kind of place where everyone from the production could finally relax now that the show was over.
you were still carrying the strange post-performance energy with you; changed out of your costume but hadn’t completely removed your makeup, and every few minutes someone would stop you to talk about a particular scene.
you loved it. you could talk about theater for hours and beau knew that. so, he let you. when someone asked about your character, you immediately became animated again, explaining why you’d made certain choices with the role and how you’d changed the final scene during rehearsals.
joanna watched beau listening to you from across the room. and slowly, she began to notice things; the way beau always seemed to know when you needed space in a crowded room, the way you instinctively reached for him when someone brushed past you, the way he’d remember to take your coat before you even asked, the way you talked about your castmates and your director and your next audition, and how he never once looked bored.
most people knew you as an actress, the one who could walk onto a stage in front of hundreds of people and become someone else without hesitation. joanna knew the person underneath that, and now, she was watching beau learn her, too.
at one point, you were sitting on the arm of a couch, explaining a scene to one of the cast members.
your hands moved as you talked and your face was bright. you were still buzzing from the performance, words coming faster than usual as you tried to explain exactly why the final moment had worked.
beau stood nearby, simply watching you. joanna caught the expression on his face, like he could’ve stood there for another hour listening to you talk about something you loved.
and suddenly, she got it. this wasn’t beau chasing another girl. this wasn’t some passing interest. this wasn’t him being charming because he could. he was genuinely fascinated by you. and you didn’t seem particularly impressed by the quarterback at all; you were impressed by the person behind it.
later, when the party began thinning out, joanna found herself beside you near the kitchen. you were leaning against the counter, sipping water while beau talked to someone across the room. she studied you for a moment, “so.”
you glanced at her, the single word enough to make your stomach tighten, “so?”
she smiled slightly, “i’m still processing.”
“yeah, fair,” you laughed softly.
she looked toward beau before focusing back on you, “how long?”
you hesitated, “two months.”
“you kept this from me for two months?” joanna’s eyebrows lifted.
you looked down at your cup, “i didn’t want it to become weird.”
she was quiet for a moment, then she shook her head, “it is weird.” she glanced toward beau again, who happened to look over at exactly that moment. his eyes found you immediately and his expression softened. joanna sighed, “i get it.”
you looked at her, “you do?”
she nodded, “i’ve been watching you two all night.” she hesitated, as though the words physically pained her, “and i think you might actually be good for each other.”
“that’s almost nice,” your smile appeared slowly.
“don’t get used to it.”
you laughed, causing joanna to return your smile. she looked toward beau again, “he’s different with you.” your expression softened as she joanna sighed, “so i guess i’m going to have to accept this.”
across the room, beau started walking toward you and joanna watched him approach, his attention never really leaving you. and finally, she understood why the two of you had kept it secret. because sometimes something could be so personal that you weren’t ready to let everyone else touch it yet.
she looked between the two of you one last time. and, annoyingly, she thought you might actually be perfect for each other.
I didn't go the full possessive route, but here's hungry tucker
Summary: You and Tucker need a last minute costume for Dean's birthday
‘’You can’t be a bee.’’
‘’It’s not just a bee,’’ Tucker argued. ‘’It’s a metaphor. You know, the birds and the bees.’’
‘’I’m not dressing up as a bird.’’
‘’Logan is. He found some wings in the lost-and-found. And we cut up a bee costume someone left here last Halloween.’’
You blinked. ‘’Wait. So you’re doing a couple costumes with Logan instead of me?’’
‘’You said you and Lacey were dressing up as Daphné and Velma from Scooby Doo.’’
You let out a dramatic sigh. ‘’Not anymore. Lacey is trying to end the night in Beau Maxwell’s bed and decided she would never do so if she dressed as Velma. Because Velma is nerdy and not sexy.’’ You threw your hands in the air. ‘’Then she wanted to be Daphné and we got into an argument. I’m Daphné. I’ve been a Daphné girl since I was five years old. I’m the one studying criminology.’’
Tucker bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. The sheer seriousness with which you defended your iconic duo costume was adorable. To him, it was just a costume for Dean’s birthday party. To you, it was clearly a matter of principle.
So he kept his mouth shut.
‘’Of course, baby.’’ Tucker reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his dimples flashing as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. ‘’You’re the hot detective.’’ He leaned in and kissed you, sealing the debacle.
‘’What are we gonna go as then?’’ you asked, raising an eyebrow at your man.
It couldn’t be something that takes too long to put together. The party was in two days. Even the fastest delivery service wouldn’t make it on time. And there were no Halloween stores open at this time of year.
You took your brainstorming to the kitchen barstool and began browsing on Pinterest.
With his curly hair, Tucker would make a good Patrick from 10 Things I hate about you. He had the charm and the dumples, but not the bad boy attitude. Next on your list was Tarzan and Jane. You had a cute yellow dress in your closet that still had the tag on. It could be perfect for this costume.
‘’How down would you be to spend the night shirtless?’’
Tucker pulled out the two layered cake from the freezer, ready to ice it. It was a surprise for Dean’s birthday. Garrett had found tiny hockey sticks and liquor bottles small enough to fit onto the cake…and a single condom packet. That one was Logan’s contribution. According to him, Dean was constantly clogging the shower drain with them.
‘’And a…leopard mini skirt?’’ you added.
You lost him at the skirt.
‘’I ain’t showing off my legs for free. I work hard on those thighs.’’
You laughed, taking this as a no. There goes Tarzan and Jane…
You scrolled again, refusing to give up.
‘’What about Danny and Sandy?’’
‘’Too much hair gel.’’
A sigh left your lips. You forgot about that part. Slicking down Tucker’s curly hair would take hours. And a lot of hair gel. Only to wash it out a few hours later. It wasn’t worth all the work.
Turning back to your phone, you scrolled again, but nothing was calling your name.
‘’By any chance, do you still have the cowboy hat from the last karaoke night?’’
Tucker didn’t even take a few seconds to think. ‘’Yeah. Gotta keep a little piece from home.’’
‘’By any chance, do you happen to have the boots that match?’’
He raised an eyebrow, pausing his icing. ‘’Are you going to dress as a cowgirl?’’
You shook your head, a smirk curling. ‘’Think sexier.’’
Tucker frowned. ‘’I have no idea.’’
‘’Then, you’ll have to wait until the party to find out.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
When you stepped out of the bathroom in a corset and garter stockings, Tucker let out a few southern curses. His eyes traveled from your heeled boots to the way your breasts were pressed against the corset, then back down again.
You bit back a laugh. ‘’Is that your final review?’’
Tucker stared at you for another second, clearly struggling to form a coherent thought. ‘’How about we skip the party and stay here? I can think of many many thing we could do together.’’
You shook your head, stepping closer to Tucker. He didn’t look bad himself in jeans and a cowboy hat.
‘’How about we go downstairs and have a few drinks,’’ you began, reaching to unbutton a few more buttons of his shirt. ‘’And later, we come back to our room and—’’
Tucker cut you off by crashing his lips on yours. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, feeling your breasts press against his chest. You deepened the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to knock his hat off.
If you had it your way, you would stay here too. Take Tucker to bed and have him fuck you with only the hat on.
When you finally pulled back, Tucker looked at you with a grin that made your stomach flutter.
‘’You were saying?’’ he murmured, trailing his lips down to your neck.
You gave his shoulder a small push. ‘’I was saying we should go downstairs.’’
Tucker sighed, acting like a child who had just been told he couldn't eat cookies before dinner. You had never seen him this hungry for you.
‘’And we're going to behave, Cowboy.’’
You fixed his hat and he was trying his hardest to not grab you by the thighs and pull you onto the bed.
hello!! i saw u were taking requests for beau and thought of this :)
could you do a beau maxwell x reader where reader is friends with allie and hannah. she’s a bit more shy than both of them and doesn’t like to drink a whole lot or really go to parties so she kinda just chills at home most of the time. allie finally convinces her to go out with them and her and beau gut it off but reader thinks he just likes her as a friend but he’s actually so down bad and it lowkey turns into pining/yearning from beau. (reader likes him just assumed he didn’t like her like that)
thanks <3
Beau Maxwell x Fem!Reader
❗️: No warnings besides kissing..
🖌️: hope you guys like this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You stood in front of the mirror in Allie’s dorm room, tugging at the hem of the simple black dress she’d convinced you to wear. Your usual weekend uniform was sweatpants and a hoodie in the safety of your own room, curled up with a book or watching something low-key with Hannah.
“I don’t know about this,” you said, voice soft as you adjusted the neckline again. “Parties aren’t really my thing. Too loud. Too many people. I’ll just stand in the corner and feel awkward the whole time.”
Allie, already in a cute red top and jeans, spun around from her vanity with a bright smile. “Come on, YN! You’ve been cooped up in your room studying for weeks. One night out won’t kill you. Hannah’s coming too it’ll be fun. We’ll stick together.”
Hannah, sitting on the bed in a soft blue sweater and skirt, gave you an encouraging nod. “She’s right. We won’t let you get lost in the crowd. And if it sucks, we can leave early. Promise.”
You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your small bag. The three of you had become close friends quickly Allie the bubbly, outgoing one who dragged everyone into adventures, Hannah the sweet and grounded middle ground, and you the quieter, more reserved one who preferred staying in. Parties made your stomach twist with anxiety, but Allie had been begging for weeks.
“Fine,” you relented, smoothing your hands down the dress one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re out after an hour.”
Allie squealed and pulled you into a quick hug. “That’s my girl! You look hot, by the way. Someone’s definitely going to notice.”
You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming. “I’m not there to get noticed. I’m there to survive.”
Hannah smiled softly as she stood up. “You’ll do great. And if anyone’s too much, we’ve got your back.”
The three of you headed out, Allie chattering excitedly the whole walk to the football house party. The music was already thumping when you arrived, the front yard littered with people laughing and drinking. Your nerves spiked immediately the noise, the crowd, the unfamiliar energy. You stuck close to Allie and Hannah as they led you inside.
The living room was packed, bodies moving to the beat, red cups everywhere. You found a relatively quiet spot near the edge of the room, nursing a water (you’d politely declined the stronger stuff) while Allie and Hannah chatted with a few people they knew.
That’s when he spotted you.
Beau Maxwell the charming, golden-boy quarterback everyone on campus seemed to know was standing with Dean and a couple of his teammates across the room. His eyes landed on you and stayed there, something shifting in his expression. He’d seen you around campus before, always with Allie or Hannah, always looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. Something about your quiet presence had stuck with him.
He excused himself from the group and made his way over, that easy, warm smile on his face.
“Hey,” he said, stopping a respectful distance away. “You’re Allie and Hannah’s friend, right? I’m Beau.”
You looked up at him, surprised he’d approached. Most people didn’t bother with the quiet girl in the corner. “Yeah. I’m YN.”
“Nice to meet you, YN.” His smile widened, genuine and bright. “First time at one of these?”
You nodded, fiddling with your cup. “Allie dragged me. I don’t usually do parties.”
“Smart choice,” he said, leaning against the wall beside you. “They can get pretty wild. But you look like you’re handling it better than most first-timers.”
You gave a small, shy smile. “Barely. I’m mostly people-watching and hoping no one spills a drink on me.”
Beau chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “I can help with that. I’ll be your personal bodyguard tonight. No spills on my watch.”
The conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that. Beau was charming without being overwhelming asking about your classes, what you liked to do when you weren’t being dragged to parties, sharing funny stories about his teammates that made you laugh softly. He stayed right there with you, never pushing, never leaving your side even when his friends waved him over.
From across the room, Dean nudged Allie. “Look at that. Beau’s down bad already. He’s been staring at her like she hung the moon since he walked over.”
Allie grinned. “She thinks he’s just being friendly. She has no idea how gone he is.”
Beau was, in fact, completely gone. Every quiet laugh you gave, every shy glance you sent his way, every time you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear it all hit him harder than any tackle on the field. He wanted to know everything about you. Wanted to be the reason you smiled more. Wanted to pull you closer and keep you there.
But he played it cool, keeping the conversation light, even as his heart raced every time you looked at him.
The night stretched on, the party swirling around you, but Beau stayed right there pining quietly, yearning in every glance, already completely hooked on the shy girl who didn’t realize she had his full attention.
The party noise swirled around you, but Beau’s attention stayed fixed on you like you were the only calm point in the chaos. He leaned a little closer to be heard over the music, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt intentional but not overwhelming.
“So, what do you do when you’re not being dragged to parties by Allie?” he asked, voice warm and genuinely curious. “You seem like the type who has a favorite quiet spot on campus.”
You glanced up at him, surprised by how easy the conversation felt. Most guys at parties tried too hard loud jokes, over-the-top compliments. Beau was just… steady. Listening.
“I like the library’s top floor,” you admitted softly. “Or the bench by the old oak tree when it’s not too crowded. Reading. Sketching sometimes. Nothing exciting.”
Beau’s smile softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That sounds perfect. I’m usually stuck on the field or in the weight room, but I get it. Sometimes the quiet is the best part of the day.”
From the corner of your eye, you saw Allie and Hannah watching with matching grins. Allie gave you a not-so-subtle thumbs up. You felt your cheeks warm and looked back at Beau, assuming he was just being nice the friendly, popular guy chatting with the shy friend of his friend’s girlfriend.
He wasn’t. Inside, Beau’s chest felt tight in the best way. The way you spoke quietly, the small smile that tugged at your lips when you mentioned your favorite spots, the way you didn’t try to impress him it all hit him harder than he expected. He wanted to know more. Wanted to be the one who got to sit on that bench with you, sharing the quiet. He was already down bad, pining in a way that surprised even him.
“You should show me that bench sometime,” he said, voice light but sincere. “If you want. No pressure. I promise I won’t talk too much.”
You gave a small, shy laugh. “You seem like the type who talks a lot.”
Beau grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guilty. But I can be quiet when it counts. Especially if it means spending time with someone interesting.”
The compliment made your stomach flutter, but you pushed the feeling down. He’s just being friendly, you told yourself. Popular guys like him don’t go for the quiet girl who prefers staying in.
Allie appeared then, looping her arm through yours. “There you are! Dean’s looking for you, Beau. Something about a bet with the guys.”
Beau glanced at Dean across the room, then back at you, reluctance clear in his eyes. “Duty calls. But I’ll find you later? If that’s okay.”
You nodded, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. Okay.”
He gave you one last warm look before heading off, heart racing as he walked away. She smiled at me, he thought, already replaying the conversation in his head. God, I’m in trouble.
Allie squeezed your arm as soon as he was gone. “He’s so into you. Did you see the way he looked at you?”
You shook your head, cheeks warm. “He’s just being nice. We were just talking.”
Hannah, who had joined you, smiled softly. “He doesn’t look at just anyone like that. Trust me.”
You brushed it off, the shy part of you convinced it was nothing more than friendly conversation. But across the room, Beau kept stealing glances your way, pining quietly, already counting down the minutes until he could talk to you again.
The night continued, the party loud around you, but every time your eyes met Beau’s across the crowd, something warm and unspoken passed between you even if you didn’t quite believe it yet.
The campus quad was quiet in the late afternoon, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the old oak tree. You sat on your favorite bench with a book open in your lap, legs tucked beneath you, completely absorbed in the story. The world around you felt distant the occasional student walking by, the soft rustle of leaves overhead. This was your place. Peaceful. Safe.
Beau spotted you from across the quad and felt that familiar pull in his chest. He’d been thinking about you nonstop since the party the way you’d smiled shyly when he approached, the quiet way you listened when he talked, the way you seemed to prefer the edges of the crowd rather than the center. He crossed the grass toward you, heart beating a little faster with every step.
He stopped a respectful distance away, not wanting to startle you. “Mind if I join you?”
You looked up, surprised but not displeased. “Sure.”
Beau sat on the other end of the bench, giving you space, but his eyes stayed on you. God, he was down bad. The way the sunlight caught in your hair, the focused expression on your face as you read it all made something warm and aching settle in his chest. He wanted to know what you were reading. Wanted to know what made you smile like that. Wanted to be the reason for more of those small, private smiles.
