NASA
★
todays bird
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Show & Tell
Andulka
occasionally subtle
The Bowery Presents
Game of Thrones Daily
we're not kids anymore.
$LAYYYTER
Not today Justin
cherry valley forever
#extradirty
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
blake kathryn
Jules of Nature
izzy's playlists!
seen from Tunisia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Oman
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from South Africa
seen from Mexico
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Argentina
@junezsq
navigation ⸝⸝୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
sanne ♡ 23 she/her multifandom english major aspiring book editor friends to lovers enthusiast
masterlist guidelines requests (open!)
join my taglist HERE !!
— most recent fic: rules (beau maxwell)
Hiii! I loove your writing, especially Rules! I was wondering when we might get another update 😄💕
HII!! tysm<333
new update in general: dean fic very very soon!
update on rules: added a p2 to the list of things i want to write so that’ll come out sometime as well :)))
I have devoured all of your fics and was wondering if you would want to share your WIPs' at all, super curious as to what ur cooking up!!
of course😼
since i’m on holiday, and my service/wifi is basically non-existent, i’m writing a single fic at a time. this, so i can keep everything as organized as possible, without having to use all my data LMFAO
soooo rn i’m working on a dean request!
here’s a small exciting part:
the rest of the room blurred at the edges as flashing lights painted shifting colours across his face, catching in the faint grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.
your breathing steadied as his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest moment, then back to your eyes. it was so quick you almost convinced yourself you’d imagined it.
the next wave of dancers surged around you, forcing him even closer. something flickered across his face just as another beat rolled through the speakers.
without thinking, you mirrored each other’s movements, swaying in easy rhythm, neither leading nor following anymore.
it was somewhere in that silence, after nearly half an hour of dancing and laughing and never quite stepping away from one another, that dean leaned down just enough for you to hear him over the music.
“come upstairs with me,” the words were quiet, almost swallowed by the music
i also have an idea written down for a beau maxwell smau i’ll most likely start officially writing once i’m back home!😛
i’m hoping to get more fics out there and go back to my usual uploading once i’m back from holiday!!! 🫶🏻
HI HELLO i am obsessed with literally everything you write!!! do you think you’ll add more parts to beau’s story rules? i just think his yearning crush is so cute and would love to see him be the one to beat her rule 🫶
HEEY!!! thank you so much<3
i see so many wanting a part 2 and it miiiight be on my list for more beau fics i want to write 😼
& i agree, yearning beau is so >>>>>
Hi, no pressure at all but the beau fic was sosososo cute and it would be amazing if there was a part 2 of them together :D
hihi there might be a p2 on my to be written beau fics list😋
Helloooo ✨️
How are you doing? I saw the requests are open and I have two separate ones to ask if that's okay 🙈
1) Dean x Reader: enemies to lovers kind of vibe. Dean had tried to woo reader during a party (in the style of the dance he had with Allie) and she turned him down cause she isn't one to be used and discarded. Fast forward they are at drunk Shakespeare and they are chosen as Juilette and Romeo
2) For reasons I won't go into much, the whole part of Hannah's trauma and Garrett was very soothing and a bit healing for me. The portrayal, the disassociation, everything about it was so realistic and hit home. I was wondering if I could request that same thing but with reader x Dean? (I mean Mr. She has to consent and Mr. She needs to feel trust has me on a chokehold lmao)
Thank you so much 💓
hi my love, i’m doing great! currently on holiday in italy so i’m enjoying the sun and scenery for a bit 😋😋 how are you??
thank you for the requests! currently working on the first request so i’ll try to get that one out for you asap🫶🏻
i’ll also try to get to the second one soon! i can imagine how the portrayal of hannah can feel as healing. i hope you’re doing alright, and if not; good things are headed your way! much much love from me anyway <333
everytime i see a new beau fic from you.. my mood goes 📈📈📈
love u and ur writing esp for beau!!! <3
stop it you’re so sweet<3333 thank you my love
Not last anon, but maybe argument angst? no break up pleasee also maybe happy ending?😀
i feel you LMFAOOAAOOAOAO there are very few angst fics i can handle tbh and almost all angst fics i read do have an happy ending😭🙏
i’m generally pretty bad at thinking of what the argument can be abt but i’ll cook smt up x
if anyone has ideas lmkkkkkkkkk 😁😁🤍
You are so unbelievably talented at writing and ur Beau fics are truly some of the best out there, pls never stop writing them!!
YOURE TOO KINDDDD❤️❤️❤️❤️
can i please get some realll angstttt w beau pleaseee but no deaths pls🥹🥹
alralrrrrrrr what kind of angst are we thinking?? breakup?? argument??? 😼
rules
beau maxwell x fem!puckbunny!reader
summary: known among the hockey team for never giving anyone a third chance, you unexpectedly find yourself drawn to the football player
strangers to lovers
warnings: alchohol consumption, mentions of casual hookups, and banter!!!!!
word count: 5.2k
a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it :) i decided to make the ‘jealous’ player none of the main guys since i feel like they’d mostly be supportive of them! carter’s a completely made up character lmfao
beau maxwell masterlist off campus masterlist
── ᵎᵎ ✦
the music playing throughout the house wasn’t particularly good, but it was loud. every other house on the street seemed relatively calm, but hawks house glowed beneath the porch lights, people spilling out onto the lawn with red solo cups in hand while someone attempted to shotgun a beer to the sound of cheering.
you parked a few houses down and climbed out of your car, smoothing the wrinkles from your jeans out of habit. it was late enough that the october air carried a bite, and you immediately wished you’d brought a jacket.
you shoved your phone into your back pocket and made your way up the crowded sidewalk. someone held the front door open for you before disappearing inside.
the second you stepped inside, conversations continued around you like nothing had changed.
you weren’t the kind of girl people stopped to stare at; they’d gotten used to seeing you around. you floated through enough parties, enough bars, enough campus events that your face had become familiar, even if most people couldn’t tell you what you studied or where you lived.
they just… knew you. especially the hockey team. that tended to happen when you’d slept with a handful of them over the years.
not many, just enough, and never enough to cause drama. you’d learned it your freshman year after a guy had mistaken one good night together for the beginning of a relationship.
since then, you’d lived by one incredibly simple rule.
never sleep with the same guy more than twice. once could be a mistake. twice meant you knew what you were getting. three times opened doors you had absolutely no interest in walking through.
your rule kept everything uncomplicated because everyone knew where they stood. most of the hockey guys had tried arguing with it at least once, but none of them had ever won.
