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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭™ ✪

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 : john logan x fem! reader

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?

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.

junezsq

he leaves for ten minutes

beau maxwell x fem!reader

summary: a night out takes an uncomfortable turn when beau is away for a moment, leaving dean to step in and protect his best friend’s girlfriend

established relationship

warnings: misogynist trying to flirt with/intimidate the reader, reader feels trapped, confrontations, beau and dean are sweethearts though

word count: 5.7k

a/n: based on this request!! i hope this is wat you had in mind :) also, i love protective dean and beau sm

── ᵎᵎ ✦

you should’ve known the night was going too well, though there had been absolutely no reason to think that at the time.

getting the four of you to malone’s had been surprisingly easy. dean and allie had met you and beau there. there had been no argument over where to go, no waiting forty minutes for somebody who claimed they were already on their way, and no last-minute debate about whether malone’s would be too crowded on a friday night.

it was, of course, far too crowded.

by the time you made it through the door, the place was already warm with the press of too many bodies and loud enough that you had to lean close to hear each other properly. music played from somewhere toward the back, nearly swallowed by the noise of overlapping conversations and laughter, while people stood two and three deep around the bar waiting for drinks. every time the front door opened behind you, a brief rush of cold air slipped inside before disappearing almost immediately.

beau’s hand settled against the small of your back before you’d taken more than a few steps.

you hardly noticed it anymore. not because you didn’t like it, but because beau touched you so often that his hand finding you had become as familiar as anything else about him. in crowded places, it was almost guaranteed. his fingers would find yours, or his palm would settle against your back, or he’d hook an arm loosely around your waist while he talked to someone else. sometimes you thought it was less about keeping track of you and more about reassuring himself that you were still there.

you’d never asked him about it. you liked the habit too much to risk making him self-conscious about something he probably didn’t even realize he was doing.

he guided you through the crowd with his hand resting lightly at your waist, glancing back every few steps as though there were any possibility you could’ve disappeared from beneath his palm without him noticing.

“i’m still here,” you said eventually.

beau turned his head toward you, eyebrows pulling together because he hadn’t heard. you leaned closer and repeated yourself, nodding toward the hand at your waist, “you keep checking.”

his expression cleared with understanding. his gaze dropped briefly toward where his palm rested against your side before returning to your face, and for a moment he looked almost sheepish, “people keep pushing past.”

“and?”

“and you’re—” he stopped himself at your raised brows. his mouth opened, then closed again as he apparently reconsidered whatever answer had first occurred to him, “easier to lose in a crowd than me.”

you stared at him for a moment. “that was almost offensive.”

“but it wasn’t.”

“debatable.”

his mouth twitched, but he continued walking, keeping his hand exactly where it had been before. you tried not to smile.

the four of you managed to find a booth tucked against one of the walls near the back of malone’s. it was one of the larger ones, curved around a rectangular table, and for once there was enough space that nobody had to sit half on top of anyone else. allie slid into one side first, dean following her, while you took the opposite side with beau beside you.

you ended up near the wall, which suited you perfectly. beau settled in, stretching one arm along the back of the booth while his knee rested against yours beneath the table. across from you, allie was already shrugging off her jacket while dean attempted to flag down someone for drinks.

the first hour passed easily as conversation wandered without direction. allie told you about something that had happened in one of her classes, dean interrupted often enough that she eventually started ignoring him, and beau spent several minutes pretending not to be interested in the fries someone had ordered before eating more of them than anyone else.

the booth became increasingly cluttered as the night went on, glasses leaving rings of condensation across the table and discarded napkins collecting near the empty basket that had once contained food.

you liked nights like this.

there was something easy about being with the three of them. beau had known dean for so long that half their conversations seemed to rely on context neither you nor allie possessed, while you and allie had become increasingly good at communicating your shared confusion through increasingly expressive looks across the table.

beau stole the lime from your drink and you stared at him as he ate it without the slightest trace of remorse, “that was mine.”

“you were taking too long,” he shrugged.

“i was holding it.”

“exactly.”

you narrowed your eyes before reaching for his drink and taking a deliberately long sip. beau watched you over the rim of the glass, eyebrows slowly lifting, “you have your own.”

you copied his shrug as you took another sip while maintaining eye contact, then set the glass back in front of him.

his mouth twitched, “thief.”

“prove it.”

something warm and amused settled into his expression as he looked at you, and for a second the crowded bar seemed to disappear from his awareness completely. you knew that look. it usually preceded either a kiss or an extremely annoying comment, and judging by the way his gaze briefly dropped to your mouth, you suspected it would be the first.

before he could do either, someone called his name from across the room.

beau glanced over his shoulder, recognition immediately crossing his face. he looked back at you as though considering whether whoever had called him was worth leaving the booth for.

“go,” you said, laughing softly.

“i’ll be right back.”

you nodded, but before he could move away, you caught the front of his shirt and pulled him down far enough to press a quick kiss to his lips.

the smile that appeared was smaller than his usual grin. softer, almost private, despite the fact that you were surrounded by people. his hand briefly squeezed the back of your neck before he straightened and disappeared into the crowd.

you watched him go for a few seconds, following the back of his head until the crowd swallowed him from view. when you turned around again, dean was looking at you from across the table.

you narrowed your eyes. “what?”

“nothing.”

allie glanced at him before looking at you, “he’s judging you.”

“i’m not judging anyone.”

“you have a very judgmental face.”

dean frowned at her, “what does that even mean?”

allie took a sip of her drink rather than answering, and you laughed softly as dean began arguing his case to a girlfriend who had already stopped listening.

the conversation moved on easily after that. you stopped thinking about where beau had gone, knowing he was somewhere nearby and would eventually find his way back to you. he always did.

you were listening to allie tell you something when someone stopped beside the booth.

at first, you assumed he was waiting for somebody to pass. people had been squeezing between the booths and the bar all night, and you barely looked up until a voice interrupted allie halfway through her sentence.

“hey.” the guy standing at the end of the booth looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t remember where you’d seen him before. maybe another party, or somewhere on campus. his face was one of those you recognized without being able to attach a name or memory to it.

you gave him a polite smile, “hi.”

he didn’t move. you waited for a moment before turning back toward allie, assuming that was the end of the interaction.

“i know you, don’t i?”

you looked at him again, “i don’t think so.”

“i’ve seen you somewhere.”

you gave a small shrug, “probably around campus.”

he nodded as though that proved something, and the pause that followed lasted a little too long. you became aware of allie watching him from across the table while dean’s attention remained, at least outwardly, on something happening near the bar.

“can i buy you a drink?” the guy asked.

you glanced at beau’s half empty glass sitting in front of you, “i’m good, thanks.”

he followed your gaze. “when you finish that one.”

“still good,” you smiled politely again before turning back toward allie. this time, neither of you immediately resumed your conversation.

the guy remained there, and you could feel it without looking. there was a particular kind of awareness that came with knowing someone was watching you, an uncomfortable pressure between your shoulder blades that made it impossible to return your attention fully to whatever allie had been saying.

after a few seconds, he spoke again, “you got a boyfriend?”

you exhaled quietly through your nose. “yeah.”