“What are you reading?” he asked softly, not wanting to break the peaceful moment too much.
You glanced at him, then back at the page. “An old favorite. Fantasy. Escapist stuff.”
Beau nodded, leaning back against the bench. “Sounds perfect. I could use some escape after practice today. Coach ran us hard.”
You gave a small nod, turning a page. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. Beau was content to just sit there, stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Every little detail the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the slight furrow in your brow when something in the book surprised you made his yearning deeper. He wanted to pull you closer. Wanted to know everything about you. Wanted to be the person you felt comfortable enough to share those quiet moments with.
After a while, you closed the book and looked at him. “You don’t have to sit here in silence if you don’t want to.”
“I like the silence,” he said honestly, voice warm. “Especially with you. Most people fill it up. You don’t. It’s nice.”
You gave a small, shy smile, looking down at the book in your lap. Beau’s heart did that stupid flip again. He was completely gone for you the shy girl who preferred books to parties, who listened more than she spoke, who made him feel like he could just be without performing.
The afternoon stretched on like that quiet conversation mixed with comfortable silences. Beau asked about your classes, about what you liked to read, about anything you were willing to share. He hung on every word, storing it away like treasure. Every time you smiled, even a little, he felt it in his chest.
When the sun started to dip lower, he stood reluctantly. “I should let you get back to your book. But… can I walk you to your next class sometime? Or sit with you here again?”
You looked up at him, the shyness still there but something warmer underneath. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Beau’s smile was bright and genuine as he walked away, heart full and yearning stronger than ever. He was already counting down the minutes until he could see you again.
The lecture hall was emptying out after the guest speaker on modern literature, students filing out in a steady stream. You lingered near the back row, gathering your notes with careful precision, the shy habit of double-checking everything before leaving. The talk had been interesting insightful enough to keep your full attention and you were still mentally replaying a few key points as you slipped your bag over your shoulder.
Beau had been sitting three rows behind you the entire time. He’d chosen the seat deliberately, telling himself it was just because the view was good, but the truth was simpler: he couldn’t stop watching you. The way you leaned forward slightly when something caught your interest, the small nod you gave when a point resonated, the quiet focus that made you seem like you were in your own world. He was starstruck in the most ordinary way completely captivated by how present you were in moments like this, how you absorbed everything without needing to be the center of attention.
He waited until most of the crowd had left before approaching, heart beating a little faster than usual. “Hey. That was a good talk, right? The part about unreliable narrators really stuck with me.”
You looked up, surprised but offering a small, genuine smile. “Yeah, it was. I liked how she connected it to everyday storytelling. Made me think about my own writing.”
Beau’s chest tightened at the way you shared that small piece of yourself so naturally. God, she’s so effortlessly interesting, he thought, fighting the urge to step closer. He wanted to know everything about your writing, about the stories you kept in your head, about the way your mind worked when no one was watching. Instead, he kept his tone light, friendly on the surface while his feelings ran much deeper.
“I’d love to read something of yours sometime,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you ever feel like sharing. No pressure.”
You gave a shy laugh, looking down at your notes for a second. “It’s nothing special. Just personal stuff. But… maybe. Thanks for asking.”
Beau felt that familiar pull again the starstruck kind of awe that hit him every time you let him see even a small part of your world. You thought he was just being friendly, the nice guy who chatted with his friends’ friend. He was anything but. He was completely gone, replaying every small smile, every quiet laugh, every time you looked at him like he was just another person in the room while he felt like the luckiest guy alive just to be near you.
They walked out of the lecture hall together, the afternoon sun warm on the quad. Beau matched your pace, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. She has no idea, he thought, heart aching in the best way. How much I think about her. How I replay every conversation. How I want to be the person she feels safe sharing those personal stories with.
You chatted lightly about the lecture as you walked, your voice soft and thoughtful. Beau hung on every word, nodding, asking questions that showed he was truly listening. Inside, he was a mess of yearning wanting to reach for your hand, wanting to tell you how much he looked forward to these moments, wanting to be more than just the friendly guy who happened to be in the same class.
When you reached the path that split toward your next destination, you gave him that small, shy smile again. “Thanks for walking with me. See you around?”
“Definitely,” Beau said, smiling back even as his chest felt tight with everything he wasn’t saying yet. “Looking forward to it.”
He watched you walk away, hands in his pockets, heart full and aching with how much he wanted this wanted you to be more than friendly conversations and shared lectures. He was starstruck, completely and quietly, by the girl who had no idea she’d already taken up so much space in his thoughts.
The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into Della’s, the familiar scent of coffee and fried food wrapping around you like a warm hug. It was a quiet afternoon, the lunch rush long gone, leaving the diner peaceful with only a few scattered customers. You slid into a booth near the window, pulling out your notebook to review notes for your next paper. The soft hum of the jukebox in the corner and the clink of dishes from the kitchen made the perfect background noise for focusing.
Beau spotted you the moment he walked in with Dean. His heart did that familiar flip the one that had become routine whenever he saw you on campus. He’d been thinking about you constantly since that afternoon in the lecture hall: the way you’d smiled shyly when he asked about your writing, the quiet way you listened, the small details that made you so uniquely you. He was completely gone for you, starstruck in the quietest way possible. Every time he saw you, he wanted to know more. Wanted to be the person you felt comfortable sharing those small pieces of yourself with.
Dean noticed immediately. “There she is. Go say hi, lover boy.”
Beau shot him a look but didn’t deny it. He crossed the diner and stopped by your booth, hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Hey. Mind if I join you? Dean’s meeting someone, so I’m on my own for a bit.”
You looked up, surprised but offering a small, genuine smile. “Sure. Have a seat.”
Beau slid into the booth across from you, his eyes soft as he took you in the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the focused expression that made his chest ache with how much he wanted this to be more than friendly. “What are you working on?”
“Just notes for a paper,” you said softly, closing the notebook slightly. “Nothing exciting.”
“Everything you do seems exciting to me,” Beau replied, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed but honest. “I mean… you always look so focused. Like you’re really in it. I admire that.”
You gave a shy laugh, looking down at the table. “It’s just school stuff. You’re the one out there winning games. That seems a lot more exciting.”
Beau shook his head, leaning forward a little. “Nah. I see the same guys every day. You… you’re different. In a good way. I like hearing about what you’re working on. Makes me feel like I’m getting to know the real you.”
The waitress came by then, and Beau ordered for both of you your usual black coffee and a muffin, remembering from the times he’d seen you at the library. You smiled softly when he did, the shyness making your cheeks warm.
As you talked, Beau felt that familiar yearning settle deeper in his chest. Every small detail the way you played with the edge of your notebook when you got thoughtful, the quiet laugh you gave when he made a dumb joke, the way you listened like his words actually mattered made him want more. He wanted to be the person you called when you needed someone. Wanted to be the reason you smiled more. Wanted to pull you closer and tell you how much he thought about you when he was on the field, in class, lying awake at night.
“You know,” he said after a while, voice softer, “I keep thinking about that lecture. The way you talked about unreliable narrators. Made me want to read more. Made me want to know what else you think about.”
You looked at him, the shyness still there but something warmer underneath. “I like talking about books with you. You actually listen.”
“I always will,” Beau said, the words carrying more weight than he let on. Inside, his heart was racing. She has no idea how much I want this. How much I want her.
The conversation flowed easily after that books, classes, small stories from your lives. Beau hung on every word, starstruck and yearning, while you felt that quiet pull toward him growing stronger, even if you still thought he was just being friendly.
The afternoon stretched on like that, the diner quiet around you, the connection between you deepening one small, careful moment at a time.
One Thursday evening, Allie and Hannah convinced you to join them for a low-key movie night in their dorm instead of anything loud or crowded. You arrived feeling comfortable and relaxed, ready for the cozy familiarity of just the three of you unwinding.
You had barely settled onto the floor with blankets and pillows when a knock sounded at the door.
Allie bounced up to answer it. “Perfect timing!”
Beau stepped in behind Dean, holding a couple of takeout bags from the pizza place everyone liked. His eyes found you immediately, softening in that warm way that always made your pulse quicken just a little.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and easy as he set the bags down. “Hope we’re not crashing. Dean mentioned you guys were doing movies, and I figured extra pizza never hurts.”
Hannah smiled and scooted over to make room. “You’re always welcome. Especially with food.”
Garrett followed a moment later, dropping down beside Hannah and pulling her close with that effortless affection the two of them shared. “Couldn’t let Logan and the guys drag me into some loud hangout when this was an option,” he said, grinning as Hannah leaned into him.
You shifted comfortably on the blanket, a small smile tugging at your lips. Beau dropped down right beside you, close enough that his presence felt steady and reassuring without overwhelming the space.
The movie starteda laid-back mystery everyone had pickedand the room filled with soft commentary, laughter, and the rustle of pizza boxes. Beau stayed right there with you the whole time. When the lights were low, you noticed him glancing your way more than at the screen, his expression warm and focused. Every quiet laugh you let out drew a matching smile from him, like he was collecting those moments.
Inside, Beau was a mess of yearning. The way you relaxed into the evening, the soft focus in your eyes during the tense scenes, the easy way you existed in the middle of the groupit all hit him deeply. He wanted to pull you closer, to wrap an arm around you the way Garrett did with Hannah, to make sure you felt as safe and wanted as you made him feel just by being near. But he kept it light on the surface, content for now to share the same blanket and the same quiet space with you.
Halfway through, Allie paused the movie for snacks. Hannah and Garrett slipped into the little kitchen area together, leaving you and Beau in a gentle pocket of quiet on the floor.
“You okay?” he asked softly. “Not too much noise or anything?”
You shook your head, meeting his eyes. “It’s nice. Really nice, actually.”
Beau’s chest tightened with hope. “Yeah? Good. I like this too. Being here with you.”
The words carried more weight than either of you said out loud. You looked down for a second, still convinced he was just being his usual kind, friendly self. Beau, meanwhile, fought the urge to say everything he was feelingthat these quiet nights with you had become his favorite part of the week, that he thought about you constantly, that he was already completely gone for the girl who preferred calm evenings and still saw him as just a good friend.
When the others returned, the movie resumed, but the air between you and Beau felt warmer, a little more charged. He stayed until the credits rolled, helping clean up even when you told him it was fine. At the door later, he lingered while the others headed out first.
“Walk you back?” he offered, hands in his pockets.
You nodded, and the short walk across campus was peaceful under the evening lights. Beau matched your pace, his shoulder brushing yours now and then in a way that felt natural. At your door, you turned to him.
“Thanks for tonight. It was really good.”
Beau smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime. Text me if you want to hit the bench or the library tomorrow… or just hang out. Whatever works for you.”
“I will,” you said softly, that small genuine smile appearing again.
He waited until you were inside before walking away, heart full and aching with how much he wanted more. The pining had only grown stronger, quiet and steady, as he replayed every moment from the night and counted down the hours until he could see you again.
Beau couldn’t stop thinking about the movie night. Days later, the memory still lingeredthe way you had relaxed beside him on the blanket, the soft sound of your laugh during a quiet moment in the film, how perfectly you fit into the group without ever trying to take up space. It left him restless in the best and worst ways. Practice felt longer than usual, every drill interrupted by thoughts of you. He wanted more of those evenings. He wanted to be the person you looked forward to seeing, the one you turned to when the world felt a little too loud.
That afternoon, after a tough session on the field, Beau found himself back at the off-campus house Dean shared with Garrett, Logan, and Tucker. The place was familiar, filled with the usual chaos of hockey gear, half-eaten snacks, and loud banter. Dean was sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels, when Beau dropped into the armchair across from him with a long sigh.
Dean raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Alright, spill. You’ve been walking around like you got sacked in practice but there’s no bruise. What’s going on in that quarterback head of yours?”
Beau rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor for a second before meeting Dean’s knowing look. “It’s… her. Y/N. I can’t stop thinking about her, man. The movie night the other night? I sat there the whole time trying to play it cool, but every time she laughed or leaned in a little closer to hear something, it felt like I got hit harder than any tackle. She’s just so… real. Quiet in this way that makes everything else fade. I keep replaying how she smiled when I offered to walk her back. Small, shy, but genuine. God, I’m down bad.”
Dean let out a low whistle, sitting up straighter with a grin. “Finally admitting it out loud, huh? I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve been gone since that first party Allie dragged her to. The way you parked yourself next to her the whole night, ignoring everyone else? Classic. And don’t think I missed how you brought her favorite coffee to the library last week without her even asking.”
Beau groaned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “She has no idea. She thinks I’m just being friendly because of you guys and Allie and Hannah. I sit there on that bench with her under the oak tree, listening to her talk about her books or whatever paper she’s working on, and all I can think about is how much I want to reach over and tuck that strand of hair behind her ear. How I want to be the reason she feels comfortable enough to stay out longer instead of heading straight home. I replay every conversation. The way her voice gets softer when she’s sharing something personal… it kills me. I’m out here counting down the minutes until I can see her again, and she probably just sees me as the nice guy who hangs around the group.”
Dean chuckled, but there was real understanding in his eyes. He’d been there himself with Alliechasing, wanting, figuring it all out. “Look, Maxwell, you’re doing it right. She’s shy. She doesn’t do the big parties or the loud scenes. You’re giving her space, showing up in the quiet moments. That’s not nothing. Hannah’s the same way in a lot of respectsGarrett had to learn to slow down and meet her where she was. You keep showing up like that and she’ll start to see it. The way you remember the little things? The coffee, the bench, asking about her writing? That stuff sticks. She might not realize it yet, but you’re already different from the rest of these idiots on campus.”
Beau nodded slowly, the yearning tightening in his chest like a familiar ache. “I just… I want to do this right. I don’t want to push. Last night after the movie, when I walked her back, it took everything not to tell her how much I look forward to every single time we run into each other. How the field feels easier knowing I might see her after. How I turned down a team thing the other night just because there was a chance she’d be at that low-key hangout. I’m starstruck, Dean. Like, actually starstruck by how steady and thoughtful she is. Most people fill the silence. She doesn’t. And I could sit in it with her forever.”
Dean clapped him on the shoulder, expression turning more serious. “Then keep doing exactly what you’re doing. Be there. The rest will come. And heyif you need backup, Allie and Hannah have been rooting for this since day one. Garrett too, probably. He gets the whole ‘quiet girl who changes everything’ thing.”
Beau managed a laugh, some of the tension easing. Talking it out helped, even if the feelings only burned brighter afterward. He spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around the house, but his mind kept drifting back to youwondering what you were doing, if you were reading on that bench, if you’d text him about meeting up again.
Later that week, the group gathered again at Della’s Diner for a casual lunch. Garrett and Hannah sat close on one side of the booth, his arm draped casually behind her. Allie and Dean were across from them, trading playful jabs. You slid into the booth comfortably, and Beau took the spot right beside you without hesitation.
Conversation flowed easilystories from recent classes, Garrett recounting a funny practice moment, Hannah sharing a song she was working on. Beau hung on every word you said, asking gentle follow-up questions about your notes or the book you’d mentioned last time. Under the table, his knee brushed yours once and stayed there, a small point of contact that sent warmth through him.
Inside, the yearning surged stronger than ever. She’s right here, he thought, stealing another glance while you laughed softly at something Allie said. And I want this every day. The easy talks, the shared spaces, the way she makes everything feel calmer. He was completely hooked, pining in every quiet moment, already imagining walking you back after this, hoping for just a few more minutes alone with you.
The afternoon stretched on, filled with good food and better company, but for Beau it all circled back to youthe shy girl who had no idea she’d already taken up every spare corner of his heart. He was patient, steady on the outside, but inside he was falling deeper with every passing day, waiting for the moment you might finally see it too.
The group lunch at Della’s stretched pleasantly into the afternoon. Garrett and Hannah eventually had to head out for one of her music rehearsals, while Allie and Dean lingered a little longer before Dean dragged Allie off with a wink about “studying.” That left just you and Beau in the booth, the diner quiet around you now that the lunch rush had passed.
