Summary: When your car battery dies, there's only one person who can help you.
Pairing: john logan x graham! reader
A/N: based on this request :) i just finished watching off campus and i am obsessed UGH i love them all so much. kinda thinking about a part two where we get more of Logan's view on reader?? idk what it would be like yet though. reader is written as graham's sister, but as i am a WOC i never think of my readers as white-- so this could be read as like an adopted sibling/half sibling vibe! whatever works for your experience of reading it.
Word Count: 2.3k
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to anything related to DC, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. I do not consent for my works to be reuploaded on other websites, plagiarised, translated, or fed into AI media.
Warnings !: reader is thirsty LMAO, hopeless pining on your part, unclear whether or not john returns your crush?? mentions of hannah. I have also never read the books— so this is solely based off of show logan :)
"G, don't panic." Are the first words out of your mouth when you call your brother. This of course has the opposite effect. In the background, you can hear Garrett hastily quieting the others.
"What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?"
"I'm fine. I'm not hurt, but I'm—"
"Are you alone?"
"Yes, but—"
"Are you somewhere safe?"
"Garrett, if you let me speak, I could tell you that I'm fine." You sigh, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "I think my car battery died. I'm somewhere on the side of the road in Arlington."
A beat of silence. You can kind of hear the chatter from the other line, the absurd overlap of four, twenty-something-year-old, hockey players, discussing what's happening. Then, somewhere in the background, you hear someone — you don't even have to guess who, you could pinpoint him in any hectic frenzy— say "G, is she okay?"
Garrett ignores him, "What do you mean you think the battery is dead?"
"I mean I was driving back to campus when my lights started flickering and the next thing I know everything in my car is off."
"While you were driving?"
"Yes. What was unclear from the story?" You say bluntly.
"Holy shit, Y/N, did you get into an accident—"
"Relax, Gar. As I said, I managed to pull off to the side. I was the only person on the road. The point is, there's no one around to jump my shit and everything is closed."
"Okay, Okay. I can be there in like, twenty minutes—"
"Thought you were meeting with that philosophy tutor at 9— it's 8:48." You hear him let out a frustrated huff.
"I can cancel—"
"No. You can't, Garrett. Cancelling twelve minutes before a session is fucked up and you need the help." Another pause. You can practically hear him deflating.
"I'll send Logan."
Garrett hangs up before you can protest.
You stare at your phone for a second, then at the road, then at your phone again. Arlington is dead quiet this time of night, just streetlights and the distant sound of the city somewhere behind you. You lean back against the car and try not to think about the fact that John Logan is currently getting in his truck to come and look at your now sad, broken down wrangler.
Which you of course fail at.
Your phone buzzes.
John Logan flashes across the screen and you take one full second to compose yourself before answering.
"I'm in Arlington. Somewhere off Mass Ave, like in the suburbs somewhere? I can send my location—"
"Hello to you too."
You close your eyes. "Hi. I'm about a mile past the intersection off Mass Ave, pulled over by the—"
"Are you alright?"
It's a simple question. One that shouldn't make you lose your breath the way it is right now.
"I'm fine."
"G said you were on the road when the battery died?"
"Yeah." You try to brush off the obvious concern in his voice.
"Must have been scary. Are you alright?" He asks once more. Perceptive as always. There's a pause, but you can hear what sounds like the start of Logan's car. You dodge his question by just staying silent.
"Sit tight. I'm twenty minutes out."
You nod, though he obviously can't see. "Okay. See you soon."
You hear his car before you see it.
The low rumble of his engine cuts through the quiet of Arlington like it owns the street, headlights sweeping around the corner and finding you immediately. You straighten up, cross your arms, and do your best to school your expression. It's just Logan. He's just being a good friend and doing your brother a favor. His car pulls up right in front of yours and he kills the engine, hopping out of the car with both of his hands in his jacket pockets.
He doesn't say anything yet, just looks you over, and then the car.
"Get the hood?"
You furrow your eyebrows. "What?"
"Can you pop the hood?"
"Oh. Yeah, sorry." You mumble, walking to the front of the car where the latches of the hood are, and pop them open. You get the center hook, and Logan is there to put the prop rod up.
You take a step away from the car, giving Logan space. He pulls his phone out,turns on the flashlight, and takes a look at the battery inside. You lean against the driver's side door and watch him work, which feels awkward, so you look at the street instead. Then at your nails. Then back at him because there is genuinely nothing else to look at.
"When's the last time you replaced the battery?" He asks, not looking away from it.
"Um. I don't know."
He does look up at that. Just briefly.
"Garrett bought it used for me about two years ago."
"…So never, then?"
"So never." You pause, approaching his side and peering into the hood as well.
"Is that bad?"
The look he gives you is somewhere between amused and pained. "Yeah."
"Cool." You pull your cardigan around yourself just a bit tighter. "So it's my fault."
"That's not at all what I said—"
"It was implied."
"I implied that your battery was old." He turns to you. "That's not your fault. It's just what it is. Do you have jumper cables?"
"Do I look like I own jumper cables?"
"You look like a car owner, which means you should have jumper cables."
You open your mouth to argue, but close it. He is right. He tosses you the keys to his car, which you narrowly drop.
"Cables are in the trunk."
You take a deep breath, and walk towards his car trying to compose yourself. You can't help just how undone you feel around him. Like all sense of composure ceases being. When you open the trunk of his car, you get a waft of the air inside. It, much to your surprise, doesn't smell like sweaty hockey gear, but like Logan himself. A rich cedar with citrusy undertones to balance it. You locate the cables quickly, which means you have no reason to keep standing there, breathing him in. You grab the cables, and with a little more force than necessary, slam the trunk closed.
When you get back to the Wrangler he's crouched by the front again, looking at something on his phone, and he glances up when he hears you coming. You hold the cables out and he stands, taking them from you.
"Thanks," he says.
"Yep," you say.
Very normal. Totally fine.
"Okay." He holds the cables out toward you instead of the car. "Come here."
You blink. "I don't need to—"
"You should know how to do this." He says it simply, like it's obvious, like he's not just voluntarily extending the amount of time you have to stand next to him in the dark. "Come on."
You oblige.
He walks you through what needs to be done patiently. No condecension in his tone. You imagine if this is how he talks to the freshman boys on the hockey team…or if this is the tone he takes up when talking someone through it.
Pushing that thought to the back of your brain where you hopefully never find it again, he holds the cables out to you. One red and one black clamp.
"Two hands. Don't let these touch. Get into the habit of it." You nod, but reach for the cables with one hand, to which he pulls them out of your reach and shoots you a deadpan look. You shake your head in an attempt to get your mind back.
"Sorry." You take them with two hands, and he continues to talk about how the cables work.
"Red to dead first." He nods toward your battery. "Always."
You crouch down next to him and clip it where he points. "Red to dead," you repeat.
"Then red to donor." He reaches past you to attach the other end to his own battery, and for approximately one second his arm is right there and you are very focused on the cable. "Then black to donor."
"Black to donor."
"Last one goes on bare metal. Not the dead battery." He guides your hand — just barely, just enough — to a bolt on the engine block. "Ground it here."
You clip it.
He doesn't move his hand immediately.
"Why not to the battery?" you ask, because you are super interested in the car, and not the fact that he's so close to you right now. Definitely not that.
"Sparks," he says. "Dead batteries can off-gas hydrogen. You don't want a spark near that."
"Oh." You look at the cables, then at him, which is a mistake because he is still right there. "That's probably important to know."
"That's why I'm telling you. Now, we wait a few minutes before I start my car."
He leans against the front of the Wrangler, arms crossed, looking out at the empty street. Not at you. You mirror him without thinking about it. Leaning against the hood next to him, not close enough to be something, just next to him. The streetlight above you is doing that orange late-night thing where everything looks a little warmer than it actually is.
It's quiet for a moment.
"You doing okay out here? You know, before I got here."
"It was fine."
"I'm sure it was. But that's not what I asked." He turns his head to look at you.
You look at the road. A car passes at the far end of the street, headlights sweeping briefly over the pavement, and then it's quiet again.
"It was a little scary," you admit. "When everything shut off. The car kept rolling and all I wanted to do was get out."
He nods. Doesn't make it a big deal, doesn't say I knew it or you should have said so. Just nods, like he's filing it away somewhere careful.
"You called Garrett right away?"
"Immediately."
The corner of his mouth moves. "Good."
You look at him. "You're not going to tell me I should have roadside assistance or something?"
"Do you have roadside assistance?"
"No."
"Then there's no point in telling you that now." He looks back at the street. "Now you know you should have it."
You almost smile. "Yeah. Okay."
~
"Okay." Logan pushes off the hood. "Let's try it."
He gets in his car first and you get in yours, and when he starts his engine you can feel it faintly through the steering wheel from the cables still connecting you. You wait the way he told you to. Thirty seconds, maybe a minute. Then you turn the key.
The Wrangler shudders, clicks, and then —
Catches.
The dash lights up all at once and the radio comes back on mid-song and you let out a breath you have been holding since 8:48pm.
You get back out. Logan is already unclipping the cables in the right order, black from ground, black from donor, red from donor, red from dead, staring at the way his hands look wrapped around each clamp
"You're good," he says, coiling the cables back up.
"Thank you." It comes out quieter than you mean it to. "Really. You didn't have to—"
"Garrett asked me to."
"Right." You nod, a pang of embarassment filling your chest. Right. This was a favor for his best friend— your brother. Nothing more. "Still."
He looks at you for a second, then holds out the cables. "Keep these in the car."
"What about you? I can just buy some online when I get home."
"Really? Are you actually going to?" He tilts his head skeptically.
Unfortunately, he is correct in his assumption that you will likely forget. You sigh, but take them, fingers lightly brushing his as you pull the cables away.
"I'll follow you home," he says, and then he's walking back to his car before you can tell him he doesn't have to.
You watch his headlights in the rearview mirror the whole way home.
It's a twenty three minute drive back to campus, and you are aware of him for every single one of them. Every turn signal, every stop light, the way he stays exactly two car lengths behind you like he's done this before. You turn the stereo up just a little bit louder in an attempt to drown out any more thoughts of him from your brain, which of course, fails miserably.
You pull into your complex and he pulls in behind you. You were half hoping he'd just — flash his lights and keep going, waving you off into your dorm room. Instead, he parks.
You meet him just outside of the entrance to the dorm hall, pulling your jacket just a bit tighter around your shoulders.
"Thanks again." you say again.
"It's fine."
"I know…but thank you. I really appreciate it, Logan."
Something shifts in his expression. Just briefly, just enough that you notice and then immediately question whether you imagined it.
"…Call Triple A in the morning. They can come replace your battery." You nod obediently, and he tilts his head towards you just a little bit.
"Get some sleep," he says.
You nod. "Yeah."
He doesn't move for exactly one second too long.
You watch him walk off into the darkness of the parking lot. You keep standing there even after you hear his car start, and even after the sound of his engine fades out down the street. Finally, you scan your ID and let yourself into the building taking a deep breath once you're inside.
You are completely normal about John Logan. Completely.
𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : none! mention of dicks, walking into changing room full of guys? swearing? dramatic, feral Hannah. Established Hannah X Garrett, Allie X Dean, crackfic!
𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : If a small, angry music major student were to a) be one of your best friends and b) insist on going to hunt down her boyfriend to shove her phone up his ass. would you argue, even if it meant bursting into the locker room after practice?
or
When you, Allie and Hannah walk into the changing rooms, omitting the fact that they'd just finished practice.
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐜𝐞 : 4.5k words
𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 : something to tide ya'll over as I work through my big bertha fics for yall, and yes, I will start planning the first part of my series... when I feel like it! She's a slow grower ykwim? grower not a shower? whatever helps me sleep at night. Hope you like this little piece! Thank you @mndvx for the gif and @somebitchprobably-graphicdump for the dividers !
𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 : I would really appreciate if you could send in an ask to be on my taglist, it's easier for me to manage and make sure everyone is added!! here is the post of my current taglist. Also, if your user is bolded, I'm going on a prayer that youve been tagged but Tumblr wouldn't let me properly do so. I would recommend checking your privacy settings to allow other people to tag you.
One thing you learnt about Hannah Wells, being one of her best friends and all, was that she was normally- a very reasonable person. She was the one to keep electrolyte sachet’s in her bag during a night out, the one to book the uber a day in advance and the one to always text check-ins on the group chat during finals week.
That was her, normally.
Unfortunately, ever since she decided to become the first hockey WAG in the group, the captain she shared a bed with had spent their entire relationship testing that theory. The relationship was undoubtedly adorable, some may say to a disgusting, how-to-lose-a-guy-in-10-days level, but sometimes Garrett would feel the need to use Hannah's tightly strung mental stability as a pair of chopsticks.
“Just, tell me again why we’re doing this?” You watched Hannah with a concerned expression, she was aggressively highlighting a sentence that had absolutely nothing to do with the paragraph she'd just read.
The yellow highlighter squeaked angrily across the page,"You know why," She gritted out.
"No, I know why you're angry,” You pointed at the highlighter.
"I'm asking why that textbook is suffering for it."
The answer never came, but that was attributed to the fact that Hannah was still busy glaring at her notes like they had personally offended her. Beethoven was a bitch.
The study room had fallen suspiciously quiet about twenty minutes ago, with Allie laying on the sofa in the corner going through a script for class and you and hannah sitting on the large table in the centre of the glass box, you scribbling out statistics equations and Hannah trying to compose a new piece.
That initial plan went out the window when Hannah began to complain about Garrett, either of you could have stopped her, put a pin in it and dealt with it at home. Instead, Allie and you happily discarded your work and quipped helpful bits of advice during her rant.
"You know what his problem is?"
You exchanged a glance with Allie, both of you knew it was better if nobody answered- experience had taught you this was a trap.
"He says he'll call me."
Hannah pointed at her phone that she had flung across the table at the beginning of her speech, "then doesn't call me."
You nodded, the man had a habit of saying he’ll call after practice- then take hours in the locker room with the boys. Your own boyfriend had the bad habit, but you made peace with it very early on; assuming it was because the boys were engrossed in some weird, hockey bro hangout while they changed.
It was nonetheless a reasonable complaint, because the team was AWOL for nearly the entire day, and the three of you were suffering for it. Ever since Garrett returned from the bench, training was 24/7 and you were lucky to get a morning kiss, a small whisper of seeing you later before the door shut and their phones seemed to have fallen off the face of the planet.
So, if Graham had promised he’d “see his girl tonight” because he “missed her so much” and then had the gall to not reply to her messages for half an hour. You were prepared to ride at dawn, and steal his skates to rub against concrete for as long as your drill sergeant ordered.
However, currently the drill sergeant was pink in the face and grabbing at her phone, stretching herself over her textbook to wave the device angrily.
"And then when I text him asking where he is-"
You already knew this wasn't going to end well.
"He sends me a thumbs up."
The silence was immediate, you gaped at Allie, she gaped back. It was two fishes staring at each other while Hannah slumped into her chair.
It shouldn't have been shocking, it was exactly the sort of thing Garrett would do. But he was an idiot for deciding to not fight against his nature during this trying time.