“where is he?”

the question irritated you more than it should have. you turned toward him again, one hand still resting around the condensation-slick glass in front of you, “somewhere over there.”

the guy glanced toward the crowded room before looking back at you, “he left you here by yourself?”

you stared at him before looking deliberately across the table at allie and dean, “clearly.”

allie’s mouth twitched, though she quickly hid it behind her glass. the guy didn’t seem to notice, but dean did.

you caught the briefest shift in his expression before he looked away again, and you knew him well enough by now to understand what it meant. he was listening.

that realization didn’t bother you. if anything, it gave you the strange comfort of knowing somebody else had noticed without the annoyance of having them immediately take over.

dean knew you could handle yourself.

you and he had argued enough over the years for him to know that better than most. he had seen you annoyed, furious, stubborn and unreasonable. he had also been on the receiving end of all four often enough to know that stepping into an argument you were perfectly capable of handling would only earn him your irritation as well.

so he stayed where he was, but he listened.

“what’s your name?” the guy asked.

“does it matter?”

his smile faltered slightly, “i’m trying to be friendly.”

“and i’m trying to talk to my friend.” the words came out more sharply than you’d intended, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

something in the guy’s posture changed, “you always this rude?”

you stared at him for a second, “i said no to a drink.”

“i heard you.”

“then i’m not sure what we’re still talking about.”

a silence settled around the booth that had nothing to do with the noise of malone’s. the rest of the bar continued around you, music playing and people laughing only a foot away, but your attention had narrowed to the man standing at the edge of the table.

he looked irritated now. not embarrassed or disappointed, but genuinely irritated, as though you’d broken some unspoken rule by refusing to participate in a conversation you had never asked to have, “you don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

allie’s expression changed immediately. you felt your temper flare before common sense had a chance to catch up, “and you don’t have to still be standing here.”

across the table, dean went very still. he hadn’t said anything, and he wasn’t even looking directly at the guy yet, but the awareness between them was immediate, “you got something to say?” the guy asked.

dean finally looked at him, “no.”

the answer was so simple that the guy seemed almost disappointed by it. you looked back at him, “great. are we done now?”

his attention returned to you, “you think you’re funny?”

“no.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

you frowned, your patience almost entirely gone by then, “what do you want?”

“nothing now.”

“then go.”

that was when something changed.

you saw it before he moved, though later you wouldn’t have been able to explain exactly what you had noticed. maybe it was the tightening of his jaw, or the way his shoulders shifted forward, or the sudden disappearance of whatever thin layer of friendliness he’d been pretending to have.

he stepped closer to the booth and the irritation inside you vanished so quickly it left you cold.

until that moment, you’d been angry and annoyed. completely certain that, however unpleasant the interaction was, it was still only an argument. you’d dealt with men like him before, the kind who treated rejection as the opening of a negotiation rather than the end of a conversation, and you had never particularly struggled to tell them exactly what you thought.

suddenly, you weren’t so sure that was all this was.

you became acutely aware of where you were sitting. against the wall, with the table in front of you and the stranger standing at the only open end of your side of the booth.

for the first time since he’d walked over, you felt trapped.

the realization must have shown on your face. you didn’t know how. maybe your eyes widened slightly, or your shoulders tensed, or you simply stopped arguing. whatever it was, dean saw it.

his reaction was immediate, because he was out of the booth before you fully registered that he’d moved, crossing around the end of the table and stepping directly between the stranger and your side of the booth, “back up.”

his voice was calm, and something about that calmness changed the atmosphere immediately. you’d seen dean loud before. everyone had. he was loud when he was annoyed, competitive, amused, or losing an argument he insisted he was winning.

this was different.

allie knew it too. you could tell from the way she had gone still across the booth, watching him carefully without attempting to interfere. there was no alarm in her expression, only attention. she knew him well enough to recognize that the absence of his usual theatrics meant he was genuinely angry.

the guy scoffed, “we were talking.”

“she’s done talking.”

“she can tell me that.”

dean was silent for a second, “she did.”

there was nothing clever in the response and no attempt to make the moment into something it wasn’t. dean simply stood there, broad shoulders blocking your view of the man almost entirely.

the guy tried to look past him, but dean shifted so he covered you.

“move.”

dean didn’t, “you need to leave.”

the guy laughed under his breath, “or what?”

dean watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable from where you were sitting. the silence stretched for several seconds, though it probably felt longer than it actually was.

“you were comfortable enough when it was her sitting there,” he said eventually, his voice still quiet. “now somebody your own size is standing here and you want to make it a fight.”

the guy’s jaw tightened. dean tilted his head slightly, “doesn’t look great.”

the words weren’t particularly threatening. that was probably what made them land. the guy glanced around at the people at nearby booths who had begun to notice, and the attention seemed to drain some of the confidence from his posture.

he muttered something you couldn’t hear before finally stepping away.

dean watched him disappear into the crowd. he waited longer than necessary, eyes fixed in the direction the stranger had gone, before finally turning back toward you.

the change in his expression was immediate. whatever coldness had been there disappeared, “you good?”

you nodded automatically, “yeah.”

dean looked at you for a long moment.

“i’m fine.”

he didn’t call you a liar, though you suspected he wanted to. instead, he looked toward allie, and something passed silently between them, the kind of easy communication that came from knowing someone well enough not to need words for everything.

allie gave a small nod before dean slid into your side of the booth.

you moved closer to the wall to make room, and he settled beside you in the space beau had left behind. across the table, allie stayed where she was, though her attention remained on the two of you for a few seconds longer.

dean didn’t crowd you. he didn’t put an arm around you or ask again whether you were all right. he simply sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder rested lightly against yours, his presence creating a solid barrier between you and the rest of the room.

across the table, allie picked up her drink and looked at you with deliberate casualness, “do you remember what i was saying before?”

you blinked, “something about your professor?”

“close enough,” she continued her story anyway.

you loved her for that. she spoke normally, picking up somewhere in the middle of whatever she’d been telling you before, and after a moment dean added a quiet comment that made her roll her eyes.

neither of them looked at you too closely. neither of them asked if you wanted to leave. they simply gave you time to stop feeling like your heart was beating somewhere in your throat.

you leaned back against the booth and let their voices wash over you. dean’s shoulder remained against yours, the occasional movement reminding you that he was still there without forcing you to acknowledge why.

you’d known him through beau first.

for a long time, that was how you’d thought of him. beau’s friend. beau’s teammate. one of the people who occupied so much space in the stories beau told you that you’d felt like you knew him before the two of you had ever had a proper conversation.

somewhere along the way, that had changed, because dean had become your friend too.

he annoyed you. frequently. he stole food off your plate without asking and disagreed with you on principle whenever he was bored. but he also remembered your coffee order after hearing it once and texted you whenever beau left his phone somewhere stupid. he treated you like someone who belonged in his life rather than somebody he tolerated because you were dating his friend.

you hadn’t really thought about what that meant until now.

dean had known you could handle yourself. he’d waited because he respected that. and then, the second you couldn’t, he’d been there.

a few minutes later, you saw allie’s attention move toward the crowd. her expression softened slightly as her eyes settled on something, “beau’s coming back.”

your stomach tightened.

dean looked toward the crowd, then at you, and you knew from the brief pause that he was waiting to see what you wanted to do. he didn’t ask, though. he simply remained beside you, his shoulder still resting lightly against yours, while allie watched beau make his way through the crowd.

you didn’t have time to decide what expression to put on your face before he reached the booth.

at first, beau looked relaxed. there was still a faint smile on his face from whatever conversation had kept him away for so long. then his eyes found you, moved to dean sitting beside you, and returned immediately to your face.

the smile disappeared and you saw the exact moment he understood that something was wrong, “what happened?” his voice was quiet, but the question came without hesitation. you shook your head almost instinctively, “i’m fine.”

beau’s gaze remained on you for another second before shifting toward dean.

dean didn’t answer for you. instead, he stood. the movement was unhurried, and his hand touched your shoulder briefly as he moved away, an absent gesture you doubted he had consciously thought about. he walked around the table and slid back into the booth beside allie, who shifted closer to the wall to make room for him.

the space beside you was empty again. beau looked at it, then at you, before sliding into the booth.

the moment he sat down, his body angled toward yours as much as the table allowed. one knee pressed against yours beneath it, and his hand settled lightly against your thigh, warm even through the fabric of your clothes.

he didn’t look across the table again, “tell me.”

there was nothing demanding in the words. if anything, the quietness of his voice made the knot in your chest pull tighter.

you looked down at his hand for a moment, gathering your thoughts. the whole interaction had lasted only a few minutes, but trying to explain it now made it feel strangely complicated.