Beau’s heart hammered against his ribs as the comfortable silence settled. He had been thinking about this for daysrehearsing it in his head during practice, on the walk back from Dean’s the other night, even while sitting on the bench with you. Every moment with you made the yearning sharper: the way you listened so attentively, the small smiles that felt like rewards, the steady calm you brought to his chaotic world. He wanted more than friendly hangouts. He wanted dates. Real ones. But the thought of messing it up, of making you uncomfortable, had kept the words stuck in his throat until now.
He fiddled with the edge of a napkin, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So… um. This was nice. Like, really nice. I always like when it’s just… us. Talking. Or even not talking.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks warming as he realized how clumsy that sounded. “What I mean is… I was wondering if maybe… you’d want to do something? Just us? Like… not with the whole group this time.”
You looked up at him, surprised, a flicker of warmth in your expression that only made his nerves worse.
Beau pushed on, the words tumbling out in a rush that was far from the smooth delivery he’d imagined. “There’s this little bookstore-café thing a couple blocks off campus. They have good coffee and it’s quiet, and they do this thing on weekends where people can just sit and read or whatever. No pressure or anything loud. Or if that sounds terrible, we could… I don’t know, walk around the quad or get food somewhere else. Or not. You don’t have to. I just… I really like spending time with you. A lot. More than just the group stuff. So… yeah. Would you want to? Go out? With me?”
He winced internally at how awkward it came outstilted, rambling, nothing like the confident quarterback everyone else saw on the field. His hands had gone clammy, and he forced them still under the table. Smooth, Maxwell. Real smooth. But he couldn’t take it back now. The yearning had built up too much; he needed you to know, even if it was messy.
You blinked at him, processing, a shy smile slowly forming. The surprise was clear, but there was something softer underneath it toolike the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
Beau’s chest tightened with hope even as embarrassment lingered. “You don’t have to answer right now,” he added quickly, voice gentler. “I know you like things low-key, and I don’t want to make it weird or anything. I just… keep thinking about how much better everything is when you’re around. The bench, the library, movie nights… all of it. So if you’re free this weekend, or whenever, I’d really like to take you out. Properly.”
He met your eyes, the earnestness winning out over the awkwardness. Inside, the pining roared louder than ever. He wanted this so badlythe chance to show you how much he meant it, to be the person who made your quiet world feel even better. Every second waiting for your answer felt endless, his heart laid out more openly than he’d planned, but he didn’t regret it. Not when it was for you.
The diner hummed softly around you both as Beau waited, hopeful and vulnerable, the golden-boy quarterback reduced to an awkwardly smitten guy who was completely, undeniably down bad for the shy girl across from him.
Beau shifted in the booth, his fingers crumpling the edge of the napkin a little more as the words hung between you. The silence stretched for what felt like forever to him, though it was only a few seconds. His pulse thrummed in his ears, the yearning that had been building for weeks pressing hard against his chest. He wanted thiswanted you so much it made his usual confidence waver.
“I mean… on a date,” he clarified, voice dropping lower and a little rough around the edges from nerves. “I’d really like to take you on a date. Just us. The bookstore-café sounds good because it’s quiet and you can pick whatever you want to read or drink, and I promise I won’t talk the whole time if you don’t want me to. Or we can do something else. Anything you’d like. I just… I like you, Y/N. Like, like you. Not just as friends. So yeah… would you go on a date with me?”
He looked at you then, eyes warm and hopeful despite the awkward stumble of his delivery. His cheeks were flushed, and he rubbed the back of his neck again, clearly out of his element but too sincere to hide it.
You felt a flutter in your stomach, the surprise giving way to a genuine, shy smile. The way he had been showing up for you all the quiet conversations, the way he listened, the steady presence that never pushed had slowly chipped away at your assumption that it was purely friendly. “Yes,” you said softly, warmth coloring your voice. “I’d like that. A date sounds nice.”
Beau’s face lit up, relief and joy breaking across his expression so openly it made your own smile widen. “Really?” he breathed, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Okay. Great. Awesome. This weekend? Saturday afternoon? I can pick you up, or meet you there, whatever works best for you.”
“Saturday sounds perfect,” you replied, the shyness still there but mixed with a quiet excitement you hadn’t expected.
The rest of the time in the diner passed in a softer haze. Beau couldn’t stop smiling, even as he tried to play it cool. Inside, the yearning had transformed into something brighter, more hopeful, but no less intense. She said yes. The thought looped in his head as he walked you back toward your dorm afterward, stealing glances at you the whole way. He wanted to reach for your hand but held back, not wanting to rush. Instead, he kept the conversation light asking what kind of books you might want to browse, promising not to embarrass himself by trying to impress you with football stories.
When you reached your door, he lingered, hands in his pockets. “I’m really glad you said yes. I’ve been wanting to ask for a while. You make everything better, you know that?”
You gave him that small smile again, the one that always hit him right in the chest. “I’m looking forward to it too, Beau.”
He waited until you were safely inside before walking away, heart racing with a mix of triumph and deeper longing. The pining hadn’t disappeared it had only grown warmer, more focused. He already couldn’t wait for Saturday, imagining the quiet moments ahead, the chance to show you how much he truly saw you.
Word spread quickly through the group. Allie squealed when you told her and Hannah the next day, pulling you into a hug. “I knew it! He’s been so obvious.”
Hannah smiled softly, Garrett’s arm around her as they all hung out later that evening. “He’s a good one,” she said. “Garrett says he’s been talking about you nonstop.”
Garrett chuckled. “Understatement. The guy’s whipped.”
Beau, sitting across the room, caught your eye and offered a sheepish but happy grin. The awkwardness of the ask was already fading into anticipation. He was still quietly starstruck, still yearning for every future moment, but now there was the sweet knowledge that you had said yes. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.
The Saturday afternoon sun was warm as Beau pulled up outside your dorm to pick you up for the date. He looked a little nervous but genuinely happy when you climbed in, offering you that warm, crinkly-eyed smile that always made your stomach flutter.
“Ready?” he asked, gripping the wheel a bit tighter than usual.
You nodded, smiling shyly. “Ready.”
The plan had been the quiet little bookstore-café just off campus, but when you arrived, it was unexpectedly packedstudents spilling out the doors, loud chatter filling the space that was supposed to be peaceful. Beau’s face fell for a second before he recovered with an apologetic laugh.
“Wow, okay… not as low-key as I thought. We can find somewhere else, or”
“It’s fine,” you said quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. “We can adapt.”
Beau brightened at that. He drove to a nearby coffee spot instead, where you both grabbed drinks yours exactly how you liked it. Once back in the car, the ride felt surprisingly comfortable. Soft music played from the speakers as he navigated away from campus, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally gesturing as he talked.
“I’m sorry about the café,” he said after a few minutes, glancing over at you. “I wanted it to be perfect. Quiet. Your kind of place.”
You took a sip of your coffee, feeling more at ease. “This is already nice. I don’t mind the change.”
Beau’s heart did that familiar flip. God, she’s so understanding. Every small reassurance from you only deepened the yearning that had taken root weeks ago. He wanted to pull over and tell you how much this meant to him, how he’d been thinking about this date nonstop, but he kept it light for now.
While you were looking out the window at the passing scenery, Beau quickly pulled out his phone at a stoplight and typed a fast message to the group chat with Dean, Garrett, Logan, and Tucker.
Beau: Café was packed. Heading to the spot now. Everything set up?
Dean: All good, lover boy. Picnic blanket down, food arranged, fairy lights ready if it gets dark. You owe us.
Garrett: Don’t screw this up, Maxwell.
Logan: Tucker picked the flowers. Don’t say we never did anything for you.
Beau slipped the phone away before you noticed, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. His teammates had come throughsetting up a quiet spot at a secluded clearing by the lake just outside town. No girls involved; he wanted this to feel like it was just from him, even if he’d needed a little backup to make it special on short notice.
After about twenty minutes of easy driving and conversation, Beau turned onto a quieter road and parked. “Come on. I’ve got a backup plan.”
He led you down a short, grassy path with the coffee cups still in hand. When the trees opened up to the clearing, your eyes widened. A large blanket was spread out under the shade of a big oak tree overlooking the calm lake. There were fresh sandwiches, fruit, snacks, even a small bouquet of wildflowers in the center. Soft pillows were arranged for sitting comfortably, and a couple of lanterns waited in case the sun went down.
“Beau…” you breathed, genuinely touched. “Did you do all this?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and lingering awkwardness. “I wanted it to be nice for you. The guys helped set it up while we were getting coffeeDean mostly coordinated. I just… I really wanted it to be just us. No crowds. No noise. Just this.”
The two of you settled onto the blanket. Beau sat close but respectful, the yearning evident in every glance he stole when you weren’t looking. Watching you relax into the peaceful setting, the way the breeze moved through your hair, the soft smile on your face as you took in the lake view it all hit him hard. This is what I want. Her, comfortable and happy, with me. He was completely starstruck, heart full and aching with how much he already cared.
Conversation flowed naturally as you ate. He asked about your favorite quiet spots, listened intently when you shared more about your writing, and opened up about the pressure of the football season in a way he rarely did with anyone else. Every laugh you gave, every time you met his eyes a little longer, made the pining sweeter and deeper.
As the sun began to dip lower, painting the lake in golden hues, Beau leaned back on his hands, content in the comfortable silence that fell between you.
“I meant what I said the other day,” he said quietly after a while. “I like you a lot, Y/N. This… being here with you… it’s better than any win on the field. I’ve been wanting this for weeks.”
He didn’t push for more, happy to let the moment sit. The date had turned out even better than he’d hoped, and as he looked at you across the picnic blanket, the yearning settled into something warm and certain. He was falling hard, and he couldn’t wait to see where this whatever it was becoming would go next. Just the two of you, in the beautiful quiet he knew you loved.
The picnic by the lake turned out even better than either of you expected. You spent a comfortable couple of hours talking, sharing food, and watching the sunlight dance across the water. Beau kept the conversation balanced never letting it drag, always checking in with gentle questions about your classes or the stories you liked to write. When the sun dipped lower, he packed everything up with care, refusing to let you help carry the heavier basket back to the car.
The drive back to campus was peaceful, windows down, the warm evening air flowing through. Beau kept stealing glances at you, his chest tight with that familiar deep yearning. She said yes. She’s here with me. Every quiet smile you gave him on the way home made him want a thousand more afternoons just like this.
He walked you all the way to your door, lingering for a moment under the soft glow of the porch light. “Thank you for today,” he said, voice warm and sincere. “I had a really good time. Best date I’ve ever been on.”
“Me too,” you admitted softly, cheeks warm. “The picnic was perfect, Beau.”
He smiled, bright and a little shy himself. “Good. I’d love to do it again. Soon. Whenever you want.”
You nodded, and with one last lingering look, he headed off, heart racing the entire walk back.
The next couple of weeks passed in a sweet blur of new moments. Beau didn’t overwhelm you he kept things at your pace. A quiet study session in the library where he brought snacks and sat across from you, stealing glances while pretending to focus on his playbook. Another evening walk around campus after his practice, ending with ice cream from a small stand near the quad. Each time, his pining only grew. He found himself thinking about you during team meetings, replaying the way your hand had brushed his when you reached for the same book, or how peacefully you looked sitting beside him by the lake.
One evening, the whole group gathered at Garrett and Hannah’s place for a casual dinner. Dean immediately clapped Beau on the back the second he walked in. “How’s it going, Casanova? Heard the picnic was a hit.”
Beau shot him a look but couldn’t hide his grin. “It was perfect. Thanks again for the setup, man.”
Garrett chuckled from the kitchen where he was helping Hannah. “Tucker picked some solid flowers. Logan almost knocked over the lanterns twice.”
You sat comfortably beside Beau on the couch, listening to the easy banter. The group’s teasing was light and supportive, making everything feel natural. Beau’s knee rested gently against yours the whole night, a small point of contact that sent warmth through him every time.
As the weeks went on, the two of you grew closer in small, meaningful ways. Beau’s yearning never faded it simply evolved. He wanted to hold your hand on walks. He wanted to pull you close during quiet movie nights with the group. He wanted to be the person you called first when you needed someone steady.
One Friday night after another successful low-key date this time a sunset walk followed by takeout in his car he finally worked up the courage again as he parked outside your dorm.
“Hey,” he said softly, turning toward you. “I know we’ve been taking things slow, and I love that. But… I really like where this is going. A lot. Would you want to make this official? Be my girlfriend?”
The question came out a touch awkward, just like the first ask, but filled with honest hope. His eyes stayed on yours, heart laid bare once more.
You smiled, warm and genuine, the shyness mixing with clear affection. “Yes, Beau. I’d like that.”
His face lit up with pure joy. He let out a relieved laugh and, after a moment of hesitation, reached over to gently squeeze your hand. The contact felt right warm, steady, and full of promise.
The next few days after making things official felt like a gentle step forward. Beau still kept things at a comfortable pace, but his affection showed in the little ways walking you to classes when their schedules overlapped, sending good-morning texts that made you smile, and always making sure you had a quiet escape plan whenever the group got too rowdy.
One warm evening, after a relaxed dinner with Garrett, Hannah, Dean, and Allie, Beau offered to walk you back alone. The campus paths were quiet under the soft glow of the streetlights, the air carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. Conversation came easily as always, but there was a new, charged undercurrent between you now.
When you reached your dorm building, neither of you moved to go inside right away. Beau turned to face you fully, his usual easy confidence softened by nerves and something deeper. He stepped a little closer, eyes searching yours with that warm, steady gaze that always made your heart skip.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he murmured, voice low. One hand lifted slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, and gently cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, tender and careful.
He leaned in, hesitating for just a heartbeat, before his lips met yours in a soft, sweet first kiss. It was gentle at first almost tentative, like he was savoring the moment he’d imagined so many times. When you kissed him back, the touch deepened slightly, warm and full of quiet emotion. Beau’s free hand found yours, fingers intertwining as the world narrowed to just the two of you under the lamplight.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. His heart was racing, every part of him completely wrapped up in you the way you tasted, the shy way you looked at him now, the perfect fit of your hand in his. He was utterly captivated, already craving the next kiss, the next touch, the next quiet moment that was just yours.
“That was… wow,” he whispered, a little breathless and grinning. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first party. Probably shouldn’t admit that, but it’s true.”
You laughed softly, cheeks warm, and he kissed you once more quicker this time, but no less heartfelt before stepping back with clear reluctance.
“Night, beautiful,” he said, waiting until you were safely inside before heading off, already replaying the kiss in his mind with a smile he couldn’t wipe away.
The relationship had grown beautifully over the following weeks. You and Beau were solidly together now comfortable, affectionate, and deeply happy in that quiet way that suited you both perfectly. He still stole your breath with how attentive he was, always balancing his busy football schedule with time for you. The group loved seeing it; Dean and Garrett gave him constant playful grief, while Hannah and Allie beamed with approval.
One rainy Thursday evening, Beau came over to your dorm room for the first time. You’d mentioned it casually before, but things had finally aligned for a cozy night in. He knocked softly, and when you opened the door, his face lit up at the sight of you in your comfortable clothes, hair a little messy from the day.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside with a warm smile and a bag of takeout in one hand. His eyes scanned the small space curiously your neatly organized desk stacked with books and notes, string lights casting a soft glow, and the little window overlooking the quad now streaked with rain. “This is nice. Feels very you.”
Before he could say more, a small meow came from the bed. Your cat, a fluffy gray tabby named Whiskers, lifted his head from the pillow and blinked sleepily at the newcomer.
Beau’s expression softened instantly. “You have a cat? You never told me that.” He set the food down and crouched slowly, holding out his hand for Whiskers to inspect. “Hey, buddy. Nice to meet you.”
Whiskers sniffed his fingers, then bumped his head against Beau’s hand with a contented purr. Beau laughed quietly, the sound warm and delighted, as he gently scratched behind the cat’s ears. Watching him be so gentle and immediately charmed by your pet made something warm bloom in your chest.
“He likes you,” you said, smiling as you sat on the edge of the bed.
