Summary: Dean falls for his teammate’s (Garrett Graham) ex — the girl who swore she’d never date another hockey player again. Keeping it secret becomes impossible once the team starts noticing the tension.
wc: 1260
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x reader
A/N: first dean fic, idk how I feel about it
The first rule of dating a hockey player, according to Y/N, was simple:
Don’t.
The second rule?
Definitely don’t date two of them.
Which meant whatever was happening between her and Dean Di Laurentis needed to stop. Immediately.
Unfortunately, Dean Di Laurentis made terrible decisions look incredibly appealing.
“You’re staring again,” she said without looking up from her laptop.
Dean lounged across the opposite couch in the student centre, completely uninvited and entirely too comfortable.
“I’m thinking.”
“That explains the smoke.”
He grinned slowly. “See, that right there? That’s why I like you.”
Y/N’s stomach betrayed her with a small flip.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Because Dean was supposed to be impossible to take seriously.
Cocky. Reckless. Flirtatious. One giant walking HR violation.
And yet somehow, over the last three months, he’d become the person she looked for first in every room.
Which was a problem.
A massive one.
Because before Dean—
There had been Garrett Graham.
Not a dramatic breakup. Not cheating. Nothing catastrophic.
They’d simply wanted different things.
Garrett lived and breathed hockey. NHL prospects. Team pressure. Constant attention.
Y/N got tired of coming second to a sport she didn’t even like.
So they ended things.
Clean and mature.
And afterward she made one very firm rule: No more hockey players.
Then Dean happened.
“You know,” Dean said casually, “you keep looking at me like I’m dangerous.”
“You are dangerous.”
“To your emotional stability?”
“To my patience.”
“That too.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
Dean noticed immediately, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
God, she hated that he could do that.
The secrecy started by accident.
At first, it was just late-night conversations.
Coffee runs.
Study sessions that somehow turned into three-hour arguments about movies and music and whether Dean had ever genuinely folded his laundry in his life.
(He had not.)
Then came the touching.
Small things.
His hand brushing her back in crowded hallways.
Her stealing his hoodies.
Dean sitting too close.
Looking at her too long.
The kind of intimacy that sneaks up quietly before suddenly becoming impossible to ignore.
And maybe they would’ve stopped it before it became dangerous—
Except Dean, beneath all the arrogance, was unexpectedly easy to need.
He listened when she talked.
Remembered tiny details.
Showed up.
And worst of all?
He looked at her like she was something worth choosing carefully.
That part ruined her.
—
“You know Garrett’s going to kill you,” John Logan said mildly.
Dean nearly dropped his beer.
Across the hockey house kitchen, Logan looked deeply unimpressed.
“How long have you known?”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Known what.”
“That you stare at his ex like a Victorian man seeing ankle for the first time.”
Dean choked.
Logan took a slow sip of his drink.
“Oh my God,” Dean muttered. “You’re never allowed to say that sentence again.”
“So I’m right.”
Dean dragged a hand down his face. “Nothing’s happening.”
Logan stared.
Dean stared back.
Logan: “You’re a terrible liar.”
Dean: “You literally dated Grace.”
“Low blow.”
“Fair.”
Logan leaned against the counter. “Does Garrett know?”
“No.”
“And whose idea was that?”
Dean hesitated.
Which answered the question.
Logan sighed heavily. “Dean.”
“What?”
“You’re emotionally attached.”
Dean laughed immediately. “That’s dramatic.”
“You stopped hooking up with random girls.”
“…Temporarily.”
“You learned her coffee order.”
“Coincidence.”
“You left a party early because she had a headache.”
Dean pointed accusingly. “You people notice too much.”
Logan’s expression softened slightly.
“That’s because you actually like her.”
The words landed harder than Dean expected.
Because liking her was one thing.
But this—
This felt bigger.
Scarier.
The kind of feeling that crawled under your ribs and made you reckless.
And Garrett was his captain.
His teammate.
His friend.
Which meant Dean absolutely could not be standing outside Y/N’s apartment at midnight with flowers in his hand like some lovesick idiot.
Yet here he was anyway.
“You bought flowers,” Y/N said when she opened the door.
Dean looked down at them like they’d personally betrayed him.
“In my defense, I panicked.”
Her mouth twitched.
That tiny almost-smile hit him harder than it should’ve.
“You’re unbelievable,” she murmured.
“You like unbelievable.”
“Unfortunately.”
Dean stepped inside carefully.
Neither of them mentioned how natural it felt now.
How often he ended up here.
How she’d started keeping his favorite snacks in her kitchen.
Dangerous territory.
Very dangerous territory.
“You should go home,” she said softly.
Dean frowned. “That sounded fake.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Yes it was.”
She crossed her arms. “Dean.”
“What?”
“We can’t keep doing this.”
There it was.
The thing hanging between them for weeks.
Dean went still.
Y/N looked away first.
“That’s not fair,” he said quietly.
Her expression tightened. “Garrett’s your teammate.”
“He’s your ex.”
“He’s still important to both of us.”
Dean hated how reasonable that sounded.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
That was the worst part.
“I’m trying really hard to be cool about this,” he admitted.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
“And failing?”
“Spectacularly.”
That got a laugh out of her.
Small. Brief. But real.
Dean stepped closer before he could stop himself.
“You know what the problem is?” he asked.
“What?”
“I don’t think I can pretend not to want you anymore.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
Y/N’s breath caught almost invisibly.
Dean saw it anyway.
Always saw her.
“You’re making this harder,” she whispered.
“You think this is easy for me?”
“No,” she admitted softly. “I think you’re trying harder than people realize.”
That nearly wrecked him.
Because most people saw Dean as effortless.
Careless.
Fun.
Y/N looked at him like she understood exactly how much pretending he did.
And maybe that was why he fell for her in the first place.
The secret finally exploded two weeks later.
Because Dean made one fatal mistake: He got jealous.
It happened at a team party.
Some finance major had been flirting with Y/N for twenty straight minutes while Dean slowly lost his mind from across the room.
Logan noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
“You’re glaring,” Logan said.
“I’m observing.”
“You look homicidal.”
Dean watched the guy touch Y/N’s arm.
Something ugly twisted in his chest.
“Oh, that’s bad,” Logan murmured.
“What?”
“You’re gone.”
Dean looked away sharply. “Shut up.”
Too late.
Because the second Y/N laughed at something the guy said, Dean crossed the room automatically.
Like gravity.
Like instinct.
Like an idiot.
“Hey,” Dean said, sliding between them smoothly.
The finance guy blinked. “Uh. Hey?”
Dean smiled pleasantly.
Not friendly.
Just enough edge underneath to feel dangerous.
Y/N looked at him with immediate alarm.
“Dean—”
“You mind?” he asked the guy casually. “Need to steal her.”
The guy looked between them slowly.
Then visibly connected several dots at once.
“Oh,” he said.
Oh no.
Y/N closed her eyes briefly.
And across the room—
Garrett stood frozen beside Hannah and Allie, staring directly at them.
“Five Times Logan Almost Said I Love You” (And the One Time He Finally Did)
Summary: five moments where Logan nearly confesses his feelings — and the one time he finally does.
wc: 1528
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
A/N: first fic on this account (and in a really long time), it's probably really bad and I'm sorry, i'm just getting back into writing
#1
The first time John Logan almost said ‘I Love You’, he was half-asleep. It was late October, freezing outside, and y/n was buried against his side on the battered couch in the hockey house while some terrible horror movie played in the background. Logan wasn’t watching it though, mostly because y/n kept laughing at the wrong moments.
“You’re actually evil,” he mumbled as she giggled through a decapitation scene.
She tilted her head up. “This is just so unrealistic. Besides, You screamed ten minutes ago. ”
“I did not scream.”
“You absolutely screamed.”
“I made a small noise.”
“A small—” she broke off laughing again.
God.
That laugh.
Logan looked down at her curled against him in his sweatshirt, warm and sleepy and comfortable like she belonged there.
Like she belonged with him.
The words rose so fast in his chest it nearly scared him.
I love—
Then Garrett burst through the front door yelling about losing fifty bucks to Dean in a poker game, and the moment shattered instantly.
Y/N startled awake. Logan leaned back hard against the couch cushions, heart pounding for no reason he wanted to examine.
“You good?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” he lied.
Because he wasn’t.
Not even close.
#2
The second time was during winter break. Logan hated going home, y/n realized that approximately six hours after arriving. The house was freezing. His dad was drunk before sunset. His younger brother barely spoke at dinner.
And Logan—
Logan smiled through all of it like he was trying to hold the entire house together with sheer force.
That night, she found him sitting outside on the front steps in a hoodie despite the snow. “You’re gonna freeze to death.”
He shrugged without looking at her. “Maybe.”
She sat beside him anyway, for a while neither of them spoke.
Then quietly, she said, “You don’t have to pretend around me.”
That nearly broke him. Everyone else let him play the clown, the flirt, the easygoing guy.
Y/N looked at him like she saw every ugly, exhausted part underneath it and stayed anyway.
Logan swallowed hard. “You should go back inside.”
“No.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“You’re deflecting.”
A laugh escaped him unexpectedly.
Then she reached over and threaded her cold fingers through his.
Simple and casual, but Logan felt it everywhere. He turned toward her before he could stop himself. Her face was close enough to kiss. Close enough to confess things he didn’t know how to survive saying out loud.
I think I’m in love with you.
Instead he squeezed her hand once and whispered, “Thanks for coming with me.”
Her smile was soft enough to ruin him permanently.
#3
The third time almost happened after a game.
Briar had won in overtime and the entire arena exploded.
Logan scored the winning goal.
Normally that would’ve been the best part of his night, until he spotted Y/N in the crowd and suddenly nothing else mattered. He found her outside the locker room afterward, still wearing his jersey.
His jersey.
Which did something deeply embarrassing to his heart.
“You were incredible,” she said the second she saw him.
Logan grinned, adrenaline still buzzing through him. “You see that goal?”
“I literally screamed.”
“You screamed for me?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.”
She rolled her eyes, smiling.
And without thinking, Logan grabbed her around the waist and spun her once down the hallway. She laughed loudly, arms around his shoulders for balance, the sound hit him harder than the roar of the crowd had. He stopped spinning but neither of them stepped back. His forehead brushed hers accidentally or maybe not accidentally.
Everything slowed.
The noise.
The people.
The post-game chaos.
Just her.
Her hands on him.
Her smile fading into something softer.
More vulnerable.
Logan looked into her eyes and thought with terrifying certainty:
There it is.
This was it.
This was love.
Not hookups.
Not attraction.
Not temporary.
Her.
Only her.
“I think I—”
“LOGAN!”
Dean slammed into the hallway at full volume with three teammates behind him.
The moment vanished immediately.
Logan nearly killed him on sight.
Dean blinked between them slowly. “...Did I interrupt a sex thing?”
“Yes,” Logan snapped.
Y/N burst out laughing.
And Logan loved her too much to even be annoyed anymore.
#4
The fourth time happened when they fought.
A real fight.
Not teasing.
Not playful arguing.
The ugly kind.
“You can’t just shut people out every time things get hard!” Y/N yelled.
Logan stared at the floor of her apartment kitchen, jaw tight. “I didn’t ask you to fix it.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do!”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to care about you!”
The words hung between them sharp and raw.
Logan looked wrecked.
Which only made her angrier.
Because he always did this; acted like he had to carry everything alone until he practically collapsed under it.
“I don’t know how to help someone who refuses to let me in,” she whispered.
That hit harder. Logan dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once through the tiny kitchen.
Then finally, “I let you in more than anyone.”
“You still hide when you’re hurting.”
“Because if I start talking about it, I don’t know if I’ll stop.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Y/N’s anger disappeared instantly.
Logan looked terrified.
Not of her.
But of himself, of needing too much, of loving too much.
He stepped closer slowly.
“I just…” His eyes met hers. “You matter so much to me that sometimes it freaks me out.”
Her breath caught.
He almost said it then.
She knew he almost did.
But once again, fear won.
Instead Logan pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, “I’m trying.”
And because she loved him too, she let that be enough for now.
#5
The fifth time almost happened the night before graduation.
Everyone was drunk except Y/N and Logan.
Dean was dancing terribly on a table.
Garrett was filming it for blackmail purposes.
Music shook the walls of the hockey house one last time.
And Logan suddenly hated all of it.
Not because he wasn’t happy. Because he was. He was too happy. The kind of happy that felt fragile, Temporary, Tomorrow everything changed.
Different cities.
Different careers.
Real life.
The thought made something ache violently in his chest.
Y/N found him outside on the back porch staring at the stars, “There you are.”
Logan smiled tiredly. “Needed air.”
She moved beside him, shoulder bumping his. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Lie.
She always knew.
“You’re scared,” she said softly.
He laughed once under his breath. “That obvious?”
“To me? Yeah.”
For a second he just looked at her. Really looked. At the girl who had become home so gradually he never even noticed it happening. Suddenly he couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have her in it. That was something that terrified him more than hockey ever had.
“Y/N,” he started quietly.
Her eyes lifted to his.
The words sat right there.
Right there.
I love you.
But what if saying it changed things? What if it made the future real? What if she didn’t say it back?
So instead, like a coward, Logan kissed her. Slow, careful, like he was trying to say everything without words.
She melted into him instantly and somehow that made it worse.
Because kissing her felt too much like coming home.
+1
The one time Logan finally said it wasn’t dramatic.
There was no crowd, no grand gesture, no perfect movie moment.
It happened three months later after his first preseason NHL game.
He’d played terribly, missed calls from coaches piled up on his phone. Media criticism was already starting. By the time he got back to his apartment, he felt wrung out completely.
And there was Y/N sitting cross-legged on his kitchen counter eating cereal at midnight like she lived there. She looked up immediately. “Hey.”
And just like that—
Everything inside him unclenched.
Logan stood frozen in the doorway.
Tie loosened.
Exhaustion sitting heavy on his shoulders.
Y/N frowned slightly. “Bad game?”
“Pretty bad.”
She held out the cereal box toward him silently.
Logan laughed weakly.
Then crossed the apartment in three steps and pulled her into him so hard she squeaked.
“Logan—”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For taking this long.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him properly. “Taking what long?”
His hands tightened at her waist.
And suddenly he wasn’t scared anymore.
Because losing her would always be worse than saying it.
“I love you,” he said.
Y/N went perfectly still and Logan’s heart nearly stopped.
Then her entire face softened in the most beautiful way he’d ever seen.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Panic immediately kicked in. “Okay, wow, that sounded terrifying out loud, you don’t have to say it back right now, I just—”
She kissed him hard enough to shut him up.
When she finally pulled away, she smiled against his mouth.
“I love you too, hockey boy.”
And for the first time in his life, John Logan stopped feeling afraid of the future.
Summary: After yet another horrible date leaves you stranded, you call your best friend, Garrett Graham, for help. Now, if only Garrett can convince you that he's the right guy for you, after all...
Warnings: none! some swearing but besides that, just a fluffy love confession :)
If someone had told you three hours ago that your date would be the biggest, most egotistical jerk in all of Briar University, you would’ve saved yourself from the trouble and had a cozy night in your dorm instead. Wishful thinking, right?
The guy had spent almost the entire time bragging about his own achievements in life. You’d feebly respond with an Oh really? Or an Ah, I see from time to time to try and show interest, but beyond that, you spoke all of 20 words the whole dinner. To top it off, he asked at the end if you’d pay (“I spent the rest of my savings on beer kegs for the frat party, sorry.”) and once he realized you wouldn’t be putting out on the first date, he suddenly lost all interest and told you it wouldn’t work out.
Hence your current predicament, stuck under the awning in front of the restaurant as rain fell in buckets around you. Your date had driven you, and after the painfully awkward shared meal, he took off before you could even tell him goodbye.
Your finger hovered over the familiar contact for a moment in contemplation before sighing and tapping the name Garrett Graham. After a few rings that seemed to endlessly echo in your ears, the call connected and you were met with the voice you knew and adored.
“Hey, Y/N, everything okay? I thought you had a date with that guy. What was his name again? Chad?”
“It’s Brad,” you huffed. “And I did. It was horrible. He asked me to pay for our tab and talked about himself the whole time. Even told me I dressed like a hooker when I told him I wouldn’t pay for it myself.”
“I’ll fucking kill him.” Garrett’s suddenly angered voice surprised you. “You look drop dead gorgeous. No wonder he misses shots in hockey and bagging the hottest girl on campus.”
“Yeah, well, the ‘hottest girl on campus’ is stuck out here in this damn hurricane level rain. Did I mention he was my ride?”
You heard shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Stay right there. I’m on my way.”
“Wait, Garrett, you really don’t have to-“
The call disconnected before you could finish telling him you would’ve found a ride elsewhere.
You and Garrett had been close for about as long as you could remember in college. He needed someone to vent to about his dad and hockey issues, and you were desperate to make new friends, thus forming an unlikely alliance. You hung out together often and were basically attached at the hip, but nothing romantic ever stemmed from it, much to your secret dislike.
Besides, you wanted something real, and you knew Garrett didn’t do the whole relationship business. You’d be damned if you let yourself become one of his puck bunnies, just another name to add to the roster of girls falling at his feet.
So what if you fell for him?
A wolf whistle pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Daaaamn, little lady, you come here often?”
You hadn’t noticed the familiar black jeep pull up along the curb, nor did you see the familiar face of your best friend hopping out to open the passenger door for you. Garrett’s face was mostly covered by the hood of his jacket to protect him from the rain, but even so, you could see his boyish smile shining right at you.
“Oh, shut it. What took you so long?” You teased as you ran and hopped into the car. “I could’ve drowned out here!”
“I’d be your lifeguard, baby.” He winked as he closed the door and ran around to the other side as your heart raced.
Stop it! You mentally chided yourself. He’s your best friend!
Once inside, he reached back and dug around for something before handing it to you. “Figured you could use this, considering you’re soaking wet and shaking.”
He handed you one of his jackets that smelled so unmistakably of him, even before you put it on. “Thanks, Gar. You always know just how to make me feel better.”
“Of course. I meant it when I said I’d do anything for you.” Garrett paused for a moment, staring into your eyes and giving you one of his soft smiles that turned your insides into mush. Subconsciously, you started to lean closer to each other, to the point where you could just make that one last push and…
Beep!
The sound of the car behind you laying on their horn ripped the two of you apart. They flipped the bird, to which Garrett eagerly returned, before he shifted gears and the two of you were on your way.
“Why do you always go on dates with these shitty guys? You deserve so much better than them.” Garrett’s questioning gaze travelled back and forth between you and the road.
You scoffed, “And who else would I go out with? Half of the guys at this school are already locked down and the other half are looking for a one-night stand or booty call. Do you know how hard it is to be either overlooked or viewed as a piece of meat? What guy would be willing to look at me, in all of my craziness, and still want to choose me every day for anything other than my body?”
“Me.”
“…what?”
“I said me.” Garrett’s response was sure without a hint of hesitation.
“Okay, seriously? Cut the shit, Graham.”
“Fuck it.” Garrett abruptly veered the steering wheel to the right before bringing the Jeep to a lurching stop on the side of the road. His intense stare held yours as he continued, “You really don’t get it, do you?”
You were growing both confused and extremely frustrated with each passing moment. “Get what, Garrett? How you lead me on constantly? How I don’t know what we are because you’re scared of commitment? Because that’s what I’m getting.” Tears of frustration began to well in your eyes. “I’d rather a guy flat out tell me he’s not interested than give me hope for something that’ll never happen.”
“No, no, baby, that’s not what I ever intended to do to you. Please look at me.” He attempted to catch your fleeting gaze, but every time he did, you looked away. “Okay, we’re really doing this.”
He opened his car door, shutting it behind him before walking around and opening yours. He knelt, his hands finding your cheeks.
You couldn’t believe what he was doing. “Garrett! Are you crazy? Get back in the car! We’re on the side of the damn road!”
“I need you to listen to me, because this is really important, okay?” He drew in a deep breath. “You’re it for me. That’s it, it’s you. I’m in love with you, and there isn’t a single universe or timeline where we don’t belong together. I search for you in every room and I feel empty when we’re apart. Nobody gets me in the ways you do. We’re inevitable, baby. Just say you’re as far gone for me as I am for you, and I promise to make you the happiest woman in the world for as long as we both live.”
“Garrett, you can’t just drop all this on me when we’re on the side of the road.” You sniffled. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that? How often I’d hoped you would feel the same? I’m terrified.”
Garrett’s eyes displayed an array of emotions; hope, anxiety, nerves all swirled into one, but his face remained guarded as he swiped at your cheeks with his thumbs.
“I love you, Garrett.” You continued. “If you’re far gone for me then I’m just as bad. Everything with you just makes sense.” You paused briefly, trying to articulate how you felt. “But If we do this, I need you to choose me every single time. This could very well break me if you can’t or you’re too scared too. I need you to be all in.”
His response was instant, “I choose you, every single time. I mean it when I say you’re it for me. We’re in this for the long run. It’s you and me, baby. Always gonna be you and me.” He pressed your hand to his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. “Yours, forever.”
Your lips finally broke into a wide grin, one mirrored completely mirrored by Garrett. His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up before leaning in toward you, hands wrapping around your back. Your hands found his curls as you met in the middle for a sweet, long awaited kiss.
Beep!
Yet another honk from a passing car startled the both of you apart, but this time it was met with soft shared smiles and sweet giggles. Garrett stood up, pressing one last brief kiss to your lips before shutting your door and heading around to his side.
“I’m still gonna kill that fucking Chad, by the way.” “Garrett! Absolutely not!”
a/n: Thank you all so much for the love on my first Dean fic! I'm taking requests for all 4 off campus boys, so feel free to drop in my inbox whenever! hope you enjoyed our loverboy Garrett giving you the love confession you deserve <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are all greatly appreciated.
Part two: It doesn’t matter - Everything matters Gray
Summary: In which Garrett Graham’s older sister (22) comes back into his life, in hopes of mending their broken relationship.