“well, look who decided to show.” the familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. you turned just in time to see one of the hockey guys leaning against the wall beside the staircase, a half-empty beer dangling lazily from his fingers. he grinned the second your eyes met, “there she is.”
you couldn’t help smiling back, “hi, carter.”
he pushed himself away from the wall, weaving through the crowd until he stopped in front of you, “thought maybe you’d abandoned us.”
“abandoned hockey parties?” you scoffed, “what would i do on a friday night instead?”
he laughed and without thinking, he leaned in for a quick hug. there wasn’t a trace of awkwardness between the two of you, despite the fact that you’d spent exactly two nights tangled up in his sheets last semester.
that was another benefit of your rule. nobody got weird afterward, no lingering tension, and no drunken texts at two in the morning asking what you were doing. he pulled away, still smiling, “you look good.”
“thank you.”
the smile was still playing on his lips. god, he was charming. not charming enough to tempt you into breaking your own rule, but charming nonetheless.
he took a sip of his beer before looking at you again, “so…”
you recognized that tone immediately causing your eyes to narrow, “don’t.”
“don’t what?” he blinked innocently.
“whatever sentence you’re about to finish.”
his grin widened, “i was just gonna ask—”
“carter.”
“—if maybe enough time has passed.”
you sighed dramatically, “seriously?”
“you didn’t even let me finish.”
“because i know exactly what you’re asking and the answer’s still no.”
he clutched a hand dramatically over his heart, “you wound me.”
you laughed, shaking your head, “you knew the rules.”
he stared at you for a second before letting out a defeated sigh, “worth a shot.”his expression softened into something more genuine, “still good to see you.”
“you too,” and you meant it. that’s what people never understood. just because you didn’t sleep with someone again didn’t mean you disliked them. if anything, you liked most of them quite a bit. they just weren’t your boyfriends. and if everyone understood that from the beginning, nobody got hurt.
“carter!” someone across the living room waved him over. he glanced toward the voice before looking back at you, “duty calls, you sticking around?”
“probably.”
he pointed at you, “i’ll try again later.”
you laughed, “you’ll fail again later.”
he barked out another laugh before raising his cup in a mock salute, “see you around.” you watched him disappear into the crowd before continuing deeper into the house.
the music grew louder with every step. someone nearly backed into you while dancing in the middle of the hallway and another guy sprinted past carrying three pizza boxes balanced precariously in his arms.
the living room was packed shoulder to shoulder, beer pong occupying one corner while dean dilaurentis stood on the coffee table shouting commentary that nobody had asked for but everyone seemed to enjoy anyway.
the kitchen was calling your name. preferably with something colder than the lukewarm beer currently sloshing around in nearly every cup you’d seen.
you slipped through the doorway, grateful to find it marginally quieter than the rest of the house. people crowded around the kitchen island, laughing over a card game, while someone argued passionately that pineapple belonged on pizza.
you ignored them as you opened the refrigerator, scanning the shelves until your eyes landed on a can of coke tucked behind a carton of orange juice.
perfect.
you quickly grabbed it, opening it with a single hand as you closed the door with the other, and just as you turned around someone rounded the corner a little too quickly.
they collided gently with your shoulder. the can tilted in your hand and cold soda splashed over your fingers.
“oh, shit.” the voice was warm; immediately apologetic, “i’m so sorry.”
you looked up and met a pair of brown eyes. for a second, neither of you moved. the soda fizzed quietly as another drop slid over your knuckles and onto the kitchen floor.
“i’m sorry,” he repeated, his brows pulling together as his eyes darted from your hand to the can, then back to your face. “i wasn’t looking where i was going.”he sounded genuinely guilty.
before you could even respond, he’d already reached behind him, grabbed a roll of paper towels from beside the sink, and torn off several sheets, “here.”
you accepted them with a small laugh, “thank you.”
he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, “i owe you another drink.”
you looked down at the can still in your hand, “it’s mostly still full.”
“yeah, but—”
“i promise,” you held it up with a grin, “i’ll survive.” for the first time since you’d looked up, you actually took him in.
he was tall and broad enough to fill most of the doorway he’d come barreling through, though there wasn’t anything intimidating about him.
his brown hair was slightly messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it all evening. there was a tiny crease between his eyebrows that hadn’t disappeared since he’d apologized. his eyes were the kind that smiled before the rest of his face did, “i’m beau,” he said after a beat.
you smiled, “i know, i’ve seen you around.”
which wasn’t exactly a lie, you’d seen him plenty of times: at football games, hockey games, around campus, and at parties like this one.
“i know who you are, too,” he admitted.
“you do?” you tilted your head, “should i be worried?”
his laugh escaped before he could stop it, “no.” he smiled sheepishly, “i’ve just seen you around as well.”
“that’s all?”
“mostly.”
you folded one of the paper towels, drying the last bit of soda from your hand, “mostly?”
his ears actually turned a little pink, “you’re kind of hard to miss.”
that wasn’t the answer you’d expected. most guys would’ve said you were hot, or gorgeous, or something equally rehearsed. hard to miss somehow felt more honest, “i’ll take that as a compliment.”