Allie lowered the script she had folded against her legs, flopping it onto her chest as she sat up. Slowly, carefully, as if she’d been told there was a rabid animal that could sense her fear.
"A thumbs up?"
"A thumbs up."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
You shook your head and closed your eyes. This was rough, like Liverpool F.C rough.
"I know he meant well."
That sentence was somehow worse, because she was trying to be rational. And when Hannah was angry and tried to be rational, it usually resulted in disaster.
"Did he think?"
Allie's contribution was deeply unhelpful.
Hannah jumped and gave her a thankful clap, "THANK YOU."
"I'm just saying."
You groan and give her a look of deep regret, "You are not helping."
"I wasn't trying to." She grinned at you.
Hannah dropped her head onto the table, face first into her music sheets. The universal sign of academic and emotional defeat.
You watched her lie there for a moment.
Then another
Then-
"I am going to kill him."
You roll your eyes and cross your arms, there it was. The threat you’d all been waiting for, Allie checked her phone, nodding her head.
"Only ten minutes."
"A personal best." You added.
Hannah stood up immediately, the chair scraped obnoxiously against the floor- as if warning her not to do the thing she was absolutely going to do. Both you and Allie looked up, concerned at the way she blinked quickly, the cogs in her head turning so fast that you were sure smoke would start spilling from her ears.
You recognised the look on her face, a dangerous determination, masked by an eerie calm. In actuality it was a complete loss of common sense
"Hannah." Allie started, warningly.
"No."
"You haven't even heard the question."
"I know the question."
The smile spreading across Hannah's face made your stomach drop. It was a Hannah Has An Idea smile and historically speaking, those had a terrible survival rate.
You racked your brain for what she could possibly be plotting. Then your face fell. Practice had ended approximately fifteen minutes ago. Which meant the boys were currently finishing up at the rink. A fact that should've been irrelevant, so painfully ordinary that it was similar to breathing. Instead, it somehow became the most important detail in the room.
“Hannah, no-”
She had already grabbed her bag and started walking towards the door. Allie scrambled to her feet, shoving her stuff into the tote she randomly picked up when you left that morning. You did the same, not caring that you messily crumpled up your work into your bag, instead more focussed on watching Hannah strut out of the library, stomping through the isles- not paying you any mind.
You panted when you caught up to her, dragging a hand through your hair,
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"Hannah."
"No."
"Hannah."
The door to the outside world opened and Allie squinted against the golden hour glow, Hannah’s smile widened dangerously,
"I am going to find my boyfriend."
The first sign this was a terrible idea came when Hannah ignored the boys leisurely walking out of the athletes' building, their hair damp from showers, you recognised a few, some from the calisthenics club, you waved at the girls on the swim team and pointedly flipped off the lewd comments from the lacrosse team. Eugh.
The second sign came when she didn’t listen to your warnings.
The third came when she barely blinked at the coach giving her a confused greeting.
By that point, frankly, the universe had done everything it reasonably could.
"Hannah."
No response.
"Hannah."
Still nothing.
The woman marched through the arena, stumbling sharply against the chairs. You inched through behind her, holding Allie's hand as she huffed and whipped her bangs out of her eyes, glaring at Hannah, who was already at the bottom of the staircase, about to turn into the back corridor.
Neither of you were particularly interested in letting your best friend commit relationship homicide without witnesses.
"Hannah."
"What."
The answer arrived instantly. She stilled just before the dim pathway towards the locker room, hands braced on her backpack straps, her shoes tapped on the floor expectantly.
"You do realise practice literally just ended."
"Correct."
"You do realise hockey players are probably changing."
"Correct."
You looked at Allie, whose eye was twitching at her best friend's unwavering need for vindication.
"You're concerning me."
She rolled her eyes and dashed down the hallway, you recognised this part of the training facility instantly, it was embarrassing the amount of times you had waited here, leaning against the wall for Logan to emerge, his chain glinting in the yellow lighting as he hauled equipment over one shoulder, the other carried his own gear.
He would kiss you quickly, mumbling against your lips about missing you, and then dump all the random sticks and bags of pucks into the storage before slinging an arm around your shoulder, slowing to a leisurely stroll as you recounted your day.
You rounded the corner, and froze. Allie bumped into you, whining as she rubbed her nose.
The locker room doors sat at the end of the corridor. You stared ahead, and blinked when Hannah barely stopped- charging forward.
"Hannah."
"No."
"Hannah."
You cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted after her, jogging behind. "What exactly is your plan here?"
"I am going to find Garrett."
"Then?"
"Then I am going to explain why sending a thumbs up was stupid."
Allie threw her hands up and blocked her pathway to the door, "Hannah."
"No." She tugged down Allie’s arms, and pushed the girl out of the way. Before either you or Allie could stop her, Hannah grabbed the door handle, and it was like the world slowed.
"HANNAH!"
The door opened and you immediately regretted the day you were born. The silence hit you like the torrential stream of water in a car wash, burning your eyes as a gasp got stuck in your throat.
Then your brain caught up with what was in front of you- because unfortunately, disastrously, hockey practice had ended, extremely recently. So recently in fact, that half the team were still in the showers hooting and hollering, while the other half were dripping wet in front of their cubbies. Staring straight at you, towels paused mid-dry.
You froze.
Hannah froze.
Allie froze.
The hockey team froze.
Time itself appeared to freeze.
"Oh my God." Allie giggled shrilly, her eyes wide as her hand came up to stifle a mix between a gasp and sob.
It wasn’t the shirtless hockey players that disturbed you. It was the penis’.
Everywhere.
Anywhere.
Dicks floor to ceiling, no matter where your troubled eyes would take you, it was phallic body parts all around. A sight that would haunt you until graduation.
The team were the first one to snap out of the trance, some of them barely phased at the intrusion, the other half silently covered their junk and shouted brokenly for the people you were actually looking for.
“What?” Logan’s voice shouted from beyond the showers, luckily you were far enough away to avoid the sight of your boyfriend and his teammates in the steamy, tiled cheap porno setting.
You accidentally made eye-contact with one of the freshmen on the team, and he winked at you. The expression on your face must've been unbelievably unimpressed because he rushed to get dressed immediately after his failure.
That made your survival instincts finally activate.
You spun around immediately, a sensible decision on your part.
Unfortunately, Allie had chosen the exact same strategy.
The two of you collided at full speed.
"OW."
The yelp escaped simultaneously. One second you were turning around, the next your shoulder crashed into Allie's.
Your foot caught on your other ankle, and suddenly gravity joined the party. The floor rushed upwards, the world tilted and you were convinced this was your rapture.
Two seconds away from meeting your untimely demise, strong arms caught you before impact.
"Oh my God, babe?" The voice sounded familiar and you braced yourself for his bewildered expression when you squinted your eyes open. Logan’s face was approximately six inches away and you felt the towel he had hurriedly wrapped around himself slip low down his hips against your waist.
"Nope, don’t ask." You closed your eyes against the water droplets splashing onto your face from his hair. The tickle of his silver chain against your cheek made you wave your hands between the two of you. You could feel him gearing up to ask something,
A finger wag in his face and a simple, "Nope." made him laugh as he hoisted you up.
Across from you, Dean had already reached Allie, looking equally concerned and delighted.
"Are you okay?" His arms were bound securely around her, pressing in front of him.
Allie flicked his forehead, "Stop smiling."
"I'm not smiling."
"You absolutely are."
Dean was moments away from framing the incident and hanging it on a wall, it was when Allie had steadied herself and stepped fractionally away from him that you noticed Dean hadn’t managed to grab a towel. And stood naked, right in front of you. As bare as the day he was born.
You retched loudly and tried to run out the door, forgetting that Logan was still holding you upright, an arm around your waist- hand steadying your shoulder.
Deeply and violently, you groaned- accepting that this was your life right now, "Please tell me I died."
The laughter around you doubled in volume, a few of the guys chirping at you.
Somewhere behind Logan, Garrett appeared, towel around his waist- completely oblivious to the chaos playing out with his team.
"What happened?"
The silence that followed was immediate, the boys pursed their lips together, you and Allie were engrossed in anything that didn't involve Hannah.
She glared at him slowly, dangerously. Garrett took one look at her expression, and his eyes ping ponged around the changing area, the open door, the duo of embarrassed girlfriends- one of them looking at her boyfriend seductively, the other hiding her face in her hands. And finally the boys, Dean who was playing into Allies flirting- butt naked. And Logan who was stifling a laugh against your shoulder as you shook your head silently into your palms.
Understanding dawned, making him rush over to his bag and dig out his phone, his eyes widening at his girlfriend, "Oh."
The idiot actually laughed. Hannah looked ready to gouge his eyes out with his stick. And somehow, unbelievably, things were about to get worse.
By dinner the same day, everybody knew, not just the team, not just other teams. The entire student population.
People in your classes, people in the library, people in the campus cafes. Somehow all of them must've collectively received an email.
You still didn't know how, no matter how hard you searched the gossip account, your dm’s, hunted through stories. There was no way to determine how the hell the situation had reached every set of ears at Briar. You'd spent the better part of twelve hours trying to figure it out.
The incident had happened at approximately 9 am that morning.
By six-fifteen, two members of the lacrosse team had smirked at you in passing.
By seven, somebody in a study group asked if you were "recovering."
By eight-thirty, a girl in your dorm-block had winked.
"Tell me again why I haven't transferred,” You dropped your forehead onto the cafeteria table.
Across from you, Hannah looked equally traumatised as she picked at her dinner, Allie looked murderous as another pair of irrelevant students giggled as they passed by.
The three of you had spent the entire day suffering.
Allie slumped in her chair, "Because we're seniors."
You stabbed aggressively at your salad. "Unfortunately,” mouth half-full of lettuce you continued, "You know what the worst part is?"
Nobody answered, mostly because nobody wanted to encourage you.
"The fact we literally didn't do anything."
"THANK YOU."
Allie pointed dramatically.
"THANK YOU."
The cafeteria table rattled slightly, you winced and gave her an accusing stare. While the passion was appreciated, the volume was not.
"We walked into a room." Hannah shrugged
"Accidentally." Allie added.
"Then left."
"Immediately."
You threw your hands up, "And somehow everyone is acting like we joined an orgy."
The three of you sat in offended silence, completely justified silence. Silence that lasted approximately four seconds.
Then somebody cleared their throat and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever god that put you in that situation this morning, wasn’t just deciding to test your self control.
You swore, if you opened your eyes, and the person who you thought it was, was standing in front of you. There would be a search warrant for your name, and a blown up ice rink in your wake.
"No."
Across the table, Hannah groaned and Allie made a sound like she was ready to throw something. The answer came before you opened them, pressing your lips to your hands that were held together in a praying position, you shook your head, "No."
Because standing directly behind you was, Dean who was grinning so wide, you’d think Santa Clause gifted him a dildo, Garrett, currently more occupied in flashing his puppy dog eyes at Hannah and Logan, the only useful one, who came bearing gifts with an apologetic yet amused smile on his annoyingly handsome face.
The Three Horsemen of Making Things Worse.
"Oh, come on.” Dean looked genuinely offended, hand on his chest as he pulled out the seat next to you, in front of Allie.
She threw one of Hannah’s chips at his face, which he caught in his mouth, "We came to support our girlfriends! amidst their public cancellation from society."
"You came to laugh at us." You corrected, ignoring the paper container that slid in front of your tray and the weirdly shaped Logan entity that sat on the other side of you.
The smile on Dean's face widened, "How ‘bout both?"
Hannah dropped her fork and lunged at him, only held back by Garrett- who had two fingers looped into her belt loop.
During this, you peeked into the container, flicking open the lid to see a slice of your favourite cake- red velvet from the bakery just outside campus.
You glanced at Logan and stuck your tongue out at him in response to his pleading expression. There it was, you thought- your eye twitching, the complete lack of shame astounded you.
You hated the smug bastard. A deep, passionate hate. But you still gave him a quick peck, intertwining your hands beneath the table and placed them on his thigh. He suppressed a grin and leaned back in his chair watching you cut into the pastry with your fork.
"How's recovery going?" Dean rested his chin on his palm, twirling a blonde strand with his finger.
Allie flipped off her boyfriend, "Leave."
Garrett laughed immediately, "You have to admit-"
"No." Hannah interrupted, hands slapping at his wrist which comfortably kept his hand looped into her jeans.
"You don't even know what I was going to say."
"Because it doesn't matter."
"It was funny."
"It wasn't."
"It really was."
The idiot looked entirely too pleased with himself, which was particularly annoying because he wasn't even the one receiving the worst of it.
That honour belonged to you and Allie. Specifically because both of your boyfriends had apparently become the main characters of the story. A fact you deeply resented.
"You know what?" You sat up, “How come nobody is talking about Hannah?”
The entire table went quiet.
Hannah blinked.
"Oh my God." Allie said slowly, "You're right."
"I know."
Hannah immediately looked suspicious, "Why aren't they talking about me?"
Then Allie pointed dramatically, "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING."
"You haven't said that."
"I've been thinking about it."
Somehow, the entire college manipulated the story into a desperate cliche- that you and Allie were dying to see your boyfriend’s and just. couldn't. wait. for them, so you burst into the changing room, ovulation phase at it's peak and boned down in front of the entire team.
Completely cutting out the bit where you both were trying to stop Hannah from social suicide.
Mission accomplished apparently. The problem now, was that you’d stepped in front of the bullet, and forgot that it meant you’d get shot.
"You started the whole thing." You whined at her.
"EXACTLY."
Dean and Garrett looked delighted.
"You stormed across campus." You held up one finger.
"Correct." Hannah nodded.
"You opened the door." Another finger.
"Correct."
"You ignored approximately fourteen warnings." A third.
"Correct."
"And somehow everyone else became the main characters." You harrumped and slumped back into your seat, glaring at Logan whose arm came up to rest behind you- but you didn’t pull away when he pecked your forehead.
Hannah looked genuinely aghast at her lack of involvement within the gossip mill, "You know what?" She folded her arms, "That is offensive."
"There she is." Dean blew an exaggerated kiss at her, "The victim complex."
Hannah threw a napkin at him.
The situation somehow got worse, a possibility you never thought could be true.
By Wednesday morning, people had started inventing details, ones that didn’t even make sense. Especially because the original story was already embarrassing enough.
Now there were rumours.
Terrible rumours.
Wild rumours.
Factually incorrect rumours.
"I heard somebody say we were recording."
Hannah looked flabbergasted, the pen in her hand creaked as her first tightened.
Across the corridor, Allie stopped walking, "We weren't?"
"Exactly."
"We were too busy being surrounded by cockfest 2026."
The three of you continued toward class, united by shared trauma- forged entirely through public humiliation.
The campus buzzed around you, students heading between lectures, athletes carrying equipment bags, people drinking coffee they absolutely couldn't afford. The usual. Until somebody shouted out your name, the voice was gratingly familiar in a way that made you want to spit out your tonsils.
The guys sitting outside the student centre weren't even subtle about it, the one who called out for you nudged another, the second looked up and smirked.
They were two guys from the lacrosse team. Arguably, you’d think such a fancy sport would produce gentlemen, but the game manufactured slime-balls like the two currently snickering at your deadpan expression.
"Oh look." The smile spread, "The locker room girls."