A little help from Dean Di Laurentis has you lowering your highly built walls of defence. Brick by brick he shows you exactly how you can depend on someone.
Trigger warnings: Phil Graham, mentions of abuse, complicated family/sibling dynamics. Hockey inaccuracies most probably.
- Series masterlist -previous part -
Everything happens for a reason. That’s what your dad used to drill into your head. His reasoning came with a heavy hand and a raised voice though. Nothing matters, but the game. Don’t even try getting in his or Garrett’s way. So you do what you do best and leave your brother alone. Let him clear his head, trust that he will come to you when he’s ready.
As the days turn into a week, the sea of students change like the tide anticipating a storm. The blue clothes, caps and banners travelling along campus made it harder to catch a glimpse of Garrett or Dean. Though you normally heard Dean before you saw him. You’re a much a smaller fish swimming through the current today, they’re all going to watch the game and you’re on your way to the library. You’ve still got to transcribe some of your lessons you recorded earlier. A perk of sitting in lectures meant you could also study and try to get a research job with the college next year. The salary a tad better than your assistant job to the professor.
If you’re not checking over essays, organising your bosses files then you’re out getting her lunch or coffee. You don’t complain, she also buys yours too and you eat in her office going over lessons plans. She recommends philosophy books, got you a late pass to the library so you could stay longer in the closed off archive area. You’d normally need to schedule an appointment to view certain books, but she thought it were important for you to learn as much as you could.
You keep your eye on the team’s socials and that gossip page. The one way you can feel closer to your brother. You’ve never been one for watching him play, forever left in stands doing your homework or reading when you were growing up. Out of sight and out of Phil’s mind. You settle for listening to the commentary on the college radio station, the wire of your headphones a tangled mess you can’t undo. The libraries silent, your recording device lost in the abyss of your handbag as you flick through some art history pages. Cheers erupt in your ear, Graham repeated again and again. You rip the headphones out, jabbing your finger over the pause button before they can say it again. The pounding in your head amplifies in the silence of the archives, breaths ragged as you try to stay present. You count your fingers, pinch the inside of your wrist anything to distract yourself from the rising beat of your heart and the burn at the back of your throat. You slam your palm on the desk, loud enough to bring yourself back to the dim lit library. Hard enough to register to stinging sensation prickling your skin.
Pathetic really how you’re pulled apart by the shout of his name. But you still hear the tv speakers blaring in your mind, remember how your dad used to watch old taped games of himself after he’d dealt with you. Graham’s always on top! He’s rough around the edges, but he gets the job done.
You don’t know why you listened in, some part of you hoping Garrett carried the surname differently and you could overwrite those memories. It’s your name too, but it doesn’t offer you a scrap of loyalty or comfort. No, Graham comes with conditions and living up to another man’s reputation. Ones you cannot fill. Garrett might be able to though. You don’t know why he would want to.
They’ve won the game. A notification lighting up your shattered phone screen. Dean Di Laurentis, via email. He must have got it from the faculty board or classes templates. His number attached below his kindly regarded sign off. You have to add his number, an assistant emailing a student personal messages doesn’t seem quite right. Not that you’re that much older than him.
[you] - Congrats on the win!
[unknown number] - didn’t see you in the stands, miss Gray.
Gray, your mother’s maiden name. A little too close to sounding like Phil’s. You save his number, mid text when he sends you another.
[Dean] 📷 - Baby bro crushed it tonight.
A photo attached of him and Garrett in the dressing room, his T-shirt half on and off. Left hem of his baggy top draped over his broad shoulder. You’re scanning your brother’s body without even second guessing the action. The purplish, blue marks fading to green and yellow against his tanned skin. No new bruises or traces of fingers wrapped around his arm or collarbone. Your finger draws a line around the crook of your elbow, the same spot he grabbed you last week. There was no bruise though, he didn’t apply enough pressure to his hold to hurt you, but you wonder if showing up again on his porch would change that. If his nails would sink into your flesh and leave behind crescent marks in their wake.
Garrett’s not like that, not like him. Neither are you. Sometimes you wish you’d just lash out instead of freezing. Stop being the little girl who squeezed herself in the smallest of places to hide. Tears don’t come so easily, you’re convinced they’re all dried up. You might scratch the ache in your chest and clench your teeth so hard your molars hurt, but that’s the full extent of the emotion. Anger yeah, you bathe in it, but never inflict in on someone else. No then you’d be exactly like him.
You leave the solitary confines of the archives library, shoving the thoughts away. Burying them till they can’t see the light of day, so it can’t blossom into something else. You can control it. You focus on the strap of your bag digging into your shoulder.
“Hey, let me help you with that.” Dean appears, panting as he slips the strap of your handbag off your shoulder and carries it, falling into step beside you. “Jees, what the hell you lugging about in this thing?” He shifts the worn leather bag in his grasp, stealing a look inside. The zippers broke so he’s got free roaming privileges, not like you have anything to hide. Just a few extra research textbooks, it’s a surprise the handles not torn.
“Thought you lifted weights?” You tease, raising your brows at him. “Few books and a laptop, looks like you gotta up your game.”
He chuckles, dimples setting in his cheeks as his lips curve into a smile. There’s a comfortable in between with Dean, he’s walked with you to the library a few times this week and struck up a conversation. No awkward silence or forced small talk.
“How about you come see what I can lift tomorrow morning?” He says, lowering his head to catch your gaze glued to the pavement. “I know you get here at six thirty, no one else will be there.”
“I don’t know,” you mumbled, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Tempting but you don’t want to bump into a load hockey players.
“Day after a win, no one’s up that early. We can go over our game-plan,” Dean says, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Come on I’ll give you a ride home, gotta get some supplies anyways.”
Game-plan a.k.a try to mend your relationship with your little brother.
“Okay, but I can’t stay for long, I still need to prep for my first lecture.”
- 6:30am -
The walk across campus to the sports centre is a workout regime on its own. You’re glad you dumped your handbag in your office and pocketed your phone. The downside though? The hockey team’s scattered all over the place. You follow the signs to the gym, glass panelled wall and door giving you the whole layout and the players in it. Garrett just so happens to be talking Dean. Traitor. Of course he’d be here.
They’re bloody athletes. No one rests when they’ve got a season left to play. Phil was all about routine and discipline to get what you want. Gotta earn it though.
You’re about to retreat, but Dean calls your name and opens the door for you. All four hockey players pausing their workouts to watch you walk in. Traitor. You follow him back over to Garrett, who’s eyeing you out of the corner of his eye in the reflection of the mirror. A large dumbbell in one hand as he exhales a deep breath and bends his arm to his chest. Dean’s standing beside him and mouthing something to you, nodding for you to say anything.
“Congratulations on the win,” you say, averting your gaze as he throws a half hearted thank you over his shoulder. Least he’s not telling you leave him alone.
Garrett slots the dumbbell back on the shelf, reaching round you to grab his face towel.“What are you doing here?” He asks, dabbing the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
“Ah my fault man, borrowed her notes from my business class the other day. Couldn’t find you yesterday to return it,” Dean says, lies. He hands the small recording device back to you and smiles. You didn’t even know he was studying business or that he’d pinched the device from your bag last night.
“Whatever,” Garrett shrugs, glancing between you two. “Didn’t know you sat in on business lectures.” He twists the towel and drapes it over one shoulder, his hand flicking up in goodbye.
Not the lost cause you thought. You whirl around, jabbing Dean’s hard chest with your finger. It hurt you more than it did him, but he stumbled back a step rubbing the spot. “What the hell was that? No one after a win, bullshit.”
Dean leans in, his hot breath fanning against the side of your face. “Garrett’s like a cat. Little gestures and no touching.” His hands raising as if you too are a cat.
“It’s just,” you pause, watching Garrett disappear down the hallway. He feels further away than he actually is. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Everything matters, Gray,” Dean says, voice low for only you to hear, his palm resting on your back. “show up for Garrett and he’ll show up for you.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, I know so. Besides you got me in your corner now, don’t worry.” He picks up his rolled up towel and swats you with it as he goes by.
Looks like he’s the one assisting you.
Thanks for reading :) and for all the lovely comments! I hope you enjoyed it. I’m dyslexic so there might be some mistakes I miss. Hopefully taglist is working too
⤿ DEAN HEYWARD-DI LAURENTIS was the boy no one could get enough of. The thing was, you just didn't get it... until you did.
!! wc: 2.8k. fluff. fem!reader. enemies to lovers ish. flirting. innuendo. dean being dean. dean fell first and hard. reader lowkey nonchalant w it. COME TO ME MY FELLOW OFF CAMPUS LOVERS. i will die for this series and briar u and the kids series. taglist open. off campus masterlist coming soon. ENJOY.
By the time you realized Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis was flirting with you, it was already too late to do anything about it.
Not because he was subtle, because he absolutely was not, but because Dean flirted with everyone in a way that made him difficult to read at first. He smiled too easily, leaned too close during conversations, carried this effortless warmth around with him that made people naturally gravitate toward him without even realizing they were doing it. Most girls at Briar noticed him immediately, and most of them reacted exactly the same way whenever he walked into a room.
You hadn’t.
That alone seemed to fascinate him more than it should have.
The first time you met him had been at a party during your sophomore year, one of those overcrowded hockey house parties where the music was too loud and the floors were sticky from spilled alcohol, where bodies moved shoulder to shoulder through dim lighting while somebody shouted along terribly to music in the kitchen.
You’d been standing near the back porch trying to escape the heat inside when Dean stepped out beside you holding two beers.
At the time, you only knew of him as one of Briar’s hockey players, though that was nearly impossible not to know considering how often everyone at this damn school talked about that team.
“You look miserable,” he’d said casually, offering you one of the beers.
You glanced at it before looking back at him. “You offer drinks to unhappy strangers at all of your parties?”
“Only the pretty ones.”
You had laughed then despite yourself, mostly because he’d said it so naturally that it didn’t even sound rehearsed.
“That line probably works on a lot of people.”
“It works better when they don’t immediately insult me after.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
There was something unfairly likable about him up close. Maybe it was the confidence that was accented by dimples, or maybe it was the fact that unlike some of the other hockey players, Dean actually listened when people spoke to him. Conversations with him felt easy in a dangerous sort of way, the kind that slipped by too quickly without you noticing.
You ended up talking with him for nearly an hour that night.
Then somehow he started appearing everywhere afterward.
Sometimes it was accidental. Other times it very obviously was not.
You’d find him outside one of your lecture halls leaning against the wall waiting for Garrett or Logan only for him to fall into step beside you afterward, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d steal the seat next to yours in class despite it being a lecture hall with plenty of open seats.
He'd distract you while you studied, complain dramatically whenever you refused to help him with assignments he definitely could have done himself if he tried hard enough.
And slowly, without either of you acknowledging it outright, he became part of your life.
It happened in pieces so small you barely noticed them.
Dean texting you first whenever something funny happened.
Dean showing up at your apartment with coffee because you mentioned once that you hated mornings.
Dean touching the small of your back absentmindedly when he moved around you in crowded rooms.
Your friends noticing the shift long before you did.
“He likes you,” your roommate had told you one night while you got ready for bed.
You rolled your eyes immediately. “Dean likes everyone.”
“No,” she drawled carefully, “I think he really likes you.”
At the time, you brushed it off.. mostly because the idea felt ridiculous.
Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis was charming in a way that belonged to everyone around him. He laughed with everybody, flirted with everybody, made people feel wanted so effortlessly that it was hard to imagine any of it meaning something deeper.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because you never realized how serious it had become for him.
Not until much later.
Not until the night everything finally cracked open between you.
It happened in late November after one of Briar’s home games, when the campus had already started settling into winter, and the air outside the arena carried that sharp cold that made your lungs ache when you breathed too deeply.
You waited near the parking lot while students poured out around you in loud groups, bundled in jackets and scarves while snow flurries drifted lazily through the streetlights overhead.
You had almost decided to leave by the time Dean finally emerged from the arena.
The parking lot outside Briar’s hockey rink had thinned considerably over the last fifteen minutes, the loud clusters of students slowly disappearing into the snowy dark while the cold deepened around you in sharp, biting waves.
The game had ended almost half an hour ago, but postgame celebrations always dragged on longer after a win, especially when the team played the way they had tonight. They were fast and aggressive and good enough to keep the crowd screaming well into the third period.
You stood near the edge of the sidewalk with your hands shoved deep into your coat pockets, shifting your weight occasionally to keep warm while snowflakes drifted steadily from the sky overhead. They gathered in the sleeves of your coat and melted against your skin, dampening pieces of hair near your face while your breath curled visibly in the freezing air.
Your phone screen lit briefly in your hand.
11:42 PM.
You should probably go home at this point. Plus, why stick around anyway? The only people who stuck around this long were family, significant others, and girls who were hoping to get lucky with a player. You were none of the above.
That thought had crossed your mind at least four times already, especially considering Dean had no idea you were even waiting for him out here in the first place. You could still leave now before he came outside and preserve at least some of your dignity, because standing alone in a freezing parking lot after nearly midnight waiting for a boy who smiled at you a little too nicely was not behavior you were particularly proud of.
Still, your feet stayed planted where they were.
Which was embarrassing to unpack if you thought about it too hard.
The arena doors finally swung open again a few seconds later, releasing another burst of noise and warmth into the cold night air as several players filtered out alongside a few students lingering near the entrance. You looked up automatically, more out of instinct than intention.
Then you saw him.
Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis, himself, walked out laughing at something one of his teammates said, hockey bag slung over one shoulder while exhaustion visibly weighed through the line of his posture. His damp hair curled slightly from sweat beneath the harsh overhead lights, and even from a distance, you could see the fatigue sitting heavily across his face after the game.
Then his eyes landed on you.
And his entire expression changed.
It was subtle enough that most people probably would not have noticed it unless they were looking carefully, but you did.
The exhaustion softened first.
Then his shoulders loosened slightly beneath the weight of his bag, tension easing from him in real time as warmth spread slowly across his features. The tiredness didn't disappear entirely, but something gentler replaced it now, something so immediate and instinctive that it sent an annoying little flip through your stomach before you could stop it.
“There you are,” Dean said once he reached you, his voice roughened slightly from yelling over the game and the freezing night air.
Something about the familiarity of it settled strangely in your chest.
Not the words themselves, but the way he said them, easy and certain, like he had expected to find you waiting for him outside the arena all along. Like your presence beside the rink after every home game had become something reliable to him, something normal.
You tried not to think too hard about why that affected you as much as it did.
Instead, you shoved your hands deeper into your coat pockets and forced yourself to sound casual when you said, “You played decent tonight, Di Laurentis.”
Dean immediately looked offended.
“Decent?” he repeated, adjusting the strap of his hockey bag higher onto his shoulder while he stared at you in disbelief. “That’s what I get after scoring twice? And defending my goalie after he got knocked? And pointing to you after I scored? And cheering G up in the locker room?”
You shrugged, though his grin was already making it annoyingly difficult to hold onto your composure for very long. “You want me to lie and say you were amazing?”
“Yes, actually, that would be nice.”
The laugh that slipped out of you came easier than you intended, soft and visible in the cold air between you.
For a second, Dean just looked at you.
Not in the careless, charming way he usually looked at people, but openly because your amusement was something worth paying attention to. Snow caught lightly in his light hair and along the shoulders of his jacket, while the harsh lights from the parking lot reflected faintly across his face. Despite the exhaustion still lingering around him after the game, there was some playful warmth creeping back into his eyes.
The look on his face made your chest tighten in a way you were trying very hard not to examine too closely.
Without really discussing it, the two of you started walking toward Malone's together.
The arena noise slowly faded behind you with every step, swallowed by the quiet stillness settling over Briar this late at night. Snow crunched softly beneath your boots as you moved side by side down the sidewalk, your shoulders brushing occasionally whenever one of you drifted too close. The roads nearby had mostly emptied by now, leaving only the occasional headlights cutting through the dark or the distant sound of voices carrying across campus.
The snow had started sticking properly sometime during the third period.
Now it dusted across the ground in thin white layers and gathered along Dean’s hair in uneven flakes, catching briefly in his lashes whenever he glanced over at you. The cold had turned the tip of his nose pink, though somehow it only made him look more unfairly attractive.
“You waiting long?” he asked after a moment.
“Not really.”
“Bullshit. That's a total lie.”
You glanced sideways at him despite yourself. “Fine, maybe a little.”
His mouth twitched immediately, like he was trying not to smile too hard at that answer.
Then something in his expression shifted. The teasing faded first.Then the easy confidence.
What replaced it was quieter somehow, more focused, and the sudden intensity of his attention made your stomach tighten unexpectedly.
“You came to every game this month,” he said.
The observation landed softly between you, but your pulse reacted instantly anyway.
You forced yourself to shrug. “I support Briar athletics, I love that my tuition money goes towards the team throwing free shirts into the stands and paying for your overpriced locker room. I figured I should get my money's worth.”
“Bullshit, again.”
You looked away too quickly, trying to hide the smile already pulling at your mouth, but Dean noticed anyway. Of course he did.
“That smile means I’m right.”
“You’re so annoying after wins.”
“I’m annoying all the time.”
“That’s... Actually, yeah, that's true.”
His laugh came low and warm beside you before he nudged his shoulder lightly against yours.
The contact lasted barely a second.
Still, warmth spread slowly through your chest anyway, familiar now in the worst possible way.
Because that had become the real problem with Dean lately.
Not the flirting.
Not the confidence.
Not even the fact that nearly every girl at Briar looked at him like he personally hung the moon.
The problem was that he made everything feel like more than it was. Truthfully, that could have been because, in your heart, you didn't want to believe you'd fall for an athlete's charm so easily. But based on what everyone around you said, you weren't delusional in thinking that it was more than it seemed.
Every glance lingered slightly too long. Every touch carried enough softness behind it to leave you thinking about it afterward. Even his attention felt different from other people’s somehow, steady and deliberate in a way that slowly worked its way beneath your skin before you even realized it was happening.
Being around Dean felt dangerously similar to standing too close to a fire in the middle of winter.
Comforting at first.
Then overwhelming before you noticed yourself getting burned.
And lately, whatever existed between the two of you had started drifting dangerously close to becoming something real.
Neither of you talked about it.
Maybe because acknowledging it aloud would ruin the fragile balance you’d fallen into together.
Or maybe because both of you were too afraid the other person didn’t feel it too.
“You know,” Dean said eventually, quieter now, his gaze fixed ahead on the snowy sidewalk instead of on you, “Tuck thinks I’m in love with you.”
Your entire body nearly short-circuited.
You missed a step slightly before catching yourself again, your head swiveling in a double-take. “Sorry.. what?”
Dean let out a huff of a laugh under his breath, though this time there was tension underneath it that hadn’t been there before.
“That reaction’s making this just a little harder for me.”
You stopped walking for half a second before hurrying to catch up beside him again. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
The simplicity of the answer made your stomach twist sharply.
Snow continued drifting lazily around the two of you while silence settled heavily between your footsteps. Your pulse suddenly felt uneven beneath your ribs, loud enough that you were half convinced Dean could hear it if he stood any closer.
For several long seconds, neither of you spoke.
Then finally, carefully, you looked over at him. “And what did you say?”
Den exhaled slowly through his nose.
The faint smile that touched his mouth this time looked different from his usual ones somehow, smaller and quieter, almost disbelieving.
“I told Tuck he was an idiot.”
“That sounds more believable.”
“Yeah,” he murmured softly. “Except I think he might’ve been right.”
Everything inside you seemed to still at once.
Not dramatically.
Not like movies where music swelled and the entire world stopped turning.
Just enough that suddenly every detail around you became painfully sharp all at once.
The sound of snow beneath your boots. The cold wind brushing against your face. The uneven rhythm of your breathing. The way Dean was looking at you now.
And maybe the strangest part of all was realizing he looked nervous.
Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis, who could walk into any room and immediately own it without trying, who flirted effortlessly and smiled without hesitation, looked genuinely nervous standing beside you on a dark, snowy sidewalk.
Like you had the ability to hurt him.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly after the silence stretched too long, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges in a way you had never heard from him before. “Seriously, I just…” He broke off briefly, glancing away before laughing once under his breath. “I got tired of pretending this feels casual to me when it doesn’t. And trust me, it's just as crazy for me to say that as it is for you to hear that.”
Your chest tightened painfully at the honesty in that.
Because suddenly the last few months rearranged themselves inside your head into something entirely different.
Dean waiting outside your classes even when his own were across campus.
Dean memorizing your coffee order after hearing it once.
Dean always finding you first in crowded rooms.
Dean texting you every night before playing an away game.
None of it had been accidental.
None of it had ever been casual.
And maybe the worst part was realizing yours hadn’t been either.
“You fall hard, huh?” you asked quietly.
A surprised laugh escaped him then, softer than before, carrying something almost embarrassed underneath it.
“You got no idea.” He drawled, his hands pushing his hair back in more of a 'I-Don't-Know-What-To-Do-With-My-Hands' way than anything else.
The honesty of it hit you harder than anything else had tonight.
Because Dean wasn’t teasing now. Wasn’t flirting. Wasn’t charming his way through another conversation with that easy confidence everyone associated with him.
He meant it.
And standing there beside him while snow gathered slowly across the shoulders of his jacket and melted into your hair, you realized with sudden, terrifying clarity that somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you had fallen hard too.
note: starting a new dean di laurentis series because apparently i enjoy watching this man lose his mind over toxic women <3
summary: Dean Di Laurentis knows Y/N is bad for him. The problem is that every time she pulls away, he follows anyway.
Dean scores halfway through the third period.
The second the puck hits the net, the entire arena erupts around him. The sound is immediate-loud enough to shake through his chest even beneath the noise of skates scraping the ice and teammates crashing into him from every direction. Someone grabs the back of his jersey hard enough to nearly throw him off balance while the crowd screams his name above the announcer’s voice echoing through the stadium speakers.