Beau looked up at you, eyes full of open affection. “Good. Because I’m planning on being around a lot.” He stood, pulled you into a soft kiss, then settled beside you on the bed with the takeout. Whiskers curled up between you two like he belonged there, purring steadily.
The evening unfolded lazily. You ate straight from the containers while a low-volume movie played on your laptop. Beau kept one arm around you, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder as you leaned into him. Every so often he’d press a kiss to the top of your head or your temple, completely content in the quiet intimacy of your space.
“I love this,” he murmured during a lull in the movie, voice sincere and low. “Just us. Your room feels like a little safe bubble. The rain outside, your cat purring, you right here… I could do this every night.”
He was so in love it showed in everything the way his gaze lingered on you when you talked about your day, the gentle way he played with Whiskers to make you smile, the soft kisses he stole between bites of food. Being in your personal space for the first time made him feel even closer to you, like he was being let into the heart of your world.
Later, as the rain tapped steadily against the window and Whiskers dozed on the pillow, Beau pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you in a warm embrace. “Thank you for letting me come over,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m really happy, you know that?”
You nodded, cuddling into him, and he kissed you again slow and sweet, full of all the love he felt. The night stretched on like that, cozy and perfect, just the two of you (and Whiskers) in the quiet glow of your dorm room. Beau couldn’t imagine a better way to spend an evening. He was utterly, completely in love, and every moment like this only made him fall harder.
The weeks after that first evening in your dorm blurred into a comfortable rhythm. Beau started spending more and more time at your place. What began as occasional study sessions or movie nights quickly turned into him showing up with dinner or coffee multiple times a week, lingering longer each visit until it felt natural for him to stay over.
One particular Friday night, after a long week for both of you, he ended up spending the night for the first time. The rain was falling steadily outside again, making the cozy dorm room feel even warmer. Whiskers had claimed his usual spot on the pillow, purring loudly as Beau stretched out on your bed beside you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist.
“This is becoming my favorite place,” Beau murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. He had borrowed a pair of your oversized sweatpants (which were a little short on him) and looked ridiculously content lying there with you. “I love my house with the guys, but here… it’s quieter. Just you, me, and this little guy.” He reached over to scratch Whiskers under the chin, earning a happy trill from the cat.
You smiled, curling closer into his chest. Beau’s hand rubbed slow circles on your back, his touch warm and soothing. He was so in love it showed in every small action how he remembered exactly how you liked your tea when he made you a cup earlier, how he’d dimmed the string lights just right, how he held you like he never wanted to let go.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” you whispered.
“Me too,” he replied softly, tilting your chin up for a gentle kiss. It started sweet and slow, the kind of kiss that had become familiar between you, but lingered with quiet depth. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I could get used to falling asleep with you like this every night.”
He spent the night wrapped around you, one leg tangled with yours, Whiskers curled at your feet. Beau slept better than he had in weeks, waking up to the soft sound of rain and the sight of you still nestled against him. Mornings like that quickly became routine.
From then on, Beau was at your dorm almost as much as his own place. He’d come over after practice, still a little sweaty and tired, collapsing onto your bed with a dramatic groan before pulling you down with him for cuddles. Some nights you studied together he’d quiz you on your notes while Whiskers tried to sit on his lap. Other nights you’d order food and watch shows, his head in your lap as you played with his hair
Whiskers had fully adopted him too, often demanding attention the moment Beau walked through the door. Beau never minded. He’d talk to the cat seriously while you laughed, scratching his ears and letting him knead on his chest during evening cuddles.
One lazy Sunday afternoon, as golden light filtered through the window and Whiskers dozed between you, Beau rolled onto his side to face you. “I know I say it a lot, but I’m really happy with you,” he said, voice full of warmth. He leaned in, kissing you softly at first, then deeper, pouring all the love he felt into it. His hand rested on your waist, holding you close as the kiss lingered.
These moments in your dorm tangled up together, cat purring nearby, world shut out by the rain or sunshine outside had become his safe haven. Beau was head over heels, completely content to spend as many nights as you’d let him right there with you, building something real and beautiful in the quiet space you called home.
Beau pulled you closer on the bed that lazy Sunday, his brown eyes soft as golden light filtered across the room. Whiskers dozed between you, but Beau barely noticed, too focused on tracing slow kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. “Love these quiet days with you,” he murmured against your skin, voice warm and low. His hand rested on your waist, thumb brushing gentle circles as he captured your lips in a deep, unhurried kiss. You melted into it, fingers threading through his dark hair, and he sighed contentedly when you kissed him back with the same easy affection.
The weeks that followed felt like a natural extension of what you two had built. After tough practices, Beau would show up at your door with takeout, kicking off his shoes and immediately drawing you into his arms for a lingering hug that turned into soft kisses. “You’re my reset button,” he’d say between pecks, brown eyes crinkling as he smiled. One evening, after a big win, he surprised you with a blanket fort in your dorm using extra sheets and string lights. You laughed as he tugged you inside, pulling you onto his lap for slower kisses that built warmth between you. His hands stayed respectful but intimate, holding your face as he whispered how you made every victory sweeter.
Comfort wrapped around you both like a favorite hoodie. During late-night study sessions, Beau would quiz you from across the bed, then reward right answers with quick kisses that grew longer when focus slipped. “Best study partner ever,” he teased, nuzzling your temple. On a crisp fall afternoon, he took you for a drive outside campus to a quiet overlook, parking so you could watch the leaves change. He kept one hand on your thigh, stealing glances and soft kisses at stoplights, talking about future plans like post-grad life and how he saw you in all of them.
Even group hangouts felt more connected now. At a casual bonfire with Dean, Allie, Garrett, and Hannah, Beau sat with you tucked against his side, pressing occasional kisses to your hair or shoulder while chatting with the guys. Back in your room afterward, he was all tenderness helping you unwind with shoulder rubs that led to lazy makeout sessions under the covers, Whiskers ignoring you both from the pillow.
“You’re everything I need,” Beau said one night, forehead against yours after a particularly sweet kiss, his arms secure around you. The relationship had settled into that perfect balance of playful charm and deep steadiness, with him showing through every touch and word just how completely you were his person.
Aim, Set, Match: a Maxwell Masterclass in Finding You
seresin!reader x beau maxwell beau maxwell, star quarterback and golden boy concusses woman with football, sending her to the hospital. maybe his aim isn't so perfect after all. or maybe it's exactly what it needed to be.
warnings! heavy foreshadowing, references to God/religious language, hospital & medical imagery, inaccurate concussion protocols & non-medical language around treatment, mentions of blood, serious injuries, car accident, trauma recovery, emotional breakdowns, character frustration/snapping (non-abusive), chronic pain & rehabilitation, brief mentions of mobility loss/fear of paralysis, so much fucking angst with just the right sprinkle of fluff
off campus minilist & main masterlist!
Majoring in aerospace engineering should make it easier to contemplate the trajectory of a ball's arc, moving rapidly towards you, but clearly it takes more than being a genius to remember you actually have to move out of the way of an incoming projectile to avoid being hit. So you end up, much to your brother's distaste, knocked out cold with a hefty concussion. Maybe listing Jake as your emergency contact wasn't your smartest play.
Jake Seresin was happily relaxing tormenting Bradley at the annual Dagger Squad barbeque, sunglasses on (barely), beer in hand, sunburn forming, when his phone rang. The second he heard your name and "hospital" in the same sentence, the barbeque was abandoned, Maverick had called in a favour, and the Dagger Squad were airborne in under thirty.
Airborne in what you may ask. In a helicopter. Headed straight to Hastings, Massachusetts. Straight to you.
May God be on your side Beau Maxwell. Jake Seresin certainly isn't.
...
After several threats on Jake's behalf to fly faster, including the claim that his grandmother could fly faster than this (she was dead), they reached the hospital in record time. The helicopter touched down on the helipad with some truly questionable legality, but Maverick waved away every concern like he'd been waiting his whole life to break this particular rule (he probably had).
Inside, Beau Maxwell and Dean Di Laurentis were sitting rigidly by your bedside. Dean had a hand on Beau's back, cracking jokes in a desperate attempt to keep him from spiralling. It wasn't working. Beau, utterly wrecked, sat with his head in his hands like he was praying for some kind of miracle.
He didn't get it.
Because the doors burst open and the Dagger Squad marched in like a military tribunal. The formation was so tight it would've been funny if Bradley's Hawaiian shirt weren't the only thing preventing Jake Seresin from committing a felony.
Bradley had both arms around Jake's torso, digging his heels into the floor as Jake lunged forward, shouting, "Who hurt my baby sister?!"
Beau's head snapped up. God had finally come to take him out. Honestly, he probably deserved it for concussing a beautiful girl.
Dean whispered, "Oh, shit."
And somewhere down the hall, a nurse considered calling security, until she saw Maverick and decided she didn't get paid enough for this. Neither did he.
...
"You."
Jake immediately set his sights on the two men sitting at your bedside, pointing an accusatory finger at the blonde, instantly deciding he didn't like him. He seemed far too cocky for his own good, sitting there cracking jokes while Beau looked like he was about to pass out.
"Me?"
Dean stood up, suddenly taller than Jake, and somewhere behind them, Fanboy whispered, "Oh my God, they're the same person."
Jake's jaw tightened and Dean's eyebrows lifted, almost challenging the senior citizen to a fight. Then Beau lifted his head from his hands, voice cracking as he said, "It was me."
Jake turned so fast Bradley had to tighten his grip.
Dean exhaled in relief. "Thank God." Then winced. "Sorry, bro."
Jake zeroed in on Beau like a missile lock. Beau froze as Dean took one strategic step back. Bradley adjusted his hold. "Hangman, Jake, you're scaring the civilians."
"I am a civilian," Dean muttered.
Jake snapped, "Good."
And that's when you groaned.
A soft, miserable sound, but to Jake, it was the key to transformation. The once terrifying blonde whipped around, abandoning all thoughts of committing heinous crimes in favour of hovering over you like a panicked mother hen.
"Sweetheart? Hey, hey, you're okay, I'm here—"
You blinked up at him, squinting, instantly deciphering the situation. "Old man, stand down."
Bradley choked, Phoenix covered her mouth, and Maverick looked delighted.
Jake sputtered. "Old—? I'm thirty-two!"
You looked past him, frowning at the Dagger Squad and the two ununiformed men, specifically Dean who had not inactivated his hockey fighting stance. "Why are you about to fight these senior citizens?"
Fanboy whispered, "We're thirty."
"Senior citizens," you repeated, pointing vaguely at all of them.
Dean snickered. He's going to get along with you.
Jake looked personally victimised. But Beau... Beau was staring at you like you'd hung the moon. You turned your head, eyes finally landing on him. "You're the one who concussed me, right?"
He swallowed. Hard. "Yeah. Yes. I—yeah. I'm Beau, Beau Maxwell."
You tested the name, softer. "Beau." He actually swayed, and he didn't even know your name yet. Dean whispered, "Oh he's gone."
Jake's head snapped toward Beau, horrified. "Absolutely not." He pointed at the squad. "Out. All of you. Out."
Maverick started herding them like unruly cattle, it truly was a sight to see. Phoenix grabbing Fanboy by the collar, sending you a wink as she left. Dean grabbed Beau's sleeve, dragging him toward the door.
Beau dug his heels in just long enough to look back at you. "I— I'll come check on you. If that's okay."
You smiled, "I'd like that." Dean yanked him out of the room.
In the hallway, Beau whispered, dazed, "Dean... I think I'm in love." Dean patted his shoulder. "Yeah, man. We all saw."
Behind them, Jake yelled, "I SAID OUT!"
...
Beau shows up at the hospital the next morning with flowers.
Not just any flowers, nice flowers. Ones he spent twenty minutes agonising over because he didn't know if you liked roses or lilies or daisies, or if you were allergic to pollen, or if Jake would tackle him for bringing the wrong bouquet. Who is he kidding, of course he would. He eventually settled on an arrangement that reminds him of you.
He walks into your room.
Empty.
The bed's stripped, curtains open, and most importantly, there's no you.
He panics.
Dean, who's been chatting up a nurse and gathering some important intel, strolls in lazily behind him and sighs. "She's discharged, man. We'll find her." And Beau, bless him, nods like he's preparing for a naval operation.
Back on campus, he enlists the hockey boys, Allie, Hannah, Grace, anyone who has ever spoken to a girl. And Dean, disturbingly efficient and alarmingly skilled at social media stalking, finds your Instagram, your LinkedIn, your Briar directory listing, and your dorm building with scary accuracy. And with a few calls to girls he knows in that building, he pinpoints your floor and your room number.
"Dude," Logan says, staring at Dean's screen. "This is... impressive. And also illegal."
Dean shrugs. "Love makes you do crazy things." Then looks into the camera like he's on an episode of the office, "Don't try this at home kids. Or stalk people in general."
...
Beau knocks on your door with the flowers, this time alone, nervously shifting his weight as you open it, hair messy, comfy clothes, soft-eyed, and that damn smile. He forgets how to breathe.
You accept the flowers with a small smile. "You found me."
Beau blushes. "I… had help. A lot of help. Like, an embarrassing amount. Well, it was mainly Dean, but I had help."
You lean against the doorframe, amused. "And now you're here."
You talk in the hallway for twenty minutes, about the concussion, how you're recovering, about classes, and importantly, about how Dean is terrifyingly good at stalking. And Beau, he pays attention, filing away everything you said whilst memorising your face.
Eventually, he steps back. "I should… let you rest."
You grin. "Find me again."
He looks wrecked. "I will."
...
It takes Beau two days to find you again, and his only regret is that he hadn't found you sooner. Two days of him wandering campus like a golden retriever who's lost his favourite person. Two days of Dean telling him to "stop looking sad, it's freaking people out." By people, he meant him. Two days of Beau kicking himself for not getting your number the last time he saw you.
So when he finally spots you in the library, he could almost hit himself for not looking here, the most obvious place, sooner.
You're tucked into a corner table, surrounded by textbooks, diagrams, and a simulation running on your laptop. None of which Beau understands, but he approaches you anyway.
"Hi," he says softly.
You don't need to look up to know who it is, but you do so anyway. "You found me."
He beams, that soft, relieved smile that makes your stomach flip. He sits with you, awkward at first, then comfortable, silently pulling out his phone as you work, and you catch a glimpse of his Notes app:
Your heart does something inconvenient. Something you can't explain with aerospace engineering or propulsion or trajectories.
He takes the time to ask questions, real ones, listening with wide, earnest eyes as you break down flight dynamics and control. He's mesmerised. And even if half of it flies straight over his head, the effort alone has you melting.
You've never been a flashcard person, finding them tedious and colour-coded to death. You prefer short quizzes, quick recall checks. So explaining concepts to Beau ends up helping you more than he realises. As you relate trajectories to passing arcs or thrust-to-weight ratios while he breaks down football plays, you realise you understand the material better than ever.
Somewhere along the way, he starts bringing you coffee. Then snacks. Then dinner. He memorises your preferences with the same intensity he studies game tape, how you drink iced coffee year-round, except near Christmas, when you switch to hot chocolate with whipped cream and a gingerbread man or two, decapitating them first, naturally.
Soon you're showing him your test scores, essays, lab reports, giggling as he lifts you and spins you around. And he does the same after his games, the first person he runs to is always you. It becomes a ritual, a rhythm neither of you questions.
And when you debrief Jake, feet kicked up, smiling as you recount your week, he realises you're happy. Really happy. So maybe he only threatens Beau once. Maybe he sighs, accepts it, and admits, quietly, begrudgingly, that Beau's a good kid. And good for you.
...
It's a Thursday night, and your group study session runs far later than planned. You text Beau that you'll be home around one, expecting him to be asleep or at least already crashed after practice.
He shows up anyway.
He's sitting on the steps outside the building, hoodie pulled tight, hair messy, eyes tired by warm. When he hears your footsteps, his head lifts, he recognises you instantly, just by sound.
"You shouldn't walk alone," he says, like it's the simplest truth in the world.