“this guy came over while you were gone,” you began. “he was trying to buy me a drink, and i told him i wasn’t interested.”

beau’s thumb moved once against your thigh, but otherwise he remained completely still.

“he kept talking to me after that. asking where you were and things like that.” you paused, suddenly uncomfortable beneath the weight of beau’s attention, “i told him to leave. he got annoyed.”

you could see beau trying very hard not to interrupt, the effort was written across his face, “how annoyed?”

you hesitated, “he called me a bitch.”

beau’s jaw tightened. you felt the change beneath your hand where it had come to rest over his. the tension that moved through him was subtle, but immediate. across the table, dean leaned back against the booth, watching the two of you without saying anything.

“that’s when dean got up,” you continued. “he made him leave.”

beau’s eyes moved across the table. dean gave a slight shrug, as though the entire thing had been considerably less important than it actually had. “she’s skipping a bit,” he said.

you frowned, “i’m not skipping anything.”

dean looked at you, “you are.”

“i told him what happened.”

“you gave him the edited version.”

you felt beau’s attention shift back to you, “there’s an edited version?”

“no.”

“yes,” dean said at the same time.

you looked across the table at him, “whose side are you on?”

dean’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “not really a sides thing.”

allie rested her chin against her hand, watching the exchange. she had been quiet since beau returned, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

you turned back toward beau and found him waiting. a sigh escaped your lips, “i got a little scared. that’s all.”

beau’s expression changed. the anger didn’t disappear, but something else moved over it. concern, quieter and heavier, settling into the crease between his eyebrows.

before he could say anything, dean spoke again, “she couldn’t get out.”

you looked at him, but his expression was no longer teasing, “he was standing at the end of the booth,” he explained, looking at beau now. “table in front of her, wall behind her. when he moved closer, she was boxed in.”

the words made your stomach tighten all over again. hearing it described that plainly was different from remembering it. you had known, in the moment, that there was nowhere for you to go, but you hadn’t put it into words even inside your own head.

beau’s hand stilled beneath yours, “did he touch you?”

“no,” you said immediately, “he didn’t. dean got there before he could,” you added.

something passed across beau’s face at that, too quick for you to identify. his eyes moved toward dean again.

“he wasn’t going to,” dean said, his voice matter-of-fact, “not after i got over there.”

beau looked at him for a moment, before his attention returned to you. his expression softened slightly, though the tension hadn’t left his shoulders.

“it was just for a second, babe,” you tried to reassure him, but you knew he didn’t believe that was the entire truth.

his hand moved from beneath yours. for half a second, you thought he was going to try and find the guy. instead, he reached beneath the table and took your hand properly, threading his fingers through yours. the familiarity of the movement made something inside your chest loosen before you could stop it.

“i’m here now,” he said quietly.

there was anger in his face. you could see it in the tension around his mouth and the way his jaw tightened every few seconds, but he wasn’t making it yours to deal with. he wasn’t demanding a description of the guy or asking why you hadn’t come to find him. he wasn’t telling you what you should have done differently or turning what had happened into a reason for you to comfort him.

he simply held your hand, and as his thumb moved slowly across your knuckles, you found you hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted him back until then.

your shoulders loosened slightly and beau noticed. of course he did.

he let go of your hand to move his arm along the back of the booth behind you, and you shifted toward him before he even had to ask. the moment you leaned into his side, his arm settled around your shoulders and drew you closer.

you rested your head against him, letting yourself sink into the familiar warmth of his side. beau’s arm tightened around your shoulders almost immediately, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you, while beneath the table, his other hand remained wrapped around yours.

for a while, nobody spoke. across the table, dean had settled back beside allie, one arm resting behind her while she leaned into the corner of the booth. beau looked up, and his eyes met dean’s over the table.

the exchange lasted only a few seconds. beau gave a small nod, something quiet and serious passing over his expression, and dean returned it just as subtly. neither of them said anything, but you understood enough anyway.

beau knew exactly what dean had done. and dean, apparently, didn’t think it required discussion.

you closed your eyes briefly as beau’s fingers moved against your shoulder in slow, absent strokes. the adrenaline that had been sitting beneath your skin was beginning to fade now, leaving you tired in its place, and you let yourself concentrate on the small things instead: the warmth of his body beside yours, the weight of his arm around you, the familiar movement of his thumb brushing over your hand beneath the table.

you hadn’t realized how tense you still were until you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax.

after a while, beau lowered his head and pressed his lips to the top of yours. the kiss lingered for a second before he spoke, his voice quiet enough that the words stayed between the two of you despite dean and allie sitting only a few feet away, “i leave for ten minutes.”

the comment was so characteristically him that a soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. you turned your face slightly into his chest, hiding the small smile that had finally begun to appear, “it was longer than ten minutes.”

you felt him shift beside you, “was it?”

you lifted your head enough to look at him, “mhmm.”

beau seemed to consider that for a moment before his mouth twisted, “shit.”

another laugh slipped out of you, quieter than the first but easier this time. something in beau’s expression softened at the sound, though the concern hadn’t entirely disappeared from his face. it was still there in the slight crease between his eyebrows and the careful way his eyes moved over yours, as though he were checking for something you might not be telling him.

you knew that look, “i’m fine,” you told him.

“i know,” his answer came easily, but his thumb continued moving over the back of your hand.

you studied him for a moment, “really.”

he nodded again, but you didn’t believe him. or, more accurately, you believed that he believed you were fine now. that didn’t mean he had stopped thinking about what had happened before he came back.

the tension in his jaw gave him away. you narrowed your eyes slightly, “you look like you want to kill someone.”

beau’s eyebrows lifted, “i don’t.”

you continued looking at him and he lasted approximately three seconds before sighing, “fine. i’m annoyed.”

“annoyed,” you repeated, unconvinced.

“very annoyed.”

you waited with raised brows. beau looked at your expression and amended, “extremely annoyed.”