Normally, Dean loves this part.
Actually, that’s not true.
He lives for this part.
The adrenaline. The ego. The attention. The rush of hearing thousands of people react to something he did. Dean has always been addicted to being good at things. Being wanted. Being watched.
But lately, something’s changed.
Because now, the first thing he does after every goal is look for her.
And the worst part is that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore.
It’s instinct now.
Dean pulls his helmet off as he skates backward toward center ice, breathing hard, eyes already scanning the stands automatically until they land on her.
Y/N sits three rows above the glass with Hannah, one of Dean’s hockey hoodies swallowing her whole. Her legs are crossed lazily, expression calm despite the chaos around her, like she expected him to score the second he stepped onto the ice tonight.
And maybe she did.
The moment their eyes meet, she smiles at him.
Not a huge smile.
Not excited.
Worse.
Slow. Knowing. Proud.
Dean feels it instantly- that sharp pull somewhere low in his chest that only she seems capable of causing. The crowd is still screaming around him, his teammates are still shoving him around in celebration, but somehow none of it hits as hard as the way Y/N is looking at him right now.
Like he did something right.
Like he earned something.
Logan skates into his shoulder laughing breathlessly. “There he is,” he shouts over the noise, but Dean barely hears him.
Because Y/N is still staring at him.
And somehow that matters more than the thousands of people chanting his name.
-
The locker room after the game is loud, humid, and chaotic in the way it always is after a win. Music blasts through the speakers while half the team yells over each other, exhausted and still running on adrenaline. Someone throws a towel across the room. Garrett is arguing with Tucker about something stupid near the showers. Water gets sprayed across the floor because apparently no one in this team has fully developed past age sixteen.
Dean should be paying attention.
Instead, he keeps checking his phone every thirty seconds like a loser.
At one point Logan notices and just stares at him in silence for a full five seconds before saying, “You know this is getting genuinely concerning, right?”
Dean doesn’t even bother looking up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” Garrett says immediately from across the room. “He’s waiting for her text.”
Dean tosses his tape roll at him without any real effort behind it.
Garrett catches it easily and grins. “Oh my God, he didn’t even deny it.”
Before Dean can answer, his phone lights up in his hand.
And embarrassingly enough, his entire mood shifts before he even opens the message.
Y/N: good game
That’s it.
Two words.
No exclamation point. No heart emoji. Nothing dramatic.
But Dean stares at the message longer than he probably should because somehow those two words hit harder than the entire crowd cheering for him fifteen minutes ago.
Garrett notices the expression on his face instantly.
“Oh no,” Garrett says, horrified. “Not the smile.”
Dean finally looks up. “What smile?”
“The one you get whenever Evil Barbie gives you attention.”
A few guys nearby burst out laughing immediately.
Dean flips him off while typing back.
Dean: that’s all i get?
The typing bubble appears almost instantly.
Y/N: did u want a trophy?
Dean lets out a quiet laugh through his nose.
Dangerous girl.
Then another message appears before he can answer.
Y/N: come over later
And there it is again.
That feeling.
That horrible, addictive little rush she gives him every single time she pulls him back in.
Logan watches Dean carefully from the bench while pulling his hoodie on. “You look happier about her texting you than the actual win.”
Dean shrugs casually, but it’s fake casual. Everyone in the room can tell.
“She said good game.”
The entire locker room goes silent for half a second before Garrett throws a towel directly at Dean’s head.
“You are catastrophically down bad.”
Dean laughs this time, catching the towel easily, but he still doesn’t deny it.
Because the humiliating truth is that Y/N has figured him out in ways nobody else really has.
She knows he likes praise.
Not publicly. Not loudly.
Specifically from her.
And somehow she’s learned exactly how little attention she has to give him to keep him completely hooked.
-
By the time Dean gets to her apartment, it’s almost midnight.
Y/N opens the door wearing silk shorts and one of his old t-shirts, her hair slightly messy like she’s been lying in bed all evening completely unbothered by the psychological damage she causes other people on a daily basis.
Dean immediately feels annoyed at himself for coming so fast.
Y/N leans against the doorframe when she sees him, expression unreadable for exactly one second before the corner of her mouth lifts slightly.
“You took forever.”
Dean walks inside without answering right away, one hand automatically finding her waist as he passes her in the doorway. The apartment smells faintly like vanilla and expensive perfume, and suddenly the exhaustion from the game barely matters anymore.
“I had media after.”
Y/N hums softly like she wasn’t listening that closely in the first place.
“You looked good tonight.”
Dean pauses mid-step.
Because there it is again.
That feeling she gives him whenever she sounds proud of him.
It’s almost embarrassing how fast his body reacts to it now.
He turns toward her slowly. “You watched the whole game?”
Y/N shrugs as she walks toward the kitchen.
“Mostly.”
Liar.
Dean knows she watched every second because every single time he looked toward the stands tonight, she was already staring back at him.
Like she expected him to search for her.
Which he did.
Every time.
Y/N opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water while Dean watches her from across the kitchen island.
Then she glances at him over her shoulder casually and says, “You played better tonight.”
Dean leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
“Better than what?”
“Better than last week.”
His expression changes immediately.
Because last week they fought before his game.
And he played terribly.
Y/N notices the exact second he makes the connection.
Of course she notices.
She notices everything about him now.
“You get distracted easily when you’re emotional,” she says lightly before taking a sip of water.
Dean laughs quietly. “You saying that like you’re not the reason.”
Y/N doesn’t even look guilty.
“That sounds like blame.”
“It is blame.”
Finally she looks at him fully, calm as ever. “Still scored tonight though.”
And Jesus Christ.
There it is again.
That approval.
Dean hates how much it affects him. Hates how she can say one small thing and suddenly he feels like he’s eighteen again trying desperately to impress someone he wants too much.
Slowly, he pushes himself off the counter and walks toward her.
“You reward me when I do well.”
Y/N raises one eyebrow innocently. “Do I?”
Dean stops directly in front of her, close enough now to notice the tiny shift in her breathing.
“You disappear when I piss you off,” he says quietly. “Then suddenly you’re sweet again after I play well.”
Y/N sets the water bottle down beside her with slow, deliberate movements. There’s no panic in her expression. No guilt.
Just that terrifying calm she always has whenever he gets too close to figuring her out.
“You’re imagining things.”
Dean lets out another soft laugh, but this time there’s frustration underneath it.
“Am I?”
For a second, neither of them says anything.
The apartment suddenly feels too quiet.
Too small.
Y/N steps closer first.
Deliberately.
Her hands slide slowly up the front of his hoodie until her fingers rest lightly against the back of his neck, and Dean’s entire body tightens on instinct alone.
Y/N notices immediately.
Of course she does.
That’s the problem with her.
She notices everything and uses it all.
Her voice softens slightly when she speaks again.
“You like when I’m proud of you.”
Not a question.
A statement.
Dean stares down at her silently because denying it would be pathetic, but admitting it feels even worse somehow.
A small smile appears on Y/N’s face when he doesn’t answer.
Slow. Pretty. Dangerous.
“See?” she murmurs softly, fingers brushing against the back of his neck. “That’s your problem.”
Dean’s jaw tightens. “What is?”
Y/N tilts her head slightly while looking up at him through her lashes.
“You’d let me turn your entire life into a competition,” she says quietly, “if it meant I kept looking at you like this.”
A/N: In honor of the Off-Campus series! Guys, I usually hate Prime Video book adaptations... but I’m actually obsessed! P.S. Listen to "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys while reading! Commas hate to see me coming lol.
Summary: You surprise your boyfriend after a big win! ;) SMUTTT!!!!
🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒 ❆🏒
The ring of the final buzzer sets off a celebration in the stands. Everyone is chanting and cheering for the big win of Briar U’s Hawks.
But you’re the happiest one in the stands. Why? Because your boyfriend, Garrett Graham, just scored the winning goal.
You stand with a huge smile plastered on your face as you watch number 44 getting practically worshipped by his teammates.
Despite the praise being showered on him, his beautiful eyes never leave yours.
He winks at you, and you blow a kiss back. The way you communicate during a game.
He eventually forces his eyes from yours, flashing one last smile before disappearing to the locker room.
You take that as your cue.
“Kay, gotta go! See ya tomorrow, Grace,” you tell your best friend, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Yeah, yeah. Have fun, but not too much fun,” Grace winks.
Dodging the crowd of people, you make your way to the secret spot.
The secret spot is where you and Garrett first met. Located behind the locker rooms, it’s the perfect place for privacy after a game.
More importantly, it’s the perfect place to give him a private celebration that leaves him more breathless than the entire three periods on the ice.
Which you have.
More times than you can count.
It’s a well established ritual by now. He wins on the ice and you ruin him behind the locker rooms.
Considering you're wearing a matching lacy red set under your leggings and jersey, Garrett's favorite. Means he’s gonna be a really lucky man tonight.
You wait for him in the small room. Excitement practically shooting out of you.
You hear the door open after a couple seconds, and see Garrett locking the door behind him.
He smells amazing.
A mixture of that clean man smell and lavender.
His wet hair practically dripping.
Garrett fucking Graham.
Before you can say a word, his large frame crowds you back. He hooks his hands around your waist, lifting you on the edge of a counter.
“You're killing me in those stands, baby.”
Before you can say a word, his lips bang onto yours.
The kiss is hot and fast.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, laughing slightly against his mouth as his hands slide up under the hem of your jersey.
His jersey.
God, he loved nothing more than seeing you wear his name and number.
The moment his fingers brush against the delicate lace of your bra, he freezes. His breath hitches, and a low groan escapes him.
“Oh, you’re dangerous,” he whispers. “You wore this on purpose, didn't you?”
You let out a soft laugh.
You lean forward until your lips touch his ear. “I don't know, Graham. You played a good game, but I think you have to work a little harder if you want the real prize.”
“Work harder? Baby, I just scored the winning puck. I think I earned my reward.”
“Maybe.”
You slowly trace your fingers down the hem of his shirt, tugging it up just enough to let your fingers brush his bare abs.
He lets out a sharp inhale.
“But out here, I make the rules. So, are you going to keep talking, or are you going to show me how much you like my outfit?”
“Yeah, I'm done talking.”
His hands slide up to cup your face as he dives back in.
He devours your mouth with a kiss that is somehow ten times hotter and deeper.
You move to tug your shirt fully off.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you tease.
“I love you, my pretty girl.” 
Something that’s supposed to sound cute, sounds the quite opposite coming from your boyfriend’s mouth.
He somehow makes everything he says and does sound and look sexy.
“I love you,” you say, in between the small kisses you’re giving him all over his face and neck.
His shirt meets yours on the floor. Following with your pants, and his shorts.
He slips a rough hand under your underwear, teasing and rubbing your clit.
The noise of the wetness fills the room.
“Fuck, Graham. Right there.”
He speeds up. And slips two fingers inside of you.
You completely melt when he curls them.
The sound of your moaning vibrates in the tight space, and he immediately brings his mouth back to yours to swallow the noise.
“Quiet, baby,” he whispers. “Unless you want everybody hearing your rules.”
The orgasm hits you with sudden and overwhelming force.
Your head rolls back against wall. And your eyes shut.
Garrett watches as your entire body tightens and as your moans grow louder.
His own breath catching as he listens to the sound of you completely losing control under his touch.
Once your euphoric high came down, it was your turn to make him lose control.
You place your hand on his huge erection under his boxers, rubbing him over the fabric.
“You're torturing me.”
“Am I?”
You start to move your hand in a frantic pace. “You seemed pretty sure a minute ago that you'd already earned everything.”
“I was wrong.”
A low groan escapes him as he tries to grab your wrist to slow you down. But you slide your hand past the waistband.
He looks down at you, fisting him completely. Your thumb sweeping over his tip, catching the pre cum, as you work him.
“If you don’t slow down, I’m coming in my pants.”
You slide your free hand up into his hair, tilting his head up as you dive into him, kissing his lips.
And it’s over for him.
You feel the liquid pouring out of him and onto your hand.
Garrett lets out a low string of curse words against your ear.
His arms wrap securely around your waist, holding you flush against him as if he never wants to let you go.
“Fuck. You're trying to kill me,” he breathes into your skin.
He reaches into his gear bag on the floor, pulling out a clean towel. Gently, he cleans your hands and then his own.
His touch incredibly soft compared to before.
Once you're both taken care of, he pulls you back onto his chest, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head.
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: Phil Graham (not in this part), anxiety/panic attacks mentioned, sex
Dean Di Laurentis. The biggest man-whore of Briar U. His carefree and funny persona and his cocky attitude got him all the girls he wanted. Obviously, his looks didn’t hurt to look at either. He was 6’5 with gorgeous blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Being Garrett’s sister, Dean has always tried to get to you. He flirts with you every chance he gets. But Dean is never serious about anyone. He always says he doesn’t do relationships. Not that you care.
You and the girls walk into the kitchen where the guys were. Hannah was Graham’s girlfriend, which meant she went right to him. You look down at your clothes, feeling a bout of self-consciousness. Allie had lent you her red corset top tonight, saying “You haven’t been out since…” She stops, “You should look hot!”
You feel a presence next to you and don’t have to look up to know who it is.
“Hello Dean.” You say with an annoyed tone to your voice.
His signature smirk spreads across his face as he leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest-showing off those broad shoulders that made most girls swoon.
“Miss me already, baby doll?” His voice is low, teasing, as his blue eyes drag slowly down to the red top and your exposed cleavage, then back up. “Because I noticed you the second you walked in here.”
You scoff. “Huh really? Because I didn’t notice you at all.” You say sarcastically.
He lets out a low, deep chuckle, clearly enjoying the sarcasm. He shifts closer, his tall frame looming over you, effectively trapping you against the counter with his arms caging you in.
“Liar.” He murmurs the word, his voice dropping an octave as he looks down at you. “You always know exactly where I am, baby doll.”
You avoid his eyes, you always do. You feel your heart beating faster. You push on his chest to get him to move.
“Unfortunately for you it’s because you’re fucking everywhere.” You scoff again.
His hand catches your wrist mid-push, his thumb tracing slow circles over your pulse point-feeling how fast it’s racing. He doesn’t move an inch, just leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.
“Keep telling yourself that, baby doll.” He murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. “But that little heartbeat under my thumb says otherwise.”
Before you could justify yourself, you hear;
“Hey! Dean! I told you to stop hitting on my sister!” Garrett appears next to you guys.
Dean’s smirk doesn’t even falter, he just keeps his eyes locked on you, thumb still pressed to your racing pulse. “Can’t help it, man. She comes into my house, wearing that,” he gestures lazily at your top with his free hand, “What am I supposed to do?”
“Jesus Christ.” Garrett groans, rubbing his face. “Just…leave her alone, okay? Off limits, Di Laurentis.” He says half joking, half dead serious.
Dean finally let’s go of your wrist, but not before brushing his thumb one last teasing time over your pulse. He steps back, hands raising in surrender, but his smirk is still firmly in place. “Off limits, got it, captain.” He winks at you over Garrett’s shoulder. “For now.”
Garrett gives you a sympathetic look before being pulled away by Hannah.
You roll your eyes, looking around the room to see if you could spot Allie but low and behold, she’s nowhere to be seen.
Of course she’s gone, why am I surprised?
The second she saw Logan or Tucker; she’d vanish into the crowd. Dean watches you scan the room, then steps back into your personal space when he sees you’re alone again.
“Lost your protectors, baby doll?” He grabs two beers from the fridge, twists one open, and hands it to you without asking. “Don’t look so panicked.”
You eye the beer bottle in his outstretched hand, feeling anxiety bubble up your chest.
“I-I don’t drink at parties’ thanks.” You ignore the beer and push down the memories.
Dean doesn’t press you about the beer, but his eyes stay locked on you like he’s trying to figure out the puzzle. The music pounds through the house and through bodies that were grinding against each other on the makeshift dance floor. He watches you shift uncomfortably, clearly out of your element.
“You look miserable, baby doll.” He finally says, voice low and close. “Want me to take you somewhere quieter?”
You nod subconsciously, not even realising what he said apart from the words “somewhere quieter.”
Dean grabs your head, silently asking for your consent, you squeeze his hand and he immediately weaves you through the crowded house. His grip is firm and warm, surprisingly gentle. He leads you upstairs, past the chaos, to a quiet bedroom at the end of the hall. He closes the door behind you, muting the noise from downstairs.
You sigh in relief, feeling air enter back into your lungs finally.
He leans back against the closed door, watching you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath since you walked through the front door. The room is dim, lit only by a streetlamp outside the window. It’s quiet, finally.
“You looked like you were like five seconds away from a panic attack down there.” He observes softly, losing the cocky smirk for a genuine, concerned expression after you don’t reply. “You okay?”
You nod slowly. Shaking your hands out to rid you of the anxiety you feel.
He watches you shake your hands out, recognising the physical notion of someone trying to regulate their nerves. He stays by the door, giving you space, crossing his ankles casually. No flirting, no teasing. Just calm observation.
“Breathe, Baby doll.” He says quietly, his voice low and steady in the quiet room. “You’re safe up here. Nobody’s gonna bother you.”
“Except you.” You say with a light exhausted laugh, still shaking your hands out in front of you.
He actually laughs back at that remark, the sound surprisingly warm and genuine. “Fair point. But you know I’m not gonna bother you like the other assholes down there.” He pushes off the door, moving slowly like he’s approaching a skittish animal.
You show a genuine smile. You notice that this was his room, just by the smell, his smell you knew all too well.
You suddenly remember where you were and who you were with. “I-I’m sorry I’m okay I promise, I’ll just go back to Bristol House.” You turn rapidly.
He stops you, “Whoa, whoa.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “No need to apologise and you’re not going back out there right now.” He moves closer but doesn’t crowd you. “You were shaking like a leaf down there, baby doll. Just…stay here for a minute.”
You relax at his words, “Okay.” You say quietly.
He nods, satisfied with your agreement. He notices you holding your arms over your chest self-consciously. So, he walks over to his dresser and grabs a hoodie, tossing it to you gently. “Here.” He watches as you catch it awkwardly, still trying to shake off the last remnants of your anxiety.
You tug it over your head and pull it over your body. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent, forgetting that he was right there watching.
You open your eyes and find him smirking at you. You blush a deep red and stop your inhale. “Uh thank you.”
His smirk softens into something almost tender, and for once there’s no teasing in his eyes. “Did you just smell my hoodie?” He asks, voice low with amusement rather than mockery. He steps closer, not threateningly, just… curiously. “That’s fucking adorable, baby doll.”
You feel heat pool in the bottom of your stomach at him calling you ‘baby doll’ again.
“Okay I should go, thank you for this but I have a lecture early tomorrow so uh, tell my brother I said bye?” You don’t wait for him to respond and swiftly exit his room, making your way down the stairs and out the front door before anyone notices, you get on your bike and ride back to Bristol House.
Dean watches you go, a small smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t bother chasing after you, knowing it would just freak you out more. Instead, he leans against the door frame, watching your figure disappear into the darkness as you ride away.
I hope you enjoyed this? I decided to write my own because where are all the off campus Dean fics at??
I'll do part 2 depending on how this part goes down...
The Deal With The Devil | John Logan x Fem! Reader
Summary: Y/n is tired of her friends keep assuming she has a crush on Garrett Graham, her best friend's boyfriend. Her best solution? Make everyone believe she’s dating John Logan.
pairings: John Logan x Fem! Reader
warnings: Sexual themes implied. John Logan and the reader can’t stand each other. Some spoilers ahead. English isn’t my main language so excuse any mistake.
authors note: haven’t seen lots of x reader for off campus so i decided to write a little john logan imagine in honor of off campus eve.
Y/n wished things could be simple. She liked to consider herself a simple girl. But life didn’t want to hand her anything on a silver platter. Her love life couldn’t be a silly love story. She was cursed with the worst love trope known to man kind, unrequited love.
God, did it suck. Twenty guys in the Briar U Hockey team, yet she only had eyes for one. She wished she would’ve fallen for her best friend’s brother, that would have been easier than whatever she was feeling now. But no, here you were with a “crush” on your best friend’s boyfriend, Garrett Graham.
Y/n L/n had known Hannah Wells since freshman year. Both of them got assigned to the same dorm and after that, they instantly became friends after Hannah spotted Y/n’s One Direction posters covering her side of the dorm. Y/n and Hannah were tight so imagine Y/n’s surprise when she dropped the bomb that she didn’t like Justin Kohl anymore and that she was dating Garrett Graham.
At first, Y/n didn’t trust Garrett. He was a player. Word around Briar U got around quick and Hockey players didn’t have the best reputation when it came to relationships. You wanted a one night stand? The hockey boys were your guys. You wanted a serious commitment relationship? maybe check in the history department.
But after Hannah begged Y/n to hang out more with the couple, she started to enjoy his presence. She knew Garrett was attractive, at this point it was a requirement for the hockey team to be jacked, hot and have luscious hair. But Garrett wasn’t her type, at all. Maybe it was how Hannah spoke so highly of him or how she would see them together cuddle up by the common room couch wishing it was her that she picked up on the fact that she had a little crush on Garrett Graham.
She felt so guilty. Hannah was her best friend. Why did she have a crush of her best friend’s boyfriend? Yes, he was attractive but so were his roommates. Why couldn’t she have a crush on Dean, Tucker or even Logan.
She thought she had everything under control. One night after hearing them have their second round of sex, Y/n pulled up her notes app to come up with a plan to shake off her feelings. First, avoid one on one time with Garrett and Hannah. Second, try not to gawk when Garrett is around. Third, don’t daydream about watching a movie with Garrett. Don’t daydream about Garrett in general.
For Y/n, her crush on Garrett wasn’t obvious. But for everyone around her it was as clear as day. When she saw them together she would sprint the other way. Which made Dean comment and on the regular that maybe Y/n should consider joining the track team with how fast she would sprint out of that situation. She would also avoid eye contact with Garrett, rambling random excuses to not speak with him. Everyone knew about her little crush, even Hannah and Garrett, themselves.