You walk together. He carries your bag without asking, adjusting the strap on his shoulder like he's done it a hundred times. You stop twice to take pictures of the moon, grumbling about how she never photographs well, and he simply smiles at your frustration, the kind of soft smile he only ever gives you.
You ramble about your project, and he tells you about practice, about Dean, about how he's driving down to Wisconsin tomorrow to see his grandparents. He invites you, hopeful, but you shake your head, already planning to fly home to Texas the day after.
"That's okay," he says, nudging your shoulder gently. "I'll bring you something back." You roll your eyes, but you're smiling.
At your door, he hands you your bag, his fingers brushing yours, warm, calloused, and familiar. "Text me when you land," he says.
"I will."
He hesitates, just for a second. Then he leans in and kisses your forehead, soft and quick, like he's afraid to overstep.
"See you Sunday."
...
You don't. But God do you wish you had.
Dean's call comes just after midnight. His voice is raw like he's only just stopped crying. "It's Beau." You don't hear much after that, entering a state of shock as Dean tells you they skidded on a nasty patch of black ice, fishtailed, and slammed sideways into a tree. He was unconscious at the scene, neck stabilised by paramedics as they loaded him into the ambulance.
Then Dean says, "He might not walk again," and the admission snaps you out of your shock. You tell him it'll be alright, that Beau will walk again, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself. You ask which hospital, and Dean exhales, shaky with relief that he won't be alone, that you're on your way, guilty that Beau's parents are comforting him when he feels he should be comforting them. They keep telling him it's okay, that he's Beau's brother, that he's allowed to fall apart. But still...
You're already grabbing your keys.
...
The ER is chaos when you arrive, an urgency in the air as nurses move fast, voices sharp and low. A trauma code running somewhere behind the double doors, monitors beeping in uneven rhythms. The cold florescent lights and the smell of antiseptic hits you instantly as you run towards the blonde.
Dean's sitting in a plastic chair outside the trauma bay, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Tear tracks stain his face, dried and fresh, like he's run out of tears but his body hasn't caught up. Beau's parents sit beside him, his mother rubbing circles on Dean's back, his father staring straight ahead, shock hollowing him out.
When you walk in, Dean's head snaps up. And for a split second, hope flashes in his eyes, he thinks you're a doctor coming to update them. Then he sees you, and his face crumples.
"He's inside," Dean whispers. "They won't let us in."
Through the small window in the trauma bay door, you catch glimpses, flashes of movement, silhouettes of doctors leaning over a bed, the rapid rise and fall of hands adjusting equipment.
A nurse rushes past with a cervical collar in her hand. Another calls out, "CT's ready, we need to move him now."
Beau's mother squeezes your arm. "Sit down, sweetheart. You're going to wear a hole in that floor." You hadn't even realised you were pacing.
They wheel him out, bed rattling over the threshold. You flatten yourself against the wall as they rush past. Beau's strapped to a backboard, head immobilised in a rigid brace, his skin far too pale under the harsh lights.
Dean makes a sound, a broken, strangled thing, and Beau's father catches him before he collapses.
...
You sit beside Dean, knees touching, both of you staring at the double doors like you can will them open. Beau's mother is praying under her breath. His father is silent, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white.
Every time footsteps approach, Dean's head jerks up. Every time, it's not a doctor.
You don't realise you're crying until your phone rings, Jake's name lighting up the screen. You should've been on your flight to Texas by now, the one you forgot to cancel. But there's nowhere else you'd rather be.
"Sweetheart?"
Your voice cracks. "Jake... it's Beau."
He doesn't hesitate. "I'm coming."
...
They take Beau to the operating theatre within minutes of the CT results. A cervical fracture with instability, not fully severed, but not fully stable either. The kind of injury that demands speed, precision, and a little luck.
A nurse explains gently, "Beau's airway is secure, and he's breathing on his own, but shallow. We're taking him to surgery to stabilise the fracture. It's serious, but he's strong and healthy, he's fighting."
Dean nods like he's hearing it through water, while Beau's mother squeezes your hand. "He'll want you here."
You don't even dream of leaving.
...
The surgical waiting room is too bright, too quiet, too cold. The chairs are stiff, the clock ticks too loudly, and every time a doctor walks past, Dean's head snaps up like he's bracing for impact.
You sit beside him, knees touching. At some point he leans into you, forehead pressed to your shoulder, and you wrap an arm around him without thinking. You're both shaking, not crying, not talking, just holding each other in the agonising silence because it's the only thing keeping either of you upright.
Beau's father sits rigidly, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles are white. You know he's blaming himself, wishing it was him, which Beau would absolutely disagree with, but you don't know the first thing you would say, so you sit in silence listening to Beau's mother murmur prayers under her breath.
You're holding Beau's hoodie, the one he wore when he walked you home, and you don't remember grabbing it, but it helps. You keep twisting the fabric in your hands, over and over, like if you stop, something terrible will happen.
Jake arrives twenty minutes later, breathless, hair wind-tossed, eyes already scanning for you. When he sees your face, he doesn't ask anything, he just sits beside you, knee touching yours, grounding you. He's never lost a wingman before, never come this close to losing someone he loves, and the fear in his eyes tells you he can't begin to imagine what you're going through.
Then he stands and goes straight to the nurses' station. "Lieutenant Seresin," he says, voice low but firm. "I need an update on Beau Maxwell. Anything you can tell me."
They can't tell him much, privacy, protocol, the usual walls, but he tries to charm his way out of it, clinging to any sliver of information he can get. Any sliver of hope he can bring back to you.
When he returns, he places a coffee in your hands. You don't remember him leaving to get it, or thanking him. You just hold it, warm against your palms, because you need something to anchor you.
Beau's mother brings sandwiches that you split with Dean, neither of you hungry to eat but you try anyway, for Beau. Later, Jake brings you water. They take turns, quietly, gently, making sure you don't fall apart, and giving themselves something to do besides sit and drown in worry.
Dean sits pressed against your side, fingers gripping your sleeve like he's afraid you'll disappear too.
You're numb. Everything feels muffled, distant, like the world's happening somewhere above you. And all you want is Beau, his arms around you, his voice telling you everything will be alright.
...
Two hours later, the surgeon steps into the waiting room.
Everyone stands. Attentive. Bracing for the worst.
He pulls down his mask. His face is tired, but not devastated.
"He made it through the surgery."
Beau's mother sobs as his father pulls her into his arms. Dean collapses into a chair, hands over his face.
The surgeon continues, "There was swelling around the spinal cord, but no complete transection. We stabilised the fracture. He's critical, but he's alive. He'll be moved to the ICU shortly."
You don't realise you're crying until Jake wipes a tear from your cheek with him thumb. "When can we see him?" he asks.
The surgeon's expression softens. "Shortly after we move him. And I should tell you... he said your name." He nods towards you, "Before sedation."
Dean looks at you, eyes red, voice cracking.
"Go."
...
The ICU is dim, humming with machines. Nurses move quietly, their footsteps barely audible on the polished floor. You're led to his room, and the sight of him steals your breath.
He's pale and bruised, neck encased in a rigid brace, IV lines running from both arms, monitors tracing every fragile beat of his heart. A ventilator sits nearby, unused but ready. His hair is messy, dried blood at his temple. He looks small in the bed, smaller than you've seen him.
But he's alive.
A nurse adjusts his oxygen cannula. "He's sedated, but he can hear you."
You step closer, fingers trembling as you touch his hand. His fingers twitch, faint, but unmistakable, and your breath catches. You swallow the sob clawing its way up your throat, leaning over him, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand.
"I'm here," you whisper. "I'm not going anywhere."
You bend down and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, the same way he kissed yours outside your dorm, soft and quick and full of everything neither of you had said yet.
HIs heart monitor blips higher for a moment before settling into its steady rhythm.
You rest your forehead against his for a moment, eyes closed, breathing him in, antiseptic, blood, hospital air, but still undeniably him.
Still Beau.
Still yours.
...
Beau wakes up slowly, not all at once, but in small, uneven flickers. The first time his eyes open, it's only for a second, unfocused and heavy, but it's enough to send a wave of relief through the room. His mother sobs into her hands while his father breaks down completely, shoulders shaking as he apologises over and over, blaming himself for the ice, for the drive, for everything. Beau, groggy and barely conscious, still manages to rasp out, "Dad... stop. It wasn't your fault." His father cries harder at that, not from guilt, but from the sheer relief of hearing his son speak.
Dean gets his own moment with him later. He sits at Beau's bedside, elbows on knees, eyes red, as Beau cracks a joke. It's terrible, and far too soon, the kind only Beau would dare make in an ICU, but it gets out a strangled laugh from his brother that turns into a sob. "You've got a good one," Dean later mutters, nodding toward the hallway where you're talking quietly with Beau's mother. His smile is small, crooked, but real. "I know," he whispers.
The days blur together after that. His condition improves, slowly, cautiously, and with every stable scan the talk shifts to whether he'll ever play football again. Jake pulls every string he has to get Beau the best physical therapists in the country, the kind who specialise in spinal trauma and athletes, determined to give his future brother-in-law every chance possible.
Recovery is slow and brutal, the doctors warned despite the optimism in the air. Some mornings Beau can't even sit up without wincing. Some days the pain is so sharp it steals his breath. And sometimes, when his legs refuse to cooperate, when his balance falters, when he feels like he's trapped in a body that betrayed him, he snaps. Not cruelly, never that. But sharply, out of fear and frustration. At you. At Dean. At his parents. At anyone close enough to love him. You let him, because it means he feels safe to fall apart in front of you. You understand the difficulty, the grief of relearning how to walk, the humiliation of needing help for things he used to so without thinking. And you stay, through all of it.
Slowly, painfully, things begin to shift. The stretches get easier. The tremors lessen. He starts making jokes again, still just as bad, the kind that make Dean laugh and cry at the same time. And the setting shifts, from hospital rooms with bright florescent lights to your living room, where you read research papers to him, legs draped over his lap, your voice filling the quiet. He listens the way he always has, chin propped on his hand, eyes half-focused on the words and fully focused on you.
You're mid-sentence, something about neural pathways and motor recovery, when he reaches out and gently takes your face in his hands. It's so soft you almost don't register it at first. His thumbs rest just beneath your cheekbones, warm and steady, guiding your gaze to his. You blink, confused, the words dying on your tongue.
He leans in and kisses you.
It's gentle, careful, almost reverent, and you melt into him, hands curling lightly around his wrists, forehead brushing his as he pulls back enough to breathe. You look at him, a little stunned, still processing. And Beau smiles, mall, crooked, the kind that reaches his eyes.
"Oh," you whisper, the realisation blooming warm in your chest.
He rests his forehead against yours, arms wrapping around you carefully, mindful of the last lingering aches in his body. You lean into him without thinking, fitting against him like you've been doing it for years. And you keep reading, voice soft, heart full, knowing he loves you and you love him, because you've always known since the moment he landed you in that hospital room.
Based on this request: i want to request a beau maxwell x oc basically they dated in hs for like a year he broke up with her before they got into briar u n she had managed to not cross paths with him till they saw each other again and she couldn’t escape the situation and they end up talking maybe implying they hooked up again.
Word count: 1.6k
⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ First, I wanna apologize for not making this an x oc but it started that way and then I realized I would have to create a whole background for the oc and I don't really like doing that unless I'm doing a whole multi-part story so sorry. This took longer than expected to write and it came out too short so I'm sorry for that too. And finally, I can't stop making these boys absolute yearners help.
Off campus masterlist
Class, work, library, gym, dorm. That had been your life since starting at Briar.
Maintaining the scholarship you’d worked so hard for was your only goal.
There was no time for parties, no time for sports, no time for boyfriends.
“You’re gonna burnout” Your friend Tina said “You can’t keep going like this.
“Of course I can, I’ve been doing it the whole year” You shrugged.
“But it’s my birthday” Tina pouted “Come on, come out with us tonight, just one night”
You considered it, the paper you were working on was almost done and not due for another 4 days, you had the day off of work and Tina’s pleading eyes were pretty convincing “Fine” You finally sighed “But only for a little bit”
“Yes!” The blonde hugged you tight “Malone’s at 8, it’s karaoke night”
Malone’s at night was a completely different place from what you were used to, sometimes you ran in here during your lunch break or in between lessons if there was enough time to grab some food to go but you’d never been here at night when the place converted into a bar.
“You’re here!” Tina somehow spots you as soon as you walk through the doors “Girl the entire hockey team is here”
“And some of the football team too” Maggie, your other friend points out passing you a shot glass “The quarterback this season? HOT, he’s a freshman too which means maybe I’ll have a chance” She wiggles her eyebrows.
You freeze, the new football quarterback, Beau Maxwell, your ex boyfriend.
Your high school boyfriend who broke up with you only a few days after your first anniversary. His reasoning? College.
He was planning on focusing on his football career and he didn’t want to stand in between you and your education because he knew how hard you’d worked for your scholarship.
You wanted to argue, tell him that the only reason you’d been killing yourself with so much school work had been because of your shared plans to make it to Briar together. Because your parents didn’t have the money his did to put you through a private college comfortably, but they did have enough money for you to go to community college and you had the grades to make it in without slaving yourself over your studies.
In fact, that had been your first choice, you didn’t mind staying home and going to community college, but Beau had put the idea of Briar U together in your head back when you were just friends and your decision had been final when you finally started dating.
But you didn’t argue, you accepted the breakup and tried to move on, you were already well on your way to start at Briar so you pushed through, spent the whole fall semester with your head in your books ignoring all the noise about football season.
And it worked, it was now almost summer, the end of your freshman year, and you hadn’t had a single interaction with him. You weren’t even sure if he knew you were in the same campus as him.
The drinks flowed nicely, you joined Tina and Maggie at their booth where more friends were sitting, you did a few shots and nursed a drink for a few hours, you were having fun and thankfully the place was crowded enough that you hadn’t seen Beau all night.
“You have to sing with me!” Tina was begging you, she was a bit more tipsy than you by now “And you too” she pointed at Maggie “Oh my god, we’re doing Mamma Mia!”
You didn’t even get a chance to protest before she was at the bar signing you up. “Guess we’re Donna and the Dynamos tonight” Maggie shrugged sipping on her beer.
A little later your names were announced and as much as you tried complaining to your friends wouldn’t let you stay in your seat. Tina and Maggie were already on the stage by the time you begrudgingly made your way over.
“Woo” Allie shouted your name from the booth “Let’s go!” This is what you get for being friends with the theater kids.
Beau stopped mid sentence at the sound of your name, there was no way it was actually you, other people have the same name as you right?
He knew you were at Briar, he’d seen you around campus a few times, busy and focused as always. He had stopped himself from reaching out more than once, he had broken up with you after all.
But then he looked at the stage and there you were, beautiful as ever, and looking more free than you have in a while.
Super Trouper by ABBA started playing and you and your friends took your places as if you were in Mamma Mia and Beau swears the atmosphere changed completely as if he was in one of the romance movies him and Joana watch every time they’re together.
And then your eyes found his and time warped all around you. A few seconds felt like long minutes and nothing at all at the same time. You missed your next line but thankfully your friends kept going like nothing had happened.
When the song finished you all but ran back to your booth and got your jacket to leave “Okay, that’s it for me guys, love you, bye” You rushed out.
“Nooo, we’re having so much fun, don’t go!” Tina whined.
“I know but it’s late and I work early tomorrow” You excuse yourself.
“Okay well, be safe, text us when you get home” Allie nods.
You turn around to leave but instead find yourself blocked by someone.
Beau.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing you up in that stage made him realize just how much he had messed up by letting you go.
You’d almost forgotten how your name sounded from his lips. Almost. Your body though, apparently didn’t get the memo that you’re no longer together because it completely relaxed before your brain reminded it that it was not supposed to react that way.
Behind you, your friends were shocked by the fact that the new hotshot quarterback was standing in front of you calling your name, not to mention the fact that he looked like he was a moment away from falling on his knees for you.
“Beau” You said.
“Shit” He cursed “Can we talk?”
“I was just leaving” You told him hoping that was enough for him to let you leave.