You stopped mid-step, and you’d known it was a mistake the minute your foot paused, because now they knew you'd heard. The embarrassment hit instantly, like a slap to the face that reached down your throat, hot in a way that made your body burn.
Beside you, Hannah looked ready to throw hands, her eyes narrowing at the boys.
“You got only fans? We’d love to see what happened in the locker room.”
Allie grit her teeth and just as she was about to bite back, a voice interrupted her.
"Say that again."
The atmosphere chilled behind you, one second the lacrosse pair were giggling like little goblins, the next, their faces were frozen with teetering smiles.
You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Logan stood next to you, his thumb rubbing soothingly on your arm.
Dean was walking up to Allie, his hands still cupped around his mouth from his interruption. Garrett hung back, but welcomed Hannah into his side when she begrudgingly shuffled up to him.
They had apparently finished a team strategy session, an unfortunate coincidence for the boys in front of you, who suddenly looked significantly less dick-ish.
The one with slicked back, blonde hair looked to his friend- who shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, his lip visibly quivered when he spoke, "What?" the question came out weak.
Dean smiled, two hands braced on his girlfriend's frame. Leisurely almost. "Oh, don't do that." He tilted his head with a pout, "You were really confident thirty seconds ago."
Nobody answered.
Garrett called out, still maintaining a generous distance from the situation- probably not wanting to get too involved with another team as the captain, “You seem like the type to be on only fans Jackson. Is that what you do when you lose to Eastwood?” The disappointment in his voice somehow made it worse.
"Seriously,” Dean shook his head, "Dude, if you're going to talk shit about my girlfriend at least be creative." Allie smacked the front of his chest, but nodded in agreement.
Then Logan spoke, "Find something else to talk about."
Jackson, and the other guy- equally as greasy, dissolved into pitiful excuses and throwaway comments, scoffing as they retreated into the building.
"Holy shit."
Dean grinned, "You're welcome."
"You enjoyed that." Allie poked him accusatorially, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek a few times, leaving lipstick prints against his dimple.
"I enjoyed that immensely."
Nearby, Garrett wrapped an arm around Hannah's shoulders and joined the rest of you.
"You know," Garrett said thoughtfully, "I feel like people would've stopped talking about it sooner if Dean hadn't told literally everyone."
The silence was beautiful. The three of you slowly turned to look at Dean, who was gritting out threats at Garrett, a horrified expression gracing his features as he timidly caressed Allie's hair.
"I did not."
Logan punched his shoulder jokingly, like bros talking about whose basketball team won last night, "You absolutely did."
"I told one person."
The universe was finally smiling down on you, since Tucker walked up to the six of you, pushing his curls out of his face.
"You told Tucker." Garrett laughed.
Tucker blinked between the two, who were now engaged in a heated conversation using their eyes.
"That's still one person."
"Dean."
"One person."
"You told the biggest gossip on the hockey team that our girlfriends walked into the changing room after practice and saw everyone's dicks. by accident."
Tucker finally nodded his head with an affirmative sound, “Oh yeah, I’m just annoyed I left practice early for a doctor's appointment.” He patted Dean on the shoulder, grinning as he stirred the proverbial pot, “luckily Dean here, my best friend, the person who tells me everything. Recounted it in perfect detail.”
An argument exploded instantly, involving Allie smacking Dean upside the head and she bickered about how the last 48 hours had been a living hell.
Hannah wasn’t letting Garrett off the hook easily, nagging him that if he had just “replied to her goddamn messages” the three of you wouldn’t have been in there, she quietened and blushed when he whispered in her ear.
Tucker had joined Allie in bashing Dean, but the three of them groaned when Dean promised, “mind-blowing orgasms on every surface of the house”. Allie didn’t say anything further, just glared at him when he hooked a hand onto her waist and pulled her in.
They drifted ahead while they bickered. Leaving you slightly behind with Logan, who had somehow presented an iced coffee from behind his back and was watching you sip it.
"You didn't have to do that." You said mid-sip.
Logan looked over, "What?"
"That."
You gestured vaguely toward the now-empty student centre steps. Logan’s expressions softened slightly as he took your bag from your shoulder and pulled you into him, tucking a hand into your back pocket.
"Yeah." he paused, "Actually, I kind of did."
Your stomach performed a deeply inconvenient little flip.
"Why?"
Logan looked ahead, then to the ground in an almost bashful kind of way, then he shrugged. Like the answer was obvious, "I don't like people making you feel bad."
You cooed at him, grabbing his face with your free hand and squishing his face between your fingers, “You’re such a softie.”
Smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek, you returned to the drink, gulping it down appreciatively.
He snickered to himself and added unhelpfully, “Plus, kind of owed you since you saw Dean’s cock.”
Would u be down to do a fluffy john Logan request where he takes care of reader when she’s super upset? Maybe it’s just been a week of one thing on top of another, and finally she just hits her breaking point??
Break Point
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
Word Count: 1147
Request open!
Off campus masterlist
John could tell you were hanging on by a thread.
He just hadn’t expected the thread to snap the second you walked through the front door.
The week had already been bad. He knew that much. You’d been tired, quiet, and just a little too determined to keep saying “I’m fine” whenever he asked how things were going. John had learned by now that your version of fine often meant you were one inconvenience away from losing it.
When you came into the kitchen that night, he was at the stove making something halfway between dinner and a rescue mission. He looked over expecting the usual tired smile.
Instead, you stood in the doorway with your bag slipping off your shoulder and your face already crumpling.
John shut off the burner immediately. “Hey.”
You took one look at him and started shaking your head like you were trying to outrun your own feelings. “No. No, I’m sorry, I just,”
And then your voice broke.
That was all it took.
John was across the kitchen in two steps, pulling you straight into his arms as the tears finally came. You made a small, frustrated sound against his shoulder, like you were mad at yourself for not being able to hold it together one second longer.
“Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”
You shook your head against him. “It’s not.”
“Yes,” he said, holding you tighter, “it is.”
You laughed once, but it sounded wrecked. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I had a terrible day.”
“I know.”
“And then I got home and my email was somehow worse, and my phone kept ringing, and I couldn’t answer it, and I forgot to eat until three hours ago, and I just,” You broke off with a shaky breath. “I’m so tired.”
John’s expression tightened with concern, but his voice stayed calm. “You don’t have to keep going.”
You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes red and exhausted and furious at the world. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You’re not ridiculous.”
“I’m crying in your kitchen.”
“Yes,” he said, like that was the least important part of the conversation. “Because you’ve had a week from hell.”
The tears kept coming, but your shoulders loosened a little.
John brushed his thumb under one of your eyes, then the other, wiping away the tears with a care that made your throat ache.
“Talk to me,” he said. “What happened?”
You shook your head weakly. “Too much.”
“Start small.”
You looked at him for a second, then exhaled shakily. “My professor moved a deadline up without saying anything. Then two people at work called out. Then one of my friends got upset because I didn’t text back fast enough, and I felt bad, and then I felt worse because I felt bad about feeling bad.”
John let out a breath through his nose. “That is a lot.”
You laughed weakly. “I know.”
He guided you toward the couch, sitting down with you tucked close beside him. One arm stayed around your shoulders while the other rested over your hand, grounding you in a way that made your breathing start to settle.
“You could have told me sooner,” he said gently.
“I didn’t want to dump it on you.”
John turned his head to look at you. “You are never dumping on me.”
You sniffled and looked down. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
He said it so simply that it made your chest ache.
After a moment, he reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders with careful hands. Then he stood up long enough to grab the mug he’d been making and pressed it into your hands.
Tea. Still warm.
You looked up at him. “You made me tea?”
“No, I just enjoy standing around with a mug for no reason.”
A laugh escaped you through the tears, and John immediately looked relieved to have gotten even that much out of you.
“There you are,” he murmured.
You leaned into him again, exhausted by the effort of being upset. “I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “For what?”
“For ruining the night.”
John gave you a look that was both soft and very serious. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
“I was supposed to be normal.”
“You were supposed to come home,” he said, “and let me take care of you when you needed it.”
That made your throat tighten all over again.
John shifted so he could see your face more clearly. “You don’t have to hold everything together all the time.”
“I feel like I should.”
“Why?”
You looked at him for a long second and then shrugged, miserable. “Because if I don’t, who will?”
John’s expression softened in a way that made you want to cry all over again, which was deeply inconvenient.
“Me,” he said.
The answer was so immediate that it stopped you.
He looked at you calmly, one hand still at your waist. “I will.”
You stared at him.
His voice went quieter. “That’s what I’m here for.”
The certainty in it made something inside you finally let go.
You lowered your face into his shoulder again, and John held you through the next round of tears without saying a word, just rubbing slow circles into your back until the shaking eased.
When you finally pulled back, your eyes felt tired and your face felt hot, and John was still looking at you like you were something important he had no intention of treating lightly.
“Better?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Good.”
You took a shaky breath. “You’re very good at this.”
John’s mouth curved slightly. “At what?”
“Taking care of me.”
He looked almost shy for a second, which only made him gentler when he answered.
“I like taking care of you,” he said.
That made you go still.
Then, because he knew exactly what he’d done to you, he brushed a thumb along your cheek and added, “Especially when you’re pretending you don’t need it.”
You laughed weakly, finally. “I do not always pretend.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You texted me ‘I’m fine’ three times today.”
You made a face. “That is unrelated.”
“It is absolutely related.”
You smiled despite the exhaustion, and he seemed to relax a little when he saw it.
He kissed your forehead once, then twice, lingering each time until your shoulders stopped feeling so tight. “There,” he murmured. “That’s better.”
You leaned into him with a tiny sigh. “You make everything feel less awful.”
John’s arm tightened around you. “Good.”
You looked up at him, eyes still wet but much steadier now. “You know you’re going to have to keep doing this forever, right?”
He smiled, quiet and sure. “I was kind of planning on it.”
And for the first time all week, you laughed like you meant it.
dean req!!!!!!! lowkey been loooooooving jealous!dean so much 😭😭😭 can i request jealous!dean with academic weapon reader? him being jealous of her spending time at the library and staying at the library beside her (for emotional support while being needy🙂↕️)
&
Done being patient
Dean Di Laurentis is clingy, needy, and completely starved for your attention. He doesn't want you to focus on anything else but him—not on your notes, not on your books, and above all, not on that stupid Aaron guy or whatever his name is.
word count : 2k — established relationship — jealous/possessive!dean — NEEDY!dean — Enjoy and please tell me what you think !
Thursday at the library was usually a quiet affair, but Dean Di Laurentis was doing his absolute best to ruin the silence.
You sat in a secluded alcove, hidden behind towering rows of journals and dusty texts. It was the only spot on campus where you could actually get work done. You were completely entrenched—textbooks open, notes scattered everywhere, and your laptop screen glowing with a half-written essay. You were an academic weapon, fueled by black coffee and sheer willpower.
Until the chair across from you scraped against the wooden floor with a loud, agonizing screech.
You didn't look up immediately. You couldn't. You were in the middle of synthesizing a complex thesis statement, your fingers flying across the keyboard. But the sudden shift in the air—the immediate intrusion of expensive cologne, cherry-flavoured chewing gum, and the distinct scent of a cold hockey rink—told you exactly who had breached your perimeter.
"Hey," a low voice whispered.
You ignored him, aggressively highlighting a paragraph on your screen.
A large hand slid into your peripheral vision, gently tapping the wooden table right next to your mousepad. "Hey. Look at me."
With a long, suffering sigh, you finally lowered your eyes from the screen and leveled Dean with a flat, unimpressed stare.
He looked entirely out of place among the quiet academics. His thick, perfectly styled blonde hair was slightly messy, a few stray strands falling across his forehead. But instead of his usual smug, devastatingly handsome smirk, Dean looked thoroughly miserable. His blue eyes were narrowed, tracking your face with a tight, intense scrutiny.
"You're late," Dean muttered, leaning his forearms on the table, invading your space.
"I'm not late, Dean," you whispered back, keeping your voice low to avoid the wrath of the librarian. "I never said I was meeting you today."
"Doesn't matter," he countered, a cocky, unapologetic smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Practice ended at five, which means you’re exactly forty-five minutes late to coming home and paying attention to me," He tapped his watch with a dramatic sigh, tilting his head as his eyes locked onto yours, completely unbothered by how ridiculous he was being. "And Tucker said he saw you walking with some guy from your seminar. The tutor guy. What's his name? The one with the stupid glasses."
A small, incredulous laugh escaped your throat. "You mean Aaron? My study partner? We had a group project meeting."
The mention of the name made something flash dangerously in Dean’s eyes. He didn't just look annoyed; he looked possessive, a simmering jealousy clouding his features. Dean Di Laurentis was known all over campus as a playboy, a guy who took nothing too seriously, who loved sex, parties, playing hockey on the occasion, and enjoying the easy thrill of the chase. But right now, looking at you, there wasn't a single playful thing about him.
"I don't like him," Dean said flatly, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a heavy, unyielding weight. "I don't like him breathing your air. And I definitely don't like him keeping you away from me for three hours."
"Baby, I have to keep my grades up," you sighed, leaning forward so only he could hear you. "I have to study, and right now, you are a distraction."
"Then let me distract you," he murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back up. "Come home. I’ll make it worth your while. You know I will."
The blatant, arrogant proposition made a warm flush creep up your neck, but you firmly clamped down on it. "I'm staying here until this paper is done."
Dean stared at you, his chest rising and falling in a heavy, frustrated breath. He was used to getting exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. But as he looked at your stubborn jawline and the absolute determination in your eyes, he realized he wasn't winning this argument.
With a low grunt, he slid back into his chair. "Fine."
"Fine?" you repeated, blinking. "So you're leaving?"
"Hell no," Dean muttered. He reached out, grabbed his massive duffel bag from the floor, and hauled it onto the table with a heavy thud. "If you're staying, I'm staying."
Three hours later, the library had grown entirely dark outside, the only illumination coming from the green lamps scattered across the tables.
True to his word, Dean hadn't left. But calling his presence "emotional support" was a massive stretch. He was, without a doubt, the neediest human being on the planet when he wasn't the center of attention.
For the first hour, he had tried to read a sports psychology textbook, flipping the pages so loudly and aggressively that you had to kick him under the table. After that, his attention span completely shattered. He resorted to tapping his fingers on the wood, spinning his car keys, and sighing loudly enough to draw glares from a group of freshmen nearby.
Right now, Dean was slumped low in his chair, his long legs stretched out under the table, his ankles locked securely around yours—a physical anchor ensuring you couldn't slip away. He had dragged his chair around to your side of the table, sitting so close that his shoulder was pressed firmly against yours.
The heavy, rhythmic click of your fingers against the keyboard was the only barrier keeping his relentless neediness at bay. You were deep in the zone, entirely focused on drafting the final conclusion of your paper, while Dean remained anchored to your side, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder as he let out another long, dramatic sigh.
"I’m dying," he mumbled against your neck, his voice a low, husky vibration that sent a treacherous little shiver down your spine. "Dean is fading away. Dean is sad. Dean needs attention."
A breathless laugh escaped your lips, though you kept your eyes glued to the screen. "Dean needs to let me finish this paragraph. I'm almost done."