So after much discussion with Hannah. She had convinced Allie Hayes to speak to you.
“Y/n, come on. I won’t judge. But the first step to overcoming this is admitting you have a problem.” Allie says sitting on the small twin size bed. Y/n forcefully laugh her eyes still glued on the computer in front of her, her physiology midterm essay glaring back at her.
“Allie, are you reciting an addict intervention script? I don’t need to overcome anything, like I said before, you are insane. Why would I have a crush on Garrett? First, he’s Hannah’s boyfriend. Second, he’s not my type? Third… I can’t think of a third because of how ridiculous this sounds.”
“You can’t think of a third because you are clearly lying and are in denial. Look, I won’t judge you Y/n. Garrett’s an attractive guy. But you need to accept that he’s in love with Hannah, so you can move on this pathetic little crush you have. You can’t avoid spending time with all of us forever.”
“I can since I'm here to get my degree. I’m not here to get shit wasted at a stupid frat party or to get accused about liking some guy by my friend. I’m not going, not because I'm avoiding Garrett and Hannah, I'm actually busy doing things?” Y/n replies shutting her computer. Allie scrunches up her face thinking of ways to deescalate the situation.
“You are starting to sound like Logan”
It was ironic. While Y/n was crushing badly on Garrett. John Logan, Garrett’s best friend, was crushing on Hannah. A full soap opera moment if you will. Y/n picked up on Logan’s crush, not because he told her, but because it was pretty fucking obvious with the way he acted around her. Then Y/n would wonder if she was also that obvious, but she would shake it off.
There were two possible options for Logan and Y/n. They could continue with their sad high school crush and avoidance, it would eventually work on the couple making them break up and date the two. or they could date each other to end each other's suffering. When the thought passes through her head Y/n doesn’t think about it twice. That’s how she found herself in John Logan’s room on a Friday night at 10:30pm.
“You told Allie what! No scratch that. How the hell did Allie believe you? You barely even speak to me.” Logan said looking down at Y/n with a stressed look on his face.
“I’m speaking to you right now, Logan.” Y/n claps back as she reads one of Logan’s notes from an Econ class.
There was a small problem with the little white lie Y/n had told Allie. Y/n L/n and John Logan, don’t get along at all. John Logan got along with loads of people, but Y/n was one of the girls that didn’t stick for him. One time she had insulted his form after a game in front of the guys and that was the start of his dislike towards her. They would constantly bicker and to the blind eye, people would consider that there was pent up sexual tension between the two, even if they both denied it.
“You know what I mean. We barely talk to each other and when we do it’s to fight about something stupid.” John replied back clearly annoyed at your comments.
“So, you admit that the things you usually say are stupid? See we are starting to get along already.” Y/n force a smile as she turns to look at the man pacing in front of her.
“How the hell would you tell her that we are together. She has to know you're lying. You clearly aren’t my type.” Logan sat in the chair in front of you tugging his hair frustrated.
“Gee thanks. Don’t worry I don’t go for condescending assholes. She always says we have this pent up sexual tension and that we should work on it. So my best bet was to say I was dating you for it to make some logic. I was helping you out because Tucker has been calling you out on your crush on Hannah and…”
“I don’t have a crush on Hannah.” Logan cuts you off. Slapping his hand on the table in front of him.
“ and I don’t have a crush on Garrett but if we work together we could put those fake rumors to rest.” Y/n replies in the same tone as him. John Logan stands up and leans toward you.
“Fine, it’s a deal. I’m not going to enjoy this. We are doing this under my rules” Logan’s hand rests between your knees pushing them apart.
“Fine.”
“First rule. If they are going to think we are together they need to hear us hooking up” Y/n feeezes, she starts nervously rambling but he chuckles. “ I don’t mean actual sex. We can fake it. Like I said, you aren’t my type.”
“Oh, really? I thought you fucked everything that has a skirt on.” Y/n replied sarcastically.
“I have my exceptions.”
Logan grabs the bottom of the bed and pushes it against the wall. He pushes it again, doing the same action repeatedly as the headboard hits the wall.
“They aren’t going to believe it if you don’t moan. Come on, I know you’re a screamer” Logan says making Y/n glare at him.
“You are a pig. That’s what you tell all your hook up’s to fake their moans?”
“Actually, I work for it. I have an impressive form when it comes to sex.”
“Just like your impressive form in hockey”
“L/n. I wasn’t the one that lied to our friends. If you want to keep this act up and make our friends believe it. No scratch if you so desperately wanted to be in a fake relationship with me, you need to put in the work. Now let me hear you.” He whispered in her ear, still continuing the moments with the bed. His arm would occasionally bump with your knee.
“Why would I be the only one moaning. You need to moan too!”
“I don’t moan.”
“Bullshit. I’ve heard you and you are pretty vocal. Come one John. Hannah and Garrett are next door. You want them to stop bothering with the crush? you better start moaning.” Logan let out a fake but impressive loud moan.
“Damn. Y/n” He let out a breathy moan. You hold in your laugh trying to take the situation as seriously as possible.
“Do I need to go down on you to hear you moan? Because I like a challenge, L/n.”
c/w ᝰ.ᐟ pet names, swearing + sexual tension 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈-𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉
900 words
Garrett tells himself he’s in shape enough for this. Which should be true, in theory, considering he skates nearly every day of his life and spends entire games sprinting across the ice with grown men trying to slam him into the boards.
So why the fuck is hot yoga trying to kill him?
His dark curls are already soaked by the time the instructor tells everyone to move into another pose, espresso strands sticking to his forehead while sweat slides slowly down the side of his throat.
The room smells like essential oils and sweet vanilla perfume, a far cry from the usual sharp tang of hockey gear and wet dog he’s used to during workouts. The lights are warm and soft, music pouring out of the speakers, the entire ambiance just adding to the punchline.
Garrett Graham might pass away in downward dog.
But you, you are the only reason he’s not showing all his cards.
You stand on the mat to his right, your bubblegum pink set taunting him with every stretch—hugging every curve with each deep breath. The idea of peeling it off you before a shower after you’re done is the only thing keeping him from throwing in the towel here and now.
You bend over, hands planted on the mat in front of you, ass lifted in the air, leg extending higher; the blueprint of what he was supposed to do, an abstract execution following on his end.
Garrett stares for a second too long before dragging his gaze away with a sharp exhale through his nose. His thighs quake, one knee collapsing to the floor below him, drawing a few eyes, cheeks rosy with embarrassment.
You give him a little nod of encouragement, unwavering in your stance, and he’s right back with you, possessed by pride and the need to impress the woman who giggled before she unrolled the mat, letting him know “this will be easy for you, baby.”
Easy… Easy? Girls in matching yoga sets don’t fucking play.
That’s the conclusion he’s come to after exactly fifteen minutes in this studio, fifteen more minutes to go. If he lives.
He adjusts his position on the mat, broad shoulders flexing beneath the gray compression shirt darkened with sweat down the center of his chest.
The movement pushes his shirt tighter across his stomach for a second, muscles flexing beneath the sweat-dark fabric as he exhales.
His thighs ache. His abs burn. His legs stretch and pull in ways that would make a goalie blush.
Meanwhile, you barely look winded.
You flow into another stretch smoothly, calm and pretty, while Garrett nearly topples sideways trying to copy the instructor.
His jaw tightens immediately. No fuckin’ chance.
No way in hell he’s walking out now.
Especially not while you’re looking at him like that.
His dark eyes flick toward you while you move. You bite your lip, fighting back the little giggle you’ve been holding in off and on for the last ten minutes since you heard him first groan, each moan and grunt setting something off in you because even though he’s embarrassed beyond belief, the struggle alone has you blushing.
“Garrett,” you whisper softly, glancing over at him. “You okay over there?”
“Perfect,” he lies instantly.
Laughter slips into your voice now, cheeks burning from your smile. “Your legs are shaking.”
“They are not,” he scoffs through a lazy laugh, like you’re imagining it all. “M’just hot, pretty. That’s all.” He drops to his knees, tugging his shirt over his head, leaving his body bare, drawing eyes for a different reason entirely.
You catch a few smitten glances from the women around you as he drops into a plank, forearms flexing hard as he braces himself on the mat, black curls falling into his eyes while sweat drips from the sharp line of his jaw onto the mat beneath him. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he still manages a crooked little smile.
His chain swings forward slightly with every rough breath he pulls in. He pushes his hips into the floor, back arched, settling into the stretch, brows pulled taut.
“You think this is funny?” He asks out of the corner of his mouth.
“A little.”
“Looks familiar though, huh?” You tuck your head away, trying not to let the laugh slip much further than your lips. And, yes, it looks familiar. And yes, you were feeling an extra burn in your body today after a long night with Garrett. His body hovering above yours in almost the exact same position he’s in now, pinning you to the mattress.
The instructor starts explaining the next pose and Garrett immediately drops his head between his broad shoulders. “Fuck my fuckin’ life,” he mutters, the tattoo between his shoulders highlighted with sweat while you giggle again.
And when the instructor tells everyone to reset for the next round, Garrett lets out the most dramatic sigh you’ve ever heard before standing again, towering beside you with flushed cheeks, damp curls, and the deeply betrayed expression of a man realizing yoga might actually be harder than hockey.
His hands rest on his hips, shorts slung low, trying to breathe through it as the instructor urges you to take a relaxing breath. Every muscle is etched like stone, abs flexed; a subtle trail of dark hair disappears below the fabric, v-lines half-hidden by the way he grips his hips, making it impossible to focus before he reaches up, combing his fingers through his wet curls, trying to center himself.
“C’mon, captain,” you tease gently. “Thought hockey players had good stamina.”
His dark eyes dart toward yours immediately, eyebrow lifting, and you don’t even need to know what he’s gonna say next to know where his brain is headed because this man’s got stamina where it counts.
“I’ll give you a reminder when we’re done.”
thanks for reading 🩵 I’m painfully new here. Hi!!! ☺️
Part one: It’s complicated - Always is with you Grahams
Summary: In which Garrett Graham’s older sister (22) comes back into his life, in hopes of mending their broken relationship.
A little help from Dean Di Laurentis has you lowering your highly built walls of defence. Brick by brick he shows you exactly how you can depend on someone.
Trigger warnings: Phil Graham, mentions of abuse, complicated family/sibling dynamics.
- Series masterlist -
It’s been four years since you last saw Garrett Graham, three and a half since he cut all contact with you. But as you stand on the front porch of his college house, you can’t quite shake the tremble from your hands. He’s larger now, his short sleeve T-shirt clinging to his biceps as he folds his arms over his chest. Much like the father you share. You remind yourself they’re not the same though. Garrett would never intentionally hurt you, but you don’t get too close. That little voice in your head telling you to be careful, don’t push your brother further away.
“What are you doing here?” He says, lifting his hand and brushing the unruly curls back out of his face. “You know what, I’m late for class. Why don’t you swing by in another four years.”
Garrett doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond. A chuckle leaving his lips and a shake of his head as you step out of his way. You know not to get in the way of a Graham man, but you follow him anyway.
“About that actually,” you call after him, half running to keep up. He doesn’t spare you a glance, his face turning left to right before he crosses the street. “I’m in your class, assistant to the professor. I didn’t wanna make it awkward and I’m not expecting…”
He whirls around to face you, stopping you short before you bump into him. “And this ain’t awkward?” Garrett raises a brow, eyes raking up and down your form. He releases a deep breath, glancing to his beeping phone in his hand. “Just leave me alone, okay.”
You weren’t expecting much. No amount of words would ever make up for leaving him behind. Looks like time and space would be your only friend to get him to warm up to you again. Maybe you can reach out later.
The lecture hall and its tightly packed rows of students aren’t half as frightening as the Graham glare. You caught him staring at you during class, brows furrowed and fist clenched on top of his notebook. His friends beside him don’t pay too much attention, whispering between each other and smiling in your direction. A warmth you’re not familiar with. Thankfully you go by your mother’s maiden name, no longer wanting to tie yourself to your father’s legacy or cause unnecessary drama for your brother. You’ve not even packed your laptop in your bag and he’s already out of the door.
You quickly learn that yesterday was game day and they lost. No doubt Phil’s given him his two cents. Wore him down, called him a fuck up and applied even more pressure on him to keep his head down. Whispers fill in the blanks, a gossip account telling you all the rest that you scroll through the entire profiles content on your lunch break. Least he has friends and what seems like a support system in your absence. You go through the hockey team’s socials, piece together the person your brother is today. A player on and off the ice it seems, but there’s one girl he’s been pictured with multiple times recently. The same one that sat to his left between him and his friends today.
Your phone vibrates on the table, a name lighting up the screen, one you’ve not seen in years.
[Garrett] - 7pm lets talk
It’s a good thing you’ve stayed after hours to help grade some essays or you’d never make it back to campus in time for this opportunity. You send a quick reply, tidying the papers on your desk and flicking the lamp off. The small adjoining office room that the professor lends you is the perfect place to hide away. Not that anyone would come looking for you.
The rain soaks through your clothes, umbrella inside out thanks to the wind ripping through the buildings. You’re dripping on the front porch, teeth clattering together as you wait for someone to answer the door. There’s muffled music and raised voices beyond the wooden exterior, footsteps thudding behind you as Garrett climbs them to you. He looks so much like your dad when he’s annoyed.
“What are you doing here?” He snaps. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“You texted me to,”
“No my buddy texted you. Told him to stay out of it.” He mumbles more to himself than you. His hand grasps your elbow tugging you inside before anyone else can see you.
The guys slumped on the sofa and sitting at the kitchen counters either don’t care about your presence or they don’t want to get into it with Garrett. He doesn’t hide his anger well, it’s written all over his face. The clenched jaw, fingers digging into your flesh as he guides you upstairs and into his room. You know it’s his by the Graham hockey jersey strewn across his unmade bed. A wave of nausea rolls in your stomach, that same name you tried to erase from your life that never quite left. Always looking over your shoulder before you moved on.
“Look,” you say, shrugging out of his hold. “I know you’re mad at me and we left things on bad terms...” you reach out, palm smoothing over his shoulder blades, but he flinches. As if your words have struck him.
“Yeah, you left me remember, shouldn’t be too difficult for you to do it again.” He pulls his hoody off, the hem of his T-shirt riding up and revealing a purple bruise on his lower back.
It’s just a bad game you tell yourself. You watched the footage of him getting slammed into the wall multiple times during the game, but you know they might not all be the cause of them. It’s easier to lie than tell the truth. You’re not sure if Garrett knows how many excuses you’ve made for Phil or that he neglected you in favour of coaching him. Sure he went to boarding school after your mother passed, but you were left at home to pick up the pieces.
“It wasn’t the same for you, there was always college. A way out.” Your grades had slipped during your last couples years at high school, attendance low as you hid in your room till the bruises faded. No one in your corner, so you left before your brother finished boarding school. Changed your last name and took any job you could to rent a cupboard for room. The first safe space that was yours. No raised voices or repetitive thuds through the wall.
“There’s no out with him. You shouldn’t even be here.” He opens his bedroom door, nudging you out into the hallway. It’s slams shut as you turn back, lock clicking.
How many times had you scrambled to slide a lock into place? The knot in your stomach tightens, you’ve not yet unraveled it. There’s always that ache at the deepest pit you can’t reach. You can’t reach your brother either, so you just stare at the grains of wood running through the panel.
“__, right?” Someone calls your name across the hall, soft voice dragging you out of your head. You don’t know if anyone’s ever said your name so gently. The guy smiles at you, his golden blonde hair a tangled mess.
You nod, unsure of why he’s extending his hand to yours and shaking it.
“Dean, friend of Garrett’s. Hockey team.”
Ah, Di Laurentis. You looked through his socials, feels like you know him enough already. Trouble. He offers you an umbrella as you exit the house, but quickly takes it back at the sight of the rain pelting down on pavement. An umbrella turns into him driving you back to your tiny studio apartment off campus.
The first ten minutes he fills with small talk, well he did most of the talking. Trying to coax more than a few words out of you. He notices your trembling hands and adjusts the heaters to point at you, temperature rising as you try to warm up.
“Don’t worry about Garrett takes him a couple days to sort his head out after a bad game.” His fingers tap on the steering wheel as he waits at a red light. “Are you alright, though?”
You nod, fighting the urge to say it’s fine. The same old rehearsed line. You settle for, “it’s complicated.” Nine times out of ten people’ll assume it’s too long to go into. No one cares not really.
Dean scoffs. “Always is with you Grahams.”
“Not a Graham.” You fling your seatbelt off, opening the door as the car rolls to a stop.
“I’ll let you know when Garrett’s cleared his head. He could do with a sister sticking around, no idea what’s going on with him and your dad.” He hands you your bag, fingers ghosting yours as you take it.
[Part two]
I hoped you enjoyed it 😭 didn’t expect for so much interest in this story when I posted. I’m also dyslexic so there might be mistakes I miss.
summary: when garrett finds out about a problem you’ve been having,what kind of friend would he be to not help you?
request: yes/no
warnings: sexual themes, pinv, oral (fem receiving!), swearing, mentions of drinking.
word count: 4.82k
authors note: hi party people! I have been so beyond keen to get out some off campus content and this idea had been lingering in my head since the start of the first episode so hope you enjoy, haven’t written anything since like January so I wanted to get the cobwebs out before I went onto requests that you guys made so obviously hope you enjoy and requests are open so we can get more off campus content out there ASAP because I have been through the content tag twice now in fact 🤍
To say that you were annoyed was the understatement of the summer.
You spent the summer in Massachusetts after picking up an internship and now the boys were back for preseason training, so with the year just about to start again the parties were in full swing. Which for most was just a week of fun, but for you it was a scheduled event that you couldn’t get out of. Dean expected you to be at his side, it’s where you had been since you were kids, so this week was no different.
So, as you watched drunken college kids making out, it was sufficient to say that you were feeling a little jealous. Not because you lacked attention, but because the guy from the football team that you were currently hooking up with was not someone to write home about, and that was putting it nicely. And you knew that you could move on to someone else, but when he had a reputation of being good in bed, you were concerned it was a you issue.
That’s how you ended up standing in the kitchen with a beer and an irritated look on your face “you okay squeak?” Dean snapped his fingers in front of you, bringing you back down to earth.
The nickname came when you were kids and had a massive fear of mice “yeah I’m just thinking.” You nodded, sending him a forced smile “you sure you’re not-” Dean followed your line of sight to the football team. He cut himself off, knowing exactly what the answer was.
You both knew you were in for another night of inevitable disappointment “what’s up with this one?” Garrett came over to both of you, the way you were in some corner like you were plotting something “nothing!”
Your eyes were wide as you shook your head, answering far too fast “she’s having relationship issues.” Deans confession made you glare at the blonde.
“I’ll kill you.”
The warning landed on deaf ears as the boys continued “don’t tell me you’re still on that boy.” Garrett shook his head as Dean nodded.
It made you hide your head in Deans shoulder “she still hasn’t dumped him.” The blonde sighed making his team captain laugh “I can’t dump someone I’m not dating!” You whined crossing your arms in the process.
They looked between each other with this weird glance “don’t even dare.” You warned sending them both a glare.
The sound of Dean’s name came from the living room “don’t let her go anywhere.” Dean pointed at you “and convince her that she should get rid of that man.” The comment came with a grin from Dean when you reached out to hit him.
As it was now just the two of you Garrett moved closer, letting the gap close between you, “don’t even.” You warned, pointing your finger at the brunette, “what makes you think I was going to?” Garrett feigned offence as he placed his hand on his chest.
You rolled your eyes letting out a laugh, “you are literally the worst person alive.” You sipped your beer shaking your head in the process
Garrett couldn’t help it when he chuckled “based on your little problem I highly doubt that.” His breath was warm against the shell of your ear, as your throat tightened over an embarrassed gulp.
that it didn’t let your warmed cheeks show through “it’s not a problem if I have my own solutions.” You waved your hands around defensively.
The boy nodded as he sipped at his beer “pretty sure it’s a problem when your boy toy isn’t good in bed.” The captain shrugged watching your brows furrow “but hey, if you want to go back to another night with having to use these at the end of it.” His fingers danced over yours.
Garrett tilted his head, eyes dragging over your face with something dangerously amused sitting behind them “maybe because it sounds like a fixable problem.”
Your stomach tightened as your cheeks grew warm “you volunteering?” The quick response came faster than you could stop it.
For a split second, he looked almost surprised. Then his mouth curved slowly into something smug enough to make you regret opening yours “careful now, someone might think you’re serious.” There had been this long game of cat and mouse between the two of you since you met, and it wasn’t going to end yet.
But that certainly didn’t mean that you weren’t going to sit there and at least think about it “Squeakers there you are!” Beau’s drunken voice was slurred as he grinned. Much like your friendship with Dean, Beau was also always around and what was why he wanted his own version of Squeak “well I’m gonna steal this one away so go find someone else to talk to flirt with?” Beau didn’t let the brunette respond as he pulled you away. The comment should have just been a teasing joke by a drunken friend, but in reality, it felt a little more on the nose than either of you wanted to admit.
Your laugh echoed through the wave of the crowd “Jesus Christ.” The boy grumbled to himself, watching you turn back to wink at him, like that whole conversation meant nothing.
Over the next few weeks it seemed that your sex problem only got worse, you had learnt how to fake an orgasm so well now that you actually wondered if you could be capable of doing the real thing. Garrett’s offer still lingered in your mind, you couldn’t take it.
Despite him and Hannah not being exclusive, you weren’t up for sharing someone. Even if you were known for your lack of a serious relationships “alright I’m coming!” You groaned hearing the sound of a fist against your door.
It was 9pm on a random Wednesday where rain was coming down, so nobody was meant to be knocking on your door. That’s why you were in nothing but one of Deans old training camp shirts that you stole. And if it had been half an hour later, you would have had a face mask on and a bag of hot Cheetos open as you were intending on watching Survivor.