“better.” you smiled before you could stop yourself, and some of the remaining tension in his expression finally eased when he saw it. his eyes stayed on your face for another moment before he shook his head slightly and pulled you closer again.

you settled back against his side, and this time the movement came more easily. some of the last tension in your chest went with it.

you though back to the quiet exchange between beau and dean. it was something that made warmth press unexpectedly against the lingering discomfort in your chest.

beau trusted dean.

not just with football or parties or whatever other stupid things they’d gotten into together over the years. with you.

and dean had treated that trust like the most natural thing in the world. not as an obligation, or a favor he would need thanking for. it was just something he did because beau loved you and, somewhere along the way, dean had decided that meant you were his person too.

beau’s thumb continued its slow movement over your shoulder, and you let yourself sit there for another minute before he spoke again. his voice was quieter this time, all traces of humor gone, “do you want to leave?”

you thought about it; you were still shaken. you could admit that to yourself now. every so often, the memory of the stranger stepping closer returned without warning, bringing that same cold feeling into your stomach. but the thought of leaving made the whole thing feel bigger somehow, as though one unpleasant stranger had managed to take the entire night from you.

you shook your head, “not yet.”

beau nodded, his expression giving away nothing but acceptance, “then we’ll stay.”

there was no hesitation and no attempt to change your mind. he simply settled back into the booth and kept his arm around you.

across the table, allie seemed to sense that the moment had passed. she waited another few seconds before starting her story over from the beginning, apparently deciding that none of you had been paying enough attention the first time.

dean frowned, “didn’t you just just tell this story?”

allie looked at him, “nobody was listening.”

“i was.”

“what was i talking about?”

dean opened his mouth, then closed it again.

allie nodded, “exactly.”

a quiet laugh escaped you, and beau’s attention immediately dropped toward you. the corner of his mouth lifted, and his softly squeezed your shoulder once before he turned his attention back to the conversation, though his arm remained securely around you.

you still felt the remnants of adrenaline beneath your skin, and every so often your attention flicked toward the crowd without permission. you caught yourself searching faces you didn’t recognize, checking the spaces between groups of people before you could stop yourself.

each time, beau’s thumb moved gently against your shoulder. you weren’t sure if he noticed you doing it, but you suspected he did.

after a while, dean caught your eye from across the table. you held his gaze for a second, then mouthed a quiet, thank you.

his expression tightened with immediate discomfort, causing you to almost smile. dean had never seemed like somebody who enjoyed sincere emotion being directed at him.

he gave you a brief nod though, and immediately reached for allie’s drink. she moved it out of reach without even looking at him, “no.”

“i didn’t do anything.”

“you were going to.”

“you don’t know that.”

allie finally looked at him, “i absolutely do.”

dean leaned back in the booth, looking unfairly accused.

you looked at beau. he was already looking at you. something passed between you, a flicker of shared amusement that needed no explanation.

the four of you stayed at malone’s for another hour. conversation never returned entirely to what it had been before, but it came close. allie eventually finished her story, dean continued to insist that he had been listening the first time, and beau absentmindedly pushed his glass towards you so you could finish what you’d started.

when you finally left, the cold air outside hit your face hard enough to make you inhale sharply. after the warmth of malone’s, the night felt almost startlingly clear, the sounds of the bar dulling as the door closed behind you.

beau immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the four of you started down the sidewalk. dean and allie walked a few steps ahead. allie slipped her hand into his, and he glanced down at her before adjusting his pace to match hers.

after a minute, dean looked back. his eyes moved over you, then beau. apparently satisfied, he turned forward again and you smiled to yourself.

the night hadn’t gone the way any of you had expected. your heart still beat a little faster when you thought about the moment the stranger’s expression had changed, and you suspected it would take a while before the memory stopped making something unpleasant twist in your stomach.

but beau was beside you, warm and solid, his arm wrapped around you.

a few steps ahead, dean was listening to allie talk, occasionally turning his head toward her as she spoke. she said something that made him laugh, then shoved his shoulder when he apparently responded with the wrong thing.

a couple minutes later, dean glanced back at you one more time. it was only briefly, but you understood then, perhaps more clearly than you had before, why beau loved him like a brother.

it wasn’t because dean was particularly good at saying the right thing. he usually wasn’t. it wasn’t because he made grand gestures or turned friendship into something that needed to be announced.

it was knowing when to stay out of the way and when to step in. it was sitting beside someone without demanding they explain how they felt. it was looking back over your shoulder once, then again, just to make sure the people you cared about were still there.

beau’s thumb moved across your shoulder and when you looked up at him he was already watching you. his eyebrows lifted slightly in a silent question, and this time you didn’t tell him it was nothing. you only moved a little closer and something in his expression softened.

you knew then, that you weren’t alone; you’d never been, and you never would be.

lacyydollette

₊ ֹ ˖ GARRETT WITH A BLUNT GIRLFRIEND THAT LIKES MAKING HIM BLUSH ᱺㅤㅤ ୨౿

one thing about you was that you were loud, a bit too carefree, and with absolutely no filter. while your boyfriend, garret was no introvert or virgin bride, he was still not used to being with someone just so—so blunt and brash.

and that came with some consequences, because there would be times where you would tease the shit out of him or make explicit comments so causally at all times, it made him flush like a schoolgirl.

that has never happened to him before you. like ever.

before, he was the one making girls blush, making their panties melt, and then came your hurricane self, with an obnoxious smirk making him shy as fuck.

sometimes he’d be left speechless because he always thought he’d be the one doing all that in a relationship.

sometimes he’d be too embarrassed at the fact that he was blushing, so he wouldn’t even know how to respond.

he was a hockey player who shoved people out of the way for a living, for fuck’s sake—why was he so weak for you?

see, and that’s why he tried to resist it, but the more he did, the worse it got

for example, if he just came out of the shower with his naked chest on display and you were there to witness, the first thing you’d do would be let out a whistle

“the things i’d do to lick those water drops off of you clean”

you never missed the deep patch of red flashing across his body as he quickly grabbed a towel, drying himself off before throwing on a shirt and shorts like that would somehow make it better.

then he’d walk over to you, pressing a deep kiss to your lips, trying to regain some sort of composure.

or again, if he was suited up for an event in which he looked so sinfully hot in, and you’d walk up to him as he fumbled with his tie, pulling him by his opened tie and fixing it as you tighten it, making him all red. pressing a gentle kiss to his lips

“what are you thinking about” he’d clear his throat before asking as you gazed at him with dilated pupils.

“how long it’d take for me to take this thing off you, pretty boy” and boom, here goes his willpower.

“you can’t say shit like that to me when i’m about to leave in like five,” he’d groan loudly, putting his forehead on you, adjusting his slacks while you giggled, feeling proud of yourself for getting him so weak.

or the last straw—when he walked into his room after another tiring practice, not knowing you’re in his bed, quickly taking his shirt off, leaving him in only loose sweats that show his boxers band, with a dark happy trail leading to a happy place.

you eyes drag up and down his body from your position in his bed as he moves around in his room before his eyes snap towards you and his whole composure softens realizing your there.

but you’re still staring. still tracking every movement which makes him a bit confused. does he have something on him?

“what?”

“you walk like it’s big” you blurt out, licking your very much dry lips.

“what’s that supposed to—“ he’s midway into his question when dean passes by garret’s room, still in his jersey, and yells out “it means you’re walking around like you’re being weighted down by something and that something is your dick! you’re welcome!” before moving into his room, shutting his door.

your boyfriend, per usual, flushes at the crude words

it was true, he just had a natural sway in his hips and that confident, lazy walk—it exceeded big dick energy.

or when he sat, he took space, thick hockey thighs spreading to make room for himself and his heaviness, it was so obvious that he had to make room for something big to sit like that.

“you get what i mean now?” you mutter, eyes glued onto his crotch as the familiar bulge forms

“baby i’m feeling very objectified at the moment” he murmurs as he closes his door before walking over to you, as he lowers himself on top of you, nuzzling his face into your neck

he was a mess, and it was better if you didn’t look into his face right now.

you just grab his curls as you push his head off of you, before pushing him onto his bed as you straddle him.