“I’ll walk you” He said “I’d offer to drive you but I’ve had a few drinks”
“You really don’t have to” You insisted.
“Or we can get a taxi?” You knew the tone he was using, it was the same one he used that one time he forgot you had a date because they were on a two game losing streak and practices were running late back in high school, it was the ‘I’m genuinely sorry please let me make it up to you somehow’ tone.
“I don’t wanna take you away from the party” You told him looking back at a group of girls where he was standing before, they looked impatient for him to go back.
“Please?” You sighed giving him a small nod, as always, you can’t resist against him.
The walk back to your dorm was quiet for a while. Like he was trying to figure out how to start the conversation.
It wasn’t until you entered your street that he spoke “I’m sorry” You didn’t look at him, just kept your eyes to the front “Like genuinely, I’m really sorry. For breaking up with you like that, for giving you shit reasons, for not fighting more for us”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“Because I’m stupid” You reached your dorm “Because I saw what college did to my brother’s relationship, and Joanna kept talking about how much fun she was having being single and how glad she was to not be tied to someone”
“And also because everyone around kept talking about how busy I was going to get with practice and games and classes, and I didn’t want to keep you waiting or make you feel like you were second to football all the time” He continued “And for a while I tried to convince myself that I’d done the right thing but really I feel empty all the time. And alone, all those parties filled with people? They don’t matter because as much as I try to let them distract me I always end up staring at the door waiting for you to walk in”
“Beau-“ You tried to speak but he stopped you.
“I love you. I know I never said it back when we were together but I need you to know that I love you and every day for the past year I’ve spent wishing I could go back in time and not let all the noise get in my head”
Now, you knew your friends would never approve of this, well, at least Allie wouldn’t. But hearing Beau say those three words is enough for you to give in.
“Beau?” He finally let you speak, big eyes stared into your “I’m gonna really need your actions to speak for your words if we’re going to try this again”
“Yes” He nodded immediately “Yes, yes baby. Anything”
“Okay”
“Okay?”
“Okay”
“So can I kiss you now?” You laughed and nodded, in an instant his lips were on yours “Fuck baby you have no idea how much I’ve missed you”
“Why don’t you show me?” He all but growled “You know, that thing about your actions?”
“Mhm” He barely pulled away from your lips as you spoke “Where’s your dorm?”
Based on this request: i want to request a beau maxwell x oc basically they dated in hs for like a year he broke up with her before they got into briar u n she had managed to not cross paths with him till they saw each other again and she couldn’t escape the situation and they end up talking maybe implying they hooked up again.
Word count: 1.6k
⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ First, I wanna apologize for not making this an x oc but it started that way and then I realized I would have to create a whole background for the oc and I don't really like doing that unless I'm doing a whole multi-part story so sorry. This took longer than expected to write and it came out too short so I'm sorry for that too. And finally, I can't stop making these boys absolute yearners help.
Off campus masterlist
Class, work, library, gym, dorm. That had been your life since starting at Briar.
Maintaining the scholarship you’d worked so hard for was your only goal.
There was no time for parties, no time for sports, no time for boyfriends.
“You’re gonna burnout” Your friend Tina said “You can’t keep going like this.
“Of course I can, I’ve been doing it the whole year” You shrugged.
“But it’s my birthday” Tina pouted “Come on, come out with us tonight, just one night”
You considered it, the paper you were working on was almost done and not due for another 4 days, you had the day off of work and Tina’s pleading eyes were pretty convincing “Fine” You finally sighed “But only for a little bit”
“Yes!” The blonde hugged you tight “Malone’s at 8, it’s karaoke night”
Malone’s at night was a completely different place from what you were used to, sometimes you ran in here during your lunch break or in between lessons if there was enough time to grab some food to go but you’d never been here at night when the place converted into a bar.
“You’re here!” Tina somehow spots you as soon as you walk through the doors “Girl the entire hockey team is here”
“And some of the football team too” Maggie, your other friend points out passing you a shot glass “The quarterback this season? HOT, he’s a freshman too which means maybe I’ll have a chance” She wiggles her eyebrows.
You freeze, the new football quarterback, Beau Maxwell, your ex boyfriend.
Your high school boyfriend who broke up with you only a few days after your first anniversary. His reasoning? College.
He was planning on focusing on his football career and he didn’t want to stand in between you and your education because he knew how hard you’d worked for your scholarship.
You wanted to argue, tell him that the only reason you’d been killing yourself with so much school work had been because of your shared plans to make it to Briar together. Because your parents didn’t have the money his did to put you through a private college comfortably, but they did have enough money for you to go to community college and you had the grades to make it in without slaving yourself over your studies.
In fact, that had been your first choice, you didn’t mind staying home and going to community college, but Beau had put the idea of Briar U together in your head back when you were just friends and your decision had been final when you finally started dating.
But you didn’t argue, you accepted the breakup and tried to move on, you were already well on your way to start at Briar so you pushed through, spent the whole fall semester with your head in your books ignoring all the noise about football season.
And it worked, it was now almost summer, the end of your freshman year, and you hadn’t had a single interaction with him. You weren’t even sure if he knew you were in the same campus as him.
The drinks flowed nicely, you joined Tina and Maggie at their booth where more friends were sitting, you did a few shots and nursed a drink for a few hours, you were having fun and thankfully the place was crowded enough that you hadn’t seen Beau all night.
“You have to sing with me!” Tina was begging you, she was a bit more tipsy than you by now “And you too” she pointed at Maggie “Oh my god, we’re doing Mamma Mia!”
You didn’t even get a chance to protest before she was at the bar signing you up. “Guess we’re Donna and the Dynamos tonight” Maggie shrugged sipping on her beer.
A little later your names were announced and as much as you tried complaining to your friends wouldn’t let you stay in your seat. Tina and Maggie were already on the stage by the time you begrudgingly made your way over.
“Woo” Allie shouted your name from the booth “Let’s go!” This is what you get for being friends with the theater kids.
Beau stopped mid sentence at the sound of your name, there was no way it was actually you, other people have the same name as you right?
He knew you were at Briar, he’d seen you around campus a few times, busy and focused as always. He had stopped himself from reaching out more than once, he had broken up with you after all.
But then he looked at the stage and there you were, beautiful as ever, and looking more free than you have in a while.
Super Trouper by ABBA started playing and you and your friends took your places as if you were in Mamma Mia and Beau swears the atmosphere changed completely as if he was in one of the romance movies him and Joana watch every time they’re together.
And then your eyes found his and time warped all around you. A few seconds felt like long minutes and nothing at all at the same time. You missed your next line but thankfully your friends kept going like nothing had happened.
When the song finished you all but ran back to your booth and got your jacket to leave “Okay, that’s it for me guys, love you, bye” You rushed out.
“Nooo, we’re having so much fun, don’t go!” Tina whined.
“I know but it’s late and I work early tomorrow” You excuse yourself.
“Okay well, be safe, text us when you get home” Allie nods.
You turn around to leave but instead find yourself blocked by someone.
Beau.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing you up in that stage made him realize just how much he had messed up by letting you go.
You’d almost forgotten how your name sounded from his lips. Almost. Your body though, apparently didn’t get the memo that you’re no longer together because it completely relaxed before your brain reminded it that it was not supposed to react that way.
Behind you, your friends were shocked by the fact that the new hotshot quarterback was standing in front of you calling your name, not to mention the fact that he looked like he was a moment away from falling on his knees for you.
“Beau” You said.
“Shit” He cursed “Can we talk?”
“I was just leaving” You told him hoping that was enough for him to let you leave.
“I’ll walk you” He said “I’d offer to drive you but I’ve had a few drinks”
“You really don’t have to” You insisted.
“Or we can get a taxi?” You knew the tone he was using, it was the same one he used that one time he forgot you had a date because they were on a two game losing streak and practices were running late back in high school, it was the ‘I’m genuinely sorry please let me make it up to you somehow’ tone.
“I don’t wanna take you away from the party” You told him looking back at a group of girls where he was standing before, they looked impatient for him to go back.
“Please?” You sighed giving him a small nod, as always, you can’t resist against him.
The walk back to your dorm was quiet for a while. Like he was trying to figure out how to start the conversation.
It wasn’t until you entered your street that he spoke “I’m sorry” You didn’t look at him, just kept your eyes to the front “Like genuinely, I’m really sorry. For breaking up with you like that, for giving you shit reasons, for not fighting more for us”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“Because I’m stupid” You reached your dorm “Because I saw what college did to my brother’s relationship, and Joanna kept talking about how much fun she was having being single and how glad she was to not be tied to someone”
“And also because everyone around kept talking about how busy I was going to get with practice and games and classes, and I didn’t want to keep you waiting or make you feel like you were second to football all the time” He continued “And for a while I tried to convince myself that I’d done the right thing but really I feel empty all the time. And alone, all those parties filled with people? They don’t matter because as much as I try to let them distract me I always end up staring at the door waiting for you to walk in”
“Beau-“ You tried to speak but he stopped you.
“I love you. I know I never said it back when we were together but I need you to know that I love you and every day for the past year I’ve spent wishing I could go back in time and not let all the noise get in my head”
Now, you knew your friends would never approve of this, well, at least Allie wouldn’t. But hearing Beau say those three words is enough for you to give in.
“Beau?” He finally let you speak, big eyes stared into your “I’m gonna really need your actions to speak for your words if we’re going to try this again”
“Yes” He nodded immediately “Yes, yes baby. Anything”
“Okay”
“Okay?”
“Okay”
“So can I kiss you now?” You laughed and nodded, in an instant his lips were on yours “Fuck baby you have no idea how much I’ve missed you”
“Why don’t you show me?” He all but growled “You know, that thing about your actions?”
“Mhm” He barely pulled away from your lips as you spoke “Where’s your dorm?”
summary: your boyfriend not having tiktok might be the best part of your relationship
cw/tags: swearing, slightly suggestive content, pet names used, no y/n, you have hair, not proofread, run on sentences!! ignore them pls! it’s my whimsy!!
1. More Athletic
“Beau!” A shit eating grin is already spread across your face as his name leaves your lips. A hum sounds from where he stands over the sink in the bathroom, brushing his teeth before bed. “Do you ever wish you were more athletic?”
You hear a quick spit, rinse, and jiggle in the bathroom and then Beau materializes in the doorway, shirtless, sweatpants riding low on his hips, and it takes everything in you not to practically drool when he leans his whole weight onto the frame. He raises a questioning brow at you, because obviously he had heard you wrong, and intentionally flexes his stomach muscles as he smirks, “what was that, baby?”
As you lean back on your elbows, Briar Football hoodie bunching around your shoulders and tiny shorts riding high on your thighs, you try to keep your composure, “do you ever wish you were more athletic?” the sentence doesn’t even fully finish leaving your mouth before Beaus rolling his eyes.
“Unbelievable,” is muttered quietly, he walks over to where you’re leaned on his bed, holding his hands out. You give him a look, one he throws right back at you with a shake of his outstretched palm. “Give me your hand, baby.”
As soon as your fingers touch his, he’s pulling you into him, one of your hands being placed directly onto his abdomen, feeling the ridged muscles underneath smooth, warm skin. The other hand holding loosely onto his thick bicep, not even close to being fully wrapped around the band of muscle.
Beau guides your hand down his stomach, making sure you feel every dip and crevice packed heavily with pure strength from long days at the field and weight training. His pretty brown eyes hold yours in a constant stare, and he looks quite smug that you’re awestruck at his blatant display of ego. Or maybe that’s how you always look when you touch him like this, usually he’s too busy with his mouth, hands, and… other parts of his body to see how you react every time he takes his shirt off, or shows off his thick thighs.
“Athletic? Really, baby? I’m as athletic as they come.” He punctuates his point by flexing his bicep, removing one of his hands from yours and physically moving your head so your eyes go from where they’re frozen staring at his eyes, wide with astonishment, to looking at his arm muscles. Tight and tan, veins running underneath his skin, and you swear you’ve never seen a sexier forearm in your life.
Heat licks at your spine, your stomach in knots at how fine this man is in front of you. Hair damp from his shower, minty breath fanning across your face, and a stupidly hot grin that says how right he knows he is sitting on his lips. You have half a mind to drop to your knees right now and give him the head of his life if it means he lets you keep touching him like this.
But the thought of your phone, recording from a hidden corner in the room, catching Beau getting his dick sucked is too much for you to handle, you should be the only one to see that. You’re quick to remove yourself from him, because touching him short circuits your brains sometimes, and giggle to yourself as you try to pass by him.
His eyes track you as you cross his room, and grab something hidden behind a pile of books, and then his hands go through his hair as he sighs dramatically when you hold your phone up, almost victoriously, “tiktok,” is all you say.
2. Wiping Kisses
The first time you do it, you’re walking back to your dorm from dinner. Your hand is held tightly in his, your path isn’t straight what so ever, always moving a little left, a little right, and a smile is plastered onto your face.
Beau had texted you after practice, saying he needed to see you or he might die due to his coach basically making him see god on the field. And then he had texted you again, when you didn’t answer within 2 minutes saying this was cruel and unusual punishment. And then he triple texted, and thats when you decided to make him suffer.
You tried to do it when he kissed you as he got to your dorm to pick you up, but he was stage 3 clinger Beau and there was no avoiding or wiping any of what he gave you in the first 20 minutes of him seeing you, not that you’re complaining. But after eating and catching up for over an hour, the plan is very much in motion to make Beau suffer just a little bit.
Beau, none the wiser, is already setting himself up for failure. He’s been slowly pulling you into his orbit for the past few minutes, hand holding turning to his arm loosely around your waist, then around shoulder. His bigger body steering yours to the ice cream shop that he likes but won’t admit to, always blaming your sweet tooth instead of his undeniably bigger one.
A kiss is planted directly onto your forehead, absentminded most likely, Beau says sometimes he physically can’t help that he has to love you out loud, and that includes subconscious foreheads kisses. Unlucky for Beau, you’re set on being a menace to him tonight, so your hand goes up to your head and smoothes away where his lips had just been. You think he didn’t catch it, too busy staring at a squirrel that’s a little too close for comfort and let your hand drop back to your side. Have to try harder next time.
The next peck is placed onto your check after you find your seat at the ice cream shop, Beau telling you to get comfy while he goes and orders for the two of you. Your hand is quick to wipe away the kiss while he’s still looking at you smile at him in thanks. He catches that one for sure, and his eyebrows furrow, “you good?”
You nod, “why wouldn’t I be?” Beau just shakes his head and then goes to get your ice cream.
You’re surprised you get away with the third, after ice cream and the walk home, you’re both settled onto your couch, a show that you watch together paused on the tv, ready to go with the new episode that dropped the night before, and your legs draped over Beau when he leans over you to land a quick smooch right on your lips. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck, smoothing over your hair and moving his lips gently against yours for a moment before returning to his spot.
The sleeve of your shirt meets your lips in the next second and Beau scans your whole body like you’ve committed a crime against him, but decidedly keeps it to himself as you start the show. He stealthily does a quick breath check, and as far as he can tell his breath is fine, and even goes as far as to smell his shirt and armpit when you’re busy fussing with the blanket you had been sitting on, he smells like his deodorant and cologne.
He hand soothes up and down your leg as he goes over everything he had done the past few days, practice, class, dinner with you twice, study, drinks with the boys on Saturday, he had a scrimmage on Monday that he had to cancel on you for because it ran late, you can’t be mad at him for that, could you?
Before he knows it, the episode is over and you’re yapping about everything that had just happened, usually he loves these yap sessions, usually he’s the main yapper. You’re getting up to grab a glass of water and he’s following you like a lost puppy when he makes a split decision to test his theory on how to tell if you’re upset or not.
His hand meets your back, then full circles to your stomach as he turns you, your back pressing firmly against the wall as his lips capture yours. The gasp you let out is delicious, his mind already too focused on how you’re feeling and not how you’re feeling about him. Your arms are around his neck immediately, and when his lips leave yours to trails down your jaw, you almost forget about the suffering you’ve decided on today.