Part of you assumed it was Dean or Beau wanting food “Garrett?” His soaked shirt clung to his body as he stood at your door.
The boy smiled seeing you, his curls dripping when he shook his head “hey you.” His voice was sweet as he took in the sight of you.
It made your legs feel like jelly “you gonna let me in or should I stand out here all night?” The teasing comment made you roll your eyes letting out a soft laugh, pushing the door open further to let him in.
Moments like these made you glad you had your own place “haven’t seen you in a while.” He didn’t say it in way to make you feel bad, he said it in this obvious way that somehow made you feel even worse.
You let the door to then apartment shut softly “I’ve been busy with the start of semester.” That part was somewhat true, but still everyone else in the house seemed to see you every other day, but him.
Garrett slipped his feet out of his shoes knowing how you didn’t like shoes on your carpets “you didn’t even come to Dean and Beau’s birthday.” Now that was one you had an actual excuse for, “I was sick.’
But the Graham boy knew you “last Frozen Four you came and had food poisoning all while cheering for all of us.” He was the one who held your hair when you threw up.
You knew you had been caught at that point “okay I can’t stop thinking about that damn conversation we had at the party.” The confession lingered in the air “I haven’t been able to cum and can’t even fucking make myself do it.” You pressed your hands into your head in annoyance.
Garrett had to admit that he wasn’t all that surprised about that. He had heard from Dean all about how there were different guys you were talking to “you know you could have told me if you wanted.” He spoke truthfully, “promise I wouldn’t leave ya standing alone.” Garrett leaned forward, ducking his head until his lips were inches away from yours.
You placed your hand on his torso pushing him back slightly “what about Wellsy?” Your tone was bitter, making him raise his eyebrows in surprise “what about her?” The response was quick and short, as if your question was borderline preposterous.
You couldn’t help it when you sucked at your teeth “you seemed pretty close to her on that fifth line post.” You didn’t notice how your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes sharpened.
It made him laugh “didn’t chalk you up to be jealous.” His fingers ran through the ends of your hair as he smiled “I am not jealous.” You snapped back as you shook your head.
He crossed his arms as he raised his eyebrows “mhm.”
“don’t mm me.”
You sent him a glare as you grew annoyed, “nah I gotta say it’s kind of sweet Squeaker.” He teased letting his fingers catch the ends of your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world
A smile softly broke through your gaze “god you are annoying.” You grumbled feeling his hand grip at the fabric of your shirt, bringing you closer to him.
Garrett nodded licking his lips in the process, “yeah like you give a shit.” His tone matched yours.
Your breath hitched before you could stop it “and for the record, she is only really a thing because I needed a distraction from you.” Part of the reason he was down to help Hannah get Justin was the fact that he thought that if he could get your attention. It might be more than just an added bonus.
As your eyes went wide he realised how that probably sounded bad “look I needed a good grade and she wants this guy so-” Garrett rambled finally getting cut off as you kissed him.
The kiss was needy as his tongue swiped across your lower lip, your hands came under his shirt as he let out a grunt, feeling your cold fingers against his skin. It was hot as you moaned into his mouth, the boy was quick to pick you up wanting more of you, if that was even possible.
Your legs were wrapped around Garretts torso as you pulled away from him “he can never find out about this.” You announced knowing just how Dean would react.
The blonde never evoked any kind of hands off laws around you but anyone close to him knew you were off limits. You were like a twin sister to him so if he wasn’t going to have both your heads on sticks after this. The requests to be the godfather of your nonexistent hypothetical children would be what would come next.
Garrett nodded agreeing completely “to our graves.” He knew the way he was agreeing made it sound like this was going to be a one time thing, but if he could get his way. This was going to be the start of a whole load of fun for the both of you.
If you weren’t ready to get the boys clothes off in front of you, you would have been impressed that he knew the path to your room “god Gar.” You breathed out as the boy lay you onto your bed.
Your body felt warm as he grinned, “think you’re wearing too much.” His fingers ran along the hem of your shirt “so what are you gonna do about that?” The game you were playing was dangerous, and luckily for you, he was all for it.
Garrett sucked at his teeth, “god you’re lucky that I need ya.” His confession came as he pulled your shirt over your head, leaving the sight of you in nothing but your thong.
The lacy black number made him swear that this was going to be in his dreams for the rest of his life “lay back.” His voice was soft while his hands ran over breasts, the thought of everything he could do to you was consuming his mind “don’t you want them off too?” You motioned to your panties frowning as you listened to him.
He pulled his own shirt off as he laughed “last time I checked I am here to help you cum?” The hockey player let his knee settle between your legs.
The reminder was the truth, you were beyond sexually frustrated and needed something to change “so how about.” Garrett kissed your lips “you let me do what I know I can do well.” It came from his lips like an order.
And you weren’t in any position to be told twice “okay.” You nodded watching how he turned his attention further down your body.
Sloppy kisses formed a trail down your neck making you gasp. The boys hands ran over your body as if he was worried you’d slip out from under him “Garrett please.” You gasped watching his eyes come back to yours.
He hovered over you, his legs settling with one of your legs between him “such a pretty thing.” Garrett cooed, running his thumb over your breast. Causing your nipple to form a stiff peak “you know we can stop at any time right?” Of course he didn’t want to.
But if he was going to piss Dean off, he certainly wasn’t going to hurt you in the process, “you fucking leave me high and dry and so help me go-” Garrett cut you off as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, his free hand made sure that the other side was equally paid attention to.
You were embarrassed to admit how good it felt. His tongue flicked over your nipple as the other rolled between his fingertips “please.” You moaned, nodding along as your back arched, trying to get more of him.
It made his cock strain in his pants, the sight of you desperate beneath him was so much better than he had ever imagined. For weeks this had been what he imagined when he had his hand wrapped around his cock, your hands gripped at the sheets beneath you as you drove your hips against his thigh in an attempt to relieve the tension in your core.
Garrett let your breast go from his mouth with a pop, a trail of spit went with it as he clicked his tongue “you trying to go against our rules now?” He shook his head, tapping your hips motioning to you to lift them.
His fingers were rough against your sides watching how your now bare cunt stared back at him. Garrett smirked, pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee “how am I the only one naked?” You whined as your hands came down to your breasts, cupping them in a lousy attempt to provide some minimal coverage.
The way your teeth caught your lips made the boy grin “cause you are gonna cum before I even fuck you.” Garrett spoke in this duh tone that would have made you roll your eyes, but in that moment, you just wanted his ego to be right.
The boy let his fingers run over your clit, collecting your wetness on his fingers “god you’re already soaked.” Garrett wrapped his fingers around his digits, allowing himself to taste how sweet you were.
The sight made you moan, going to shut your thighs before he stopped them “none of that tonight, princess.” He clicked his tongue pressing a kiss to your inner thighs on either side, before he let his face hover over your cunt.
You looked up at your ceiling, convinced that if Garrett couldn’t make you cum then you were destined to be the old cat lady above someone’s apartment “think you can watch me?” The words were innocent as he wanted to gauge where you were at in your head.
He watched you swallow hard before you turned your head down to face him “I’ll be good.” The promise came as he wrapped one arm around your leg and let the other rest on your stomach for you to grab.
You didn’t think you were nervous but you didn’t hesitate to lock your fingers into his. Your legs settled against his back as he smirked. At first he was gentle, placing a kiss on your clit, not letting his eyes leave yours.
But when you squeezed his hand he took it as the green light to continue, letting his tongue focus on your aching hole. It felt good as his nose hit your clit making you moan.
Garrett was moving like he couldn’t get enough of you, his tongue going in and out letting the squelching noises of your cunt echo in his ears. The boy groaned when you pressed your heels into his lower back, sending shivers all throughout your body “fuck.” You groaned rolling your hips into him instinctively as you needed more.
It made him grind his body into your bed as he let his tongue recoil from your cunt “open.” He tapped your knee, sticking two of his fingers out for you as his eyes never left your mouth.
You nodded, quick to listen as you followed his instructions, allowing him to slot his fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around them as he slowly began to thrust them, allowing them to get slick with your spit. The whole thing felt weirdly domestic when he kissed your knee, still having your hand locked into his. The way he watched you made your skin feel warm, as if you could be any more naked than you already were.
He felt his mouth go dry when a trail of your spit broke from his fingers, landing right of your boob. Garrett could over think about how he wished his fingers were his cock as he thrusted them into your cunt. His lips latched onto your clit and as he sucked at the sensitive nub, it finally hit.
This raw and shaky moan left your lips, letting him know that he hit the perfect spot “shit Gar.” You let your free hand lock into his hair, slightly tugging as your eyes screwed shut.
His fingers pushed these obscene strokes into your cunt, arching at the perfect spot to hit the points that made your body shake “don’t stop please.” You begged, desperation oozing from your voice refusing to let this be a repeat of all those other hookups.
The boy nodded continuing his movements as if they were from a recipe book, feeling his cock throb each time your cunt clenched around him.
Your eyes had long left his as you were left shaking for the man that was between your legs, waves of pleasure that your body had been missing for so long were now practically drowning you.
Garrett’s skilled tongue and relentless strokes caused your moans to grow louder and more reckless. Your knuckles turned white each time he’d hit the perfect spot, sucking on your clit as if you were a lollipop.
You were lost in a haze of whimpering and moaning as Garrett hit all the spots you needed, when all of a sudden the coil in your stomach snapped. Your eyes screwed shut as stars painted your vision and your body convulsed, legs tightening around his head “fuck I’m cumming!” You chanted those words as your cunt clenched around his fingers.
The boy didn’t let up as he continued to suck at your clit through every little aftershock that made your body shake. Your body swore it would lose control if he didn’t slow down.
He felt you press your hands on either side of his temples to help pull him away from your cunt “fuck you taste so good.” He pressed a kiss against your pubic bone before finally looking at you.
It felt like a sight for sore eyes when you bit the your lip as your body felt on fire “holy shit you did it.” Your eyes were wide as the boy grinned, “you say that like it was hard.” He wanted to tease you about it, but in that moment, all he wanted to enjoy was the fact that he did what you thought he couldn’t.
And it meant he could let his shit talking of the football players, be fair “well thank you.” You sat up, bringing your knees to your chest.
The boy smiled as he ran his fingers through his hair “if that’s what’s gonna happen every time I could get used to you thanking me.” Your cheeks grew warm at the statement, your body felt like jelly on the inside.
The captains hand wrapped around your leg pulling you closer to him “please.” You begged feeling his knee against your thigh. Slowly moving your hips to try to help relieve the tension between your legs that was already forming again.
The plead made the boy smirk “you still want more huh?” Garrett laughed letting his lips hover over yours when he stood up.
His eyes scanned your face only to realise that your eyes hadn’t left his. So rather than responding you opted to kiss him, letting out a whine when you realised you could taste your release on his tongue “as much as I’m enjoying this.” He brought his hand up to cup your cheek when he smiled “I’m gonna fucking combust if I don’t fuck ya.” Your eyes went to his hardon and you weren’t surprise. The grey fabric strained over his body, making it look like the pants that fit him when he arrived were now sizes too small.
He pulled his boxers and sweats off, letting his cock spring against his pubic bone. Garrett looked sculpted by the Greek Gods and that was the man you got to enjoy in your bed, “taken you long enough.” The comment was meant to stay inside your head but when it came out your eyes went wide, immediately feeling embarrassed.
But it made the boy laugh “hey when you do little work, you don’t get to make requests.” The brunette teased as he settled back onto your bed, letting the mattress dip with his weight.
The head of his cock ran over your slit a few times up and down, teasing your clit “asshole.” You whined, still feeling sensitive from your first orgasm.
It made the boy smile, lifting your thighs to pull you closer to him “now is that any way to talk to the man that just made you cum?” Garrett clicked his tongue as he bent down to peck your lips before you could respond.
He knew he was big, and the fact that his cock had been straining in his sweats since he got to yours didn’t make him feel less like he was about to explode “I’ll take it slow, okay?” His words were sweet, reminding you that he had your best interests above all else tonight.
The tenderness wasn’t something you were used to “I promise you, Garrett, I can handle-” he cut you off, allowing his cock to slot into your cunt.
Its walls stretched around him as your eyes screwed shut, “thought you said you could handle it, huh?” He teased, pressing his hands onto the back of your thigh to help ease the burn.
If you didn’t feel so full, you would have glared, “gimme a sec.” Your teeth gritted, slowly beginning to roll your hips as you grew used to his size.
In that moment, you understood why girls enjoyed him in bed so much because you swore he felt better than most toys you had tried. Not that you’d ever let him or anyone else, for that matter, get to know that one.
Garrett placed a string of kisses against your jaw, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume, “not in any rush doll.” He promised letting his eyes screw shut as your cunt clenched around him.
Your hand reached for his bicep as your eyes opened “glad to have you back with us.” He teased sending you a smile as you nodded “I’m ready.” It was a comment that came off as if you were in fact not sure of yourself. Yet somehow the two of you managed to move together like clockwork.
Garrett watched as your eyes stared back into his, sending him a smile as he pecked your lips “move quicker, please.” The request was soft and innocent, almost making Garrett feel protective as he obliged.
Your hair was slick with sweat against the back of your neck but somehow the boy still made you feel like the hottest person in the world, “can’t believe we’ve waited.” Now, he wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he believed that whatever god there was made you for him.
You nodded in agreement, raking your fingers through his hair “almost let those little football boys think they could ruin his pretty pussy.” He placed an open kiss on your neck, causing a moan to vibrate through your throat.
Your hips met his in this hungry race that somehow had perfect rhythm “gonna let me ruin you for all those shitty little boys?” His cock throbbed, feeling you clench around him at the threat of him being possessive.
In that moment you swore you were about to combust, tits bouncing with every thrust that he made “I know your pussy agrees with me.” His thumb circled your clit making you catch your lower lip between your teeth “now I need your mouth to as well.” You knew what he was asking but the head of his cock grazed a part of your cunt that had you swearing you forgot the English language.
His free hand rested around the base of your neck “suggest you answer me pretty girl or else next time is gonna be a lot more fun for me.” The warning should have had you squirming, but instead, you were just excited at the concept of getting to do this again with him.
If it was something that Dean wasn’t allowed to find out about, the two of you may as well get your use out of it “I’m yours cap.” It was the name you used the entire preseason mockingly after finding out what his new role was going to be. Of course Garrett sometimes pictured it coming from your lips when he had his hand around his cock. But in that moment, he swore he was a dead man walking as he could have finished right on the spot.
The sound of skin slapping echoed off your walls, the apartment probably feeling happy that it was finally getting to hear the sounds of genuine moans from your lips “fuck you feel perfect.” Garrett sucked at your earlobe as he felt your thighs tense around him.
Warmth ran through your body as the boy kept on hitting spots that made you swear you were seeing stars “please.” The word came out so softly that if Garrett hadn’t been right by your lips he wouldn’t have heard you.
Your eyes fluttered as the brunette kissed your lips “let it go.” His words came out soft, like it was permission rather than asking you as he too was hanging on a thread and refused to contemplate screwing up by finishing first. His thumb circled your clit as your cunt spasmed around his cock.
Waves of pleasure crashed over you causing your toes to curl. Loose flurries of his name left your lips sending him over the edge as well. Garrett let his teeth sink into the crook of your neck as he groaned, sending shivers through your body as you came down from your highs.
Garrett pulled out letting his cock slip from your soaked cunt “you good in there pretty girl?” He asked, pressing a kiss against your temple before he got up.
It was as if you had forgotten how to speak, instead opting to just nod, giving him an exhausted thumbs up in the process, which made him laugh as he headed into your bathroom “holy shit Gar.” You mustered out the words, looking down at your legs.
The captain grew concerned at your tone “what?” He called out trying to figure out if there was any kind of urgency in your voice.
Your head felt heavy against your mattress again “I think that’s the hardest I’ve like ever cum in my life.” The confession made him laugh, taking in the sight of you in your fucked out state.
He used the damp towel to wipe at your thighs and slit “told you I’d be able to sort out your little problem.”
The Deal With The Devil | John Logan x Fem! Reader
Summary: Y/n is tired of her friends keep assuming she has a crush on Garrett Graham, her best friend's boyfriend. Her best solution? Make everyone believe she’s dating John Logan.
pairings: John Logan x Fem! Reader
warnings: Sexual themes implied. John Logan and the reader can’t stand each other. Some spoilers ahead. English isn’t my main language so excuse any mistake.
authors note: haven’t seen lots of x reader for off campus so i decided to write a little john logan imagine in honor of off campus eve.
Y/n wished things could be simple. She liked to consider herself a simple girl. But life didn’t want to hand her anything on a silver platter. Her love life couldn’t be a silly love story. She was cursed with the worst love trope known to man kind, unrequited love.
God, did it suck. Twenty guys in the Briar U Hockey team, yet she only had eyes for one. She wished she would’ve fallen for her best friend’s brother, that would have been easier than whatever she was feeling now. But no, here you were with a “crush” on your best friend’s boyfriend, Garrett Graham.
Y/n L/n had known Hannah Wells since freshman year. Both of them got assigned to the same dorm and after that, they instantly became friends after Hannah spotted Y/n’s One Direction posters covering her side of the dorm. Y/n and Hannah were tight so imagine Y/n’s surprise when she dropped the bomb that she didn’t like Justin Kohl anymore and that she was dating Garrett Graham.
At first, Y/n didn’t trust Garrett. He was a player. Word around Briar U got around quick and Hockey players didn’t have the best reputation when it came to relationships. You wanted a one night stand? The hockey boys were your guys. You wanted a serious commitment relationship? maybe check in the history department.
But after Hannah begged Y/n to hang out more with the couple, she started to enjoy his presence. She knew Garrett was attractive, at this point it was a requirement for the hockey team to be jacked, hot and have luscious hair. But Garrett wasn’t her type, at all. Maybe it was how Hannah spoke so highly of him or how she would see them together cuddle up by the common room couch wishing it was her that she picked up on the fact that she had a little crush on Garrett Graham.
She felt so guilty. Hannah was her best friend. Why did she have a crush of her best friend’s boyfriend? Yes, he was attractive but so were his roommates. Why couldn’t she have a crush on Dean, Tucker or even Logan.
She thought she had everything under control. One night after hearing them have their second round of sex, Y/n pulled up her notes app to come up with a plan to shake off her feelings. First, avoid one on one time with Garrett and Hannah. Second, try not to gawk when Garrett is around. Third, don’t daydream about watching a movie with Garrett. Don’t daydream about Garrett in general.
For Y/n, her crush on Garrett wasn’t obvious. But for everyone around her it was as clear as day. When she saw them together she would sprint the other way. Which made Dean comment and on the regular that maybe Y/n should consider joining the track team with how fast she would sprint out of that situation. She would also avoid eye contact with Garrett, rambling random excuses to not speak with him. Everyone knew about her little crush, even Hannah and Garrett, themselves.
So after much discussion with Hannah. She had convinced Allie Hayes to speak to you.
“Y/n, come on. I won’t judge. But the first step to overcoming this is admitting you have a problem.” Allie says sitting on the small twin size bed. Y/n forcefully laugh her eyes still glued on the computer in front of her, her physiology midterm essay glaring back at her.
“Allie, are you reciting an addict intervention script? I don’t need to overcome anything, like I said before, you are insane. Why would I have a crush on Garrett? First, he’s Hannah’s boyfriend. Second, he’s not my type? Third… I can’t think of a third because of how ridiculous this sounds.”
“You can’t think of a third because you are clearly lying and are in denial. Look, I won’t judge you Y/n. Garrett’s an attractive guy. But you need to accept that he’s in love with Hannah, so you can move on this pathetic little crush you have. You can’t avoid spending time with all of us forever.”
“I can since I'm here to get my degree. I’m not here to get shit wasted at a stupid frat party or to get accused about liking some guy by my friend. I’m not going, not because I'm avoiding Garrett and Hannah, I'm actually busy doing things?” Y/n replies shutting her computer. Allie scrunches up her face thinking of ways to deescalate the situation.
“You are starting to sound like Logan”
It was ironic. While Y/n was crushing badly on Garrett. John Logan, Garrett’s best friend, was crushing on Hannah. A full soap opera moment if you will. Y/n picked up on Logan’s crush, not because he told her, but because it was pretty fucking obvious with the way he acted around her. Then Y/n would wonder if she was also that obvious, but she would shake it off.
There were two possible options for Logan and Y/n. They could continue with their sad high school crush and avoidance, it would eventually work on the couple making them break up and date the two. or they could date each other to end each other's suffering. When the thought passes through her head Y/n doesn’t think about it twice. That’s how she found herself in John Logan’s room on a Friday night at 10:30pm.
“You told Allie what! No scratch that. How the hell did Allie believe you? You barely even speak to me.” Logan said looking down at Y/n with a stressed look on his face.
“I’m speaking to you right now, Logan.” Y/n claps back as she reads one of Logan’s notes from an Econ class.
There was a small problem with the little white lie Y/n had told Allie. Y/n L/n and John Logan, don’t get along at all. John Logan got along with loads of people, but Y/n was one of the girls that didn’t stick for him. One time she had insulted his form after a game in front of the guys and that was the start of his dislike towards her. They would constantly bicker and to the blind eye, people would consider that there was pent up sexual tension between the two, even if they both denied it.
“You know what I mean. We barely talk to each other and when we do it’s to fight about something stupid.” John replied back clearly annoyed at your comments.
“So, you admit that the things you usually say are stupid? See we are starting to get along already.” Y/n force a smile as she turns to look at the man pacing in front of her.
“How the hell would you tell her that we are together. She has to know you're lying. You clearly aren’t my type.” Logan sat in the chair in front of you tugging his hair frustrated.