“awh poor baby you want me to stop?” you coo as your fingers find his chain resting on his chest, gently tugging onto it

he’s so mesmerized right now, so he shakes his head side to side as you lean back, keeping eye contact as you lean back before slipping a finger into the waistband of his sweats, slowly pushing them off his legs

“that’s what i thought, big boy” he raises his hips, helping you take his sweats off

you know what, garret decided he liked the fact that he turned putty at the hands of his girlfriend. it was a humbling reality check that he wasn’t the one with all the charm, and his usual tricks didn’t always come to play.

he needed that once in a while.

masterlist guys this is kinda off topic but i’m so obsessed with belmont’s curls

milliesfishes

౨ৎ꣑ৎday off with garrett౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x garrett graham large text version here!

milliesfishes

౨ৎ꣑ৎjohn logan stays the night౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x john logan large text version here!

book-lish

AM Cardio

Garrett Graham x Wifey!Reader

AN: SMUT 18+

puckingcuckbunny

𝓢peaking 𝔀ith 𝔂our 𝓶outh 𝓯ull

꒰ঌ࿐𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓕em! 𝓡eader x 𝓙ohn 𝓛ogan

꒰ঌ࿐𝓫𝓵𝓾𝓻𝓫 Logan catches you watching his biceps during his late night workout

꒰ঌ࿐𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽 ✓

꒰ঌ࿐𝔀𝓬 1,4k

flirtyangel

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇

𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

based on this request!

˚.⋆꒰১ ໒꒱⋆.˚ ─────── 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 , 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 , 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 , & 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀

639 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌

it’s the end of finals week at briar university , which means a party to celebrate being done with finals . the hockey boys are hosting the party tonight . your standing in the kitchen with your boyfriend and all of his friends , having drinks together and having a good time. you turn to look at your boyfriend , seeing his shoulders looking tense so you gently take his hand and you see his shoulders relax suddenly . he turns his head to look at you , giving you a soft smile . “you okay?” you mouth to him . he nods softly before leaning down and kissing you gently . you smile against his lips cupping his cheeks gently before pulling away and looking up at him . “you sure your alright?” “yea m’ just exhausted from exams..” he murmurs . you nod softly , pulling your hands away from, his face and taking one my his hands again in mine, intertwining your finger together . he smiles softly and places a light kiss to your knuckles .

it’s later into the night , you , allie , beau , and dean are all taking shots together , loosening yourself up . your laughing at something allie said and you look around the room at your surroundings and you see logan talking to garrett , tucker , and hannah . his jaw is clenched tight and he just looks overall exhausted . you frown faintly before saying to allie and them ‘i’ll be right back.’ . you move away from the group and you walk over to logan and everyone else . you wrap your arm around his waist , you feel a shiver run down his spine and he looks down and sees you . “hi baby~” he murmurs smiling down at you . “hi honey..” you smile back at him . he turns back to the conversation wrapping his arm around your lower waist , his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your top . you loosely listen to the conversation but your mind is only focusing on his touch and the way he seemed before you walked over .

its near 2 am , you and logan finally decided to call it a night so you both say goodnight to your friends before walking upstairs and going into his bedroom . you both finally get into his room and he collapses onto the bed , you grab one of his shirts from his dresser and you change out of your clothes and into the shirt and a pair of basketball shorts off the floor . you lay down next to him and he wraps his arms around you , pulling you closer to him . “this week bout fucking killed me..” he murmurs in annoyance . “yea?” “mhmm..this whole week has just been exhausting.” sighing softly . “m’ sorry i couldn’t come over much this week..i really did want to.” he confessed . “hey it’s okay..i get it.” you gently cup his cheek smiling softly at him . “i was so stressed out this week and i was being a complete asshole to everyone.” “well i think they’ll understand why..i mean i think everyone gets this way during finals..” you laugh softly . “yea its just..you calm me down you help me relax..” he whispers faintly , feeling embarrassed at the confession . “awhh babyyy.” you giggle softly before wrapping your arms around him . “oh hushh.” he murmurs against you . “you’re such a sap john..” you place a kiss against his hair burying your face into it . “mm whatever…i love you.” he whispers . “i love you too baby..night.” you whisper back . “night.” he replies . you both close your eyes and fall asleep into each others arms .

notes ᵎᵎ : i’m sorry this kinda sucks been struggling on how to write this

dilaurentispuckbunny

Baby Doll {Dean Di Laurentis x reader} Part 46

Masterlist

Summary: You were walking into the hockey house with your friends, Hannah and Allie. Your brother, Garrett Graham, lived here with his teammates and friends. John Tucker, John Logan and Dean Di Laurentis. You all attend Briar University (Briar U). The guys had won a game tonight, which meant that it was party time at the house, the house was packed with people. More specifically, Puck Bunnies.

Warnings: pure happiness

Graduation arrived with sunshine.

Not the gentle, forgiving kind that warmed your skin and made everything feel soft.

No—this was bright, relentless, almost blinding. The kind that made the air shimmer above the grass and forced everyone to squint, to shield their eyes, to shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Too much sunshine, according to Dean.

He had spent a solid twenty minutes that morning pacing the kitchen, coffee in hand, muttering about how the school should have provided shaded seating for emotional fathers.

You were fairly certain the sun had nothing to do with it.

He had been emotional since breakfast.

Actually—before breakfast.

He’d woken up earlier than usual, restless, unable to stay still. You’d found him standing in Angel’s doorway, just watching her sleep like he used to when she was little, like he was trying to memorize something he already knew by heart.

Then she came downstairs.

Graduation dress.

Hair done.

Makeup soft but grown.

And Dean had just… stopped.

Like someone had pressed pause on him.

His coffee had gone cold in his hand while his eyes filled, his throat working like he couldn’t quite figure out how to breathe.

“Dean,” you’d said gently.

He’d blinked, once, twice, then dragged a hand down his face.

“She’s—” His voice had cracked. “She’s not supposed to look like that yet.”

Angel had rolled her eyes, but her smile had softened.

“Dad, I’m eighteen.”

“I know,” he’d said helplessly. “That’s the problem.”

Then Gabriel had toddled in.

Still in pajamas.

Hair sticking up in every direction.

Clutching one of his toy cars like it was the most important thing in the world.

He’d walked straight up to Angel and held it out with both hands.

“For you.”

Angel had crouched instantly, her entire face melting into something softer, something older.

“For me?”

Gabriel nodded seriously.

“Graduation present.”

Dean had lost it again.

Completely.

Then Garrett had texted the group chat.

A photo of Angel at five years old.

Wearing one of Dean’s oversized hockey jerseys, sleeves swallowing her hands, grin missing two front teeth.

Caption:

Not ready.

Nobody was ready.

Especially Dean.

By the time you reached the school field, he was wearing sunglasses.

Not because of the sun.

Because, in his words, he had “a reputation to maintain.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him everyone already knew.

The field buzzed with noise.

Families shifting in folding chairs.

Programs rustling.

Teachers calling out instructions no one really listened to.

The smell of cut grass and sunscreen hung in the air.

Angel stood with her graduating class near the front.

Cap slightly tilted.

Gown just a little crooked, like she hadn’t bothered to fix it after putting it on.

Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, catching the sunlight every time she moved.

She kept looking back.

Over and over again.

Searching.

Finding.

You.

Dean.

Garrett and Hannah.

Logan and Allie.

Tucker.