"You’ve been saying that for twenty minutes," he complained, his large hand sliding up from your knee to map the curve of your thigh, his fingers squeezing possessively through the fabric of your jeans. "Dean is losing his mind. Look at Dean. Just for five seconds."
"I have to go to the bathroom," you announced, finally cutting him off as you pushed your chair back.
He groaned, his arm wrapping around your waist for a brief, stubborn second to keep you in place before he finally let go with a tragic roll of his blue eyes. "Fine. But if you’re not back in two minutes, I’m coming in after you. I don't care which bathroom it is."
"Give me five," you fired back with a sharp, playful smirk, sliding out of the alcove. You left your laptop open, throwing your hoodie over the back of the chair and leaving your phone face-up on the heavy wooden table right next to his hand.
The moment you turned the corner toward the restrooms, the quiet settled back over the alcove. Dean slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his blonde hair, his jaw tightening the second he was left alone with your textbooks.
Then, the wooden table vibrated.
Dean’s eyes snapped down instantly. Your phone screen lit up, a bright banner cutting through the dim light of the green lamp.
Aaron (Seminar): Hey, just checked over the data layout we talked about earlier. You're brilliant, seriously. Let me buy you a coffee tomorrow to say thanks?
Dean froze. The playful, whining boy from two seconds ago vanished, replaced instantly by something fierce and cold. His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he stared at the screen, his chest rising and falling in a sharp, heavy breath. Brilliant. Coffee tomorrow.
Before he could even process the spike of pure adrenaline shooting through his veins, the phone buzzed a second time.
Aaron (Seminar): Or drinks, if you're free tonight instead? Just the two of us to celebrate finishing early.
A dark, dangerous laugh caught in Dean's throat. He didn't think; his calloused hand snatched your phone off the table, his knuckles turning white around the edges of the case. The possessive, territorial instinct that made him a nightmare on the ice flared up instantly, turning his blood to fire. Just the two of us.
He knew he shouldn't open it. He knew you'd be furious. But Dean Di Laurentis didn't play by anyone's rules when it came to what belonged to him. He unlocked the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as a volatile mixture of anger and raw jealousy tightened his chest.
By the time you came back, adjusting the sleeves of your shirt, the atmosphere in the corner had completely shifted.
Dean was sitting perfectly upright now, his broad shoulders squared, his eyes fixed on the entrance of the alcove. Your phone was gripped tightly in his hand, resting face-down on the table.
"Dean?" you asked softly, stopping in your tracks as you noticed the rigid, unyielding line of his jaw. "What's wrong?"
"Aaron," he said flatly, the name tasting like poison on his tongue. He didn't shout—his voice was incredibly low, a quiet, dangerous purr that made your heart skip a beat. "Aaron thinks you're brilliant."
Your eyes dropped to your phone in his hand, and realization hit you. "Did you look at my messages?"
"He wants to buy you drinks tonight," Dean continued, completely ignoring your question as he stood up, his massive frame instantly towering over you and blocking out the rest of the library. He stepped around the table, closing the distance between you until his chest was practically brushing against yours. "Just the two of us, he said."
"He's just a classmate, Dean—"
"I don't give a damn what he is," he growled, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your face up to his. His blue eyes were blazing, wild with a raw, pure jealousy. "You’re going to text him back and say you have plans with someone way more important." He leaned down a fraction of an inch, the tip of his nose brushing lazily against yours in a slow, deliberate distraction while his thumb stroked the soft skin of your cheek. "Someone who is going to take you home, lock the door, and make you completely forget what subject you were even studying."
The sheer, possessive weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Having him crowd into your space this intensely made it absolutely impossible to form a coherent thought.
"Dean..." you whispered, your defenses completely melting under the intensity of his stare.
"No," he muttered, his thumb tracing your jawline with a fierce, trembling intensity that betrayed just how much the thought of anyone else touching you tore him apart. "Dean is done being patient. Dean is taking you home right now."
You couldn't hide your amusement any longer, a soft smile breaking across your face. "You are completely ridiculous, you know that?"
"Yeah, well, I'm a ridiculous guy who happens to be completely obsessed with you," he smirked, his voice softening just a fraction, though his grip on you didn't loosen an inch. He slanted his lips over yours before you could even reply, capturing your mouth in a slow, deep kiss that completely stole your resolve. His lips were hot and demanding, parting yours with an intoxicating ease that made your hands instinctively grip his jacket for balance. His tongue slid into your mouth with a cocky confidence that made your knees go weak, tangling with yours, mapping the inside of your mouth like he owned it. He drank in your quiet gasp, swallowing your soft whimper and leaving you completely dazed in the middle of the library alcove.
When he finally pulled back, a lazy, satisfied smirk was playing on his lips. "Let's go, Einstein. Before I carry you out of here myself."
✶ dean tries to act unbothered by the growing relationship between you, so you kiss his best friend as payback.
002. WARNINGS !
✶ no actual smut, but some suggestive stuff happens. beau is used but he’s right where he wants to be, don’t feel too bad.
word count : 2,8k
gif by @luke-thompsons
Dean has a problem.
He’s always been good at acting nonchalant. Keeping things casual. Avoiding the emotional side of hookups altogether. Usually, it works out pretty well.
He makes it a point not to get involved with the same girl for too long. Everyone on campus knows about his reputation, and if he suddenly seemed devoted to one person, people would start getting the wrong idea.
So how has he become the one with the wrong idea?
Somewhere along the way, Dean caught feelings for his fuckbuddy. Friend with benefits. Whatever label you wanted to slap on it, he’d broken the one sacred rule: don’t catch feelings.
You blew into his life like a tornado.
You tore apart his carefully maintained routine and—before he even realized it was happening—made everyone else seem considerably less interesting.
At first, Dean didn’t mind. He’d found a girl who could match his energy, someone who wanted the same uncomplicated physical release he was more than happy to provide.
But then things started changing.
Sometimes, after sex, you stayed.
You’d lie in bed talking about classes, his hockey practices, your bizarre family dilemmas, campus gossip—anything and everything. Neither of you ever intended to fall asleep together, but somehow it kept happening. More than once, you woke up with Dean wrapped around you, his arm draped across your waist as if it belonged there.
Which was honestly very nice.
The problem was that Dean had always been excellent at avoiding things. Yet he’d never felt this way about a girl before.
At least not since high school, and he’d be a senior in a matter of months. The whole thing felt strange. Too serious. Too grown-up. It didn’t fit the effortless, unbothered persona he'd spent years perfecting.
You weren’t much better.
You’d tried to bring up the subject more than once, testing the waters carefully, only to abandon it whenever Dean gave you nothing to work with. Every conversation seemed to end with him brushing things off or changing the subject before it could become real.
Of course you’d caught feelings too.
Because beneath all the flirting, the confidence, and the reputation, Dean was kind. Thoughtful in ways most people never got to see. He was gentle when it mattered, attentive without making a big deal out of it, and he'd never once made you feel disposable.
Not like certain frat boys or other athletes, who only cared about themselves.
Dean Di Laurentis is boyfriend material.
The problem is that he doesn’t seem to realize it.
Or maybe he does. Maybe he just doesn’t want to admit it.
Which brings you to your current dilemma.
Dean is sprawled across the couch, a girl’s hand resting on his chest as she gazes up at him like he hung the stars himself. And he’s entertaining it.
You’d never explicitly asked for exclusivity, but the two of you had established one rule from the beginning: if either of you wanted out, or wanted to be with someone else, you’d say so.
For the past few weeks, you’d seen each other almost every day. You weren’t seeing anyone else, and you’d gotten the impression he wasn't either. In fact, campus gossip had been practically buzzing about the fact that Dean Di Laurentis hadn’t hooked up with anyone at a party in weeks.
It shouldn’t have made you jealous.
You weren’t together. You weren’t anything.
So why did it feel like you were everything? Why did it feel like he was breaking your heart without even realizing it?
The noise of the party faded into the background as you chugged the drink in your hand and headed for the kitchen in search of something stronger.
You wanted to curse Garrett for hosting this stupid party. For practically forcing you to come, knowing Dean would obviously be here.
Grabbing a bottle of tequila, you started pouring.
Your eyes kept flicking back and forth between Dean’s hand resting on the girl's thigh and the way their faces seemed just a little too close together.
“Whoa, there.”
A voice beside you pulled you from your thoughts.
Beau Maxwell.
Dean’s best friend gently took the bottle from your hands before you could continue.
“Rough night?” He asked, glancing at the alarming amount of tequila you’d managed to fit into one cup
“Yeah,” you said with a tight smile. “You could say that.”
His expression softened. Without a word, he grabbed a random mixer from a nearby shelf and handed it to you.
“Here,” He twisted off the cap and passed it over. “Unless your plan is to drink four tequila shots at once.”
A laugh escaped you despite yourself.
You poured some into the cup and took a sip. Immediately, you coughed.
“That bad?” Beau asked, amused, patting your back lightly as you struggled to swallow.
“It's really strong,” you managed.
“Can I try?”
You looked up at him and held out the cup. “Be my guest.”
Beau took a sip and a second later, he grimaced.
“Damn.” He lowered the cup. “Who hurt you?”
You tried to laugh but the joke landed a little too close to home.
Had Dean talked to Beau about whatever this thing between you was? Did Beau even know you'd been sleeping together?
Your eyes drifted back toward the living room.
Dean now had two girls caressing his face and chest. Logan and Tucker were sitting nearby with girls of their own, laughing about something. Still, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen.
Beau followed your gaze, understanding immediately flashed across his face.
Before you could look away, his hand settled on your waist. He gently turned you around until your back was resting against the kitchen island, blocking your view of Dean entirely.
“He's really dumb sometimes,” Beau said.
You hummed in agreement, taking another small sip.
Then, before you could think better of it, you asked, “Wanna do something maybe even dumber?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Like what?”
You tilted your head slightly. “Like helping me forget what his name even is.”
For a moment, Beau said nothing, but he didn’t remove his hand from your waist. Instead, his thumb brushed absentmindedly against the fabric of your top, moving back and forth.
His gaze flickered down to your lips.
“He’ll be pissed,” Beau said quietly.
“I doubt he cares.” Your voice came out softer than intended. “Just look at him. Not a care in the world.”
He glanced toward the living room before looking back at you, his jaw tightening. Then he leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
The word barely left your mouth before the space between you seemed to disappear. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the tension hanging between you. Then Beau closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft and careful, nothing like Dean.
Dean kissed like everything was urgent, like he was always one second away from losing control. Beau, meanwhile, seemed content to take his time.
You found yourself kissing him back anyway, driven by a messy combination of hurt, anger, and the lingering hope that Dean might finally show that he cared.
The kiss deepened, and for a moment you let yourself get lost in it. It was nice. Beau was nice. A few weeks ago, you might’ve even considered going back to his place, letting the night unfold into something more. But now, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the boy kissing you, your thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.
Now, all you could think about was a certain blond hockey player.
Despite the warmth spreading through your chest, despite the attention and the distraction, there was no real desire to take things any further.
Still, even if you’d wanted to, you never got the chance.
You’d barely noticed how much time had passed when a loud clearing of a throat cut through the moment. A heavy hand landed on Beau’s shoulder, the interruption sharp enough to make both of you freeze before slowly pulling apart.
And there stood Dean. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked painful, his entire body rigid with tension. But it was his eyes that made your breath catch, blazing with a fury that left little doubt he’d seen far more than enough.
“Having fun?” He asked through gritted teeth.
“Hey, Dean,” Beau said breathlessly, moving his hand away from your jaw.
You took a deep breath, glancing between the two men.
“Didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Dean said.
“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths a few times,” Beau answered. “We have a business course together too, right?”
“Yeah, right,” you stammered out, suddenly acutely aware of Beau's hand on your waist and Dean’s eyes burning into your profile.
Dean hummed, his jaw still tightly clenched.
“I think one of your teammates was looking for you,” he said to his friend.
“Who?”
“I don’t fucking know. He was just asking around for where you were.”
You knew it was a lie. You could tell by the bored tone of his voice and the way he seemed far more interested in staring at you than looking at Beau. Dean had never been a particularly good liar.
“Okay...” Beau trailed off. “I’ll see you around?”
You looked up at him and nodded, “See you.”
Dean watched him walk away to search for his supposed teammate.
“You won’t be seeing him around,” he all but growled.
Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the staircase leading up to his room. You stumbled after him, startled by the sudden movement.
You barely had time to process what was happening before you were standing in his bedroom, the door locked behind you while Dean paced in front of his bed.
“Dean, what the fuck?” You finally asked, breaking the silence as you frowned at the man in front of you.
“Me what the fuck?” He shot back, turning to point at you. “You what the fuck?”
“Huh?”
Your brows knitted together as you stared at him in confusion.
“Why the fuck would you kiss Beau?”
A sharp laugh escaped you, completely devoid of humor.
“You think it’s funny to mess around with my friend? That’s so fucked up.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have no right to act like this or throw accusations around when you’re not any better.”
You let out a deep breath and rubbed at your eyes, trying to gather yourself.
“You don't get to practically entertain a threesome on the couch and then get mad because I kissed someone.”
“It's not just someone. That’s my friend,” he snapped. “And what threesome? I haven’t slept with anyone since we started—”
The words died on his tongue, and you caught it immediately. The hesitation. The way he suddenly seemed unable to finish the sentence.
Because the truth was, even Dean couldn't figure out what exactly the two of you were. Or, perhaps more accurately, what the two of you weren't.
“You’re gonna act like you didn't have two girls all over you?” You huffed. “Because you looked really comfortable.”
“All over me?” He looked genuinely offended by the accusation, as if it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
“I know we’re not exclusive or anything, but really? You had to do it right in front of me?”
“I don’t know what you think happened, but I didn’t even kiss them.” He shook his head. “I mean, one of them tried, but I just didn’t...”
“Didn’t what?”
For a moment, he stayed silent.
Dean sat down on the edge of his bed, dragging a hand over his face as he searched for the right words. His elbows rested on his knees, his head dipping briefly into his hands before he finally looked back up at you.
The anger had vanished, replaced by something far more vulnerable, something pained enough that it made your chest tighten just looking at him.
“I couldn’t kiss someone else.”
You let out a shaky breath at his words, watching as he waited for your reaction.
“Dean, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why?” He asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Because...” Your mind flashed back to all the times you’d carefully tried to bring up whatever this thing between you was. The times he’d thanked you for being so chill about your arrangement. The times he’d said he didn't have time for a girlfriend. How much he enjoyed his freedom.
“Is it so crazy that I could feel something between us?” He asked, a frown creasing his brows.
“You told me you didn’t want a girlfriend,” You replied.
“And you said you wanted a casual relationship.”
“Yeah, because you said you didn’t want to be tied down,” you shot back. “I’m not going to ask for something serious from the same guy who’s with a different girl every night.”
“You should’ve told me that,” he muttered.
Taking a deep breath, he stood and closed the distance between you.
“I've done casual before. It wasn’t an issue for me,” you explained. “But then you started doing things… You remember my friends’ names. You cuddle me. You kiss my forehead when I leave in the mornings...”
His expression softened.
When he gets closer to you, he takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumb across your palm.
“Did you like kissing Beau?”