“Gee thanks. Don’t worry I don’t go for condescending assholes. She always says we have this pent up sexual tension and that we should work on it. So my best bet was to say I was dating you for it to make some logic. I was helping you out because Tucker has been calling you out on your crush on Hannah and…”
“I don’t have a crush on Hannah.” Logan cuts you off. Slapping his hand on the table in front of him.
“ and I don’t have a crush on Garrett but if we work together we could put those fake rumors to rest.” Y/n replies in the same tone as him. John Logan stands up and leans toward you.
“Fine, it’s a deal. I’m not going to enjoy this. We are doing this under my rules” Logan’s hand rests between your knees pushing them apart.
“Fine.”
“First rule. If they are going to think we are together they need to hear us hooking up” Y/n feeezes, she starts nervously rambling but he chuckles. “ I don’t mean actual sex. We can fake it. Like I said, you aren’t my type.”
“Oh, really? I thought you fucked everything that has a skirt on.” Y/n replied sarcastically.
“I have my exceptions.”
Logan grabs the bottom of the bed and pushes it against the wall. He pushes it again, doing the same action repeatedly as the headboard hits the wall.
“They aren’t going to believe it if you don’t moan. Come on, I know you’re a screamer” Logan says making Y/n glare at him.
“You are a pig. That’s what you tell all your hook up’s to fake their moans?”
“Actually, I work for it. I have an impressive form when it comes to sex.”
“Just like your impressive form in hockey”
“L/n. I wasn’t the one that lied to our friends. If you want to keep this act up and make our friends believe it. No scratch if you so desperately wanted to be in a fake relationship with me, you need to put in the work. Now let me hear you.” He whispered in her ear, still continuing the moments with the bed. His arm would occasionally bump with your knee.
“Why would I be the only one moaning. You need to moan too!”
“I don’t moan.”
“Bullshit. I’ve heard you and you are pretty vocal. Come one John. Hannah and Garrett are next door. You want them to stop bothering with the crush? you better start moaning.” Logan let out a fake but impressive loud moan.
“Damn. Y/n” He let out a breathy moan. You hold in your laugh trying to take the situation as seriously as possible.
“Do I need to go down on you to hear you moan? Because I like a challenge, L/n.”
⤿ DEAN HEYWARD-DI LAURENTIS was the boy no one could get enough of. The thing was, you just didn't get it... until you did.
!! wc: 2.8k. fluff. fem!reader. enemies to lovers ish. flirting. innuendo. dean being dean. dean fell first and hard. reader lowkey nonchalant w it. COME TO ME MY FELLOW OFF CAMPUS LOVERS. i will die for this series and briar u and the kids series. taglist open. off campus masterlist coming soon. ENJOY.
By the time you realized Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis was flirting with you, it was already too late to do anything about it.
Not because he was subtle, because he absolutely was not, but because Dean flirted with everyone in a way that made him difficult to read at first. He smiled too easily, leaned too close during conversations, carried this effortless warmth around with him that made people naturally gravitate toward him without even realizing they were doing it. Most girls at Briar noticed him immediately, and most of them reacted exactly the same way whenever he walked into a room.
You hadn’t.
That alone seemed to fascinate him more than it should have.
The first time you met him had been at a party during your sophomore year, one of those overcrowded hockey house parties where the music was too loud and the floors were sticky from spilled alcohol, where bodies moved shoulder to shoulder through dim lighting while somebody shouted along terribly to music in the kitchen.
You’d been standing near the back porch trying to escape the heat inside when Dean stepped out beside you holding two beers.
At the time, you only knew of him as one of Briar’s hockey players, though that was nearly impossible not to know considering how often everyone at this damn school talked about that team.
“You look miserable,” he’d said casually, offering you one of the beers.
You glanced at it before looking back at him. “You offer drinks to unhappy strangers at all of your parties?”
“Only the pretty ones.”
You had laughed then despite yourself, mostly because he’d said it so naturally that it didn’t even sound rehearsed.
“That line probably works on a lot of people.”
“It works better when they don’t immediately insult me after.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
There was something unfairly likable about him up close. Maybe it was the confidence that was accented by dimples, or maybe it was the fact that unlike some of the other hockey players, Dean actually listened when people spoke to him. Conversations with him felt easy in a dangerous sort of way, the kind that slipped by too quickly without you noticing.
You ended up talking with him for nearly an hour that night.
Then somehow he started appearing everywhere afterward.
Sometimes it was accidental. Other times it very obviously was not.
You’d find him outside one of your lecture halls leaning against the wall waiting for Garrett or Logan only for him to fall into step beside you afterward, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d steal the seat next to yours in class despite it being a lecture hall with plenty of open seats.
He'd distract you while you studied, complain dramatically whenever you refused to help him with assignments he definitely could have done himself if he tried hard enough.
And slowly, without either of you acknowledging it outright, he became part of your life.
It happened in pieces so small you barely noticed them.
Dean texting you first whenever something funny happened.
Dean showing up at your apartment with coffee because you mentioned once that you hated mornings.
Dean touching the small of your back absentmindedly when he moved around you in crowded rooms.
Your friends noticing the shift long before you did.
“He likes you,” your roommate had told you one night while you got ready for bed.
You rolled your eyes immediately. “Dean likes everyone.”
“No,” she drawled carefully, “I think he really likes you.”
At the time, you brushed it off.. mostly because the idea felt ridiculous.
Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis was charming in a way that belonged to everyone around him. He laughed with everybody, flirted with everybody, made people feel wanted so effortlessly that it was hard to imagine any of it meaning something deeper.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because you never realized how serious it had become for him.
Not until much later.
Not until the night everything finally cracked open between you.
It happened in late November after one of Briar’s home games, when the campus had already started settling into winter, and the air outside the arena carried that sharp cold that made your lungs ache when you breathed too deeply.
You waited near the parking lot while students poured out around you in loud groups, bundled in jackets and scarves while snow flurries drifted lazily through the streetlights overhead.
You had almost decided to leave by the time Dean finally emerged from the arena.
The parking lot outside Briar’s hockey rink had thinned considerably over the last fifteen minutes, the loud clusters of students slowly disappearing into the snowy dark while the cold deepened around you in sharp, biting waves.
The game had ended almost half an hour ago, but postgame celebrations always dragged on longer after a win, especially when the team played the way they had tonight. They were fast and aggressive and good enough to keep the crowd screaming well into the third period.
You stood near the edge of the sidewalk with your hands shoved deep into your coat pockets, shifting your weight occasionally to keep warm while snowflakes drifted steadily from the sky overhead. They gathered in the sleeves of your coat and melted against your skin, dampening pieces of hair near your face while your breath curled visibly in the freezing air.
Your phone screen lit briefly in your hand.
11:42 PM.
You should probably go home at this point. Plus, why stick around anyway? The only people who stuck around this long were family, significant others, and girls who were hoping to get lucky with a player. You were none of the above.
That thought had crossed your mind at least four times already, especially considering Dean had no idea you were even waiting for him out here in the first place. You could still leave now before he came outside and preserve at least some of your dignity, because standing alone in a freezing parking lot after nearly midnight waiting for a boy who smiled at you a little too nicely was not behavior you were particularly proud of.
Still, your feet stayed planted where they were.
Which was embarrassing to unpack if you thought about it too hard.
The arena doors finally swung open again a few seconds later, releasing another burst of noise and warmth into the cold night air as several players filtered out alongside a few students lingering near the entrance. You looked up automatically, more out of instinct than intention.
Then you saw him.
Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis, himself, walked out laughing at something one of his teammates said, hockey bag slung over one shoulder while exhaustion visibly weighed through the line of his posture. His damp hair curled slightly from sweat beneath the harsh overhead lights, and even from a distance, you could see the fatigue sitting heavily across his face after the game.
Then his eyes landed on you.
And his entire expression changed.
It was subtle enough that most people probably would not have noticed it unless they were looking carefully, but you did.
The exhaustion softened first.
Then his shoulders loosened slightly beneath the weight of his bag, tension easing from him in real time as warmth spread slowly across his features. The tiredness didn't disappear entirely, but something gentler replaced it now, something so immediate and instinctive that it sent an annoying little flip through your stomach before you could stop it.
“There you are,” Dean said once he reached you, his voice roughened slightly from yelling over the game and the freezing night air.
Something about the familiarity of it settled strangely in your chest.
Not the words themselves, but the way he said them, easy and certain, like he had expected to find you waiting for him outside the arena all along. Like your presence beside the rink after every home game had become something reliable to him, something normal.
You tried not to think too hard about why that affected you as much as it did.
Instead, you shoved your hands deeper into your coat pockets and forced yourself to sound casual when you said, “You played decent tonight, Di Laurentis.”
Dean immediately looked offended.
“Decent?” he repeated, adjusting the strap of his hockey bag higher onto his shoulder while he stared at you in disbelief. “That’s what I get after scoring twice? And defending my goalie after he got knocked? And pointing to you after I scored? And cheering G up in the locker room?”
You shrugged, though his grin was already making it annoyingly difficult to hold onto your composure for very long. “You want me to lie and say you were amazing?”
“Yes, actually, that would be nice.”
The laugh that slipped out of you came easier than you intended, soft and visible in the cold air between you.
For a second, Dean just looked at you.
Not in the careless, charming way he usually looked at people, but openly because your amusement was something worth paying attention to. Snow caught lightly in his light hair and along the shoulders of his jacket, while the harsh lights from the parking lot reflected faintly across his face. Despite the exhaustion still lingering around him after the game, there was some playful warmth creeping back into his eyes.
The look on his face made your chest tighten in a way you were trying very hard not to examine too closely.
Without really discussing it, the two of you started walking toward Malone's together.
The arena noise slowly faded behind you with every step, swallowed by the quiet stillness settling over Briar this late at night. Snow crunched softly beneath your boots as you moved side by side down the sidewalk, your shoulders brushing occasionally whenever one of you drifted too close. The roads nearby had mostly emptied by now, leaving only the occasional headlights cutting through the dark or the distant sound of voices carrying across campus.
The snow had started sticking properly sometime during the third period.
Now it dusted across the ground in thin white layers and gathered along Dean’s hair in uneven flakes, catching briefly in his lashes whenever he glanced over at you. The cold had turned the tip of his nose pink, though somehow it only made him look more unfairly attractive.
“You waiting long?” he asked after a moment.
“Not really.”
“Bullshit. That's a total lie.”
You glanced sideways at him despite yourself. “Fine, maybe a little.”
His mouth twitched immediately, like he was trying not to smile too hard at that answer.
Then something in his expression shifted. The teasing faded first.Then the easy confidence.
What replaced it was quieter somehow, more focused, and the sudden intensity of his attention made your stomach tighten unexpectedly.
“You came to every game this month,” he said.
The observation landed softly between you, but your pulse reacted instantly anyway.
You forced yourself to shrug. “I support Briar athletics, I love that my tuition money goes towards the team throwing free shirts into the stands and paying for your overpriced locker room. I figured I should get my money's worth.”
“Bullshit, again.”
You looked away too quickly, trying to hide the smile already pulling at your mouth, but Dean noticed anyway. Of course he did.
“That smile means I’m right.”
“You’re so annoying after wins.”
“I’m annoying all the time.”
“That’s... Actually, yeah, that's true.”
His laugh came low and warm beside you before he nudged his shoulder lightly against yours.
The contact lasted barely a second.
Still, warmth spread slowly through your chest anyway, familiar now in the worst possible way.
Because that had become the real problem with Dean lately.
Not the flirting.
Not the confidence.
Not even the fact that nearly every girl at Briar looked at him like he personally hung the moon.
The problem was that he made everything feel like more than it was. Truthfully, that could have been because, in your heart, you didn't want to believe you'd fall for an athlete's charm so easily. But based on what everyone around you said, you weren't delusional in thinking that it was more than it seemed.
Every glance lingered slightly too long. Every touch carried enough softness behind it to leave you thinking about it afterward. Even his attention felt different from other people’s somehow, steady and deliberate in a way that slowly worked its way beneath your skin before you even realized it was happening.
Being around Dean felt dangerously similar to standing too close to a fire in the middle of winter.
Comforting at first.
Then overwhelming before you noticed yourself getting burned.
And lately, whatever existed between the two of you had started drifting dangerously close to becoming something real.
Neither of you talked about it.
Maybe because acknowledging it aloud would ruin the fragile balance you’d fallen into together.
Or maybe because both of you were too afraid the other person didn’t feel it too.
“You know,” Dean said eventually, quieter now, his gaze fixed ahead on the snowy sidewalk instead of on you, “Tuck thinks I’m in love with you.”
Your entire body nearly short-circuited.
You missed a step slightly before catching yourself again, your head swiveling in a double-take. “Sorry.. what?”
Dean let out a huff of a laugh under his breath, though this time there was tension underneath it that hadn’t been there before.
“That reaction’s making this just a little harder for me.”
You stopped walking for half a second before hurrying to catch up beside him again. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
The simplicity of the answer made your stomach twist sharply.
Snow continued drifting lazily around the two of you while silence settled heavily between your footsteps. Your pulse suddenly felt uneven beneath your ribs, loud enough that you were half convinced Dean could hear it if he stood any closer.
For several long seconds, neither of you spoke.
Then finally, carefully, you looked over at him. “And what did you say?”
Den exhaled slowly through his nose.
The faint smile that touched his mouth this time looked different from his usual ones somehow, smaller and quieter, almost disbelieving.
“I told Tuck he was an idiot.”
“That sounds more believable.”
“Yeah,” he murmured softly. “Except I think he might’ve been right.”
Everything inside you seemed to still at once.
Not dramatically.
Not like movies where music swelled and the entire world stopped turning.
Just enough that suddenly every detail around you became painfully sharp all at once.
The sound of snow beneath your boots. The cold wind brushing against your face. The uneven rhythm of your breathing. The way Dean was looking at you now.
And maybe the strangest part of all was realizing he looked nervous.
Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis, who could walk into any room and immediately own it without trying, who flirted effortlessly and smiled without hesitation, looked genuinely nervous standing beside you on a dark, snowy sidewalk.
Like you had the ability to hurt him.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly after the silence stretched too long, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges in a way you had never heard from him before. “Seriously, I just…” He broke off briefly, glancing away before laughing once under his breath. “I got tired of pretending this feels casual to me when it doesn’t. And trust me, it's just as crazy for me to say that as it is for you to hear that.”
Your chest tightened painfully at the honesty in that.
Because suddenly the last few months rearranged themselves inside your head into something entirely different.
Dean waiting outside your classes even when his own were across campus.
Dean memorizing your coffee order after hearing it once.
Dean always finding you first in crowded rooms.
Dean texting you every night before playing an away game.
None of it had been accidental.
None of it had ever been casual.
And maybe the worst part was realizing yours hadn’t been either.
“You fall hard, huh?” you asked quietly.
A surprised laugh escaped him then, softer than before, carrying something almost embarrassed underneath it.
“You got no idea.” He drawled, his hands pushing his hair back in more of a 'I-Don't-Know-What-To-Do-With-My-Hands' way than anything else.
The honesty of it hit you harder than anything else had tonight.
Because Dean wasn’t teasing now. Wasn’t flirting. Wasn’t charming his way through another conversation with that easy confidence everyone associated with him.
He meant it.
And standing there beside him while snow gathered slowly across the shoulders of his jacket and melted into your hair, you realized with sudden, terrifying clarity that somewhere along the way, without meaning to, you had fallen hard too.
even more tae recs for y’all to read! so much love for all these authors who wrote these masterpieces, y’all should definitely check their pages and other works too💗💗!!
ONESHOTS
Peeling Mandarins @yoongiofmine
genre: best friends to lovers
summary: Your bi-weekly movie nights with Taehyung had always been the safest part of your life, until the night a forgotten promise dragged you both to a housewarming party instead. What should have been just another evening between best friends slowly unravels when a single mandarin and one honest confession shift the air between you. After so many years of pretending nothing has changed, one night might be all it takes to finally peel back the layers.
operation bang voyage pt2 @svenotes
genre: college roommates au
summary: rooming with a fuck boy is a recipe for disaster, but with an eviction notice tying your hands, your standards drop incredibly low. what started as the solution to all your problems has spiraled into a tense game of cat and mouse—hands, mouth, and orgasms included. no problem though, a week away at your friend's beach house is exactly the kind of break you both need, right? wrong. the sun’s out, the drinks are strong, and your self-control forgot to pack a bag. if you thought being confined to the four walls of your apartment was hard, just wait 'til the heat kicks in.
along the boardwalk @cupofteaguk
genre: skater boy au, college au
summary: they always said Kim Taehyung had a you-shaped hole in his heart.
Bibliotheque @joonbird
genre: college au, college rivals au, librarian!tae
summary: “You are at the very top of your college cohort, an A grade student on the fast track to a life of success. You know the answers to everything, or at least you think you do. That is until you meet quirky genius Kim Taehyung.”
Crowds Around Us @taegularities
genre: s2f2l
summary: No matter how crowded or busy the world around you gets, your thoughts keep drifting back to him until they begin longing for more than just his virtual presence – and when you finally do meet him, he erases all of your thoughts entirely.
PG @orchidyoonkook
genre: Older Brother's Best Friend, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life
summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up. But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.
Of Lace and Lust @hobidreams
genre: college au, roommate au, childhood best friends to lovers
summary: friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.
who’s your bias? @gimmethatagustd
genre: idol!au, Established Relationship
summary: Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren’t the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend’s best friends.
Falling, Falling, Gone @johobi
genre: footballer tae
summary: Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection. So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?
Dichotomy @kpopfanfictrash
genre: Arranged Marriage!AU
summary: You hate him. He hates you. It’s a fine line though, isn’t it – between love and hate?
Debugging Love @kittenan2
genre: IT Engineer!Taehyung x Baker!Reader, Romantic Comedy, Domestic Bliss
Ain’t No Sunshine @whimsical-ness
genre: Notting Hill! AU, Actor! Tae
summary: The last thing you’d ever expected was for world famous actor Kim Taehyung to walk into your tiny, unassuming bookshop. But when he does, it unravels a charming yet complicated series of events that change your life forever.
SERIES
Belong @v-hope
genre: artist!kim taehyung x heiress!reader, SMAU + written
summary: one year to prove you can fend for yourself. one year to keep your parents from making the most important life decision for you. one year to still carry the perfect life for the media whilst carrying a simpler one for yourself... and way less than one year for you to realise you belong in the latter, with that cynical new roommate of yours.
4:23 am (pt1) , 2:43am (last part) @satnin-darling
genre: idol!au, fwb2lovers
summary: Unrequited love, the end of a long-term relationship, they all hurt the same. So you and Taehyung find yourself in this arrangement, sometimes casual, sometimes not. But things couldn’t go on like that forever and you had to face reality, take care of unfinished business so to speak. As time went on, things settled in the dust. Finally, you and Taehyung find each other again, you talk about what happened and it’s like things can begin anew.
summary: summer. italy. the 2000s. two strangers from opposite sides of the world. they only shared a few weeks together— a handful of late nights, endless laughter, and words lost between languages. but unlike most, some loves don’t disappear when summer ends.
themes: so much romance, fluff, smut, so much angst oh my god, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, summer romance, established relationship, y/n is reminiscing, intense love it's sick, slight language barrier, yearning, limited time, lowk soulmates, taehyung is a sweetheart, confessions, right person wrong time
warnings: smut, (minors DNI 18+) drinking, i cried while writing the ending...so
there are certain summers that never really leave you. most of them blur together after awhile— sunburnt afternoons, crowded streets, cheap liquor, music drifting through open windows.
they fade in the way old pictures do, slowly loosing their color until all they have to offer are soft outlines of memories.
but that summer in italy never faded.
you remembered everything about it. from the way the air smelled like cigarettes and espresso, and the golden light that lit up narrow alleyways every evening that made the city glow.
and the fountain in milan.
it was small, tucked into a quiet piazza you had wandered into by accident on your second day there. water spilled lazily over worn marble, catching the last light of the sunset. people passed through the square without really noticing it, but you remember thinking it felt like the kind of place meant for slowing down.
that's where you met him.
sitting on the edge of the fountain, letting the cool mist of the water hit your legs after walking all afternoon. the sky had turned that soft shade of orange and pink that only seems to exist for a few minutes before the night settles in.
you were tracing the lines of the fountain with your fingers when you felt it—that strange, unexplainable feeling of being watched. nothing uneasy... just aware.
when you looked up, he was standing on the other side of the fountain.
tall, quiet, hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket. the fading sunlight caught in his fluffy black hair and softened the edges of his face, turning everything around him golden for a moment. he was in his early twenties like you, his features sharp and soft at the same time.
he didn't look like he was from here. you could tell in the way he moved through the square, pausing to take everything in—the buildings, the people, the fading light. like he was trying to memorize the moment.
he was looking straight at you. not in a quick, passing way like strangers usually do. he was really looking.
your eyes met across the fountain, and something your chest shifted so suddenly it almost startled you.
it was the strangest feeling—like recognition without explanation. like you had somehow arrived in the same moment from opposite ends of the world. he didn’t look away, and neither did you. something about the eye contact you exchanged made your breath catch so lightly you barely noticed it.
for a few seconds, the sounds of the piazza—the water, the laughter, the distant music drifting from somewhere down the street—seemed to fade into the background. there was just the quiet space between you. and the feeling, sharp and electric, that something had just begun.
at the time, you didn’t know his name. you didn’t know he was from south korea, or that you would only have a few weeks before the summer ended.
all you knew was that when he smiled at you—small, almost shy—something warm and unfamiliar spread through your chest.
the kind of feeling someone doesn't forget. the kind that makes you wonder, years later, how your life might have been different if you had looked away first. but neither of you did.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
august 2003
for a moment neither of you moved. the sky had deepened into that soft shade between sunset and evening, when everything in the city turns warm and dim.
then he did something small that made your heart jump. he let out a laugh. not loudly—just a soft, surprised laugh under his breath, like he had caught himself staring for too long.
he ran a hand through his hair and glanced away for a second before looking back at you again, a little sheepish. that's when he walked over.
you watched him circle around the fountain slowly, like he was giving himself time to decide whether he should actually come talk to you.
when he reached the side where you were sitting, he stopped a few feet away. “hi,” he said. his voice was gentle but deep, a mysterious accent curled around the word in a way that made it sound softer somehow.