“it was meant as one,” there wasn’t a trace of arrogance in his voice.
you leaned back against the counter, “so, what was so important that you almost tackled me over a can of coke?”
he glanced toward the hallway he’d come from before looking back at you, “pizza.”
“pizza?”
“they wanted three boxes.”
a small smirk grew on your lips, “that’s serious business.”
for a moment, the conversation settled into something comfortable. around you, people continued moving through the kitchen. someone laughed loud enough to make everyone nearby glance over. a cabinet slammed. music drifted faintly through the hallway, but somehow standing there talking to beau felt oddly separate from the rest of the party.
he rested one hand on the counter beside him, “what’s your major?”
you blinked, “that’s your question?”
“yeah.”
“not ‘what are you drinking?’”
he glanced at the can, “coke, i can see that one.”
you bit back a smile, “or ‘having fun?’”
he shrugged, “i figured if you weren’t, you’d probably leave, plus i actually wanted to know.”
you found your smile growing before you realized it.
most conversations at parties never made it past names. sometimes majors, if someone was feeling particularly ambitious. but, the way he asked made it feel like he genuinely cared about the answer.
so you told him and he listened; actually listened.
when you mentioned a professor you hated, he laughed because he’d taken the same class.
when he talked about one of his friends accidentally setting off the fire alarm in his frat house freshman year, you laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink again.
“beau!” a voice called from somewhere behind him.
he glanced toward the hallway, but ignored the voice as he looked back at you, “anyway.”
you laughed, “you’re just ignoring them?”
he shrugged lightly just as another voice called out for him. louder this time, “maxwell!”
he closed his eyes briefly, but didn’t move. instead, he asked another question. where you grew up. what music you listened to. whether you actually enjoyed parties or just tolerated them.
it felt surprisingly easy. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stood in a kitchen talking to someone for nearly fifteen minutes without either of you checking your phone or looking around for someone more interesting.
“beau!” this time whoever was calling sounded significantly less patient.
“okay,” you laughed as he still had his gaze focused on you, “go, they’re going to come drag you out of the kitchen if you don’t.”
he considered that, “yeah, they probably will.”
“so, go.”
he hesitated. just enough that you noticed before pushing himself away from the counter, “alright.” he took two backwards steps toward the doorway before stopping. there was the tiniest pause, almost like he was debating whether to ask, “hey?”
“yeah?”
his smile returned. it was smaller this time, looking a little uncertain, “see you later?”
you couldn’t help but smile, “yeah.”
his answering grin came easily, “cool.”
then he disappeared into the hallway, finally answering whoever had been calling his name for the last five minutes. you watched him go for a second longer than necessary, not entirely sure why that conversation had felt so different.
maybe because he’d never once looked you up and down. never once let his eyes linger anywhere they shouldn’t. never tried to touch your arm. never slipped in a cheesy pickup line. he’d just talked to you.
you looked down at the can still in your hand which was nearly empty now. shaking your head with a quiet laugh, you tossed the empty can into the recycling bin.
for the next hour, you hardly saw him. not because you were looking. you absolutely weren’t. except… you kind of were.
it wasn’t intentional. every now and then your eyes wandered across the living room while someone was telling you a story, and somehow they always seemed to land on him.
once, he was laughing at something dean dilaurentis had said, his head tipped back just enough for that crooked smile to appear.
another time, he was balancing three pizza boxes against his hip while one of the freshmen tried to explain why ordering anchovies had been “a strategic decision.”
later, you caught him helping someone gather up a tower of empty cups that had toppled off the coffee table.
none of it was particularly remarkable. if anything, it was remarkably ordinary. he wasn’t the loudest guy in the room, didn’t command attention without trying, and didn’t seem interested in becoming the center of it.
he simply floated through the party, talking to whoever happened to be nearby, smiling more than he spoke.
there was something oddly refreshing about that; hockey players usually occupied a room like they owned it.
“you listening?”
you blinked, “huh?”
your friend laughed, “i asked if you wanted another drink.”
“oh.”you looked down at your empty cup, “sure.”
“you looked lost.”
“it’s nothing, i’m just tired.”
she rolled her eyes before disappearing toward the kitchen. you stayed where you were, leaning against the wall near the dining room.
you slipped your phone from your pocket. 10:17. early enough that leaving would be considered rude, but late enough that nobody would notice if you disappeared for ten minutes.
fresh air suddenly sounded perfect, so, you quietly made your way toward the back door.
the cool night air wrapped around you the second you stepped onto the deck. you let out a slow breath and immediately felt better.
the music became muffled behind the closed door, replaced by the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional burst of laughter drifting through an open upstairs window.
the backyard sat mostly empty. a few people lingered near the fire pit and a couple occupied the hammock strung between two trees.
you rested your elbows against the wooden railing, closed your eyes, and breathed.
“escaping?”
your eyes opened to find beau standing a few feet away near the porch steps, one shoulder resting against the railing. he held a half-finished joint between two fingers, the ember glowed softly in the darkness before fading again. you smiled softly, “something like that.”
he lifted the joint slightly, “sorry.”
“for what?”
“i wasn’t trying to interrupt,” he studied you for a second. “you okay?”
“yeah,” you gave him a small nod in confirmation, “just needed some air.”
his mouth curved into a smile. he pushed himself off the railing and gestured with the joint, “want some?”
you hesitated for about half a second, “sure.”
he stepped closer. it wasn’t too close; just enough to hand it over. your fingers brushed his for the briefest moment. they were bigger than you’d expected. you took a slow drag before passing it back, “thanks.”
“anytime.”
the porch swing sat empty a few feet away. he nodded toward it, “wanna sit down for a second?”
you glanced at the swing for a moment before looking back at him, giving him a small smile as you shrugged, “lead the way.”
the chains creaked softly beneath your combined weight and for a while, neither of you spoke. you simply watched people wander across the backyard beneath strings of warm lights, the gentle sway of the swing making the evening feel strangely calm compared to the chaos inside.