“What?” You asked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic when it felt like the two of you had almost finally admitted your feelings.
“Did you like kissing Beau?” He repeated, his gaze darkened now, one hand lifting to cradle your cheek.
“It was nice,” you admitted softly, watching the way he couldn't stop looking at you. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Yeah?”
His face was closer now, his breath brushing against your skin.
“It wasn’t fair to Beau, to just... use him.”
“You feel guilty, then?”
“I think he knew it came from jealousy, but it still wasn’t right.”
Dean slid a finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up until your eyes met.
“Beau can handle himself,” he said quietly. “He knew what he was doing.”
“So you're not mad?” You asked, the gentleness in his voice was making it difficult to think straight.
“I'm furious,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaped him. “But I’ll deal with him later.”
His thumb brushed across your jaw.
“You, on the other hand, are another story.”
Before you could even react, Dean slid his hand to the side of your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. The frustration that had been simmering between you all night seemed to collide at once.
One hand settled at your waist before drifting lower to your ass, drawing you closer as his other arm wrapped around you, hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs around his waist.
He backed you against the door, kissing you like he had a point to prove. When he finally pulled away, it was only to press a trail of kisses along your jaw, his forehead resting briefly against yours as both of you fought to catch your breath.
His hand moved toward the hem of your skirt, brushing over the fabric of your panties and finding the evidence of just how affected you were. The corner of his mouth twitched as his gaze flickered up to meet yours.
“This for him or me?” Dean asked, his voice low and rough around the edges.
“You,” you whispered immediately, your pulse racing as his heated gaze locked onto yours. “Always you.”
Those three words were all he needed.
Dean pulled away from the door and guided you toward the bed, dropping you on it before leaning over you. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer now, stripped of some of the jealousy and frustration that had fueled it moments before.
Then you suddenly broke away.
“Wait,” you gasped, catching his wrist before things could go any further. “Before we do this, I need to know what we are now.”
For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of both your breathing.
“Whatever you want us to be,” he said finally.
“Seriously? You’d just give up your womanizer ways for me?” You stared at him, a skeptical look on your face.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Baby, if you wanted to get married tomorrow, I’d do it.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you laughed, feeling him press a soft kiss to your cheek.
“Too soon to talk about children, then?”
“Take me on a proper date first.”
Dean's smile widened, “That can definitely be arranged.”
NOTE : sorry for the abrupt ending i just didnt really know how to end it without making it too long... also please don’t ask for a part two i won’t be doing one! reader was a bit of a hypocrite in this one but let’s support messy female characters 💜
Summary: At a chaotic Briar hockey house party thrown by Dean Di Laurentis, the night spirals into nonstop chaos involving drinking games, bad decisions, and too many opinions from Garrett, Allie, and Hannah. Amid the noise and disaster, Logan stays quietly protective of Y/N, and the two end up closer than ever despite the madness around them.
wc: 1310
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
A/N: Not edited, any mistakes lmk
The Briar hockey house was loud enough to qualify as a safety hazard.
Somewhere between the basement speakers shaking the walls and Dean Di Laurentis yelling, “THIS IS A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT,” the entire building had officially stopped being a residence and become a liability.
Y/N had been here for exactly forty-seven minutes and already regretted three life choices.
One: agreeing to come.
Two: trusting Logan when he said it would be “chill.”
Three: wearing white sneakers.
Logan appeared behind her like a well-dressed disaster, pressing a drink into her hand.
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
Y/N glanced around.
Dean was on top of the kitchen island, attempting to DJ while Garrett tried to physically remove him.
Allie was laughing so hard she was crying into Hannah’s shoulder.
Someone had brought a fog machine.
There was no fire alarm yet, which felt optimistic.
“It’s very bad,” Y/N corrected.
Logan took a sip of his drink. “Fair.”
A loud crash echoed from the hallway.
“THAT WAS A DOOR,” Garrett shouted.
Dean shouted back, “IT’S A PORTAL NOW.”
Y/N turned slowly toward Logan. “Why are you friends with him.”
“He was assigned to me freshman year,” Logan said calmly. “I never recovered.”
Five minutes later, the kitchen had become its own ecosystem.
Dean was now making shots for strangers like he was running a very questionable nightclub.
“Winner gets bragging rights,” he announced.
“And a concussion,” Garrett muttered.
Allie climbed onto a counter. “I’ll take one.”
Hannah immediately grabbed her arm. “Absolutely not.”
Y/N leaned against Logan’s shoulder. “Is it always like this?”
“Yes,” Logan said.
“Why do people keep coming back?”
“Stockholm syndrome.”
Dean pointed at Logan. “Your girlfriend looks bored. Fix it.”
Y/N raised a brow. “I’m not bored.”
Logan looked down at her. “Are you bored?”
“No.”
Dean squinted. “That’s worse. That’s concern.”
Garrett sighed. “We should’ve gone to engineering school.”
At some point, someone turned the hallway into an obstacle course.
No one knew who started it.
No one took responsibility.
That meant Dean.
“Fastest run wins,” he declared.
“I am not racing you,” Logan said immediately.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m logical.”
Y/N crossed her arms. “I think Logan wins.”
Dean gasped. “Betrayal.”
Garrett pointed at Logan. “She’s right, though.”
Allie nodded. “Logan runs like he has something to prove.”
Hannah added, “He does. It’s called pride.”
Logan sighed. “I hate all of you.”
“Love you too,” Y/N said sweetly.
Dean clapped. “Alright, Romeo, you’re running first.”
Logan hesitated.
Then looked at Y/N.
“You’re timing me?”
She smiled. “Obviously.”
That was enough.
He ran.
And of course, he won.
Dean fell halfway down the stairs trying to “improve aerodynamics.”
Garrett refused to help him up.
Y/N escaped upstairs for five minutes of peace.
It lasted exactly thirty seconds.
Allie burst in. “Okay, I need your opinion—do I text the guy or let him suffer?”
Hannah followed. “Don’t text him. Let him suffer.”
Allie: “That’s toxic.”
Hannah: “It’s strategic.”
Y/N sat on the edge of the bed. “What did he do?”
Allie: “He said I ‘seemed chill.’”
Hannah: “Dump him.”
Allie: “We’re not even dating.”
Hannah: “Pre-dump him.”
Y/N laughed into her hands.
Then Logan appeared in the doorway.
He paused.
Took in the scene.
“You escaped,” he said.
Y/N nodded. “Briefly.”
He crossed the room, pulling her between his knees where she sat.
Immediately calmer.
Like he’d anchored himself to her without thinking.
Dean’s voice echoed faintly from downstairs: “IF ANYONE BREAKS MY BLENDER I’M STARTING A WAR.”
Logan didn’t even blink. “He already broke it.”
Y/N looked up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Define okay.”
She smiled softly. “That’s a no.”
Logan shrugged. “I’m here with you. That helps.”
Hannah made a noise like she was witnessing something emotionally intimate and unacceptable.
Allie whispered, “I hate how soft they are.”
The music downstairs got louder.
Which was impressive, considering it had already been loud enough to shake teeth.
When they came back down, the situation had evolved.
Dean was now hosting “truth or dare,” except it was 80% dares and 20% chaos crimes.
Garrett had his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.
Someone had dared Dean to balance on a couch armrest.
He was succeeding.
“Ask me anything,” Dean said dramatically.
A random guy yelled, “What’s your biggest fear?”
Dean didn’t hesitate. “Emotional vulnerability.”
Y/N called out, “That’s not a fear, that’s your personality flaw.”
The room erupted.
Dean pointed at her. “That’s slander.”
Logan leaned down slightly. “She’s right.”
Dean looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Logan: “I’m in love. I can’t be objective.”
The entire room went quiet for half a second.
Then—
Dean: “Ew.”
Garrett: “Get a room.”
Allie: “That was actually kind of sweet.”
Hannah: “I’m going to cry again.”
Y/N just elbowed Logan lightly. “You’re dramatic.”
Logan: “You like it.”
She did not answer.
Which was answer enough.
It started with spilled alcohol.
It always started with spilled alcohol.
Some guy bumped into Y/N. Drink went everywhere.
Logan tensed instantly.
Not visibly.
But Y/N felt it.
That shift.
The protective edge sharpening under his calm exterior.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately.
“I know,” Logan replied.
But he didn’t move away.
The guy muttered an apology and walked off.
Dean appeared behind them like a menace. “If anyone disrespects her again, I’m starting violence.”
Garrett grabbed his shirt. “No violence.”
Dean: “Controlled violence.”
Garrett: “No.”
Logan didn’t take his eyes off Y/N.
“You okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.
“I’m okay.”
He nodded once.
Then, like it physically pained him, relaxed.
Allie leaned toward Hannah. “He’s worse than Dean when it comes to her.”
Hannah: “He just hides it better.”
By two in the morning, the party had degraded into something softer.
Less chaotic.
More tired chaos.
People sat on counters and floors instead of dancing.
Dean was eating cereal again.
Garrett was asleep sitting up on a chair.
Allie and Hannah were arguing in whispers about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.
(It does. They disagreed.)
Y/N was curled against Logan on the kitchen floor.
summary: it’s casual, dean is a little less than casual when he sees someone elses hands on you.
—
Dean had never been jealous a day in his life.
Possessive? Sure.
Competitive? Absolutely.
But jealous? No.
At least that was what he told himself while staring so hard at the guy sitting beside you on the couch that Logan physically leaned over and took Dean’s beer from his hand before he crushed the can.
“You’re being weird,” Logan muttered.
Dean didn’t look away from you. “I’m not being weird.”
“You’ve looked two seconds away from murder since we walked in.”
Across the hockey house living room, you laughed at something the guy beside you said, head tipping back slightly. His hand rested on your knee like he belonged there.
Dean’s stomach twisted violently.
Garrett followed his line of sight and immediately groaned. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re jealous.”
Dean scoffed loudly enough to earn a glance from you across the room. “I’m literally not.”
“You absolutely are,” Garrett laughed. “This is incredible. I’ve never witnessed such a sight.”
Dean ignored them both, taking his beer back before shoving himself off the kitchen counter. He needed another drink. Or maybe twelve.
This was ridiculous.
You were single.
He was single.
That was the whole point.
From the beginning, the two of you had agreed this wasn’t serious. No labels. No exclusivity. No clinginess.
Just sex.
Really good sex.
The kind that had somehow turned into movie nights and late-night drives and you stealing his hoodies and Dean memorising your coffee order without meaning to.
Except now there was some finance major touching your thigh like he’d earned it, and Dean suddenly felt borderline homicidal and violently ill.
“You good, D?” Tucker asked as Dean grabbed vodka this time instead of beer.
“Fantastic.”
Tucker looked toward the couch.
“Oh,” he said carefully. “That bad?”
Dean glared at him. “Shut up.”
The worst part was that you looked good tonight.
Dean knew exactly what your skin felt like under his hands. Knew what you sounded like when he got you alone.
And now some other guy was making you laugh.
You spotted him hovering near the kitchen and smiled automatically.
That smile almost made it worse.
You excused yourself from the couch a few minutes later, weaving through the crowd toward him.
“There you are,” you said easily. “You disappeared.”
Dean leaned back against the counter. “You seemed busy.”
One eyebrow lifted immediately.
Uh oh.
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like an asshole.”
You folded your arms over your chest. “Dean.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been glaring at Evan all night.”
“Evan,” Dean repeated flatly. “Jesus Christ, even his name sucks.”
You stared at him for a second before realisation slowly crossed your face.
“No way…”
Dean took another drink.
“Oh my God,” you laughed quietly. “You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m annoyed.”
“Because I’m hooking up with someone else?”
The directness it was harder than he expected.
Dean’s jaw tightened. “I just think you could do better.”
You blinked at him slowly. “Dean. You literally sleep with half the female population of Briar.”
“Not anymore.”
The words slipped out too fast.
Your expression shifted slightly.
Dean immediately regretted opening his mouth.
You stepped closer, voice softer now, your fingers grazing softly over his shirt covered abdomen, “What’s going on with you?”
Dean didn’t know when this had happened.
Didn’t know when you’d become the first person he looked for at parties. Or when his bed started feeling empty without you in it. Or when hearing another guy make you laugh started feeling like someone scraping a knife against his ribs.
He was fucking Dean Di Laurentis.
He didn’t do this. Relationships were messy. Feelings complicated things. Casual was supposed to be easy.
But watching another guy touch you all night had made him feel insane. And maybe worse than insane was hurt.
“You said casual,” he said finally.
Your face softened slightly. “Hey, we both did.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Dean laughed once, bitter under his breath. “Because apparently I’m an idiot.”
You went quiet.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw before looking at you directly for the first time all night.
“I didn’t think I’d care.”
There it was.
Ugly and embarrassing and completely unavoidable now.
Your lips parted slightly.
Behind you, the music blasted and people were yelling.
Dean barely noticed any of it.
Because you were just staring at him.
“You care if I hook up with someone else?” you asked carefully.
Dean gave you a look. “That obvious?”
“A little.”
“Fantastic.”
A small smile tugged at your mouth before you shook your head. “You know what the crazy part is?”
“What?”
“I only started talking to Evan because I thought you were losing interest.”
Dean actually frowned. “What?”
“You stopped sleeping with random girls,” you said quietly. “You started acting weirdly domestic with me and then pulling away after. I figured maybe you were getting bored.”
“Bored?” Dean repeated like the word offended him personally.
You shrugged slightly. “You never said anything.”
“Because I was trying not to turn into a psychopath!”
You laughed softly.
Dean stepped closer before he could stop himself.
“You think I liked watching him touch you?”
Your breath caught slightly.
Dean noticed immediately because of course he did. “I almost put him through a wall, baby.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m serious.”
Silence settled between you both, your fingers gripping his shirt a little tighter. The space between you was closing.
He knew he had no right to feel this way when he’d been the one insisting on casual from the start.
But standing here now, looking down at you with your mouth slightly pink from the drink in your hand and your eyes fixed on his, Dean realized something horrifying.
“You wanna know something pathetic?” he asked quietly.
You looked wary already. “Probably not.”
“I have your coffee order saved in my notes app.”
You blinked.
Dean pushed forward before he could lose his nerve.
“You leave hair ties all over my apartment and I don’t throw them out anymore. Tucker asked why there’s strawberry yogurt in our fridge because I don’t eat strawberry yogurt but you do when you’re studying. Garrett says I smile differently when you text me.” He paused. “And apparently seeing another guy touch you makes me physically ill.”
Your lips twitched despite yourself. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah,” Dean muttered. “That’s pretty much how I felt too.”
For a second neither of you moved.
Then quietly, “So what now?”
Dean looked at you for a long moment.
Then his eyes flicked toward the living room where Evan was still sitting on the couch waiting for your return.
“Now,” Dean said calmly, “I’m gonna walk over there and tell him to stop looking at my girl.”
Pairing : Dean Di Laurentis x Fem!reader Warning : jealousy , possesive Dean, popular hockey boy x shy girl, accidental confession Word Count : 1,6k Summary : When Dean gets unexpectedly jealous at a Briar party and pulls you onto his lap in front of everyone, the line between friendship and something more suddenly disappears.
You hated Briar parties. Too loud. Too crowded. Too many drunk athletes screaming over terrible music.