Lori and Peter.

And Gabriel, who sat proudly on Dean’s lap wearing a tiny shirt that read My Sister Graduated in bold, uneven letters.

Angel spotted it.

Her nose wrinkled.

She mouthed, seriously?

Dean just grinned.

She rolled her eyes.

But then she smiled.

A real smile.

The kind that reached her eyes.

The kind that made Dean inhale sharply beside you like something inside him had just cracked open.

“Don’t,” you murmured under your breath.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re about to cry.”

“I am wearing sunglasses.”

“That doesn’t make you invisible.”

Dean sniffed.

“Feels like it should.”

You laughed softly, slipping your hand into his.

His fingers wrapped around yours immediately.

Tight.

Grounded.

Like he needed something solid to hold onto.

Pride radiated off him.

So did fear.

Because this wasn’t just a ceremony.

It was a shift.

Another ending.

Another beginning.

Another moment where he had to stand still and watch his little girl step farther into a world he couldn’t always protect her from.

When Angel’s name was called, everything changed.

The polite clapping dissolved instantly.

Garrett shot to his feet first, clapping like Angel had just scored a championship-winning goal.

“That’s my girl!”

Logan let out a whistle so loud it echoed across the field, drawing half the parents’ attention.

Tucker cupped his hands around his mouth.

“That’s our girl!”

Hannah was already crying.

Allie was laughing through tears.

Gabriel threw both arms into the air.

“SISSY!”

Dean didn’t move at first.

Didn’t shout.

Didn’t clap.

He just stood there.

Frozen.

Watching.

Watching Angel step forward.

Watching her adjust her cap nervously.

Watching her smile at the principal, polite and a little shaky.

Watching her take the diploma.

Watching her become something new right in front of him.

Then something inside him broke loose.

“That’s my daughter!”

His voice cut through everything.

Loud.

Proud.

Unapologetic.

Angel turned immediately.

Even from the stage, you saw it—the way her expression softened, the way her shoulders relaxed just a little.

She lifted her diploma.

Just slightly.

Just enough.

For him.

Dean’s sunglasses did absolutely nothing.

You saw the tears anyway.

After the ceremony, the field dissolved into chaos.

Caps flew into the air.

Parents cried openly.

Friends collided into each other in messy, emotional hugs.

Teachers tried—and failed—to maintain any kind of order.

Angel found you first.

She didn’t hesitate.

She walked straight into your arms like she had done a thousand times before.

For a moment, everything else faded.

You just held her.

Your first baby.

Your daughter.

The girl who had made you a mother before you even understood what that meant.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered into her hair.

Angel held you tighter.

“I know.”

You laughed, tears slipping free.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m Dean Di Laurentis’ daughter. I fear it’s genetic.”

Dean appeared behind her like he’d been pulled there by instinct.

“I heard that.”

Angel turned, grinning.

“Good.”

He took one look at her—diploma in hand, eyes bright, cheeks flushed—and his composure shattered again.

“Oh, princess.”

“Dad.”

“Nope.”

He pulled her into him before she could protest.

Angel went easily.

She always did, in the end.

Dean’s hand came up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her hair the same way he had when she was small.

“You did it.”

Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“I did it.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I’m so proud of you.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him.

“I know.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, though his smile betrayed him.

“You’re getting way too confident.”

“Again. Genetic.”

Garrett swooped in next, lifting her clean off the ground.

Angel shrieked.

“Uncle Garrett!”

“My graduate!”

“Put me down!”

“Absolutely not.”

Hannah wiped tears from her cheeks, laughing.

Logan snapped photo after photo, narrating like a documentary filmmaker.

Tucker handed Angel a bouquet so large it nearly swallowed her whole.

Gabriel toddled toward her, arms raised.

Angel crouched instantly.

“Come here, Gabe.”

He crashed into her, nearly knocking her over.

“Sissy done school?”

Angel laughed, kissing his cheek.

“Yeah, buddy. Sissy’s done school.”

Gabriel frowned, thinking hard.

“Forever?”

Angel’s smile softened.

“Not forever.”

Dean stiffened beside you.

Because that was the other thing.

The looming thing.

College.

Applications.

Waiting.

The future sitting quietly, unopened, in her inbox.

Back at the house, everything felt warm.

Full.

Alive.

Tucker had cooked enough food to feed twice the number of people present.

Garrett had decorated—badly—with crooked streamers and uneven balloons.

Hannah had fixed it—beautifully—without saying a word.

Logan had bought a massive banner that read CONGRATULATIONS ANGEL.

The second version.

Because the first one had been misspelled.

Angel stared at it.

“Did Uncle Logan spell it wrong first?”

Logan pointed at her.

“You have no proof.”

Allie raised her phone.

“I have proof.”

The room erupted into laughter.

For a while, everything was easy.

Food passed around.

Music playing softly.

Stories shared.

Dean forcing everyone to look at baby pictures.

Angel threatening to disown him.

Gabriel falling asleep halfway through dinner, pasta sauce smeared across his cheek.

Then, slowly, the energy shifted.

The laughter softened.

The noise dimmed.

And Angel appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Laptop pressed against her chest.

The room went still.

You knew immediately.

Dean did too.

His fork clattered softly against his plate.

“Is that…”

Angel nodded.

“College decisions are out.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Anticipatory.

“I haven’t opened them yet.”

Dean stood carefully, transferring Gabriel into your arms before crossing the room.

“Do you want to do it alone?”

“No.”

Immediate.

Certain.

His expression softened.

“Okay.”

She looked around.

At everyone.

“At first, I thought I would. But…”

Her grip tightened.

“I want everyone here.”

Garrett’s face shifted.

Tucker set down his glass.

Logan straightened.

Hannah reached for Allie’s hand.

You stepped closer, Gabriel warm and sleepy against you.

Dean stood beside Angel.

Not touching her yet.

Waiting.

Letting her decide.

She leaned into him anyway.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders instantly.

“Whatever it says,” he murmured, “we are already proud of you.”

Angel nodded, eyes shining.

“I know.”

He kissed her head.

“Open it when you’re ready.”

She sat at the island.

Everyone gathered behind her.

Too many people.

Too much love.

Exactly enough.

First email.

Accepted.

Cheers.

Second.

Accepted.

More cheers.

Third.

Waitlisted.

Dean glared at the screen.

“Their loss.”

Angel laughed nervously.

“Dad.”

“What? It is.”

Then—

Briar.

Her hand hovered.

The room held its breath.

Briar.

Where everything had changed.

Where love had grown out of chaos.

Where healing had begun.

Where family had been built.

And now—

Angel.

Her hand trembled.

Dean covered it gently.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.”

Click.

Too slow.

Too quiet.

Logan whispered, “If this Wi-Fi ruins the moment, I’m suing.”

No one laughed.

Then—

Congratulations.

Angel froze.

“Oh my God.”

Dean leaned in.

Read.

Stopped breathing.

Accepted.

Briar University.

Physical Sport Therapy.

Silence.

Then—

Explosion.

Screams.

Laughter.

Tears.

Logan lifting her.

Garrett covering his face.

You crying openly.

Dean—

Still.

Processing.

Then Angel turned.

“Dad?”

He blinked.

Tears spilled.

“Oh, princess.”

She launched into him.

“I got in.”

“You got in.”

“I’m going to Briar.”

“You’re going to Briar.”

“I’m going to help people.”

Dean laughed through tears.

“You already do.”