“…so,” beau said eventually, “i’ve been wondering something.”
you looked over, but didn’t say anything. you just quietly raised your brows while waiting for him to continue.
“in the kitchen, when you said you knew who i was.”
“yeah?”
“how?”
you laughed softly, “is that really what’s been bothering you?”
“a little,” he smiled as he slowly brought the joint back to his lips.
“i’ve seen you at games.”
he looked surprised, “you’ve been to games?”
“a few.”
“i didn’t know that.”
you shrugged, “i guess you’re just not paying enough attention.” at the surprised look on his face you nudged his shoulder lightly, “don’t worry.”
“i’m making up for it now,” he smiled.
your heart did something unexpectedly annoying. he hadn’t flirted once. not really. everything he said came across so naturally that you couldn’t tell whether he was intentionally charming or if it was just part of his personality. you decided it was probably the second one.
“can i ask you something?” he said quietly.
“go ahead.”
“is it true?”
you raised an eyebrow, “is what true?”
he scratched the back of his neck as he laughed softly at himself, “this feels ridiculous.”
“spill it, now i’m curious.”
“that you never hook up with the same guy more than twice.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, “that’s what people are saying?”
“it’s become kind of legendary.”
“legendary?” your brows raised at the word.
“among hockey players,” he shrugged, “dean told me”
you buried your face in one hand, “oh my god.”
he laughed, “sorry.”
“no, that’s…” you shook your head, “that’s honestly kind of funny.”
“why do you do it?” he asked. there wasn’t any judgment in his voice, just curiosity: he offered you the joint again. you took it at as you leaned back against the swing, “because it’s simple.”
“simple?”
“nobody gets confused, nobody expects more, nobody ends up wondering why i stopped texting.”
he nodded thoughtfully, “that makes sense.”
“most people argue with it,” you spoke after slowly blowing out a small cloud of smoke.
he took back the joint you held out for him, “seems like a waste of time, it’s your rule.”
you blinked, “huh.”
“what?”
“that’s probably the first time anyone’s said that.”
“really?”
you nodded with a small smile playing on your lips, “usually i get some speech about how they’ll be the exception.”
his smile turned amused, “does it ever work?”
“no.”
“then they’re waisting their time.”
you laughed once more. god. he was so easy to talk to. dangerously easy. the comfortable silence returned as you watched him take another slow drag before exhaling toward the night sky.
eventually he looked over at you, holding your gaze for a beat longer than before. you found yourself unable to look away. there wasn’t anything intense about it. he wasn’t staring or trying to intimidate you.
he simply looked. like he was taking you in, or memorizing something. the corner of his mouth lifted, and a small smile formed, “come upstairs?”
the question hung gently between you.
your eyes searched his face. he looked almost nervous now that he’d actually asked, which surprised you more than anything. you smiled, “okay.”
for the first time all night, his grin spread fully across his face, “okay.”
he stood, offering you a hand without thinking. you looked at it, then back at him, “such a gentleman.”
his smirk was evident as he spoke, “my mom raised me that way.”
“guess i should thank her someday,” looked up at him as you slipped your hand into his. he laughed quietly while helping you to your feet.
the moment beau slid the patio door open, the noise crashed into you.
outside, everything had felt slower. the music had still been there, but softened by the walls of the house. laughter had drifted through the cool night air instead of bouncing around your head. conversations had stayed where they belonged instead of competing with ten others happening at the exact same time.
inside it was chaos again. a burst of laughter erupted somewhere near the kitchen, immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of something shattering, “that sounded expensive,” you muttered.
beau looked over his shoulder, “probably a plate.”
he held the sliding door open until you stepped through, letting the door slide shut behind him before falling into step beside you.
the hallway bottlenecked almost immediately. a group of freshmen had decided now was the perfect time to argue over whether tequila or vodka was objectively worse, occupying nearly the entire space.
beau slowed automatically, “after you.”
you slipped through the crowd first and glanced behind you once you’d made it through. he was quickly following you after apologizing to someone he’d bumped into. once you made it to the living room, it somehow looked even more crowded than it had twenty minutes earlier.
someone had moved the beer pong table, but badly. half the room now had to awkwardly shuffle around it.
a sophomore stumbled backward carrying an alarming number of beers. beau reached out instinctively, steadying one of the cups before it tipped, “got it.”
“thanks, man.”
“no problem,” he placed a quick clap on the guy‘s shoulder before he disappeared into the crowd.
you looked at beau, “do you just help everyone?”
he blinked, “what?”
“you keep catching things, holding doors, apologizing, making sure people don’t spill drinks,” you kept your eyes on him, “you don’t even realize you do it, do you?.”
he looked genuinely thoughtful, “i guess not.”
your smile lingered longer than you meant it to. you’d spent enough time around hockey players to know confidence usually came attached to a healthy dose of ego. beau somehow had one without the other.
he knew who he was, he just didn’t seem interested in proving it to anyone.
someone shouted from across the room, “maxwell!”
beau instinctively turned his head. one of his teammates stood near the couch holding up an empty case of beer, “you know where the extras are?”
“garage!”
“thanks!”
beau waved once before looking back at you, seeing you looking back at him with a smile, “you’re unbelievable.”
he laughed again and you caught yourself simply watching him. it wasn’t loud. it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made everyone nearby look over. it stayed mostly to himself. head dipping slightly, shoulders shaking once, and eyes crinkling at the corners.
cute.
the word slipped into your mind so naturally that it caught you off guard. cute? when had you started thinking beau maxwell was cute?
you’d met him… what? an hour ago? less? you shouldn’t be noticing things like the way his smile reached his eyes. or the tiny dimple that appeared in one cheek when he laughed hard enough. or how every conversation somehow felt like the two of you were the only people in the room, despite the fact that over a hundred people were packed into the house.