Honestly, you would’ve stayed home if Dean hadn’t practically dragged you there himself.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he complained dramatically while walking backwards in front of you. “You can’t spend your entire Friday night hiding in your dorm.”
“Yes I can.”
Dean grinned immediately.
“Not anymore.”
Your stomach flipped stupidly. That happened a lot around Dean Di Laurentis. Which was unfortunate because Dean flirted with literally everyone.
Waitresses.
Classmates.
Random girls at parties.
Meanwhile you could barely survive eye contact with him.
“Relax,” he teased softly once you reached the crowded house. “I’ll protect you from the evil social interaction.”
You rolled your eyes, but still followed closely behind him inside. Dean noticed. He always noticed. That was the problem. People thought Dean was shallow because he joked constantly and flirted with everyone around him. But you knew better.
You noticed the little things:
how he always walked on the outside of sidewalks,
how he remembered your coffee order,
how he touched your lower back in crowded rooms without thinking,
how his eyes automatically searched for you first whenever he entered somewhere.
It was confusing.
Especially because Dean acted like you belonged to him half the time. Even though you definitely weren’t dating. Probably. Maybe. Honestly, you didn’t know anymore.
“Stay here,” Dean said while handing you a drink. “I’m grabbing Logan before he destroys someone at beer pong.”
You laughed quietly.
“Okay.”
“Don’t let anyone kidnap you while I’m gone.”
Heat rushed to your face immediately. Dean winked before disappearing into the crowd. You hated how easily he affected you. A few minutes later, you were standing awkwardly near the kitchen trying not to look completely uncomfortable. Bad idea. Because apparently standing alone at a party attracted attention.
“You look terrified.”
You looked up nervously to find a football player smiling down at you. Cute. Very tall.Definitely drunk.
“Oh,” you laughed weakly. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?” He leaned casually against the counter beside you. “You’ve been hiding over here all night.”
You smiled politely, unsure what to say. Social interaction was already hard enough. Flirting was worse.
“I’m Mason, by the way.”
You told him your name softly. Then immediately regretted it because his smile widened.
“Well,” Mason said, “you’re definitely the prettiest girl here.”
Your face burned.
“Oh, thank you.”
“You here with someone?”
Before you could answer, Mason’s hand landed lightly on your waist.
And suddenly,
“She’s sitting with me.”
The voice cut through the noise instantly. Your breath caught. Dean stood a few feet away staring directly at the football player.
And for once? Dean Di Laurentis wasn’t smiling. Your heartbeat immediately sped up.
Mason lifted his hands awkwardly. “Dude, I was just talking to her.”
“Cool.” Dean walked forward slowly. “Now you’re done.”
The tension shifted instantly.
You stared at Dean in complete shock while Mason looked between both of you confused.
“Wait,” Mason frowned slightly. “Are you guys together?”
Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist without hesitation.
“She’s with me.”
The words hit your chest so hard it almost hurt. Mason looked uncomfortable immediately.
“My bad.”
Dean didn’t answer.
He just guided you away from the kitchen with his hand still firmly against your waist.
Your entire body felt warm where he touched you.
“What was that?” you whispered once you reached the living room.
Dean looked down at you innocently.
“What was what?”
“You basically threatened him.”
Dean scoffed.
“He was flirting with you.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t like it.”
The answer came too fast. Too honestly. Your heart nearly stopped. Dean seemed to realize what he’d admitted because his expression shifted slightly. But instead of taking it back… His hand tightened against your waist.
“You’re sitting with me,” he decided suddenly.
Before you could process the sentence, Dean dropped onto the couch and pulled you directly into his lap. Your entire brain short-circuited.
“Dean!”
He looked completely relaxed despite the fact that your heart was trying to kill you.
“What?”
“I can’t sit on your lap!”
“Too late.”
Around you, several hockey players immediately started staring. Logan nearly spit out his drink. Garrett looked deeply unimpressed.
And Allie whispered:
“Oh my God finally.”
Your face burned hotter. Dean only looked smug. One of his hands rested casually against your thigh while the other held his drink. Completely comfortable. Like this was normal. Meanwhile you could barely breathe.
“Dean,” you hissed quietly. “Everyone’s looking.”
“Let them.”
Your stomach flipped violently.
“How are you acting normal right now?”
He leaned closer slightly.
“I’m always normal.”
“You’re literally holding me hostage.”
Dean grinned lazily.
“Sweetheart, if I was holding you hostage, you’d know.”
Your brain stopped functioning. Absolutely stopped. And the worst part? You didn’t even want to move. Because sitting in Dean’s lap felt stupidly safe. Warm. His fingers absentmindedly traced circles against your leg while he talked to Garrett about hockey, completely unaware he was actively ruining your life.
Or maybe he was aware. That was somehow worse.
“You’re quiet,” Dean murmured eventually, looking down at you.
“I wonder why.”
He laughed softly.
Cute.
Dean Di Laurentis was annoyingly cute.
Which felt deeply unfair considering he looked like that and had the personality of a menace.
“You okay?” he asked more gently.
The softness in his voice caught you off guard. You nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
Dean studied your face for a second too long. Then his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your thigh. Your pulse jumped instantly. And suddenly something shifted. The teasing atmosphere faded slightly.
Now it was just:
Dean looking at you,
your body pressed against his,
and way too much tension between both of you.
“You know,” Dean said quietly, “I really hated watching him flirt with you.”
Your breath caught.
“Dean…”
“I’m serious.”
His expression softened completely now. No jokes. No flirting. Just honesty. And somehow that terrified you more.
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Dean admitted softly. “Or touched you.”
Your heart pounded painfully.
“Why?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it.
Dean stared at you silently for a second.
Then laughed quietly to himself.
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You seriously don’t know?”
Your stomach twisted.
“Know what?”
Dean looked almost frustrated now.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “I’ve been obsessed with you for months.”
Silence. Complete silence. The party noise faded into background static. You stared at him, convinced you misheard.
“What?”
Dean’s hand moved carefully to your waist again.
“You think I drag you to parties because I enjoy watching you avoid eye contact with everyone?”
Heat rushed violently to your face.
“You flirt with everybody,” you whispered.
Dean immediately shook his head.
“Not like this.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“Then what is this?”
Dean smiled softly.
“This,” he murmured while pulling you slightly closer, “is me losing my mind over one shy girl.”
Your heart completely melted. And suddenly everything made sense. The constant attention. The touching. The jealousy. The way Dean always looked at you like you were something precious.
“Oh,” you whispered.
Dean laughed quietly.
“Yeah. Oh.”
You stared at him nervously.
“So…” Your voice came out tiny. “You like me?”
Dean looked genuinely offended.
“Baby, I’m one bad day away from writing poetry about you.”
A startled laugh escaped you instantly. Dean smiled immediately like hearing you laugh was his favorite thing in the world. God. You were so done for.
“You know what the worst part is?” you admitted quietly.
“What?”
“I think I liked when you got jealous.”
Dean froze for half a second. Then a dangerously smug grin appeared on his face.
“Oh, you’re into possessive behavior?” he teased.
Your eyes widened immediately.
“No!”
Dean laughed loudly while your face burned alive.
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“You’re horrible.”
“And yet,” he murmured while leaning closer, “you’re still sitting in my lap.”
Your breath caught instantly. Because he was right. You hadn’t moved once. Not even a little. Dean’s eyes flickered briefly toward your lips. Then back up again.
“You wanna know something?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second week I knew you.”
Your heartbeat became unbearable.
“Dean…”
“Tell me to stop.”
But the problem was… You really, really didn’t want him to stop. So instead, you whispered:
“Maybe I don’t want you to.”
Dean stared at you for half a second before kissing you immediately.
Warm. Confident. Perfect.
One hand settled against your waist while the other tilted your chin upward carefully, like he wanted to make absolutely sure you felt everything behind the kiss. And honestly? You thought Dean flirting was dangerous. Kissing him was worse. When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. Dean rested his forehead lightly against yours.
“Well,” he murmured lazily, “that’s gonna make parties way more interesting.”
You laughed softly despite yourself. Across the room, Garrett looked exhausted already. Logan looked deeply entertained. And Dean? Dean looked ridiculously pleased with himself.
“Still hate parties?” he whispered.
You glanced at him before smiling shyly.
“Maybe not this one.”
Dean grinned immediately before kissing your forehead. Then, because he was incapable of behaving normally for even five seconds, he looked around the room proudly and announced:
“Everybody relax. She likes me back.”
You immediately hid your face in his shoulder while the hockey team erupted into chaos.
A/N : Here's my third fanfiction on Dean Di Laurentis!!! Hope u like it ! Don't forget to LIKE,SHARE, COMMENT & SUBSCRIBE !! Next one gonna be GARRET GRAHAM !
John had been warning you for the last ten minutes that taking the toddler to the grocery store this late was a bad idea.
Not because he was worried about the store. Or the list. Or the weather. He was worried about your daughter, who had been rubbing her eyes since the moment you loaded her into the car and had now reached the point where she was too tired to be difficult and too tired to be reasonable.
Which, in a toddler, was somehow worse.
You pushed the cart with one hand and checked the list with the other while John walked beside you with your daughter balanced against his shoulder like she belonged there. Her little arms were looped around his neck, her cheek pressed into the side of his jaw, and every few seconds she let out a soft, sleepy sigh that made his expression soften even more.
She had lasted exactly seven minutes after entering the store before asking to be held.
John had crouched immediately and picked her up without even glancing at you for permission, because of course he had. He was already in dad mode by then, and once he switched into that, he became annoyingly competent.
Now he was carrying a basket under one arm and your daughter with the other, one hand rubbing slow circles over her back as he steered them both through the produce section.
“She’s out,” he muttered.
You looked over. “Completely?”
He glanced down at the tiny hand fisted in the collar of his shirt. “Completely.”
You smiled. “You were right.”
John shot you a look. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised.”
He gave you a flat expression. “You were absolutely waiting for me to be wrong.”
You grinned. “A little.”
He shook his head but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re lucky she’s adorable.”
“She gets that from me.”
John huffed a quiet laugh. “Sure.”
You were standing in front of the apples when your daughter shifted against his shoulder and made a sleepy little complaint.
John immediately stopped walking.
“What?” he asked in a whisper.
Your daughter’s eyes didn’t open. She just buried her face deeper into his neck and tightened her grip around him.
John looked at you with a helpless expression. “She’s getting heavy.”
You snorted softly. “That’s because you’ve been carrying her for half an hour.”
“And?”
“And nothing. You’re just dramatic.”
John adjusted her a little higher against his shoulder, then kissed the top of her head without thinking. “I’m not dramatic. I’m practical.”
You laughed under your breath and kept moving the cart. “You are absolutely dramatic.”
He followed after you, still holding the sleeping child like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You say that now, but when she wakes up and wants snacks in the middle of the pasta aisle, I’m going to be the only one dealing with it.”
As if on cue, your daughter lifted her head a little, eyes still closed, and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “snack.”
John looked down at her. “You heard that?”
You turned back, smiling. “She said snack?”
“She absolutely said snack.”
Your daughter made a tiny sound and pressed her face back into his shoulder. John looked very pleased with himself.
“You two are both ridiculous,” you said.
He raised one eyebrow. “And yet I’m the one carrying the child.”
“That is because she loves you.”
John glanced down at the little hand clinging to his shirt, his voice going softer. “Yeah. I know.”
That made your chest feel warm in the annoying, lovely way it always did when he got quiet like that.
You reached for a box of cereal and tossed it into the cart. “I thought she was going to fall asleep in the car.”
“She almost did.”
“She usually does.”
John nodded toward his shoulder. “This time she gave up halfway through.”
You smiled. “You mean because you’re comfortable?”
He gave you a look that made it very clear he knew exactly what you were doing. “You are not going to make me say something sappy in aisle three.”
“Says who?”
John tilted his head at you, deadpan. “Says me.”
You laughed softly and leaned your forearms on the cart handle. “You look cute like that.”
He blinked at you. “Holding a toddler?”
“Yes.”
“That is not something I expected to hear today.”
“Well, it’s true.”
John was quiet for a second, then looked down at your daughter and said in a low voice, “You hear that? Your mom thinks I’m cute.”
Her only response was a sleepy little hum.
You grinned. “She agrees.”
He made a face. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”
You bumped the cart into the next aisle and started scanning the shelves for pasta. John followed, one hand still under your daughter’s bottom to keep her supported as she drifted in and out of sleep against him.
By the time you reached the pasta aisle, she had gone from mostly asleep to properly out cold, her breathing slow and even, her fingers still curled into his shirt.
John noticed the way you looked at the two of them and immediately gave you a suspicious expression. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was a ‘something’ nothing.”
You smiled. “You just look very natural.”
He raised a brow. “At grocery shopping?”
“At this.”
John looked down at your daughter, then back at you. “Carrying our kid around the store?”
“Yeah.”
For once, he didn’t answer right away.
When he did, his voice was quieter. “I guess I am.”
That was enough to make your smile turn soft.
He saw it and immediately tried to cover his own brief moment of sentiment with practical concern. “We still need the bread.”
“Yes, John.”
“The yogurt too.”
“Yes.”
“And whatever you said we needed for dinner.”
You laughed. “Yes, John.”
He looked pleased to be useful again, which was very John of him.
You moved into the next aisle, and halfway down he stopped again when your daughter shifted and let out the tiniest sleepy whimper. His hand rubbed her back automatically, the motion slow and soothing.
“Poor thing,” he murmured.
“She’ll be fine.”
“I know.”
But he still sounded concerned.
You glanced at him. “You okay?”
John looked at you and then down at the toddler asleep against his shoulder. “I’m good.”
“You sound like you’re about to carry her home on foot if needed.”
He looked almost offended. “If that’s what it takes.”
You laughed. “You are so ridiculous.”
“I know.”
There was a short silence after that, the kind that only happened when both of you were relaxed enough not to fill it. The grocery store noise moved around you,cart wheels, low music, a child laughing somewhere farther away,but your little corner of the world stayed soft and quiet.
You reached for a loaf of bread, then paused when you noticed John had gone still.
You looked up. “What?”
He nodded toward the end of the aisle. “I think she’s fully asleep.”
You turned and saw it immediately. Your daughter’s face had gone slack, her cheek pressed against his shoulder, her hand loosened at his collar. Even her little mouth had fallen slightly open.
Your heart melted on the spot.
John noticed. “You’re doing that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you look at her and forget anything else exists.”
You smiled. “It’s a good face.”
He gave you a quiet look. “Yeah.”
You stepped closer and smoothed a hand over your daughter’s back. “She’s so cute when she’s asleep.”
John’s mouth twitched. “She’s cute when she’s awake too.”
“Debatable.”
He gave you a long stare. “That is our child.”
You shrugged with exaggerated innocence. “And?”
“And you’re going to hurt her feelings someday.”
You laughed softly. “She’s asleep, John.”
He pointed at you. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Your daughter made another soft little noise, and John immediately fell quiet again, looking down at her with that same careful tenderness that always made him seem both older and softer than usual.
You took the opportunity to push the cart forward. “You realize you’re going to have to let her go eventually.”
John’s response came immediately. “No.”