“I want to help people like Mom. Like Uncle Garrett. Like me.”

That broke everything open.

Dean cupped her face.

“You are going to change lives.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“You changed mine.”

She collapsed into him.

He held her.

Swaying.

Like always.

Gabriel stirred.

“Sissy cry?”

“Happy crying.”

“Sissy smart?”

Laughter.

“Very smart.”

Garrett hugged her.

“You’re gonna love it.”

Dean pointed.

“I know people.”

Logan raised his hand.

“I am people.”

Tucker nodded.

“I’ll send food.”

Angel laughed through tears.

You watched them.

All of them.

Her family.

Her foundation.

Her future.

Dean looked at you.

Eyes red.

Smile soft.

“Our girl.”

You leaned into him.

“Our girl.”

Angel stood in the centre of it all.

Diploma.

Acceptance letter.

Love surrounding her.

And you saw every version of her at once.

Every step.

Every fight.

Every moment she chose to keep going.

Dean kissed your temple.

“She’s gonna be okay.”

You watched her laugh.

Really laugh.

And for once—

It didn’t feel like hope.

It felt like truth.

“She really is.”

Taglist {open}: @ooopssssu @sleep-i-ness @zagreen @alice07ea @adrienneleclerc @nau-van @kmc1989 @femurgetokill @sshxamy @f4ll3n28 @redbag55 @meriamloves-tsunoda-yuki @rainbowstar405 @gandalfthegoatsblog @dina2223 @partygetsmewetter12 @notplutos @lulusa27 @angelsvoice1love @superbfishhumanoidweasel @ilocuras24 @inchidentontheracetrack @five-seconds-flat @thecraziestcrayon @yolasturlis @noonenuts @wonderland2425 @purplerainx1 @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense-blog @iamshiningeuw @nicolej04 @mld25 @brianna28483 @fangirl93 @bellarkeselection @calums-betch @mswwvaleska @wiishies @bookluver114 @hagarsays @lilliepetalx @raynetargaryan2 @c-a-b3002 @mariamadison6-blog @baeeyarr @monayyy-21 @demirunner @flannelshirts-and-fingerguns @loverofmusic @velvetsighs @alwaysclassyeagle @missbmc94 @ethanthequeefqueen @garrettgrahamssexysnaps @parker-barnes-af @peterpangirl21 @katrinaellie

sunnydilaurentis

for you | 1k cabo celebration, found family au ⋆⭒˚.⋆

⋆⭒˚.⋆ cabo 1k celebration masterlist!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ cabo 1k celebration info!

summary: part two to garrett and y/n's messages, while she's away in cabo.

ꪆৎ

lvstqrs

the art of un-casual - dean di laurentis

pairing ! dean di laurentis x golden!reader

summary ! you catch dean's attention, but quickly shut it down because you don't do casual. dean persists anyway.

warnings ! fluff. mild talk of insecurities. dean is over being casual about everything. cutie patooties.

wc ! 2.7k

author's note ! i loved writing this and def think i will write more briar u boys with golden!reader !! not proof-read.

to be added to my taglist.

rhi-blogging

what's your love language again?

pairing – john logan x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

synopsis – meeting Logan’s friend group is definitely nerve-wracking, but nothing says 'nice to meet you' like gift giving

based on this request!

warnings – none, just wholesome interactions between reader and the girls/hockey boys

note – my first request omg🥹 if you want to request something, you can submit them in asks section on my page or comment under this post! enjoy ♡

masterlist

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

You and Logan were relaxing, his head on your chest as he cuddles up to you in bed. You run your hands through his hair, soaking up the moment while you both watched your favorite movie.

Your relationship has been blossoming, almost feeling too good to be true. You both were continuing to fall for each other as time passed, quite literally becoming two peas in a pod. Although, there's one thing that hasn't happened yet.

i8theporridge

Mouthy…

Pairing: realeater!Logan x fem!reader

Summary: Logan is the ideal boyfriend, and gives the best kind of reassurance when needed.

Warnings: smut, oral (f!receiving), established relationship, dirty talk, Logan talking you through it, much Logan, backwards hat Logan, praise (f!receiving), motor-boating????, canonical tits guy!Logan, no use of y/n, lmk if I missed any!!!

A/N: Hii! Sorry if this is long or bad, I did not proof read it. I had and idea and I sat down and wrote it all out in one sitting. I wrote this in about an hour so please take that with a grain of salt. Anyway, love you mwah!

John Logan is a great boyfriend, the best. He’s phenomenal, impeccable even, and lord do you know it. He’s sweet, kind, caring, compassionate, and funny, all the redeeming qualities of a decent man. Sure he has a past, a reputation of being a bit of a manwhore, but then again so does the rest of Briar U’s D1 hockey team. His steamy one night stands and adventurous sexcapades came to a screeching halt upon him meeting you. However, the tails of his illustrious sexual past did not. The men of the Briar Hawks were and still remain the most desirable set of washboard abs and surprisingly good dicks on campus, John Logan landing a nice cushy spot in the top five most wanted. But if one thing got around campus quicker than John Logan and his friends, it’s gossip. You two got together at the start of spring semester junior year, and the dedication puck bunnies wasted no time in ‘informing’ you of your boyfriend’s travelling penis. It hurt, sure. But it’s not like you hadn’t known.

Logan was in a constant state of reassurance during the first month or so of your relationship, offering every medium at his disposal that he could to prove that you and him were truly exclusive, that his days of sleeping around are done and over with and have been since the millisecond you agreed to be his girlfriend, whether it be physically, verbally, or sexually. He’d do it.

Being nine months into the relationship, his perpetual reassurances had morphed into ‘as-needed’. So when a picture posted by Fifth-Line came across your Insta feed of Logan and an ex-fling of his that had been particularly towards you looking all buddy-buddy at a party, naturally you were a bit peeved.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” Logan asked as he walked into his bedroom, finding you exactly where he’d left you before his lecture, lying in one of his t-shirts and a pair of lacy panties on his bed.

“Why’s there a picture of you and Gabby on Fifth-line?” You asked bluntly.

“There is?” He walked over and sat next to me on his bed, gently prying my phone from me. “Oh yeah, she was hitting on me. Told her to get lost.” He scoffed in amusement, handing me back my phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t matter? I told her to fuck off.” His voice was still gentle with a soft lilt of comedic and indifferent ease, but there was a subtle sternness beneath it.

“You told her to ‘fuck off’ ?” You quoted his own words back to him incredulously.

“Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?” He was getting agitated but quickly calmed himself by clenching his jaw and swallowing whatever mean spirited thought he was about to spew. “Baby, I told her to fuck off. That I have a girlfriend, whom I love and am wholeheartedly committed to.”

You stared at him through narrowed eyes, your pride refusing to let you give way to swoon-worthy words. God you loved this man, but you’d be damned if you let him see you smitten.

“Fine.” You shrugged, rolling your eyes dramatically when that devilishly charming smile spread across his lips.

“C’mon baby…” I practically cooed as he leaned towards you slowly, his hand recovery the space you put between him and yourself when you leaned away slightly. “Don’t roll those pretty eyes at me…”

His calloused hand made feather light contact with your cheek, your stomach effectively exploding in that familiar fluttery feeling he so often gave you.

“…or am I gonna have to resort to alternative methods?” His hand slid from your cheek to rest on your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb gently pulling your bottom lip on its downward caress from your upper lip to your chin.

The smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth a second before you can swallow it is all he needs.