“ready?” he asked. you blinked, and he nodded toward the staircase, “unless you’ve changed your mind.”
there it was again. no assumption, and no expectation. he’d left the decision entirely with you. if you wanted to say no he’d accept it.
it made you want to say yes even more. so, you smiled, “yeah.”
he returned the smile, then turned toward the staircase. neither of you noticed that, from the couch across the room, six pairs of hockey-player eyes had just landed on the two of you at exactly the same moment
carter only looked up because someone threw a beer at his head. he caught it without thinking. years of hockey had turned reflexes like that into muscle memory long before he’d ever stepped onto briar’s campus. the cold aluminum smacked neatly into his palm, foam fizzing from beneath the tab and dampening his fingers.
“nice catch,” tucker called from somewhere behind him.
carter barely heard him. he’d already taken a sip when something across the room caught the corner of his eye, “…no.” the word slipped out quietly; more to himself than anyone else.
logan, slouched beside him on the couch with one foot resting on the coffee table, looked up from the hockey highlights he’d been half-watching on someone’s phone, “what?”
carter didn’t answer. he couldn’t because he was still staring. for a second, he honestly wondered if he’d imagined it. because there was absolutely no way.
“carter?”
he lifted his chin toward the staircase, “look.”
logan followed his gaze. at first, all he saw was the usual chaos. someone was trying to carry four pizzas through the living room. two freshmen were arguing over beer pong rules like the outcome determined world peace. dean stood in the middle of the room wearing— “is that a cowboy hat?”
carter blinked, “not dean.”
“oh,” logan looked again. then he saw you with beau. the two of you were standing near the bottom of the staircase, close enough that neither of you seemed particularly interested in whatever was happening around you.
beau said something. logan couldn’t hear it over the music, but whatever it was made you smile. you bumped his shoulder lightly with yours as your smile turned into a laugh.
“holy shit.”
carter finally nodded, “right?”
logan stared another few seconds, “are they flirting?”
“looks like it,” carter let out a slow breath.
another teammate noticed both of them staring, “what?”
“look,” logan pointed toward the stairs.
the defenseman followed his finger, “wait.” another guy leaned over the back of the couch, “what’re we looking at?”
“maxwell.”
“who’s he with?” someone answered with your name before anyone else had a chance. the freshman sitting on the armrest frowned, “who?”
every upperclassman turned to look at him, “you’re kidding.”
the freshman blinked, “what?”
tucker laughed as he shook his head, “he’s serious.”
“am i missing something?” the kid looked between all of them.
“a little,” carter took another sip of his beer before answering and looked back toward the staircase, “see the girl? she’s been around the hockey crowd for a couple years … everybody knows her.”
“…why?”
carter thought about it. how did you explain someone like you? you weren’t loud, you didn’t chase attention, half the time you slipped into parties without anyone noticing, you talked to everybody, and you somehow made everyone feel like they were part of the conversation. then at the end of the night you went home alone, or with someone.
but regardless of what happened, there was never drama, never tears, never someone waking up the next morning convinced you’d led them on. people liked you. even the guys you’d turned down afterward still smiled when they saw you at parties. hell, carter was one of them.
“she’s…” he started before stopping, “easy.”
logan looked at him with raised brows, “easy?”
“not like that, asshole,” he rolled his eyes, “easy to be around. she doesn’t make things weird.”
tucker nodded, “she hooked up with garrett sophomore year … twice.”
“then?”
“she was the one who told him there wouldn’t be a third, and he took it fine.” tucker spoke, and even after having told the story countless of times, he still sounded amazed, “because she wasn’t mean about it.”
another player laughed, “same thing happened with carter.”
“i’m right here,” carter raised his beer.
logan smirked, “didn’t stop it from happening.”
“…why wouldn’t she go back?”
carter shrugged, “she’s got a rule.”
“what rule?”
logan answered this time, “never the same guy more than twice.”
“seriously?”
“dead serious,” he took a sip of his beer.
tucker snorted, “there are dudes who’ve spent months trying to convince her they’re the exception.”
“did it work?”
everybody laughed and multiple people shook their heads amongst a chorus of no’s
carter took another drink before looking back toward the staircase, “which is why i don’t understand this.”
everyone’s eyes followed his. you and beau hadn’t moved much; you weren’t kissing, nor were you hanging all over each other.
there was still a comfortable amount of space between you. beau wasn’t touching your waist. wasn’t trying to impress you by throwing an arm over your shoulders. he simply stood there talking and listening. then smiling every time you smiled.
“look at him,” tucker said quietly.
“that’s…” logan searched for the word, “kind of adorable.”
“don’t say adorable,” carter groaned.
nobody noticed dean at first. which, considering he had somehow acquired a cowboy hat and a bag of barbecue chips in the last twenty minutes, was almost impressive. “dude,” he pointed a chip at one of the freshmen, “you still owe me five bucks.”
the freshman looked utterly bewildered. dean grinned, popped the chip into his mouth, and kept walking.
halfway across the room, he frowned; the couch was suspiciously quiet. six hockey players sat shoulder to shoulder, all staring in exactly the same direction. nobody was talking, nobody was chirping each other, tucker wasn’t making terrible jokes, carter wasn’t flirting with the brunette sitting across the room, and even logan looked invested in whatever had everyone’s attention.
dean slowed to a stop behind the couch, “why do you all look like someone just cancelled christmas?”
no answer. logan lifted one finger without taking his eyes off the staircase, “look.”
dean sighed dramatically, “if this is another spider, i swear to—”
dean turned and at first he only saw beau near the staircase, then he saw who was standing beside him.
he watched beau duck his head with that familiar, slightly smile he’d had since freshman year whenever someone laughed at one of his jokes. beau gestured toward the stairs and you nodded.
he stepped aside, letting you go first. his hand rested lightly on the banister while you walked past him, like he was more concerned about making sure you had room than getting upstairs himself.
neither of you seemed remotely aware that half the hockey team had stopped watching beer pong to watch you instead.
dean stared for another second, the corner of his mouth twitching, “son of a bitch.” everyone looked at him as the grin spread slowly across his face, “he actually did it.”
carter frowned, “you knew?”