One of your arms leaves his neck, the sleeve of your shirt gliding across your lips as his kisses trails, just to immediately stop at the sight in front of him, “what the hell, baby?” Beau takes 2 full steps back from you as you burst into giggles.
You’re fully bent over laughing as he stands there, a pout firmly on his mouth. “is this because of Monday? Baby, I had to stay late-“ you’re quick to cut him off with a kiss, more giggles escaping you as his hands find your waist.
“You triple texted.” You say, as if that’s an actual answer, and Beaus face screws up as he prepares to rant about the 12 texts he got while at practice yesterday that explained exactly why you should get a pet fish and every name you have listed in your notes app for said fish.
3. Current Boyfriend
After seeing Allie pull the Current Boyfriend Trick on Dean, you knew you had to move fast. There was a chance Dean would tell Beau about the horrible thing Allie did to him, “she basically said she wants to break up, bro,” and there was a chance Dean would forget all about it the second he walked into the Football house for the party that night.
It was a few hours before the party was due to start, and you were feeling mischievous. You had just finished up hair and makeup, when Beau walks into your room and plops directly into your bed.
“Baby, Dean wants to pregame here with you and the girls,” he says it like he’s delivering a punishment, and truly he is. You know that Dean likes your choice in pregame drinks more than the Football boys, and the fact that Beau has decidedly held himself hostage in your dorm for the past few pregames makes Dean want to be at yours more than the Football house. But Dean hogs the snacks and is loud, and gets mad when more than 3 Kesha songs play.
You flip flop the idea in your head, turning to Beau with a happy smile on your face, “he can come if you do a fit check with me,” a groan immediately leaves his throat, but he’s already standing up and offering you a hand before you can take him seriously. You know he would do one with you anyway, he loves to show you off.
You quickly get dressed, something cute and then you’re party ready, a whistle leaves Beaus lips as you do a little twirl for him and you can’t help but giggle. As you’re setting up your phone, Beau gets into position, he knows your habits by now, having done enough of these by now to know what angles you like and what side you prefer to stand on.
“Hey guys, here’s the fit check for tonight’s party! My tops Akira and bottoms are thrifted! Necklace is Kendra Scott! And this is my current boyfriend, Beau! Your turn!” you’re met with silence as Beau stars at you, mouth open.
“Beau, baby, your turn!” you smile at the camera, playing up your fit check as you push him forward a little. Beau igonores your recording completely, turning his whole body to you.
“Current?” He’s stunned to say the least and he looks genuinely upset. But the smile on your face doesn’t fade as you nod at him. Thank god for Dean and his short term memory loss.
“Yeah, current boyfriend. Where’s your shirt from? Cove?” You’re pulling at the bottom of his shirt but he’s stuck 10 seconds in the past, his head spinning slightly at the thought of him not ever being your significant other. He nods, and you think he’s catching up on the conversation, but then he turns to your desk and grabs something.
Before you can even blink he’s got your left hand held in his and a sharpie held to your left ring finger. He’s drawing a line around it with a big circle in the middle at the bottom of your finger. Now you’re the one shocked, mouth agap as he draws a ring onto your finger. When he’s done, he plops the sharpie back on your desk and gives you a quick kiss on the head before going back to your recording.
“Hey, I’m Beau, current boyfriend, future husband and father of her children, my shirt is from Cove and pants are old navy i think, my mom bought them last time she visited. Oh my chain, baby you bought this for me for our 2 year anniversary right?” the absolute shit eating grin on his face as he turns to you and sees your staring at your finger still is what gets your video to a million views by the end of the night.
let me know if you enjoyed!!! pls :) my requests are open too
summary: the lifeguard at the beach you’ve been frequently visiting this summer has taken a liking to you. maybe he’ll make you more than some girl he knows at the beach.
cw: beach, big bodies of water, uses of petnames ('princess', 'favorite girl'), some explicit language
masterlist! word count: 1.3k
a/n: eeek!! this is to celebrate 156 followers and the end of summer vacay! thank u soso much i cant say it enough <3
it was a tuesday, the sun was beaming and the vast beach was filled. every spot was taken, children laughed and played. people lounged on their towels tanning, reading books, or listening to music. groups of friends chatted and ate the food they’d brought from the pier.
dick grayson was in charge of the few three hundred square feet before him. one blue tower six hundred feet to his left and the same to his right. he’d taken up this second job as a lifeguard every summer since he turned eighteen. he liked it.
the kids who always came up to him to ask silly questions. the elders who’d ask for directions or who he’d help to set up their tents. watching families and groups of friends just have a good time. dick relaxed to the sound of laughter mixed with the waves.
there was some parts he didn’t like, of course. the uncomfortable feeling when teenagers would giggle and ask for his number which he’d have to tell them to shoo and that he was way older. the drunk or idiotic men who’d stumble onto the sand and bother people who were trying to relax. blowing the whistle at someone who’d swam way past the buoys.
and the whole part of the job, the life guarding. sprinting into the ocean to help someone who’d panicked out in the water and dragging them out into the sand, running the procedures he was trained for. his own friends always joked that in some other universe he was a superhero. he never thought so, it sounded ridiculous.
as he sat out the tower under the shade with his sunglasses on and bright red swim trunks. dick was paying attention to the surroundings, seeing no trouble but people having a good day at the beach. god, it was fucking hot. he sighed heavily, tilting his head back briefly with his arms draped on the beach chairs armrests.
for a guy who loved working on the beach sometimes he really he hated the heat.
at the same beach, you frequently visited now during the summer finding it was the only way to cope with the unforgiving sun. you’d found a perfect spot that was away from everyone enough to give yourself some privacy. you were relaxing on your towel, sunglasses on and feeling the heat of the sun nipping at your skin. you wore the beach attire you preferred, feeling the nylon fabric hugging your chest.
you were there to relax. under your sunglasses, your eyelids were closed and you listen to the music playing from your speaker. listening to the sounds of chattering, giggles, waves, and seagulls.
“you again. you know, i’m just starting to believe you’re coming just to see me.” a voice breaking the peaceful ambience. you let your eyes flutter open, revealing the sight of the lifeguard standing before you. dick grayson.
since you’ve started coming to this beach back in may, you somehow formed a friendship with the lifeguard. a flirty friendship. you both only ever saw each other at the beach, not talking on the days either of you were taking a break from the sun. it sounded strange but it was thrilling, lighthearted, and fun.
“you can believe what you want but i’ll admit that this is a view i can always look forward to,” you flirt back. you place your sunglasses onto your head and sit up. his jet black hair shined under the sun, some strands moving through the beach breeze. “what are you doing over here? i’m not in any danger.”
dick grins, the cute dimple on his cheek coming into view. “just came to see if everything was up to my favorite girl’s standards. the sand okay? temperature to your liking?” he teased before he shook his head, his hands on his hips as he took a glance around to make sure everything stayed okay before back at you.
“i came to give you a heads up that my lunch is in fifteen minutes. thought i’d invite you to go for a swim?” he asked, his eyebrow perking up. you two hadn’t really done something like that. it was usually just talking, you hanging around the tower he was always stationed at to chat and laugh.
you hesitate but as your eyes roam over his michelangelo carved physique, you couldn’t imagine why you’d say no. you nod, “call me when you’re ready.” you tell him before putting your sunglasses back on, laying back down, and closing your eyes.
fifteen minutes later, dick was walking in front of you towards the ocean. “you can swim, right?” he smirked, looking over his shoulder. “i mean, if you can’t that’s not problem. i can keep you afloat and safe, can’t say i won’t be thinking about giving you mouth to mouth.” he winked.
dick was smooth and that made this flirty friendship so much more enjoyable and exciting. “i can swim but maybe i’ll play damsel in distress so you can get your fill. god knows i’d have a good time.” he smiles at your response, relief you match his wit as he reaches back to take your hand as you both step into the world.
it’s freezing. your breath hitches, and your grip on his hand tightens. “shit, that’s cold,” you whisper and he chuckles. “you can do it, princess. before you know it, you’ll get used it and it’ll feel real good,” dick taunts as he carefully guides you deeper into the water.
dick wraps his arm around your waist as your feet begin to lift off the sand floor and float into the large body of saltwater. it only gets colder from there, your arms wrapping around his neck with a light squeal of the freezing temperature against your body. the only warmth comes from him being pressed against you.
he laughs at your reaction. his laugh was bright, filled with pure joy of being in your presence. one arm stretched out to keep you both floating and swim deeper, still staying behind the buoys because dick was strict about those rules and he wasn’t going to risk your lives just to impress you. this was good enough. under the water, he lets his hand glide lightly against the skin of your waist, not wanting to push any boundaries but wanting to know what your skin felt like under his palm. a thought dick had been having when you two first started talking.
“feels good now, hm?” dick asks, using his hand to cup some water and pour it along your neck and the top of your head. “hey! i can acclimate myself!” you shiver against him, a light shake in your shoulders where the water dripped along.
the two of you float into each other’s arms. yeah, you could swim but for a moment you’d let this hot lifeguard keep his arm around you a little longer. “have you gone to any of the beaches up north?” he asks suddenly. out here, you couldn’t hear the people on the beach. just the waves, occasionally ship honking in the distance, and him. you shake your head.
“well, that water is clearer. colder. but the beach itself? stunning. a lot like the girl in my arms,” he smirks, liking when he flirted with you and seeing you roll your eyes. “anyway, it’s got big rocks. the rocks are covered in that bright green algae. some flowers even grow along the sand too. was thinking i could take you there sometime.”
“oh, on a date?” you tease.
but he didn’t seem to be joking, nodding. “yeah, but not our first one. i think we’ve had enough beach together, i’d like to see you in a different light that isn’t the sun. maybe like in a candlelight dinner scenery?”
you were quiet for a moment, even if he didn’t seem serious you were telling yourself there was no way he was actually being genuine. you chuckle awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation light. “uh, like.. actually?”
dick grins, amused by your subtle confusion. “like actually. after we get out of here, i’ll finally get your number and we can plan something. what do you say? you can say no, i’m good with rejection. i just thought i’d shoot my shot with you before summer’s over and i’ll never see this pretty face again.”
taking in a deep breath and mentally weighing your choices, you found nothing holding you back from giving this a try. “alright, yeah. we can take our fun outside the beach.”
dick lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, throwing his head back in relief. “oh, thank god. i lied about being good with rejection. i don’t think i’d ever get over being turned down by you.”
a/n: like i said i cant thank u all enough. i only started writing these fics a week ago and i couldnt be more grateful that u guys actually enjoy what ive wrote. i am the happiest girl in the world!
synopsis – it’s time for the annual Maxwell DiLaurentis birthday festivities, and with dynamic duos being the theme this year, a certain hawk finds himself gravitated towards a ladybug all night
warnings – drinking, partying, lots of flirting, sexual tension, for technical reasons Logan’s truck can seat 4 people, reader is referred to as she/her
note – this has (also) been collecting dust in my drafts for forever, it's about time it saw the light of day. you can click here to see the ladybug costume inspo. enjoy ♡
masterlist
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
Your boots clack against the wood as you walk up the steps to the hockey house, trailing behind your friend as she’s rushing inside. Trying to keep up with her felt impossible as she walks in quickly, excited to get the party started.
You call her name, getting her attention as she turns to you,
“Come on!” she exclaims, already starting to dance to the music playing inside the house.
This being your first party at Briar, the nerves inside you couldn’t help but bundle up. Dynamic duos seemed like a fun concept though, so you indulged, your friend going as a bumblebee and you, a ladybug.
Glancing around the house, the party had already kicked off – people making themselves comfortable on the couch, games of beer pong happening, people dancing as you follow your friend into the kitchen, hoping to get a drink to calm down your nerves.
Standing behind her as she looks in the fridge, you look around before she calls your name, handing you a can of your favorite drink. You crack the cans open and clink them together, cheers-ing each other and taking a sip.
Before you get a chance to head back to the living room, a song comes on that you both love, making you both forget about your drinks. She grabs your hand as you follow her, lightly running to match her pace, as you both make your way to the makeshift dance floor.
Logan finds his words caught in his throat as he does a double take, seeing a swift flash of yellow, then red move past him, his eyes glued to the movements of the ladybug rushing over to the dance floor. A deep, sinking feeling hits his stomach, his attention locked on you as he watches you sway your hips to the music.
Your hands lift up before slowly tracing down your entire body. He feels like he’s watching you in slow motion, intrigue flaring up inside of him.
He takes a sip of his beer as his eyes slowly trail up and down your body. The red corset with black spots hugs your curves in every way that’s right while accentuating your chest. The black lace mini skirt flowing with every movement of your body. Your black heeled boots coming up to your knees, tying the outfit together perfectly.
A slight smile comes across his face as your body turns, your back to him now, the pair of small black wings you have on now coming into his view. The headband with black antennas completes the costume, giving you the perfect combination of looking adorable and sexy at the same time.
Your friend (he assumes), the bumblebee, holds your hand as she spins you. You look radiant as you spin, a huge smile on your face now as you give her the opportunity to spin too. Logan decides to make his way out of the kitchen, his mind set on one thing and one thing only.
The song eventually ends, you both out of breath and giggling, making your way off the dance floor as your friend stops dead in her tracks.
“Oh my god, look, that guy is also dressed like a bee!” she says, pointing to the attractive guy standing by himself in the kitchen, wearing a yellow and black striped muscle tee and some wings on his back.
“Wow, it must be fate,” you say sarcastically, her not picking up on it as she links arms with you.
“No, it definitely is, I have to go talk to him. Please don’t be mad at me!”
“You don’t need my permission, just don’t let him get his stinger stuck in you,” you joke, the both of you bursting out in laughter as she squeezes your arm before unlinking your arms and heading over to him.
She turns to you on her walk over, giving you one more cheeky smile as you blow a longing kiss at her, you both laughing once again. You watch as she approaches him effortlessly, the two of them engaging in what looks like a chill but flirty conversation.
“I didn’t think ladybugs came out at night,” you hear from behind you. Turning around, you see a very handsome man standing behind you, looking right at you, a slight smile on his face. You walk closer to him, eyes giving him a once over.
“And I thought this was a costume party,” you joke back, noting he’s just wearing a Briar tank and black pants with some ridiculously large sitting wings on his back.
“What do you mean?" he jokes, “I’m a bird.”
“A... Briar hawk...” you trail off, your eyes glancing back down to the tank top, noticing the X taped over the 's' on his shirt.
“Exactly. And my dynamic duo is the bee in the kitchen,” he says, motioning his head in a nod to who you were assuming is his friend.
“You’re the birds and the bee- oh my god,” you look down, fighting the laughter begging to come out. You turn your attention behind you to the two bees in the kitchen, still mingling, the guy laughing at something your friend said, before turning your focus back to this mystery man.
“Our bees are mating,” you state, him looking at you puzzled, gauging whether or not he should laugh, “The girl bee is my best friend,” you add on, a chuckle escaping your lips as he gives in, laughing along with you.
“Well, it seems like this has worked out for both of us then,” he flirts, making you raise your eyebrows, cocking your head to the side.
“Oh, has it?” you ask, the flirting coming naturally to you as you press your lips together, trying to not break out in a smile. He notices the action, his eyes dropping to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.
He takes a small step forward, noticing the tiny black spots scattered over your cheeks and nose as freckles. A cute costume detail, he thought.
“Oh yeah, I actually really have a thing for ladybugs,” he says, leaning into you a little bit closer, his big, brown eyes captivating you.
“Hm, you might wanna see someone about that.”
“I’m trying to, but she hasn’t given me her name yet.”
Feeling your heart drop into your stomach at how straightforward he is, you fight a smile and tell him your name, both hating and loving the satisfaction it gave him that you’re playing right into his hands.
“I’m John, everyone calls me Logan though,” he says, offering his hand for you to shake. Your eyes drop to his hand as you grab it softly, shaking his hand, your eyes trailing back up to his, that are already studying you.
Your hands stay held for a second longer than appropriate for a handshake before you slowly remove your hand from his.
“Do you go to Briar? I don't think I've seen you around before,” he asks.