“hi,” you answered.
for a second, he looked relieved that you replied. then he leaned back slightly against the stone edge of the fountain, close enough now that you could see the way the last light of the sunset caught in his eyes.
“you are… visiting?” he asked carefully.
you nodded. “yeah. from the states.”
something bright flickered across his face. “ah,” he said, smiling a little wider now. “america.”
there was a pause. not an awkward one exactly—just the kind that happens when two strangers are trying to figure each other out.
“and you?” you asked with a smile.
he hesitated for half a second. “i’m from south korea,” he said finally, tapping his chest lightly with his hand.
something about the way he said it made you smile. “wow,” you said softly. “that’s… far.”
he laughed again, this time with a little more ease. “yes,” he said. “very far.”
for a small moment, you both looked out at the water pouring over the fountain, the city around you beginning to glow with evening lights. then he glanced at you again, almost curious. “you like italy?” he asked.
you shrugged slightly. "i think i do now.”
he tilted his head. “now?”
you smiled without thinking. "yeah."
and for the first time since you'd started talking, he looked directly at you again in that same quiet way he had across the fountain. like he understood something unspoken between you, even though you had only just met.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the sky had turned into a dark blue by the time you realized how long you'd been sitting there. somewhere down the street a musician had started playing a guitar, the music drifting through the warm night air.
he glanced at the sound, then back at you. “walk?” he asked, gesturing toward the street with a small, hopeful smile.
you hesitated for half a second. you had no idea where you were going. you barely knew this man—you'd only spoken a handful of sentences to each other. but somehow, it didn’t feel strange at all.
“okay,” you agreed. his smile widened, quick and bright.
you fell into step beside each other, leaving the quiet piazza behind as you wandered deeper into the city.
small restaurants spilled light and conversation onto the sidewalks, people lingering at outdoor tables with glasses of wine. scooters hummed past you every few minutes while the smell of fresh bread drifted through the air from somewhere nearby.
every so often he would point something out. “beautiful,” he said once, nodding toward an old building lit up against the dark sky. his english was good, but his unfamiliarity with speaking out loud to an american coated his sentences with shyness and nerves.
“what’s your name?” you asked after a while.
he looked at you, a little surprised, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him yet. "taehyung," he said.
you repeated it somewhat terribly at first, earning you a soft laugh from him. his laugh lit a fire inside your stomach and you tried again, cheeks red until you got it right.
"yours?" he asked with a smile, coming down from your shared fit of laughter.
"y/n," you replied.
"y/n..." he repeated with hesitation, accent swirling over the pronunciation. "pretty. never heard before."
you felt your face get hot. you kept walking like that—talking in slow sentences, laughing when one of you misunderstood the other. sometimes, there were long pauses when neither of you knew what to say next, but they never felt uncomfortable.
eventually, you turned a corner and found yourselves in front of a small bar tucked between two old buildings. music poured out through the open doors—something upbeat and loud, people laughing inside. he stopped walking.
“you like… drink?” he asked.
you raised an eyebrow. “you’re asking if I like drinking?”
he grinned, clearly pleased he’d gotten the sentence right. “yes.”
"yeah," you laughed. "i like drinking."
inside, the bar the air was warm and loud, filled with conversation and music. someone was clapping along to the song playing through the speakers, and a group of people near the counter were dancing in the tiny space between tables.
you squeezed in at the bar together, shoulder to shoulder. he ordered for you both in careful, but pristine italian. you were undoubtedly impressed. you just met this man and he had already spoken three different languages.
when the drinks came, he lifted his glass toward you. “to…” he paused, thinking hard. “to meeting,” he finished with a grin.
you smiled and tapped your glass lightly against his. "to meeting.”
the music got louder, people started dancing closer to you, and before you knew it you two were laughing like you'd known each other longer than just a couple hours.
"you ever been to the states?" you asked, to which he shook his head.
"i want to go sometime," he replied, a dreamy smile on his face.
at some point while you were almost done with your drink, he grabbed your hand to pull you toward the small open space where people were dancing. it happened so naturally that you barely had time to act. "come," he said, a large, cheeky smile plastered across his face.
"i don't know this song," you laughed.
"that's okay," he said, his hand was still wrapped around yours, warm and steady. when you reached the middle of the small crowd, he let go just long enough to turn and face you.
for a second, you both hesitated. then he placed one hand lightly at your waist. the touch was careful at first, like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. you didn’t.
the music shifted into something slower, softer. he moved a little closer. not enough to startle you, but just enough that you could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress.
“like this?” he asked quietly, glancing down at both your shoes.
you nodded. "like this.”
you started moving together slowly, almost instinctively. neither of you were dancing in any structured way--you were just swaying gently to the music, steps small and unhurried. but it felt strangely easy, like you had done this before.
his hand rested at the small of your back now, steady and warm. your hand had found its way to his shoulder without you even realizing it, and your fingers were still loosely intertwined.
every so often, he would look down to make sure he wasn’t stepping on your feet. every time he looked back up, you caught him watching you again, the noise of the bar fading into the background.
all you could really focus on was the quiet rhythm of the music and the way he was looking at you—soft, curious, like he was trying to memorize it.
“you dance… good,” he said eventually, a little breathless.
you laughed. “i’m barely dancing.”
he smiled. “still good.”
he spun you once when the music picked up again, laughing when you nearly lost your balance. his grip on you tightened just slightly, steadying you before pulling you back toward him.
you ended up closer than before. close enough that you could see the tiny crease in his eyebrow when he smiled. close enough that the rest of the room seemed to disappear entirely. it was the kind of quiet closeness you only get after knowing someone for years.
but you had only met a few hours ago.
he must have felt it too, because his expression softened in that same thoughtful way you had noticed earlier by the fountain. neither of you spoke, just kept moving slowly with the music, his hand still resting at your back, fingers still loosely tangled together.
and when you think about that night, you realized that was the moment everything changed. not the first glance across the fountain. not the walk through the city.
it was standing there in that crowded little bar, swaying to music neither of you knew, feeling like somehow you had stepped into a version of time where you had always known each other.
and maybe, for that one summer, you did.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
by the time you two stepped outside, the city had finally come to a quiet and the summer air felt cooler now, the heat of the day fading from the stone streets.
the music from the bar behind you spilled out in muffled waves, but everything else felt still. the two of you just stood there. taehyung looked at you like he had something to say. instead, he just smiled.
"walk more?" he asked.
you nodded. "i'm not ready for this night to end yet."
something in his expression softened at that. "me too."
you both started down the street together again, slower this time. the city at night felt different—quieter, more intimate. most of the restaurants had dimmed their lights, and couples lingered at the last few outdoor tables with half-finished glasses of wine.
your shoulders brushed occasionally as you walked, neither of you moving away. after a while he asked, “you travel alone?”
“yeah,” you admitted. something you wouldn’t normally do to a man you just met. “just this summer.”
he nodded thoughtfully. “i'm here to visit,” he said. “my cousin lives here.”
“and after?”
“i go back to korea.” there was something about the way he said it that made the reality of it settle quietly between both of you. korea. the word felt impossibly far away. you walked farther in silence.
eventually you ended up in another small square, one right in front of your hotel. a few dim streetlights cast soft yellow circles across the cobblestones.
you sat down on the low stone edge of a planter, stretching your legs slightly after all the walking. he stood in front of you for a moment, height almost blocking your vision before sitting beside you. close. close enough that your knees brushed.
“your name,” he said suddenly, looking at you again. “say it again?”
you told him again as he repeated it slowly this time, careful with every syllable. the way it sounded in his voice made something warm spread through your chest.
“you say mine better now,” he said with a small smile.
“i practiced,” you teased.
he laughed. something about the way he laughed tugged at your heartstrings. it was different. it was authentic— unashamed. it was different from the boys back home who tried so hard to act nonchalant. he laughed like every word you said was overly enjoyable to him. it made you giggle.
the quiet between you felt heavier now, charged with something neither of you had quite acknowledged yet.
when you turned your head, you realized he was already looking at you. brown eyes boring into yours like he had been trying to decide something. your breath caught slightly.
you were close enough now that you could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest when he breathed. close enough that if either of you leaned forward even a little...
neither of you moved. but the space between you felt electric. it was almost making you dizzy.
his eyes dropped briefly to your lips before lifting again. a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “i think,” he said slowly, searching for the words, “maybe… tonight was very good.”
you laughed softly. "yeah. i think so too."
for a second longer you stayed there like that—too close, the air between you thick with the kind of tension that makes your heart beat louder than usual.
and then he leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to shake the moment away. “tomorrow,” he said after a pause, looking at me again. “you're free?”
your heart skipped. “yeah."
he smiled again. and somehow the promise of seeing him again tomorrow felt even more exciting than if you had kissed right then.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
you woke up the next morning still thinking about him.
for a moment you thought maybe the night before had felt bigger in my memory than it really was. maybe it was a dream. because sometimes, things that happen while on vacation feel more intense than they actually are.
but then, you checked the small slip of paper sitting on the table beside your bed. his handwriting was careful, a little uneven in places.
a time and a place. with his name again, just in case you forgot how to spell it. you smiled to yourself without realizing you were doing so.
when you arrived at the piazza that afternoon, he was already there.
leaning against the edge of the fountain like he had been the night before, hands in the pockets of his jacket, watching the people move through the square. but the moment he spotted you, his whole face brightened. “hi,” he said.
“hi," you smiled.
for a second, you both just stood there smiling at each other like you had forgotten how to start a normal conversation. then he said, almost casually, “you want to see something beautiful today?”
you laughed. "that sounds mysterious.”
“trust me,” he said. and for some reason, you did.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the train ride was short, but the whole time, taehyung kept glancing out the window like he was waiting for a moment he recognized. when you finally stepped off at the small station, the air felt different.
you walked down a narrow street lined with pale buildings and flower boxes until suddenly the road opened up. and there it was.
the one and only, lake como stretched out in front of you like glass, greenery and flowers blooming along the edges of the glittery water that reflected the pale blue sky and the mountains rising around it.
you stopped walking without realizing it. “oh my god," you exhaled softly.
he watched your reaction more than the view in front of you two. “you like it?”
“i love it,” you gushed. “i didn't think i'd get to see it.”
“first time?”
“yeah.”
he smiled, looking pleased with himself. “good.”
you wandered along the edge of the lake for a while, past small docks and quiet cafés where people sat drinking wine in the afternoon sun. the whole place felt peaceful in a way the city never was.
eventually, you both found a quiet stretch of stone steps leading down to the water.
you sat there side by side, your feet just a few inches above the gentle ripples of the bright blue lake. the mountains reflected in the water, boats drifting slowly in the distance, the warm breeze moving softly through the trees.
it felt like time had slowed down, like it barely existed.
“you travel a lot?” he asked after a while.
“not really,” you said. “this is the first time I’ve done something like this.”
he nodded thoughtfully. “good choice.”
"yeah." you giggled. "i think so too."
you turned to look at him and realized he was already watching you. his eyes carefully scanning your expression, the kind of look that makes you suddenly aware of how close someone is sitting. your heart started beating a little faster.
“you're quiet today,” he said.
“i'm just... taking it all in.”
“the lake?” he asked.
you smiled. “partly.”
something about that made him laugh softly, the sound lingering in the air before he shifted closer. you both held the eye contact as he carefully tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear— away from your face, like he needed to see every inch of it. your breath caught and this time, he noticed.
"can i?" he asked quietly. you nodded before he could even finish the sentence, and the space between you closed.
the kiss was soft at first, like you were both trying to make sure the moment was real. nonetheless, it sent sparks throughout both of your bodies, igniting something between you two. suddenly, it felt like this was meant to happen.
you both melted into the kiss as his hand cupped your cheek lightly while yours curved instinctively into the front of his shirt.
the world around you seemed to go silent-- the lake, the distant chatter, the gentle waves of the water. it felt like it all disappeared. like you were the only two people there.
when you finally pulled apart, you both laughed a little, slightly breathless. “well,” you said, catching your breath.
“well,” he echoed, looking out across the lake again. he shook his head with a small smile. “now this place... even more beautiful.”
you nudged his shoulder. “you're cheesy.”
“a little only,” he replied.
but when he glanced back at you again, the look in his eyes was softer than before. like something between you was blooming.
and sitting there beside him with the sun reflecting off the water, you realized something you probably should have been more careful about.
you didn’t want this day to end.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the idea to rent the boat had been his. you hadn’t even noticed the small dock until he pointed to it.
“let's go?” he asked, nodding toward the little motorboats tied along the water’s edge before gently taking a hold of your hand.
“are we allowed to just… take one?” you asked.
he laughed loudly. “we rent.”
“oh. right.”
a few minutes later, you were gliding slowly out across lake como, the water stretching endlessly around you while the small towns along the shore grew smaller in the distance.
you sat at the front of the boat, one hand trailing just above the surface of the lake. the water sparkled in the late afternoon sun, and the mountains surrounding you looked unreal.
“you’re smiling,” he commented from behind you.
you turned around. “i can’t help it. this is… ridiculous.”
“ridiculous?”
“in the best way,” you said. “yesterday, i was wandering around alone in the city. today, i'm on a boat on lake como with someone i met at a fountain.”
he grinned. “life is... a surprise.”
“that’s one way to put it.”
the boat drifted farther out toward the middle of the lake before he slowed the motor. the quiet out here felt different from the city. no traffic, no crowds— just the gentle sound of the water brushing against the sides of the boat and the distant hum of birds somewhere along the mountains.
by the time the sun started lowering behind the peaks, the whole lake had turned golden, kissed with pinks and oranges. you leaned back against the side of the boat, watching the light ripple across the water.
“it’s beautiful,” you said softly. he nodded with a smile.
then after a moment he asked, “why travel alone?”
you glanced at him. "why not?”
he smiled faintly. “not an answer.”
you laughed. "fair.” for a second, you didn't know how honest you wanted to be. but the quiet of the lake and the comfort that beamed off of him made it feel easier.
“i guess i just… needed something different,” you exhaled. “life at home was starting to feel predictable.”
he tilted his head slightly. “you run away?”
“maybe a little,” you admitted.
“what from?”
you shrugged. “nothing dramatic. just the feeling that i was doing everything i was supposed to do without actually enjoying any of it.”
he watched you carefully while you spoke.
“school. work. plans. it's so repetitive," you sighed.
“and now?”
you gestured around the two of you. “now, I’m sitting in the middle of a lake in italy with a man i met yesterday.”
that made him laugh quietly. "better plan."
"much better."
“what about you?” you asked. “why are you here?”
he leaned back against the seat, staring out across the water. "my aunt and cousin,” he said. “they said i should visit.”
“and you just decide to spend time with me instead?”
he shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips, struggling to fight another laugh. “why not?"
“you're very spontaneous.”
“maybe.”
you studied him for a moment. “you seem like someone who doesn’t do things halfway.”
that made him glance back at you. “what does that mean?”
“i don’t know,” you said. “you just seem… intense.”
he laughed again. “intense?”
"a little."
he didn't deny it. the boat rocked gently beneath you as the sun dipped lower. eventually he moved closer, sitting beside you at the front, shoulders brushing.
“you're happy you came here?” he asked quietly.
you turned to him. “very.”
his gaze lingered on yours for a second longer than usual. then his large hand found yours again, fingers sliding between yours naturally, like they had done it a hundred times before. your heart thumped through your chest as heat creeped up your face.
the lake had grown darker now, the last light of sunset reflecting across the water in soft streaks. you both didn't talk for some time, the quiet felt full of something unspoken.
“you know,” he said softly, “i think maybe... best day of my trip.”
your heart fluttered slightly. "me too."
then, almost absentmindedly, his thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand. the gesture was small. but the warmth of it was enough to send a wave of electricity through you.
the sky deepened into purple and gold around you as the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains.
and sitting there in the fading light on the quiet water of lake como, you had the strange feeling that you were living inside a moment you would remember for the rest of your life.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the restaurant he chose sat right along the edge of the water.
from the terrace, you could still see the darkening outline of the mountains around the lake, the reflections stretching across the dark water like soft shadows. lanterns hung above the outdoor tables, casting warm golden light over the small crowd of people eating and talking quietly.
when the waiter led the both of you to your table, you realized the lake was only a few feet away. “this place is beautiful,” you said.
he pulled your chair out before you took a seat. he went to take a seat across from you, smiling. “not as beautiful.”
you looked up at him. “what?”
he shrugged a little, suddenly looking almost shy. “you.”
your face warmed immediately. “you're just saying that.”
he shook his head, resting his elbows lightly on the table. “no." his voice almost stern. "i thought it yesterday too.”
for a moment, neither of you looked away, eye colors practically melting into one another. the candle between you flickered softly in the breeze, but everything else felt strangely still.
eventually, you laughed nervously and picked up your menu. “you’re distracting me.”
he grinned. “good.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
dinner stretched on longer than it should have. partly because the food was good, but mostly because neither of you wanted to stop talking. or looking at each other. sometimes, you'd pause mid-conversation and realize you were both just staring.
“you do that a lot,” you teased at one point.
“what?”
“look at me like that.”
he tilted his head slightly. “like what?”
“like you’re trying to figure something out.”
he thought about it for a second. “maybe i am.”
“and what have you figured out so far?”
he leaned back in his chair, studying you again with that thoughtful expression. “that... i like you,” he said simply.
the flat honesty of it caught you off guard, but your heart skipped a beat. "you only met me yesterday."
"yes," he agreed.
"and you already decided that?"
he smiled. "you made it easy to decide."
you tried to laugh it off, but the warmth spreading through your chest made it difficult. the waiter brought another bottle of wine, and the conversation drifted to lighter things—music, travel, stories from home.
but the feeling between you never really faded. every time your hands brushed reaching for the same glass or plate, the touch lingered a second too long. the sparks traveled through your bodies.
every time your eyes met, neither of you looked away first.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
by the time you two got off the train, the evening air of the summer had finally cooled and the town grew quiet.
the walk back was different from the one earlier that day. this time, the silence stretched, but the distance between you two was almost closed entirely. your hands found each others immediately as you stepped onto the street.
after walking for awhile without speaking, he stopped suddenly. you turned to him. "what's wrong?"
"nothing." he said softly. but he didn't move. you two were standing close again, enough that you could feel his warmth and smell his cologne against the cold, night air.
“you're quiet,” you said.
“i’m thinking.”
“about what?”
he looked down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “that if i don’t kiss you now, i might regret it.”
your breath caught and the moment stretched for half a second. you stepped closer and that was all it took. his hand slid to your waist as he pulled you toward him, and the kiss came suddenly—stronger than earlier, like all the tension from the entire day had finally snapped.
the world around you disappeared. like you and him were the only ones to exist in that moment. the empty street and the music that hummed quietly somewhere in the distance; it all faded into the background as the kiss deepened, slower but somehow more intense.
when you finally pulled apart, you were both a little breathless. he rested his forehead lightly against yours, laughing under his breath.
“i think,” he said softly, “this day was dangerous.”
you smiled. “why?”
his eyes poured into yours. “because now, i don’t want it to end.” and standing there in the warm summer night, you realized you didn’t want it to end either.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
by the time you reached your hotel, the streets were completely bare. the warm hum of the town had faded into something quieter—just the distant sound of water against the docks and the occasional echo of your footsteps down the street.
you slowed as you reached the entrance. the lantern above the door cast a soft golden light over the stone walls, and suddenly you became very aware of how close he was standing.
you turned, and for a moment, you both just looked at each other. the whole day seemed to settle between you two at once—the lake, the boat ride, the sunset, the dinner where neither of you could stop staring.
taehyung's hand brushed lightly against yours before his slim fingers closed around it. “you’re thinking,” he said softly.
“maybe.”
“about what?”
you laughed nervously, glancing toward the hotel entrance behind you. “that i should probably say goodnight.”
“probably,” he agreed. but neither of you moved. instead, he stepped a little closer. the small movement sent a quiet rush of warmth through your chest.
“you know,” he said, his voice lower now, “i’ve been trying to be very... polite tonight.”
“oh?” you said.
“yes.”
“and why is that?”
his thumb brushed slowly across the back of your hand. “if i wasn’t,” he said, “i would kiss you again.”
your breath caught. “you could have done that anyway.”
a slow smile appeared on his face. “good to know.”
the space between you disappeared almost instantly. his hand slid softly to your waist as he pulled you closer. when he kissed you this time, it felt deeper than before—slow and warm, like he had been thinking about doing it all evening.
after what felt like hours, you both pulled away, smiling as you each tried to catch your breath back. you turned and headed for the doors behind you while taehyung held it open for you.
you stepped into the empty, dimly lit hotel lobby without letting go of each other's hands. luckily, your room was only a short walk down the hallway. when you reached your door, you suddenly felt nervous again. he noticed. “you okay?” he asked softly.
you nodded, fumbling slightly with the key. “yeah.” the door clicked open. you stepped inside and he followed, closing it quietly behind him.
you both just stood there in the soft lamplight of the room, the same charged silence filling the space between you again. then, he stepped closer. his hand lifted gently to brush a strand of hair away from your face again, his fingers lingering for a second at your cheek.
“you’re beautiful,” he said quietly.
the way the words left his tongue with meaning made your heart race. before you could think of anything to say back, his hand slid to your waist again, drawing you closer to his chest.
taehyung kissed you once more that night, deeper this time. but it wasn't rushed at all, like he wanted to take all the time in the world with you. his touch was gentle, but there was something confident in the way he held you, like he already knew this was meant to be.
the room felt warmer suddenly. like the rest of the world had vanished somewhere beyond the window.
and for a moment, standing there in the soft light of your hotel room, the only thing that seemed real was the feeling of his hands around you and the quiet, undeniable pull between you.
your fingers clutched his shirt eagerly, pulling him closer to your height. he took it as a signal to deepen the kiss, one of his hands resting firmly at your hips while the other was lost in your hair. he was so close now that his nose brushed against yours while your lips continued to collide.