You glanced back at him. “John.”
He looked fully serious. “She’s comfortable.”
“She’s asleep.”
“She could stay like this.”
You laughed. “You are actually considering carrying her around the store forever.”
“Not forever.”
You tilted your head. “How long, then?”
John thought about it for a second. “Until she wakes up.”
You blinked. “That is literally forever in toddler time.”
He sighed like he had been unfairly attacked by logic. “Fine. I’m aware of that.”
You smiled and reached up to brush your fingers along the side of his jaw. “You’re sweet.”
John glanced at you, then looked away a little. “I’m just carrying my kid.”
“Mm-hm.”
He gave you a look. “You’re really enjoying this.”
“A lot.”
He let out a quiet laugh and adjusted your daughter once more, careful not to wake her. “She’s going to be mad if we put her down.”
“She’ll be mad if we don’t buy the fruit snacks.”
That got a huff of amusement out of him. “True.”
By the time you reached checkout, your daughter was still asleep on his shoulder, and John had shifted into the kind of patient, efficient parent mode that made the cashier smile like she had already decided the two of you were adorable.
“Aw,” she said, glancing at the little girl curled against him. “She’s out cold.”
John nodded, his voice low. “Yeah. Long day.”
The cashier smiled at him and then at you. “She looks comfortable.”
John looked down at her with an expression so soft it almost made you laugh. “She is.”
You loaded the groceries onto the belt while John kept one arm around your daughter and the other on the cart, somehow balancing everything with the calm of a man who had done this a hundred times.
When the cashier handed back your receipt, she looked between the two of you and said, “You’re doing great.”
John blinked at that like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
You smiled and reached for the bags. “Thanks.”
He gave the cashier a small nod, then turned to you as soon as you were out of earshot. “That was weird.”
You laughed. “She was being nice.”
“I know.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
He shot you a long-suffering look. “I had a baby asleep on my shoulder in aisle five. I think I’m allowed to be a little embarrassed.”
You smiled and bumped his arm lightly. “You were cute.”
He looked at you for a second, then down at your daughter, then back at you. “You’re both impossible.”
You leaned in and kissed his cheek before reaching for the bags again. “And yet you love us.”
John’s hand settled at your waist as the three of you headed toward the parking lot, your daughter still asleep against him, the groceries in the cart, the night quiet and cool around you.
He glanced at you, then down at the little girl in his arms, and his voice came out soft in a way that always made your chest ache.
Hello! Can you write a Dean Di Laurentis x Reader based on the song “Heaven” by Julia Michaels? Mainly the line “all good boys go to heaven but bad boys bring heaven to you”
Dean is a bad boy and he is the first bad boy Y/N has ever dated but he also turns out to be the best boy she has ever dated, please and thank you!
Heaven in Disguise
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Reader
Word Count: 1229
Request open!
Off campus masterlist
Dean Di Laurentis had a reputation.
That was the first thing everybody said about him, and the first thing you had heard before you ever really knew him. He was the kind of guy who walked into a room like he owned it, grinned like he knew secrets nobody else did, and flirted like it was a reflex. A bad boy, people called him, with all the easy confidence and sharp edges that phrase usually came with.
So when you started dating him, you knew exactly what people expected.
They expected trouble.
They expected a mistake.
They expected Dean Di Laurentis to be fun for a while and impossible later.
What they did not expect was that he would become the safest thing in your life.
It started one evening when he picked you up outside your dorm in that expensive jacket he wore like he did not care how good he looked in it. He leaned against the car, watching you with that lazy smile of his, and when you came down the steps he said, “You look like you’re trying not to be impressed.”
You rolled your eyes. “By what?”
“Me.”
You laughed. “You’re very full of yourself.”
“Yeah,” he said, opening the passenger door for you. “But you still got in the car.”
That was Dean. Half challenge, half charm, all trouble.
Except the trouble turned out to be warm hands around your waist when you were tired. It turned out to be Dean remembering the coffee you liked without asking twice. It turned out to be him walking you home when it was late and texting you before bed just to make sure you got inside. It turned out to be the kind of attention that looked casual from the outside and felt like devotion when it was directed at you.
You learned quickly that the bad boy thing was mostly what everyone saw.
What they did not see was him noticing when you got quiet.
They did not see him asking, “You okay?” in a voice too gentle for his reputation.
They did not see him taking your hand under the table and squeezing once like he knew exactly when you needed it.
And they definitely did not see the way he looked at you when he thought nobody was watching.
One night, after a party that had gotten too loud and too crowded and too full of people making assumptions, you sat with him in the back of his car outside your apartment, the city lights reflecting in the windshield. Dean was quiet, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting near your knee.
You glanced at him. “What?”
He looked over. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been staring at me for five minutes.”
Dean shrugged. “Can’t help it.”
You smiled, but there was something softer under it. “You’re weird.”
“And you’re avoiding my question.”
You looked out the window. “What question?”
“Do you want to tell me why you got so quiet in there?”
You hesitated.
Dean watched you, his expression changing immediately when he saw the pause. Not because he was pushy. Because he was paying attention.
“You don’t have to,” he said, lower now. “I’m just asking.”
You turned back toward him. “It’s stupid.”
He leaned back in his seat. “You know I hate when you say that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s usually not stupid.”
That made your throat tighten a little.
You looked at your hands. “I just kept hearing people talk about you like you were some kind of disaster waiting to happen.”
Dean was still.
You kept going before the nerves could stop you. “And I know that’s how you seem to everyone else. I know that. But it’s not who you are to me.”
His eyes stayed on you. “Yeah?”
You nodded once. “Yeah.”
Something shifted in his face.
His voice got quieter. “What am I to you?”
You looked at him then, really looked. At the guy everyone thought they knew, at the one with the sharp grin and the expensive clothes and the attitude that made professors sigh and girls stare and guys either envy him or hate him. And somehow, sitting there in the dark with him, all that faded into the background.
“You’re the first person who made me feel like I could be completely myself,” you said. “You’re the first bad boy I ever dated.”
He smiled at that, but it was softer than the usual one. “Supposed to?”
You nodded. “I thought you’d be trouble.”
“I am trouble.”
“You were,” you corrected. “At first.”
That made him laugh, low and quiet.
Then you reached for him, resting your hand on his arm. “But you’re also the best boy I’ve ever dated.”
Dean went completely still.
It was so immediate that you worried for a second that you had embarrassed him.
Then he looked at you with an expression so open and stunned it nearly took your breath away.
“You can’t just say things like that and act normal,” he muttered.
You smiled. “Why not?”
“Because I’m trying very hard to remain cool about it.”
You laughed. “You?”
“Yes, me.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes were still warm in a way that made your chest ache. “Best boy, huh?”
You nodded. “Absolutely.”
Dean leaned a little closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “You realize that ruins my whole image.”
“What image?”
“The dangerous, unattainable, emotionally unavailable guy.”
You gave him a deadpan look. “You mean the one who drove me home in the rain, sent me a good morning text, and remembered my favorite tea?”
He blinked. “That was strategic.”
You laughed. “Was it?”
“No.”
You smiled.
He was quiet for a second after that, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost careful. “You know I’m not good at being… normal.”
“I know.”
“I’m not always the easiest person.”
“I know that too.”
He looked at you, searching your face like he was trying to understand how somebody like you had ended up looking at him like this. “And you’re still here.”
You tilted your head. “Yeah.”
Dean let out a breath that sounded almost like relief.
Then he kissed you, slow and certain and warmer than the whole night had been. It didn’t feel like the kind of kiss people expected from Dean Di Laurentis. It felt like trust. It felt like the kind of thing that made all the bad boy rumors seem ridiculous.
When he pulled back, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and said, “You know, you’re kind of ruining me.”
You smiled, half shy and half smug. “Good.”
He laughed quietly. “You’re dangerous.”
“Am I?”
Dean’s gaze dropped to your mouth before lifting back to your eyes. “You have no idea.”
And maybe that was the truth of it.
Maybe Dean had looked like trouble from the start.
Maybe he had been trouble in every way the world could measure.
But to you, he was always something else entirely.
He was the boy with the sharp smile and the soft hands.
The one who looked like he belonged in the dark, but somehow brought light into every room he walked into with you.
Bad boys, people said, were supposed to ruin things.
The house was loud enough to feel like it was shaking. Music thumped through the walls, cups were scattered across every surface, people were packed into the whole downstairs so tightly that moving required shoulder-checking strangers just to get through.
Dean sat across from Logan at the dining table finishing a drinking game neither of them had been taking too seriously.
”You cheated,” Logan accused immediately.
Dean snorted. ”You say that every single time you lose.”
”Because you cheat every single time i lose.”
”Well, that sounds like a you problem.”
Logan flipped him off while Dean laughed and reached for his beer.
The instinctively glanced around the room. Looking for her. Without even realizing it.
But his smile faded when he didn’t spot her immediately. Weird. She’d been everywhere all night. Holding onto him earlier while he talked to Garret, stealing drinks from him and everyone around here every chance she got, dancing with Allie hard enough that she crashed into more people than she probably even realized. Talking about the most random things with Tucker.
Dean glanced around again. Still nothing.
Beau noticed immediately. ”What?”
Dean shrugged once. ”Haven’t seen her in a while.”
Beau looked around lazily. ”She’s probably just off terrorizing somebody for drinks.”
”Hopefully not.”
He quickly pulls out his phone and sends her a text. Asking her where she is. But no answer.
Across the room he spotted Allie and Hannah, he stood automatically and made his way through the crowd toward them. ”Allie.”
She looked up immediately.
”Where’s she at?”
Allie frowned slightly. ”I thought she was with you.”
”Well as you can see, she’s not.”
”we haven’t seen her since we were in the kitchen.”
”How long ago was that?”
”A while ago?” Hannah nodded in agreement.
Dean’s jaw tightened slightly. ”And?”
”She was fine,” Hannah said quickly. ”I mean, she was really drunk. But she seemed fine.”
Dean smiled tightly at them before turning away. Taking his phone out of his pocket. Attempting to call her. But yet again no answer.
”Maybe she went to your room?” Allie offered.
”Yeah. Probably”
He barely finished his sentence before he was walking towards his room. Pushing through the thick crowded room of people.
He checked his room. Empty. Bathrooms. Empty other than the ones with couples making out. The guys bedrooms were empty aswell.
He then checked the backyard. Nothing.
He pushed through the room again and walked out onto the porch. Cold air hit him instantly.
The noise from inside muffled slightly behind him as he closed the door.
He scanned the porch. Then froze. She sat on the front steps leaning against the railing. With her eyes closed and one arm dangling loosely across her lap.
”Baby.”
No response.
Dean crossed the porch quickly and crouched in front of her.
”Hey.”
She opened her eyes slowly. And her face softened when she realized who was sitting in front of her. Her boyfriend. Her Dean.
”There you are.” She slurred quietly.
Dean let out a breath through his nose. ”What are you doing out here baby? You must be cold.”
She blinked at him lazily. ”I just wanted some air.”
”Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve gone with you.”
”I don’t know.”
Her head lolled slightly against the railing while Dean looked her over carefully. Hair messy from the wind. Mascara faintly smudged underneath her eyes. Her tiny dress ridden dangerously high on her thighs from how she’d been sitting curled up. And she was shaking.
Then Dean’s eyes dropped lower. One heel. One bare foot. He stared.
”…where’s your shoe?”
She looked down slowly. There was a long pause before genuine horror crossed her face. ”Oh.”
”Yeah.”
”I had both earlier.”
”I know you did sweetheart.”
She kept staring at her foot like she couldn’t fully process it.
”When did that happen?”
Dean laughed quietly despite himself.
”You tell me.”
A weak laugh escaped her before another shiver ran through her hard enough Dean noticed almost immediately.
That settled it.
”Okay, let’s get up.”
She frowned slightly. ”Why?”
”Because you’re freezing.”
”I’m okay.”
”You’re literally shaking.”
Dean stood and reached for her carefully, sliding his hands around her waist to pull her upright.
The second she stood, her entire body swayed violently sideways.
”Whoa—”
Dean tightened his grip on her immediately.
She burst into startled laughter.
”Yeah,” he muttered. ”C’mon”
She leaned heavily against him while he steadied her, one hand firm on her waist while the other tugged the hem of her dress back down where it had ridden up.
She smiled at him. ”You love me.”
Dean looked down at her for a second. Completely drunk. One shoe missing. Barely able to stand. But still smiling at him like he hung the moon.
”Yes, i do.”
She giggled against him.
Dean kept his hands securely on her hips as he guided her back inside. Warm air and noise hit them immediately.
The second Logan looked up from his conversation and saw her climbing onto Dean, he barked out a laugh.
”Holy shit. You okay?”
”I’m fine.” She replied weakly.
”Where is her other shoe?” He asked Dean.
”I don’t know man.”
Dean guided her further into the kitchen. Every few seconds she drifted sideways into him. Practically melting against his chest while he moved her carefully around people.
He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and twisted the cap off before placing it in her hands. ”Drink.”
She held the bottle with both hands like it required actual concentration.
Garrett leaned against the counter watching them. ”Dude. Maybe you should take her upstairs and put her to bed. She’s obliterated.”
”Yeah. Yeah, I will.”
She took two tiny sips before looking up sadly.
”Dean?”
”Yes, baby.”
”My shoe’s gone.”
”I know.” Dean said patiently.
”I really liked those shoes.”
”I’m sure they liked you too.”
That made both her and Garret laugh, before she nearly tipped sideways again.
”Okay. Let’s get you upstairs now.”
She clung onto him the entire way upstairs, arms looped loosely around his neck whenever she stumbled while Dean kept both hands steady on her waist to keep her upright.
By the time they reached his room, she was giggling at absolutely nothing.
Dean shut his bedroom door behind them, muffling the party downstairs slightly.
”Alright.” He said gently. ”Sit down.”
She dropped heavily onto his bed.
Dean crouched to pull off her remaining heel before tossing it near his closet.
Then he looked up at her properly. Still drunk. Still blinking slowly. Hair a mess.
He sighed quietly before standing and grabbing one of his t-shirt from his dresser. ”You need help to put this on?”
”Yes.”
Dean helped her zip of the tight dress she had been wearing, and pulled the t-shirt over her head. After some struggle she was now only wearing his shirt and a pair underwear.
”It smells like you.”
”That’s usually how my clothes work.”
That earned a laugh from her.
He kicked off his shoes. And took of everything but his boxers, and then climbed into bed next to her. Tugging a blanked over them as they laid down.
The second he settled against the pillows, she practically collapsed onto him.
Arms wrapping around his waist. Face buried against his chest. Legs thrown over his.
While waiting for the In-N-Out order to be ready, the two of you discussed what the next steps would be taken, deciding that the best was to tell the group first and after that, telling both families the news, you sent a text to the girls telling them to go to the house, while Dean did the same with the boys
Once your order was ready, and that Hannah said that everyone was at the house, the two of you started the way towards there while you ate your food, only letting Dean grab two fries
Arriving at the house, the only thing remaining was the milkshake which left Dean carrying the trash that he throwed in the trashcan in the kitchen the moment both of you entered the house while the group was sitting on the living room waiting for both of you
“Guys, we are expecting what the news are”, Beau exclaimed
“Great choice of words”, you commented, “Very fitting for the situation”
Seeing the confused expressions on your friends, you and Dean stood in front of the whole group
“So, the reason why we gathered all of you on this lovely day, is very special”, Dean started to say, “We are going to be parents!”