“It's my first semester here.”
“Ahh, that makes sense. I would’ve remembered you,” he casually flirts.
“And how many girls does that line work on?”
“Wouldn’t know, I've only ever tried it on a ladybug.”
That got a chuckle out of you, him joining you, you both naturally flowing back and forth with flirting and casual conversation.
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
The sound of your name being yelled eventually ends your conversation with Logan, the two of you seeing your very drunk friend being walked over to you with her bee counterpart. Mumbling an ‘oh no,’ you stand up, Logan following.
“Oh my god, you’re with a John toooo… John squaredddd,” she drunkenly giggles. Your eyes widen as your eyes leave hers and look at the other bee of the night, who’s got her arm hooked around his neck.
“How many Johns are there?” you ask rhetorically, Logan chuckling at the monotone way you asked the question as you stand up, taking her arm from his shoulders and wrapping it around yours.
“She said she was looking for you…” he trails off. You apologize and thank him as he hangs out for a second, making sure you’re good before he heads back to the kitchen. You sigh, trying to figure out how the hell you’re gonna get her home in one piece. Logan can see the gears rolling in your head.
“Do you guys want a ride back to your place?” he offers, not wanting to push but clearly not liking seeing you so stressed. The relief washes over your face as your eyes soften at the kind gesture.
“Oh my god, do you mind? You would be my hero, we walked here,” you say, the ‘hero’ comment making butterflies flare up in his stomach.
“I don’t mind at all, I haven’t had a drink in hours,” he says, motioning to the can of soda in his hand. “Lemme grab my keys,” he says, and you sigh in relief, thanking him profusely as you slowly make your way outside, your friend coherent but definitely not in any place to be walking home in heels.
Logan eventually meets you both outside, unlocking the back door and helping to get your friend in the seat. You reach over her to buckle her seatbelt, her head lobbing to the side to face you.
“Jungle juice is yummyyyyyy,” she slurs, giggling at you. You can’t help but laugh,
“I bet it is,” you reply before closing the door and getting in the front passenger seat. Having already started the car, Logan waits for you to put your seatbelt on, you giving him your address in the process before he drives you both home.
The drive was short, an overwhelming urge of desire flowing through your system, making the drive feel longer. You look over at him, his right hand on the wheel, his left elbow resting on the door, the moonlight reflecting on his biceps, his arms flexing every time he moves. You look away before your thoughts become so loud that he could hear them.
Within minutes, he pulls up to your dorm. Putting the car in park, you sigh, thanking him again for the kind gesture. “I seriously owe you one,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.
“You can give me your number…”
You look up at him with slightly raised eyebrows, impressed with his continued boldness towards you.
“If you want, of course.” he reassures, not wanting you to feel pressure. “It’s the cheapest form of payment,” he adds, unable to help the giggle that leaves your lips.
After exchanging numbers, you decline his kind offer to help get your friend to your dorm, saying you’ve got it. After waking her up from her backseat nap, she was at least able to walk herself up to the building, not waiting for you.
You shut the back door, keeping an eye on her to not trip on the step before you look back at Logan through the rolled down front passenger window.
“Goodnight John.”
“Goodnight gorgeous.”
Freshly showered, you get into bed, getting yourself comfortable when your phone vibrates, your head moving to your nightstand. Picking up your phone, you grin at the text on your phone.
Logan (Briar Hawk❌) – so... you think a hawk and a ladybug make a good duo?
Logan can’t help but check his phone every minute, waiting for a response. He nearly gives up and goes to bed when the ‘ding’ comes through, a smile finding his face as he reads your reply.
Bug🐞 – guess there’s only one way to find out
✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧
note – i think i’ve found my Halloween costume for this year now after writing this lmfaooo
The heavy, muffled bass of a crowded Briar house party vibrated straight through the soles of your sneakers, carrying the familiar scents of spilled vodka, stale cedar wood, cheap beer, and expensive cologne. It was a muggy Saturday night in early summer, and the off-campus house was packed wall-to-wall with athletes, students, and familiar faces from every corner of campus. The air inside was warm, thick with heat, and filtered through a hazy red lighting that turned every doorway into a pocket of heavy, quiet tension.
You stood near the edge of the kitchen counter, your fingers absently tracing the damp rim of your plastic cup. You were the kind of presence people noticed without you ever having to lift a finger or raise your voice. There was a quiet, magnetic aura around you, sweet and genuinely attentive to anyone who approached, yet layered behind a soft, impenetrable mystery that kept most people at a comfortable distance. You were easy to like, easy to admire, and notoriously impossible to truly possess.
Except for one person standing on the opposite side of the room.
Through the shifting crowd, past the groups of laughing hockey players and dancing students, your eyes found him with terrifying, automatic precision. John Logan.
He was leaning against the far doorframe leading to the back patio, a plastic cup held loosely in his large hand. You had heard from practically everybody that he was coming tonight. It was impossible to avoid hearing about him. The moment he walked into a room, he had a way of naturally parting the crowd like the Red Sea, his broad shoulders and commanding presence effortlessly drawing eyes without him ever having to try.
Sitting back in the shadows, watching him under the muted red glow, you noticed the subtle details no one else paid attention to.
He looked different. It was a strange, silent jolt to your chest to see the physical proof of time passing without you in it. He had grown out dark, rough stubble along his sharp jawline, a shadow of facial hair he never used to keep when you were together. His posture was slightly different, his choice of clothes subtly shifted, as if he were trying on new versions of himself, experimenting with who he was supposed to be now that the two of you were no longer a unit. He had new icons, new habits, new circles. From the outside, it looked like he was smoothly moving on, trying lives on, building a shiny new identity as Briar’s premier star athlete.
But you knew the exact architecture of his mind too well to be fooled by the act.
You remembered the old ways. You remembered the boy who used to lie on your bedroom floor with his head heavy in your lap, talking about his deepest, most suffocating fears in hushed, vulnerable whispers until the sun came up. He didn't have to change. He didn't need to cultivate this rougher, more distant exterior for the rest of the world. He was enough as he was.
As your mind drifted over the unspoken boundary between you, the cold, heavy truth settled in your stomach. You didn't have a say anymore. Not now. Not since the line was drawn.
You took a slow sip of your drink, trying to drown out the sudden, sharp ache rising in your throat. You remembered how much of yourself you had sacrificed during those final months together. You had spent so long bending over backward, trying to fit yourself into his intense, demanding world. You remembered sitting through endless gatherings with important men who thought important thoughts, nodding along to conversations about mega yachts, business deals, and corporate futures that made you feel utterly invisible. You had forced yourself to pretend to care about things you hated just to keep a grip on his slipping attention. You had tried to like the loud acid rock he played on late-night drives, convincing yourself that if you just shared enough of his world, he would stay.
But the truth was a bitter pill to swallow. The more you gave, the more you poured yourself out to fill his life, the less he seemed to want you. He had slowly faded, pulling back into his own head, becoming a distant shadow right in front of your eyes until you were left with no choice but to walk away.
Your mother had told you during those long, tearful midnight phone calls after the split that it was for the best. She told you that the only way back to your dignity was to stop giving your light to someone who was letting it burn out. She reminded you that you couldn't be his friend, not after everything you had shared. So, you paid the steep price of what you lost and what it cost, and you built your armor back up. You turned yourself back into a shrouded mystery, returning to the guarded, untouchable girl you were when he had first spent months chasing you in high school.
Across the room, Logan’s head turned slightly.
He hadn't been paying attention to the conversation his teammate, Dean, was trying to start. His focus had been completely hijacked the second you walked through the front door twenty minutes ago. The crowd had opened up for you in the exact same effortless way it always did, people leaning in just to get a smile or a gentle word from you. You were glowing under the dim lights, elegant and warm, yet wrapped in that guarded aura that made you look entirely untouched by the noise around you.
Logan’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white against his red plastic cup. The sight of you was a sudden, violent chemical reaction in his blood.
You were his first love. The break had never been clean, never neat or properly wrapped up. It had been a slow, agonizing fade, a quiet unraveling born from low trust, youth, and the overwhelming weight of trying to hold onto something precious while everything around you both was changing. It wasn't a bitter hatred that kept you apart; it was the sheer, suffocating mass of what you used to mean to each other. It was the fact that neither of you knew how to be just friends. The history was too deep, the memory of shared dinners in small, quiet kitchens, long, lazy weekends spent buried under blankets, and quiet promises spoken in the dark was too loud to ever be reduced to casual small talk.
Logan watched the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you laughed softly at something a friend said. His heart executed a heavy, erratic thud against his ribs.
He wondered what you told your friends about him now. What did you say when someone asked about the boy in your old photographs? Did you bring up his name, or did you pretend those long weekends and shared meals were just a distant, forgotten phase of your life? The truth was, he couldn't pretend. He couldn't stand the thought of treating you like a casual acquaintance. It was all or nothing, total surrender or absolute silence. And so, silence was the steep price he paid.
He caught himself staring at the soft, beautiful way you held yourself. You had stepped back into that shrouded mystery that had captivated him years ago when he first fell for you. You had built your walls back up, higher and sleeker than ever before, guarding your dignity with a soft, impenetrable distance.
He felt a sudden, sharp pang of regret deep in his chest. He hated that he was the reason those walls were back up. He remembered how he used to pull those walls down, piece by piece, until he was the only person allowed inside your quiet world. Now, he was standing on the outside with everyone else, staring across a crowded living room, completely unable to bridge the gap.
As if feeling the sudden, crushing weight of his gaze, your eyes slowly drifted away from your conversation and met his across the room.
The entire noise of the party seemed to drop out into a dead, ringing silence. The thumping bass, the clinking glasses, the loud laughter of the athletes nearby faded into a distant, background hum.
For several long, agonizing seconds, neither of you looked away.
In your eyes, Logan saw the softness that had always belonged to him, a faint, lingering warmth that proved the history wasn't completely erased. But beneath that softness, he saw the unyielding finality. The clear, quiet boundary that said you would not be the one to cross the floor. You had given everything you had back then, draining your own reservoir until there was nothing left, only to watch him pull away. You were never going to make yourself small for him again.
Across the room, Logan took a slow, heavy breath, his chest rising against the fabric of his shirt. He wanted to walk over so badly his teeth ached. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to drop his cup, push through the crowd, and pull you out into the quiet night air just to hear your voice say his name properly again. He wanted to ask if you got anxious on the drive home from nights like this, the way he always did, your ghost riding shotgun in his passenger seat every time he hit the highway alone. He wanted to know if you still thought about him when you passed the old places, or if you had completely locked those memories away in a chest you never opened.
I guess I will never, ever know, he thought, the dark reality settling like cold lead in his stomach.
He knew that if he stepped into your space now without the right to hold you, it would only tear open the wounds that were barely starting to scar over. You were both too proud, too deeply marked by the past, and too terrified of ruining what little gentle nostalgia remained between you.
You stared back at him, your chest rising and falling in a slow, measured rhythm. You saw the raw yearning in his dark eyes, the way his knuckles were strained white against his cup, the familiar tilt of his head. Part of you, deep down in the quietest corner of your heart, wanted him to drop everything and walk across the room. You wanted him to prove that the history still mattered, that the distance hurt him just as much as it had hurt you.
But as you stood there in the warm, hazy red light, you realized that the silence was the safest place left for both of you. Crossing that room wouldn't fix the past. It wouldn't undo the slow fading, the lonely phone calls to your mother, or the agonizing realization that you had lost yourself trying to keep him.
You gave him a faint, barely perceptible nod. It was a silent acknowledgment. A quiet hello, a recognition of everything you had once shared, and a permanent goodbye wrapped into a single, devastating movement.
Logan returned the nod, his sharp jaw setting tight as a slow, sad understanding passed between you both across the crowded floor.
You slowly turned back to your friends, your smile slipping back into place, smooth, sweet, and effortlessly charming. You let yourself be swept right back into the conversation, filling the space with your light while keeping your heart firmly locked behind your ribs.
It was better this way. You didn't have to pretend to be someone you weren't anymore. You didn't have to force yourself into spaces where you felt small or unwanted. You had your freedom, your peace, and your quiet, untouchable dignity back, even if it cost you the boy who used to own your entire world.
Logan stood by the doorway for a few moments longer, watching the way you moved through the kitchen, a quiet force of nature that everyone wanted to be near. He knew he had lost something irreplaceable, a piece of his youth and his heart that he would never get back, no matter how many new versions of himself he tried on.
He tossed his empty cup into the trash, turned on his heel, and pushed through the patio door into the cool, damp summer night, leaving the noise of the party, and the girl he still loved, behind him in the red light.
Note - I have been wanting to write this for forever so i really hope you like it!
• {content} dick only respond to you calling him baby
The apartment was quiet for a Sunday afternoon, save for the rhythmic humming of the washing machine and the faint scent of fresh linen.
You were currently knee-deep in folding the endless mountain of laundry on the bed. You grabbed the next item from the basket, held it up, and instantly stopped, staring at it in absolute disbelief.
It was a pair of Dick’s favorite boxers—or at least, what used to be boxers. At this point, the fabric was so worn down it was almost translucent, and there were two distinct, gaping holes near the seam. They were hanging on by a single thread and sheer willpower.
"Dick, are you serious?" you called out toward the living room, where your boyfriend was currently stretched across the rug doing his afternoon mobility routine. "Dick, come look at these!"
No answer. Not even a rustle of his sweatpants.
"Dick?" you said, a little louder, peeking your head around the bedroom door.
He was flowing smoothly from a deep hamstring stretch into a cobra pose, looking entirely serene and completely oblivious to your existence.
You blinked. You knew for a fact he wasn't deaf—the man had peak-human Bat-family hearing and could spot a footstep on a roof three blocks away. You opened your mouth to yell his name again, but then the realization hit you.
You had called him 'Dick.'
In the three years you’d been together, you almost never called him by his actual name. He was "babe," "baby," "honey," or, on particularly chaotic mornings, "sweetheart." Calling him Dick was practically a foreign language to his subconscious.
A mischievous grin spread across your face. You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.
"Richard?"
Silence. He shifted into a shoulder bridge.
"Grayson?"
He sighed softly, deepening the stretch, completely locked into his own world.
"Officer Grayson?"
Nothing.
You took a slow breath, held up the shredded boxers like evidence in a court trial, and dropped your voice to its usual fond, affectionate tone.
"Hey, baby?"
Dick’s head snapped up instantly. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, a warm, easy smile instantly spreading across his face.
"Yeah, sweetcheeks? What's up?" he asked, popping off the floor with effortless agility and strolling toward the bedroom. He leaned into your space, instantly tilting his chin down for a kiss.
You held up the holy pair of boxers right between your faces like a shield, staring at him with an amused, disbelieving look. "Are you serious right now?"
Dick paused mid-lean, blinking at the ruined fabric, then up at you like a confused puppy. "What?"
"First of all, these are going in the trash. Second of all, I just called your name four times."
"No, you didn't," he said smoothly, sliding his arms around your waist anyway. "I would've heard you."
"I said Dick."
He flinched subtly, screwing up his nose as if the word tasted weird. "See? Hearing it now, it doesn't even sound like a real word. Who is he? Sounds like a stranger. I don't know him."
"It is literally your legal name!" You laughed, reaching up to tap his cheek.
Dick gently caught your wrist, tugging you a little closer until your chest was resting against his.
"My name," he corrected softly, his voice dropping into that low, warm register he saved just for you, "is baby. Or babe. I also accept 'hey handsome' if you're feeling fancy."
"You're ridiculous," you murmured, though you couldn't stop the smile tugging at your lips.
"I'm a man conditioned by love," he declared heroically, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. "If you start calling me Dick, I'm going to assume I'm in trouble, or that Bruce is standing right behind me. Neither of those options are good for my heart."
"So if I need to save you from a falling building, I just have to yell 'Look out, babe!'?"
"Precisely," Dick grinned, kissing your cheek before eyeing the ruined boxers in your hand. "And for the record, those are vintage. They're aerated. It's tactical."
"They're going in the trash, baby."
"Fair enough," he sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around you tighter.