“knew?” dean barked out a laugh. he looked back toward the staircase just in time to watch the two of you disappear onto the second floor, “i’ve been waiting for this to happen for months.”
the room went completely silent and dean looked around at the group, genuinely surprised, “none of you noticed?”
six blank faces stared back at him causing him to laugh, “you idiots, beau has had the biggest crush on her since, like…” he paused, thinking, “last spring? maybe even before that.”
carter stared at him, “you’re kidding.”
“i wish,” dean dropped into the empty armchair beside the couch, tossing the bag of chips onto his lap, “every party beau suddenly becomes really interested in who’s here.”
“‘hey, dean…’” the blonde lowered his voice into an almost perfect impression. “‘is she coming tonight?’ ‘have you talked to her before?’ ‘what’s she studying again?’ ‘does she always park across the street?’”
carter actually laughed out loud, “he asked you all that?”
“about a hundred times” dean shook his head fondly, “i honestly figured they’d both graduate before he worked up the nerve.”
carter looked back toward the staircase, “so, tonight was the first time they actually talked? why?”
dean looked genuinely confused by the question, “because she’s…” he gestured vaguely toward the second floor, “her.”
everyone knew what he meant. you were beautiful, confident, easy to talk to, and the kind of person who could walk into a room full of strangers and somehow leave with everyone smiling. you’d become almost legendary among athletes.
carter let out a low whistle, “well,” he looked toward the staircase one last time, “he did it.”
dean’s grin softened, “yeah,” he reached into the bag for another handful of chips, “about damn time.”
tucker nudged him with his foot, “that’s it?”
“what?”
“you’re not worried?”
dean frowned, “about what?”
“about her.”
he looked around the room as though the answer should’ve been obvious, “she’s cool.” then he nodded toward the second floor, “and beau’s one of the best guys i know.”
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
@notafairyteen @wolfiee10 @katttt9 @flusteredmoonn @tinyceasarsalad @melodypvnk @maxcalore3 @zoereyna @chrismattnick @straykids1011
personal mechanic anon here!
if you’re up for it, i would absolutely love a second part!
and yesss, i think reader would tease the fuck out of him!! it would be great to see their dynamic outside of this “summer bubble” they’ve been in, you know? like, to see the effort they’re making to see each other even with everyday life, hockey and stuff
yesyesyes love it, i’ll get to it for sure😋😋😋😋
a Puck bunny who ended up meeting beau through a party at the hawks house! maybe some jealousy from one of the hockey guys when they notice that reader and beau have been hooking up or getting closer together..
making the hockey guys jealous is SO funny goodbye i can imagine their reaction already😭
writing this right now so it’ll be out for you tomorrow!!
i’m slowly making my way through all the requests! i promise ill get to all of them eventually<3
little things
beau maxwell x fem!dilaurentis!reader
summary: you and beau fall deeper in love through all the quiet, ordinary ways you’ve learned to know and care for each other
established relationship
warnings: pure. fluff. soooooo sappy
word count: 2.8k
a/n: based on this request by @zoereyna ! i hope you like it<3
beau maxwell masterlist off campus masterlist
── ᵎᵎ ✦
you had been falling in love with beau for the past few months now, although you hadn’t realized quite how far you’d fallen until you found yourself sitting at his kitchen counter on an ordinary sunday morning, staring down at a runny egg yolk.
you had never told him how you liked them. at least, you were almost certain you hadn’t.
a few weeks after the two of you had started dating, beau had taken you to breakfast at della’s diner. you’d ordered your eggs over easy, but when the plate arrived, the yolks had been cooked completely through. it hadn’t mattered enough to complain about; you’d eaten everything else, picked at the egg whites, and left the chalky centers mostly untouched.
the entire thing had occupied perhaps thirty seconds of your life and you’d forgotten about it before the check arrived.
apparently, beau hadn’t.
months later, you woke in his bed to the faint smell of something burning. you lay still beneath the covers for a moment, listening. beau’s frat was quieter than usual, morning light slipping through the gap in the curtains and falling across the empty side of the bed. somewhere downstairs, a cupboard closed, followed by the unmistakable sound of something metal hitting the floor.
your mouth curved against the pillow at the sound of a muffled curse.
you stayed there for another minute before pulling yourself out of bed. beau’s sweatshirt was hanging over the back of his desk chair, and you tugged it over your head before leaving the room, pushing the sleeves over your hands as you made your way downstairs.
beau stood at the stove with his back to you, wearing gray sweatpants and an old t-shirt. his hair was still flattened on one side from sleep, and he was watching the pan with an intensity that was usually reserved for the final minutes of a close game.
you leaned against the doorway for a moment before he noticed you.
when he finally looked over his shoulder, his eyes moved from your face to the sweatshirt you were wearing. something pleased briefly softened his expression before his attention returned to the stove, “you’re supposed to be asleep.”
his tone wasn’t particularly serious. you could tell from the slight movement at the corner of his mouth, even with his back mostly turned toward you again.
you crossed the kitchen and stopped behind him, slipping your arms loosely around his waist. the warmth of his body seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt as you rested your cheek against his back, “something smelled dangerous.”
beau’s quiet laugh moved through him beneath your cheek. one of his hands settled briefly over yours before he returned his attention to breakfast, and you stayed wrapped around him until he needed to move.
you wandered over to the counter and climbed onto one of the stools instead.
from there, you watched him divide everything between two plates. the toast was slightly too dark, and the fruit had been cut into pieces so uneven that you suspected he’d done it with whatever knife he’d found first.