He smirks, presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, removes his hand from its place on your jaw, and slowly uses it to push you back by your shoulder until your lying flat on your back with both knees bent.

Every motion of his is done with precision and care, he’s not rush and he wants you to know it. The way he swings one leg over you to bracket your hips, one hand bracing himself on the mattress and the other gently placed on top of his backwards cap so it doesn’t fall off and hit you in the face. The way his eyes trace your entire body in awe and not hunger, silently displaying his admiration and love for you. The way he inhales when his warm brown eyes meet yours.

“There’s my girl.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you so softly you’re not actually sure if your lips are touching.

His hands slowly drag down your waist until they’re rested on your hips.

“Gotta say hi to my other girls too.”

Your confusion instantly gives way when he slides down so he’s face to face with your clothed chest, one hand gliding back up your body to squeeze one of your breast affectionately as he places a lingering kiss to the valley between them.

He sits back on his heels and taps your hip twice, muttering a barely audible ‘up’.

You plant your feet against the mattress and lift your hips without complaint, allowing his hands to slide under the hem of the t-shirt you stole from him and slide your panties off.

He tosses the garment onto the floor somewhere as you lower your hips back down to the bed.

He gently lifts your legs by the ankles, pressing an airy trail of kisses up the inside of one. The closer his face gets to your core the sloppier the kisses get, until eventually his lips are just being dragged drunkenly up your inner thigh and he’s flat on his stomach.

“Fuck.” His mutters, gently biting the fatty part of your inner thigh and pushing the hem of your shirt up higher on your stomach. “Missed this s’much…”

This is one of the best parts about dating Logan. The man gets pussy drunk like no other. It’s to the point that the moment his head is between your legs his words slur and his face flushes.

You swallow a moan. The man hasn’t even done anything yet and you’re already squirming.

He bumps his nose against your clit and you have to fight your hips into staying on the bed. He peers lovingly at you over your pelvic bone and kisses your swollen clit, then he licks a long stripe up the length of your pussy with a flat tongue and unwavering eye contact.

He does it again only this time he lowers his head, now fully wrapped up in the task at hand.

Any and all possible teasing has gone out the window as he laps and sucks and kisses, his hands gripping your hips to keep you open and still.

Your hand flies up to your mouth in a desperate attempt to contain your borderline pornographic moans.

“I know baby,” I mumbles against your slick folds sympathetically, still kissing your overstimulated and red clit. “I know. You’re doing so good for me, always do so good for me…” Then he back to his ministrations as you fall apart above him.

“There you go, atta girl.” He kisses your hip as you start to come down from the heavenly orgasm he’d given you. “Thats it baby, breathe.”

Your chest heaves and the room is full of the sounds of you panting as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your hip bone.

“Got one more for me?” I asks softly, kissing the edge of your pelvis right before it splits. “Huh baby? Think you can do one more?”

And all you can do is nod, still getting your bearings from your first orgasm.

Not a moment later do you hear the lewd sound of him spitting onto your fluttering opening.

“Fuck, Logan-” You’re cut off by the sudden warm of his mouth wrapping around you, ripping a moan out of you.

You watched through guttural moans and bated breath as he switches from sucking, to licking, to shaking his head back and forth. The sight is otherworldly, and it’s enough to put you back on the edge.

“C’mon baby, one more. Just one more.” He pants against you, his lips and chin wet with your slick and earlier release. “Cum for baby.”

Your back arches off the bed as you nearly scream, ecstasy washing over you in warm waves.

Logan licks and sucks you through it until you’re practically sobbing and pushing his face away.

He plants one last firm kiss to your inner thigh, then up to your mouth before moving to lie down next to you, his head hitting his pillow.

“Do you need, umm…” you pant, gesturing with your head down to his jean clad crotch.

“No. No baby I’m good.” He smiles.

That’s when you make out the subtle wet spot on the denim and you both burst out laughing.

minimouse02

Imagine a Will Smith x Hughes!Reader where they are in a secret relationship because her older brothers are very overprotective and then one day one of them finds something suspicious that makes them suspect that something is going on between you and Will

Dirty Little Secret

pairing: Will Smith x Hughes!reader

summary: You and Will navigate a secret relationship, constantly hiding from your overprotective brothers, until one of them finds a clue that threatens to expose everything.

CW: Fluff, secret relationship, overprotective brothers, kissing.

The text message lights up your phone, hidden beneath your pillow. Willy-Wonka: Miss your face. See you after practice?

Your heart does its familiar little flip, a dangerous combination of excitement and anxiety. You type back quickly: Only if you bring coffee.

cattyb2

never again | will smith

Pairing: will smith x reader!gf, platonic mack x reader

Prompt: the house is packed as your boyfriend’s family is visiting. and when you and mack go to the store, you never expected it to end up the way it does. as you and mack are caught in an armed robbery, all you can do is think of the man you love

Warnings: detailed descriptions of: armed robbery, blood, gunshot wound, hospital —— please heed the warnings!

Will loves when his family is in town, but he especially loves nights like this. Grace, him and his mom move fluently around the kitchen. His best friend and girlfriend sitting on the chairs at the island, fitting into his family likes you guys have been here all along.

“Oh shoot.” Colleen says from the fridge, and everyone’s attention turns to her.

“What’s wrong?” Grace asks, and Colleen groans.

“I forgot to pick up more butter.”

seventiesaces

I looookve your Logan fics, but Garrett has my heart. Could you write something like Garrett and the reader having a casual relationship, because he don't do girlfriends and she don't do boyfriends. But he gets jealous of her because he's starting to fall in love, and acts like a boyfriend at various times!

Loved writing this! Thank you for your request!

Ahead: Mentions of smut, Garrett Graham x Reader, jealous Garrett

Relationships were nothing but unnecessary drama. That was something both you and Garrett Graham agreed upon when you met.

You met at a party. Garrett was peeved because his recent hook up, Kendall, had used an array of expletives after he turned down being her boyfriend. You were have a similar night. After hooking up with a baseball player named Cole Miller for a few weeks, he wanted to make things "real".

You firmly rejected this idea, even asking him, "Aren't baseball player suppose to me sluts? How did I get the one monogamous one?" Which he did not like at all.

danger-z0ne

Bruises

Park the Shark drabble based on this ask.

You show up to the PTMC’s emergency department with an injury. Unlucky for you, your boyfriend happens to have sharp teeth that decided to sink into your skin the night before.

tags/warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, brief medical talk, reader has EDS but it’s mentioned once and not pivotal, I think that’s it.

You were fucked. In both the literal and metaphorical sense of the word. Last night, Brendon had drove you so far into the mattress that you thought the bed frame was going to break. His sweet words contrasted with the sharp ache that his teeth would bring, clamping down on whatever skin he could find. Your poor chest absolutely littered with bruises and indents of his teeth. Not that you were complaining about that fucked. You’d never admit it but you might’ve even begged for it.

No, the fucked you were dreading was the fact that you’d managed to dislocate your collarbone and most likely your ribs, too. Every time you tried to take a deep breath the stabbing pain would nearly double you over. Your left arm was out of commission, tingling pain shooting down it with every shift. Normally, you’d tough out the pain, used to the occasional dislocations and subluxations.

This time wasn’t like that. This pain was radiating in a way you weren’t used to and you couldn’t say with confidence which way your collarbone went. Knowing if it went posterior it could rupture an artery, you decided to err on the side of caution. Which means you’ve been sitting in the ER’s waiting room for the last hour.

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