Hearing those words, everyone stayed silent watching both of you with confusion
“Like ‘adopting a pet’ parents?”, Logan asked
“No”, you responded, “Like in parents of a baby that is growing inside of me”
“Babe, are you serious?”, Allie asked at what you nodded
“That’s why I was a mess these last two weeks, also we’re keeping the baby, so everyone prepare to babysit”
“Since when do you know about this?”, Garret asked
“Yesterday”, you and Dean answered at the same time
“And when did you decide about this?”, Hannah questioned this time
“Today”, again, the two of you responded
“Are you completely sure about this?, Grace asked
“Yes”, a third time, the two of you responded
“In that case, congratulations”, Tucker spoke
“Also, I proposed to Y/N that she can move to the house to be more comfortable during the pregnancy”, Dean mentioned looking at the boys at what all of them nodded in agreement
“Wait, that means that you aren’t going to be our roommate anymore?”, Hannah asked
“Unfortunately”, you sighed
“Start to run”, Allie growled looking at Dean who looked at her angry face before doing what she said, “You stole one of my roomies!”
Allie screamed before chasing him around the house, at what you just took a seat on the couch next to Hannah
“Does your parents know about this?”, Hannah asked with concern
“Not yet”, you responded sipping from the milkshake, “You are the first ones to know”
“Honestly, I thought that Tucker was going to be the first one to be a father”, Logan commented
“Why me?”, Tucker frowned
“You seem like the type”, Grace shrugged her shoulders
“Allie-cat, don’t kill my baby daddy!”, you exclaimed after seeing a pillow flying towards the blond, “I need him to raise the baby!”
madelame MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD, I'M SO HAPPY FOR BOTH OF YOU
avatar a union blessed by Eywa
alexandramalenaleclerc I'm going to cry 😭😭❤
alabamaluellabarker CONGRATULATIONSSSS
lola.tung congratulationssss
user754 MY PARENTS ARE GETTING MARRIED (eventually)
lewishamilton this is huge kids, congratulations on this step
user817 I KNEW IT
davebautista congratulations kids, you deserve all the happinness
user112 if that's the promise ring, i can't wait to see the engagement ring
devyn_nekoda i still remember when both of you met 😭😭
user961 i jumped on my seat after hearing him said 'promised' on the live stream
› user034 and then they panned to the avatar table and Y/N was crying
› user428 apart from the fact that i was crying with her, i'm amazed that her make up always stays intact
maxverstappen1 congratulations guys
user809 this is going to be the royal wedding for the horror community
user510 this revelation is so them
user127 TAYLOR SWIFT IN THE LIKES
› yn.ulrich I'M GOING TO DIE
alysaxliu, spencer_holt, baileybass, masonthegooding, emily.kusche, oscarpiastri and 601,938 more
jackchampion do people go on a pre pre honeymoon after giving promise rings? because they should, it's so fun!
📍 Santorini, Greece
julrich21 please tell me that none of you brought a cat from there
› jackchampion ...no
willashaw i still remember when none of you could travel without an adult 🤧
user929 yeah, spent that avatar money
user710 watching mamma mia on greece is a life goal
› user399 or singing hadestown
› user578 or epic the musical
› yn.ulrich i can confirm we did karaoke from all of three musicals while in Greece
user737 that food looks amazing
ashleykramar, carlossainz55, ellabright_, lianaliberato, caseycott and 226,341 more
yn.ulrich life is good
user935 that looks amazing
restaurant_name thank you so much for your visit! we're glad that you enjoyed our food
› jackchampion thank you for having us!
user107 i think i just found my next spot to visit
user239 they really tasted a bit of everything
sophialillis, jack_quaid, antoniocipriano_, lando, jiyoug_ie and 291,406 more
jackchampion happy to be a canvas
yn.ulrich best canvas ever (he fell asleep while i was painting)
› jackchampion it was the best nap ever
user803 i love that whenever Y/N has new body paint we get pieces of art like this
user265 istg that Y/N is one of the most talented artist of her generation
› user767 she's our IT girl
hailey.bilss, kikagomes, deadmeatjames, oscarpiastri, reneerapp and 462,392 more
yn.ulrich gym partner for life
user979 my favorite gym rats
alo screaming at how good those sets look
user427 i need their gym playlist
› user062 same, it must be so goated
joshinthegym as one of their trainers, i would like to say that their gym rutines is one of the best i created
user128 now i understand why she only wears short things during press for movies
› user560 yeah, her legs are to die for
naiia, romeosanga, albon_pets, spoonisnotacat and 67,108 more
thebuttersandtatumchronicles mom and dad got us new clothes
user112 can we talk about the username change??
› user494 i've been waiting for it since they reached the two year mark
julrich21 those cats are about to have a closet the same size as tornado
› yn.ulrich as they should
camilamendes, xolo_mariduena, jalenthomasbrooks, misstrinitybliss, naiia and 482,542 more
jackchampion goodnight everyone :)
user582 i also want to be held by Y/N before falling asleep
user390 someone add this to the collection of jack being cuddled
user739 what book is she reading??
› yn.ulrich hiii, i'm currently reading the twilight saga (for the first time)
› julrich21 she claims to be a reader, but had never read twilight until me and megan gifted her the whole saga on christmas
› yn.ulrich im going to punch you on the face next time i see you, skxawng
› naiia daaaad, they're going to fight, again
jackchampion, gdtreal, victorialovatsis, livevamaria, fatimaboschfdz, baileybass and 651,788 more
yn.ulrich this tattoo, along with my previous ones, has a deep story
when i was introduced to the world of Avatar, i never though that i would end up working on the movie, much less being Sigourney Weaver's stunt double for Kiri, which again is the greatest honor of my life
to honor this achievement, i decided to carry it with me forever with the phrase that is the soul of the franchise and that me and Jack use on a daily basis to each other
i will forever be grateful for the oportunity that James, Jon, Sigourney and the entire team behind Avatar gave me to be part of this amazing family
jackchampion i got to kiss my girlfriend on screen 😎
› user649 i know he's going to say this in every oportunity he gets
jamescameronofficial and as I repeatedly say, we are so greatful to have you on our side
queencitytrends 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾
user733 listen, i'm not a spiri shipper, but the detail that y/n played kiri for the kiss scene is so beautiful
misstrinitybliss we are sully siblings!!
user248 her blog about the filming was amazing
user106 as an old fan of her since her first blogs, seeing her working along Sigourney is a full circle moment
Summary: Dean’s father threatens to cut him off after another scandal hits the hockey team, so Dean lies and says he’s in a serious relationship. The problem? The girl he asks to pretend-date him is the one person on campus who genuinely can’t stand him.
wc: 1400
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x reader
A/N: Hope you enjoy
Dean Di Laurentis had exactly three talents:
Hockey.
Flirting.
Making catastrophic decisions with unreasonable confidence.
Unfortunately, talent number three was about to ruin his life.
Again.
“You’re being dramatic,” Dean said into the phone.
His father’s voice turned colder. “You embarrassed this family.”
Dean leaned back in his chair at the hockey house kitchen table, resisting the urge to hang up.
Across from him, John Logan quietly slid a coffee toward him like he was witnessing a hostage negotiation.
Which, honestly, felt accurate.
“It was one bar fight,” Dean argued.
“You were photographed standing on a police car.”
“That part was taken out of context.”
“There is no context where that becomes acceptable.”
Fair.
Mostly.
Dean dragged a hand through his hair while his father continued.
“You’re months away from the NHL draft and acting like an irresponsible child. Sponsors are asking questions. Scouts are asking questions. I’m asking questions.”
Logan mouthed, You’re screwed.
Dean ignored him.
Then came the final blow.
“If you can’t start behaving like someone worth investing in,” his father said sharply, “I see no reason to continue financially supporting you.”
Silence.
Dean sat up slightly.
Because that was new.
Threats were normal.
Disappointment was normal.
But this?
This sounded real.
“You’re cutting me off?” Dean asked carefully.
“I’m giving you one last opportunity to prove you can take something seriously.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. “And what exactly does that mean?”
A pause.
Then:
“Stability.”
Dean already hated where this was going.
“People respect commitment,” his father continued. “Responsibility. Structure. Frankly, a serious relationship would do wonders for your image.”
Logan nearly inhaled coffee into his lungs.
Dean stared blankly at the wall.
“A girlfriend,” he repeated flatly.
“A respectable one.”
Click.
The line went dead.
Silence filled the kitchen.
Then Logan whispered:
“Oh, this is going to become your worst idea yet.”
It started as a joke.
That was the problem.
Because Dean initially laughed about it.
“A fake girlfriend?” he said later that night to Garrett and Logan. “What is this, a Netflix movie?”
Garrett looked horrified already. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this.”
Dean pointed at him. “Counterpoint: money.”
“That’s not a counterpoint.”
“That’s several thousand counterpoints.”
Logan leaned back against the couch. “Okay, but who would willingly agree to date you?”
Dean opened his mouth.
Paused.
Then immediately wished he hadn’t thought of her.
Because unfortunately, there was one person believable enough to impress his father.
One person smart enough to pull it off convincingly.
One person who came from the kind of polished, respectable background his family would approve of.
One person who absolutely hated him.
“Oh no,” Logan said immediately.
Garrett squinted. “Why do you look like that?”
Dean stood up slowly. “I need to go make a terrible decision.”
Y/N opened her apartment door, took one look at Dean, and sighed deeply.
“No.”
Dean blinked. “I haven’t even said anything.”
“You’re here after midnight smiling like that. Whatever it is, no.”
Fair.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Harsh.”
“You once set off the fire alarm trying to make garlic bread.”
“It was aggressively frozen.”
“You’re proving my point.”
Dean grinned despite himself.
God, she was mean.
It was kind of incredible.
Y/N crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”
Dean hesitated.
Then decided honesty might actually help for once.
“My father threatened to cut me off unless I stop publicly acting like a disaster.”
“…That sounds reasonable.”
“See? This is why people fear you.”
“What do you want, Dean?”
He inhaled once.
Then:
“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
Silence.
Y/N stared at him.
Then laughed.
Not a cute laugh either.
A full, disbelieving, you’ve completely lost your mind laugh.
Dean waited it out patiently.
Finally she wiped under her eyes dramatically. “Oh my God. You’re serious.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the details.”
“I don’t need details to reject insanity.”
Dean stepped forward slightly. “You’d be amazing at it.”
“I hate you.”
“Exactly. Nobody would suspect emotional attachment.”
Y/N pointed toward the hallway. “Leave.”
Dean didn’t move.
“You owe me,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “For what?”
“You backed into my car freshman year.”
“That was one time.”
“And you drove away.”
“You deserved it.”
“Debatable.”
Y/N groaned loudly. “Why me?”
Because you’re the only girl I know who wouldn’t fall for the act.
Dean absolutely could not say that out loud.
So instead:
“Because my father would believe you.”
That made her pause.
Not agreeing.
Just thinking.
Dangerous.
Dean saw it immediately and pressed harder.
“One dinner,” he said. “One weekend pretending we’re disgustingly in love. My father calms down. You get free food.”
“You think I can be bribed with food?”
“I think everyone can.”
“That’s concerning.”
Dean smiled slowly. “That’s not a no.”
Y/N glared at him for a long moment.
Then finally:
“If I say yes, you follow my rules.”
Dean straightened immediately. “Done.”
“You don’t even know the rules.”
“I’m adaptable.”
“You’re emotionally feral.”
“Also true.”
She sighed like this physically pained her.
“Fine.”
Dean blinked.
“…Fine?”
“One weekend,” she warned. “Then we never speak of this again.”
Relief hit him so fast he nearly laughed.
Instead he held out a hand dramatically. “Pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart.”
Y/N looked at his hand like she was considering violence.
Then shook it anyway.
Big mistake.
Because Dean smiled automatically.
And for one weird second—
The tension shifted.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
Enough for them both to notice.
Y/N pulled her hand back immediately. “Don’t make this weird.”
“Too late.”
The fake dating started disastrously.
Which honestly made sense.
“You need to stop looking at me like I committed tax fraud,” Dean whispered through his smile during lunch with his father.
Y/N smiled sweetly through gritted teeth. “You feel like tax fraud.”
Across the table, Dean’s father watched them carefully.
Assessing.
Judging.
Exactly the way Dean expected.
“What do you study again?” his father asked Y/N.
“Political science.”
“Impressive.”
Dean nearly rolled his eyes.
His father had never once called hockey impressive.
Y/N noticed.
Of course she did.
Under the table, her foot tapped lightly against Dean’s ankle.
Not affectionate.
Grounding.
And weirdly—
It helped.
“So,” his father continued, “how long have you two been together?”
Dean opened his mouth automatically.
Y/N beat him to it.
“Seven months.”
Dean turned toward her slightly.
That was specific.
Y/N smiled calmly. “We met at a campus fundraiser.”
“We hated each other immediately,” Dean added.
Her eyes flicked toward him briefly.
Then:
“And somehow he kept showing up anyway.”
Something about the way she said it hit unexpectedly hard.
Dean looked at her.
Really looked.
And suddenly realized two terrifying things at once:
She was very good at pretending to like him.
He liked it way too much.
Later that night, after the dinner finally ended, Dean walked her back to her apartment in unusual silence.
“You survived,” Y/N said.
“Barely.”
“You were less annoying than expected.”
Dean gasped softly. “That’s basically a love confession.”
She rolled her eyes.
But she was smiling.
And Dean noticed something dangerous then.
The fake touches had started feeling natural.
Her hand on his arm.
His hand at her back.
The way she leaned toward him automatically during conversations.
It should’ve felt forced.
Instead, it felt easy.
Too easy.
At her apartment door, Y/N turned toward him slowly.
“Your father likes me,” she said.
“Everyone likes you.”
“That sounded sincere. Gross.”
Dean laughed quietly.
Then stopped.
Because she was looking at him differently now.
Less irritated.
More curious.
Which was somehow worse.
“You know,” she said slowly, “you’re not exactly what I expected.”
Dean leaned against the doorway. “Yeah?”
“I thought you were just arrogant.”
“Ouch.”
“You are arrogant.”
“Fair.”
“But…” she hesitated briefly, “you care more than people realize.”
The words landed somewhere deep in his chest.
Dangerous territory.
Dean covered it with humor automatically.
“So you admit I’m charming.”
“I admit you’re slightly less unbearable than usual.”
He grinned.
Then, before either of them could think too hard about it, Y/N reached up and fixed the crooked collar of his jacket.
Small gesture.
Casual.
Intimate enough to make Dean forget how to breathe for half a second.
Her hand lingered accidentally.
Their eyes met.
And suddenly the fake relationship started feeling a little too convincing.
steve rogers and natasha romanoff had some of the best romantic chemistry in the mcu and the fact that it was thrown out the window and replaced with mediocre ships with horrible writing HAUNTS ME
gummygunk
blakekathryn
snowghoul
ellievsbear
yousharknotpass
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
stormborns
romaincrisis