beau placed one of the plates in front of you before sitting opposite. you picked up your fork and cut into the egg, the yolk spilling slowly across the plate.
for a moment, you simply looked at it.
it was such a small thing that asking about it almost seemed silly. maybe it was a coincidence. maybe beau made all eggs that way.
when you looked up at him, he had already started eating, apparently unaware that he’d done anything worth noticing. when he eventually caught you staring, he paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, “what?”
you shook your head and looked back down at the plate. there was no point explaining it. you weren’t even sure you could explain why something so ordinary had settled warmly beneath your ribs.
instead, you tore off a corner of toast and dipped it into the yolk while beau started telling you about something your brother had done the previous evening.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
you learned that beau hated being cold during your first winter together.
this would have been less ridiculous if he weren’t a football player. you had watched him spend entire games outside in weather that left you shivering beneath several layers of clothing, but somehow, according to beau, that was completely different from walking across campus without gloves.
you never received a convincing explanation for why.
still, you began noticing the little signs of it. he always started his car several minutes before the two of you left anywhere. his room was permanently warmer than yours, and he owned an unreasonable number of hoodies for someone who seemed to wear the same three on rotation.
when you slept beside him, he stole your warmth without shame. his hands found their way beneath your shirt whenever they were cold, usually pressing against your back without warning and making you flinch away from him. he always laughed. you always complained, though you never stopped him.
one evening, you waited for him in the stands after a home game.
the crowd had disappeared gradually until the stadium was almost empty. the noise that usually filled the place had faded, leaving only the occasional metallic clatter from somewhere below and the low voices of staff clearing equipment from the sidelines.
you were scrolling through your phone when movement near the bottom of the stands caught your attention.
beau appeared with his duffel hanging from one shoulder. his hair was still damp from his shower, and the cold had already turned the tips of his ears pink.
you stood, slipping your phone into your pocket as he climbed toward you. before he could reach you, you pulled his gloves from your coat pocket and held them out.
beau stopped on the step below yours and his eyes dropped to your hand. for several seconds, he only looked at them.
“you left them in my car,” you explained, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious beneath his attention, “i figured you’d want them.”
beau took the gloves from you, but his gaze stayed on your face for a moment longer than necessary.
you knew that expression. you had seen it the first time you brought food to the field because he’d mentioned, hours earlier, that he wouldn’t have time to eat before practice. you’d seen it when you replaced the phone charger he kept forgetting in your dorm and when you’d saved a movie because he’d said he wanted to watch it with you.
every time, beau looked faintly surprised. not dramatically, and it always lasted only for a second, before he covered it with a smile or some comment designed to make you roll your eyes.
you never understood the surprise; you thought about him when he wasn’t there. of course you did.
beau pulled the gloves on, flexing his fingers once before reaching for your hand. the warmth of his palm was already beginning to return as his fingers threaded through yours.
neither of you said anything about it as you started down the steps together. halfway to the bottom, beau lifted your joined hands and pressed a brief kiss against your knuckles.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
you came from a family where silence was rare enough to be suspicious. growing up as a di laurentis meant learning how to hold a conversation while three others happened around you. your family loved loudly. arguments travelled between rooms, people shouted questions from different floors of the house, and nobody seemed capable of telling a story without at least one person interrupting to insist that something had happened differently.
you loved that about them, but you also occasionally needed the opposite.
beau hadn’t understood that at first. during the early months of your relationship, your quieter days had made him restless. you would catch him watching you from the corner of his eye, trying to work out whether something was wrong or if he’d unknowingly upset you.
the first few times, he’d asked. then he’d asked again ten minutes later, apparently unconvinced by your answer.
eventually, though, he learned the difference. he learned that when you were upset, your silence had edges. your shoulders stayed tense, your answers became shorter, and you pulled away without realizing it. when you were only tired, you moved closer.
after that, he stopped asking.
one afternoon, you arrived at his place after a day that had left you exhausted in a way that wasn’t interesting enough to explain. nothing terrible had happened. there was no story worth telling. you’d simply reached the point where every conversation felt like one too many.
beau opened the door just for you to kiss him briefly and stalk upstairs. by the time he came into his room several minutes later, you had changed into one of his shirts and climbed beneath the blankets. you weren’t asleep. you were simply lying on your side, staring absently toward the wall.
beau stopped near the bed while you waited for the question that would have irritated you despite knowing it came from concern.
it never came. he disappeared again, and when he returned, he had his laptop tucked beneath one arm and two bottles of water in his other hand. he placed one on your side of the bed before climbing in beside you.
that was all.
he found something to watch, lowered the volume, and let you settle against him when you were ready.
your head rested over his heart, one leg tangled between his. beau’s fingers moved slowly through your hair as the light from the laptop shifted across the darkening room.
you barely followed what was happening on the screen. the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was easier to focus on.
nearly an hour passed before you spoke, “thanks.”
beau’s fingers slowed briefly in your hair. you felt him look down at you, but he didn’t ask what you meant. his hand simply continued its path through your hair.
you closed your eyes. there was something strange about being known that way. you had always imagined it would be loud. someone remembering every story you’d ever told them, knowing all your favorite things, being able to answer questions about you without hesitation.
with beau, sometimes it was much quieter than that.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
you knew beau’s orders at nearly every place the two of you visited regularly. not because you’d ever tried to memorize them. the information had simply accumulated.
you knew which toppings he’d pick off a pizza and which ones he claimed not to care about despite clearly preferring them. you knew he would insist he wasn’t hungry if you stopped somewhere late at night and then spend the drive home reaching into your bag for fries. you knew he always wanted the lime from your drink.
beau, meanwhile, had learned that dinner was never quite finished for you without something sweet afterward.
one night, the two of you were walking back toward campus after eating with friends when beau suddenly changed direction. you followed for several steps before realizing he was heading away from your dorm, “where are we going?”
beau nodded toward the small convenience store ahead. you frowned, thinking through whether either of you had mentioned needing something.
then you remembered the restaurant; everyone had been tired after dinner, and you’d left without ordering dessert.
you looked at him and beau caught the expression immediately, “what?”
“nothing.”
his eyes narrowed slightly, but he held the door open for you when you reached the store.
warm air met you as you stepped inside. you followed beau between the aisles, watching as he walked directly toward the candy without asking what you wanted. he reached for your favorite, held it up briefly in silent confirmation, and dropped it into the basket when you nodded.
the whole interaction took less than thirty seconds.
beau had already moved on, searching for something else, while you remained where you were.
you watched him from the end of the aisle.he was reading the back of a package now, eyebrows drawn together slightly in concentration, completely unaware of your attention.
there was no grand realization. you already knew you loved him. it was simply another quiet moment added to the others, another small piece of evidence that beau carried pieces of you around with him even when you weren’t thinking to ask.
he looked up and caught you watching, his eyebrows lifting in question. you simply shook your head in response and went to join him.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
the first time beau told you he loved you, you hadn’t said it back. you’d wanted to. the words had risen immediately, pressing somewhere behind your ribs, but you couldn’t make yourself say them simply because the moment seemed to require an answer.
you loved him. even then, you had known that. you just hadn’t known how to say something so large without feeling as though you were making it smaller.
beau hadn’t made you feel guilty for the silence. he’d watched you for a moment, perhaps seeing some of the panic you were trying to hide, and then kissed you.
later, when you’d tried to apologize, he’d stopped you before you could get very far. he hadn’t needed you to say it because he had. you remembered that for weeks afterward.
the words finally came on an ordinary night.
you were lying together on the couch, half beneath a blanket that had gradually become tangled around your legs. the television was playing something neither of you was particularly interested in, and beau had been drifting toward sleep for the past twenty minutes.
your head rested against his chest. his fingers had been tracing slow circles over your back, but the movement had become increasingly lazy until his hand eventually went still.
you lifted your head slightly to find his eyes closed. his hair was messy from where you’d been running your fingers through it earlier, and there was a faint crease on his cheek from the couch cushion. his shirt had ridden up slightly at his waist, and one of his feet was hanging off the end of the couch.
there was nothing cinematic about him. nothing about the moment suggested it should matter.
somewhere upstairs, something heavy hit the floor and beau’s eyes opened at the sound. after a moment of silence, he closed them again.
you smiled and the words came before you could reconsider them, “i love you.”
beau’s eyes immediately opened again. this time, he looked at you.
you felt suddenly exposed beneath his attention, but you forced yourself not to look away. for several seconds, neither of you moved.
something softened in his face. it was the same expression you’d seen over forgotten gloves and takeout containers, only quieter now. there was no surprise in it this time. only warmth.
beau’s hand moved from your back to your waist, pulling you slightly higher against him before leaning in to softly place his lips against yours. slowly, without turning the moment into anything bigger than it needed to be.
when he pulled away, you rested your forehead briefly against his. neither of you spoke for a moment and you were grateful for that. the words had always felt too small for everything you meant by them, and saying more would only make you aware of all the things you couldn’t explain.
how were you supposed to tell him that you loved him in a hundred places at once?
you loved him in badly cut fruit and perfectly cooked eggs. in the gloves tucked into your pocket before games and the bottle of water waiting on your side of his bed. in late-night trips to convenience stores and mornings when neither of you had anything interesting to say.
you loved the loud parts of him, the ones everyone knew, but you loved the quieter ones too.
the way his hand always found the small of your back in crowded rooms. the way he listened even when you thought he wasn’t. the look on his face when he found you wearing something of his, which he still seemed to think you hadn’t noticed.
you loved how ordinary it had become. falling in love with beau hadn’t felt like one enormous moment. there had been no clear point where everything before became different from everything after.
it had happened slowly, hidden inside dozens of unremarkable days.
beau’s thumb moved once against your waist, bringing your attention back to him. his eyes moved over your face for a moment, quiet and familiar, then he smiled.
it wasn’t the wide grin he wore after a win or the one that usually appeared before he said something designed to annoy you. this one was smaller, “i love you too.”
you settled against him again and he pulled the blanket higher over your shoulder before his arm returned to its place around your waist.
the television continued playing. the house remained noisy somewhere above you while you stayed where you were, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear and thinking that you could probably spend a lifetime learning all the small ways there were to love him.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ
@notafairyteen @wolfiee10 @katttt9 @flusteredmoonn @tinyceasarsalad @melodypvnk @maxcalore3
TY MY LOVE🤍🤍🤍
these gifs 😼😼😼 amazing bday present thank you so much 😛
Beau Maxwell x F! Di laurentis reader based of HoneyBee by Olivia Rodrigo that displays quiet moments between the couple that makes them fall further in love with each other like remembering their favorite meal or something !
I LOVEEEEEE!!!!
i am so in love olivia’s new album it’s TOO good gossshhhh lmk your top songs i need to know!
mine’s: my way, cigarette smoke, u+me<3
anyways! posting this tomorrow🫶🏻
hi!! happy birthday, hope you had a wonderful day! reader being tuck’s best friend since they were kids, so she comes to briar u to study ( she’s like 1/2 years younger than the guys ), so she reunites with tuck, and starts to get along with the boys and girls, and she starts to fall for logan, and he feels the same, and flirts with her in a sweet way, but she never flirts back, and logan goes to tuck and the guys and ask them for help, and then tuck tells him that reader is that way because all the guys she had been with in the past had played with her or cheated so she’s very insecure, you can decide how it ends!! ty!!🤍
thank you my loveeee<3
i love this idea! adding it to my logan list as we speak😛