“i don't think i have ever wanted to kiss someone this much," he breathed as you pulled apart only briefly for air. you laughed softly, blush warming up your cheeks. "neither have i."
the sight made his heart skip, the sound of your laughter fading when he kissed you again, slower this time. "see?" he whispered against your lips. "you make it hard to behave."
you shyly giggled when suddenly, your back gently hit the wall as he kissed you again. your palms explored his hair, falling to his clothed chest and down his abdomen that felt like it was made out of steel. he grunted, smiling into the kiss before softly tugging your lower lip between his teeth.
you made a noise to which he hummed, effortlessly sliding his tongue into your mouth. you responded, attempting to fight his tongue off with yours before failing. you could almost moan as he hungrily explored your mouth. his hands slid lower down your body before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you two before disappearing with gravity.
"this is okay?" he asked softly, breathless.
you nodded, also trying to find your breath. "yes."
then, he slid his big palms below you before suddenly picking you up, legs straddling his waist. you yelped, caught off guard before erupting in laughter which earned a big smile from him. he kissed you again, his hands resting below your ass. the kiss didn't break as he softly put you down on the bed.
he hummed into the kiss. "you taste like wine."
you broke the kiss. "oh, shut up." your head tilted back in laughter, but taehyung saw it as an opportunity. he grabbed your thighs and slid you closer to him before pressing a soft kiss behind your ear.
then another one. "i mean it." his voice was deep as he placed another one. the kisses got lower and sloppier, becoming more wet and open-mouthed as he trailed down your neck before stopping at your collarbone where he started to suck at your skin lightly.
you moaned, unable to keep it in anymore and he noticeably sucked in a breath at the sound. you intertwined your fingers with his long ones before guiding them down to the hem of your top.
"are you sure?" he asked one last time, his fingers resting lazily at the bottom, tracing lightly against your stomach. before you could respond, one of his hands came up to your cheek. he gently guided your chin up to look at him fully.
"yes, taehyung. i'm sure," you said, eyes big and doe-eyed, looking right into his. he smiled, passion swirling between his pupils as he placed a light peck on your lips, his fingers curling into your top before you pulled it off.
taehyung didn't hesitate to openly admire your exposed upper body, his eyes scanning you with a hint of darkness as you grabbed him closer, engulfing him into another kiss. he was on top of you at this point, his large figure blocking your view as he kissed you with need, kissed you like he's been waiting for this his whole life.
his hands traveled across your body like it was his already, cupping your boobs and sliding his hand up and down your inner thighs. you were already a wet, whimpering mess underneath him as he inserted his knee between your legs, putting the slightest pressure on your clothed pussy.
you tugged at his shirt eagerly, manicured nails fumbling to get the buttons un-done. he laughed into the kiss before pulling away and finishing what you started, discarding the fabric somewhere in your room.
your jaw dropped. for a young man in his early twenties, you could already tell that he spent half of his time back home in korea at the gym. his shoulders were incredibly broad, muscles big and swell on his arms while his six-pack of abs practically gleamed in the light of the night.
you couldn't help but run your hands all over his chest as he came back to the bed to hover over you again. "you like?" he smirked.
you nodded before quickly pulling him into another kiss. it wasn't long before taehyung leaned lower, pressing his hard, clothed cock against your pussy. you moaned out as he trailed his fingers over your area, smirking at the wetness already present.
his hand hooked at the top of your skirt, giving you one last look to which you nodded. before you knew it, you were completely exposed underneath the man you met two days ago. but it just felt right. because by the way he looked at you, you knew you didn't have anything to hide or be ashamed of.
"you're so beautiful... do you know that?" he murmured against your lips. you whimpered in response, his words making your head dizzy. he began to rub his thick fingers against your panties before pulling them to the side and entering one inside of you.
you cried out in a moan, which caused taehyung to immediately litter you in soft kisses. it had been so long. "you're okay... i got you baby.”
he gently caressed your face with one hand, his brown eyes holding your gaze intensely. your pussy clenched around him at the nickname that rolled off his tongue as he added another finger, your wetness practically spilling out as he thrusted his fingers in and out.
before you could even process it, taehyung was pulling away from you, his free hand pulling your panties to the side and dipping his head straight into your core. your thighs nearly crushed his head in a mix of pleasure and shock, immediately moaning his name while he started with gentle licks, veiny hands softly prying your legs back open.
his three fingers continued to plunge inside of you while his tongue hungrily explored your walls, preparing you for something much larger. you gripped at his hair, absentmindedly pulling him deeper into you. he laid his tongue flat against your folds before licking a long, slow strip up. you groaned as he picked his pace up again.
he could feel your walls clenching around him as he guided you to your release, his thumb circling your clit while your back arched off of the mattress in pleasure. soon, your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, and taehyung's fingers were covered in your slick before he licked the rest away with ease. something about that made you squirm underneath him.
"did such a good job," he huffed, licking at his lips.
"taehyung, i need you," you moaned breathlessly, hands trailing up his leg to rest over his hardness. you greedily palmed at his cock that was now twitching under your touch.
"i need you too." he groaned, intertwining your hand with his to place a kiss at the top. he quickly climbed off the bed and tugged his belt off with ease, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. there it was, a large imprint of his cock angrily bulging through his boxers.
"you have no idea what you're doing to me," he muttered, voice so low you could almost swear you felt the vibration from it. he stood at the edge of the bed while you took him in, peering up at him as your fingers teasingly trailed up from the tip of his cock to the rim of his briefs.
finally, after what felt like hours of getting lost in each other's eyes, you pulled down his boxers, letting his member spring out freely in front of you. it twisted up, almost hitting his metal abs while leaking with pre-cum. he admired you from above while you gawked at it's true size, sitting at the edge of the bed.
it wasn't long before you wrapped your hand around it, slowly trying to take the width into your mouth. he groaned loudly as your lips enclosed around his cock, trying your best to fit in every inch, but failing. his fingers found themselves in your hair as he guided your head back and forth, hissing in pleasure.
you looked up at him after a few minutes, darkness twirling around his brown eyes before he pulled you off gently. he held your face lightly in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead before laying you down on the bed. "need to be inside."
you gasped for air as he climbed on top of you, engulfing you in one last kiss before lining himself at your entrance. the kiss was slow this time, infatuation and desire flowing through the both of you. you noticeably winced as his tip slowly broke in through your entrance.
he cooed in your ear as he pushed it in further, your walls almost sucking him in immediately as he practically split you open. you cried out, not at all used to his size. he quickly came to a stop, letting you take it in before proceeding any further.
"look at me," he whispered. your shut eyes opened, gaping up at his face that was barely inches away from yours. he looked at you in awe, like you were made out of glass that he was too scared to break. "stay with me baby."
finally, you let him move and he slid himself all the way in, breaking past your entrance and hitting the back of your walls with his tip. your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer and sinking his cock deeper into you. your walls squeezed around him, earning a deep, guttural moan from him.
"tell me if… too much," he breathed, hot breath spilling down your neck as he peppered kisses behind your ear.
"no," you blurted, gasping for air. "feels so right."
after a few careful thrusts, taehyung quickly picked up his pace. the lewd sound of skin to skin slapping filled the room as stars filled your vision. his tip repeatedly hit the back of your pussy at an angle, bulge visibly fucking you when you looked at your stomach. your nails dug into him, leaving sharp red lines along his sturdy back.
he pulled out almost all the way before ramming himself back inside of you again, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. every thrust sent waves of euphoria through your bodies, sweat combining as he dragged his body against yours. his cock explored your insides like he had done it a million times before. like you were made for each other.
"taehyung," you cried. "don't fucking stop."
he practically growled in your ear in response. his pace was ruthless, his wide cock stretching and dragging along your walls as you whimpered endlessly beneath him. pressure began to build up in your core, tight and hotter than it ever felt in your entire life. every plunge of taehyung's cock pushed you farther into exhilaration.
"need you to come," he said, hands gripping tighter at your waist to push himself farther into you, his thick eyebrows furrowing together in concentration. "on me baby."
and for the second time that night, your orgasm ripped through you like a tsunami, walls tightening around taehyung's cock like a vacuum. you moaned out his name, clutching onto his body like you couldn't let go. "need it inside, taehyung." you cried brokenly.
he groaned at your words, cursing in korean while licking a stripe from your ear down to your neck with his tongue. your release created a slosh of wetness around his dick as he kept thrusting into you, eventually letting himself go and spilling his hot seed inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. his body twitched against yours as your heart beats fell into sync.
mixed, hot cum sunk into the sheets of your hotel bed as taehyung landed beside you, smile wide as he attacked your face with gentle kisses. you erupted in breathless giggles as he pulled you closer to his chest, nuzzling his nose in the crevice of your neck.
“today with you…" he started, voice low as he caressed your face with his thumb fondly. "i won't forget it.”
"me neither," you smiled.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the first thing you noticed was the sunlight. it slipped through the thin hotel curtains in pale gold lines, warming the quiet room and the rumpled sheets around you.
your mind was still somewhere between sleep and memory—the lake, the dinner, the walk through the quiet streets.
then, you felt an arm shift slightly around your waist. you blinked and suddenly, everything came rushing back. taehyung was still asleep beside you, one arm still loosely draped over you.
the soft morning light made him look different somehow. less mysterious than the night before. he looked calmer and younger, almost. a strand of his hair had fallen across his forehead, and his breathing was slow and steady.
it was supposed to feel strange—waking up next to someone you had only met two days ago. yet it didn’t feel strange at all. like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.
as if sensing you move, he shifted slightly and opened his eyes. for a second, he looked confused. then, he saw you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “morning,” he murmured, voice still rough with sleep.
“morning," you smiled.
he rubbed a hand across his face, blinking at the sunlight. “you're staring at me.”
you laughed softly. “you were staring at me yesterday.”
“that is different.”
“how?”
he thought about it for a second. “yesterday... i was trying to figure you out.”
“and today?”
he looked at you again, his expression softer now. “today, i’m just happy you’re still here.”
something warm spread through your chest at that. outside, somewhere down the street, a bike buzzed past and a church bell rang faintly in the distance. the town was waking up, but neither of you moved.
instead, he reached out and brushed his fingers lightly along your arm, like he was making sure you were real. “you sleep okay?” he asked.
“yeah,” you said. “you?”
he nodded. then after a moment he said, half-teasing, “you snore a little."
you sat up immediately. “i do not.”
he laughed loudly, pulling you gently back down beside him. “relax,” he said, smiling. “joking.”
you nudged his shoulder. “you’re mean in the morning.”
“a little only.”
you laid there quietly for a moment, the sunlight slowly filling the room. then he glanced at the window. “what are we doing today?”
you shrugged. “i don’t know.”
he looked back at you, smiling again. "good."
"why?"
“yesterday we had no plan,” he laced his fingers through yours lazily before pressing a small kiss on top. “and it was the best day.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the café was only a short walk from the hotel. tiny tables spilled onto the sidewalk, shaded by colorful umbrellas, and the smell of espresso and fresh bread filled the air.
you two squeezed into a small table by the street. soon enough, a waiter brought two cappuccinos and a basket of warm pastries.
you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the first bite. taehyung watched you with a smile. “what?” you asked.
“you look happy.”
“i am happy,” you said. “i’m in italy eating pastries.”
he leaned back slightly in his chair. “with me.”
you raised an eyebrow. “don’t get cocky now.”
he laughed softly. but his eyes stayed on yours longer than necessary. every so often, his hand would drift across the small table, brushing your fingers, like he couldn’t quite stop himself.
at one point, he said quietly, “you’re very beautiful in the morning.”
you laughed. “i definitely am not.”
“you are.” the way he said it made it hard to argue.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
by the time you got back to the hotel, the streets were busier. but the moment the lobby door closed behind you two, the bustling noise of the city faded away.
there was something in the air again—the same charged silence from the night before. when you reached your door, you barely had time to unlock it before he gently pulled you closer against him.
“you always walk slow?” he murmured.
“maybe i like the suspense.”
he laughed quietly. inside the room, the sunlight had grown warmer, spilling across the floor. for a moment, you just stood there again, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. his hand slid lightly around your waist.
“you know,” he said softly, “i was trying to behave again.”
“again?” you teased.
“yes.”
“and how’s that going?”
his smile was slow. "not very good."
the kiss came naturally after that—soft at first, like neither of you were in a hurry. the kind of slow, lingering closeness that makes time feel like it’s stretching. his hand brushed gently along your back while you laughed quietly against his shoulder.
“you’re distracting,” you said.
“you invited me back.”
“true.”
the room filled with soft laughter and quiet whispers as noon blurred slowly into something warmer and more intimate. eventually you ended up tangled in the sheets again, taehyung thrusting into you from behind, spilling tender words into your ear once more.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
later, when the room had gone quiet again, you both ended up sitting near the open window. the warm breeze from the water drifted through the curtains. below you, the town moved slowly through the afternoon—people walking, scooters passing, distant voices echoing through the streets.
he sat beside you on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. “you leave when?” he asked suddenly.
the question caught you off guard. “two weeks,” you said, to which he nodded slowly. “and you?”
“few days after.”
the words hung in the air between you. for the first time since you met, something about the moment felt fragile. temporary.
you glanced at him as you felt your stomach churn. "you're thinking again."
he smiled faintly. "always."
"about what now?"
he looked at you now, expression softer than before. "that i met you in the wrong country."
your heart fluttered at that and he studied your face. then he reached over and laced his fingers with yours again.
outside the window, the sunlight shimmered across the water of the distant lake. and sitting there beside him, you had the quiet, unsettling feeling that this summer—this strange, perfect moment in time—was already beginning to slip away.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
a few nights later, you found yourselves on a hill overlooking the town. someone at a bar had told you two about it earlier that day—a quiet viewpoint where locals sometimes came to watch the stars once the lights below dimmed. the walk up had been steep, but when you both reached the top, you understood why people came.
the whole town stretched below you in warm golden lights, the dark water shimmering faintly in the distance. above, the sky was impossibly clear. more stars than you had seen in years.
you sat on the low stone wall near the edge of the overlook, your shoulders touching as you both looked up.
for a while neither of you spoke, the quiet felt peaceful, but different from before. he was the first one to break the silence.
“you leave soon,” he said softly.
you nodded. “less than a week.”
he stared up at the sky for a moment longer before he let out a quiet breath. “i'm going to miss you.”
the words came out simple. honest. it made your chest tighten. “i’m going to miss you too,” you said.
he glanced over at you then, his expression thoughtful. “you know what's strange?”
“what?”
“we only meet… what, seven days ago?”
"eight,” you said quietly.
he laughed under his breath. “eight days,” he repeated. “and it feels… longer.”
“i know.” the truth of it sat heavily between you. down below, somewhere in the town, faint music drifted through the warm night air.
you leaned back slightly on your hands, looking up at the stars again. “do you ever wish time could just pause?”
he turned his head toward you, quickly averting his gaze from the stars to you, like you were the view he would endlessly choose over the stars. “right now?”
“yeah," you said quietly, fiddling with your thumbs. “so this moment doesn’t end.”
for a second he didn’t answer. then, his hand reached over, gently taking yours. his fingers laced with yours easily now, like they had done it a hundred times already.
“i think,” he said slowly, “if time stopped now… i would be okay with that.”
you smiled softly. “you wouldn’t get bored?”
"not if you were here."
you felt your heartstrings pull at your chest. the quiet stretched again, but this time it felt heavier. after a moment, he shifted closer, resting his shoulder lightly against yours.
“maybe we meet again someday,” he said.
“maybe,” you said. but the way you both said it sounded more like a hope than a plan.
the stars above you glittered against the dark sky. and sitting there beside him, fingers intertwined, you realized something that made your chest ache a little.
this summer—this strange, beautiful, impossible little story you had stumbled into—was never meant to last forever. but somehow that made every moment feel even more important.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
that night, neither of you wanted to go back right away.
you stayed at the viewpoint long after the stars had fully taken over the sky, long after the town below had gone quieter and the air had turned cooler. his hand stayed wrapped around yours, warm and steady, and every so often his thumb moved softly across your skin like he was thinking too much to be still.
on the walk back, you barely spoke. not because there was nothing to say. because there was too much.
the silence between you felt full—of the last few days, of all the things you still hadn’t said, of the quiet understanding that time was moving whether we wanted it to or not.
by the time you reached your hotel, your heart was beating too fast. he stopped with you at the door, and for a second, neither of you moved. the light above the entrance cast a soft gold over his face, catching the tiredness in his eyes, and the softness there too.
“you’re quiet,” he said.
you looked down for a moment, then back at him. “i don’t want this week to be over.”
something in his expression shifted. “me too,” he said quietly. that was all it took.
he stepped closer and kissed you, and this time it felt different from every other kiss before it—deeper, heavier, like all the restraint between you had finally worn thin. your hands found him instinctively, one against his chest, the other sliding up to his jaw, and he held you like he’d been wanting to for hours. maybe days.
the door opened behind you clumsily, and you both half-laughed into the kiss, stumbling inside without really breaking apart.
the room was dim except for the lamp near the bed. the second the door clicked shut, the quiet seemed to close around you.
he looked at you for one breathless second, like he was checking that this was still real, that you still wanted him there. you did.
he saw that immediately, his hand came to your waist again, slow and sure, and the next kiss was gentler somehow, even though the tension behind it burned hotter. he kissed you like he was trying to memorize you—patient, affectionate, impossible to misunderstand.
“you’re beautiful,” he murmured against my mouth.
the words made your chest tighten. you laughed softly, a little shaky. “you always say that.”
“because it’s true.” his forehead rested briefly against yours, both of you catching your breath, but neither moved away. the closeness only made everything worse—his hands, your pulse, the way the whole room seemed charged with something warm and dangerous.
“i’m trying to be good,” he said quietly.
you smiled. “are you?”
he looked at you with that small, unfair smile. “not really.”
you laughed again, but it disappeared when he kissed you once more, slower now, deeper, drawing you in until you forgot whatever you were about say. your hands slid around him; his brushed along your back, then lingered at your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left at all.
everything about the moment felt heightened—the warmth of the room, the soft rustle of clothes, the lamp light against the wall, the sound of your breathing in the quiet of the night.
there was no hurry in the way he touched you, no carelessness. just a kind of focus that made your whole body feel warm. he was still flirty, still teasing in little moments, but softer too, like the closeness meant something to him now beyond the thrill of it.
at one point, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand brushing lightly along my cheek. “what?” you whispered.
he shook his head once, smiling faintly. “i think you made this difficult for me.”
you smiled, even though your heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest. “me?”
“yes, you.”
“how?”
he leaned in again, voice low by your ear. “you make me want to stay.”
your breath caught. that nearly undid you more than the kisses had.
when you looked at him again, the teasing had softened. what was left in his face was something quieter, more honest, and somehow that made the moment feel even more intimate than anything else. so, you kissed him first that time. slowly. and whatever small distance that was left between you disappeared for good.
"i don't want to waste a second with you," he murmured into the kiss.
the night blurred after that into warmth and half-finished sentences, into soft laughter and breathless pauses, into the kind of closeness that makes time feel strange. outside, the town kept sleeping, the dark lake somewhere beyond the window, the stars still hanging over everything. but inside the room, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to only this—to his hands, his voice, the way he said your name like it meant more than it should have after only a few days.
later, when the room finally went quiet, you lay close to him in the dark, both naked in the sheets as your head rested against him while the curtains moved softly in the night breeze. his fingers moved lazily against your arm, and he let out a quiet breath.
“i’m really going to miss you,” he said.
the words landed differently this time. you lifted your head to look at him, but in the dark, you could only make out the shape of his face, the outline of him against the pillow.
"I'm going to really miss you too," you whispered, swallowing the wrenched feeling in your throat. his hand found yours under the sheets, holding it tightly.
and somewhere in the silence that followed, with the window open and the summer night slipping slowly toward morning, you realized this was the part that would stay with you later.
not just the passion or just the wanting. but the tenderness after. and the way he held you like leaving had already begun to hurt.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
six days later~
you wake up before him in that gray early-morning light where your heart automatically felt heavy. the room is quiet except for the city outside your window and his breathing beside you. and for a few seconds, before reality catches up, you let yourself pretend this is normal. that this is just what mornings with him are. that there will be another one tomorrow.
but then, you remembered.
your flight. the time. and the fact that this is it.
he wakes up slowly, still warm and sleepy, one arm heavy around your waist like he kept you beside him even in his sleep. he looks at you like he already knows what kind of morning this is. no teasing, no easy smile at first.
you try to make it lighter. “don’t look at me like that,” with a little laugh that almost works.
he brushes your hair away from your face and says, very softly, “like what?”
"like you're making this harder," you whisper.
he smiles a little, but it's heavy with sadness. "it was always going to be hard."
you stay close in bed, talking in low voices like if you keep speaking softly enough, the morning won’t fully arrive. he traces shapes on your arm while you memorize everything; the slope of his shoulder, the sound of his voice, the way he says your name. both pretending you aren't counting down.
then, you ask him the kind of question people only ask when they’re desperate to keep a piece of someone. “will you remember me?”
the moment the words left you, you almost wished you could take them back. they sounded so small compared to what you really meant. will this matter to you when i’m gone? will i still exist somewhere in you? will i survive in your life after i leave it?
and he looks almost offended by it, but tenderly. like the question broke his heart a little. “don’t ask that.”
“why?”
his jaw tightened just slightly. he looked away for a second, then back at you, and his hand slid from your cheek into your hair, cradling the back of your head. “because you know i will.”
it should have settled something in you. but instead, it only made your chest ache harder, because he said it so simply, like it was obvious, like there had never been any possibility that you would not stay with him in some permanent, invisible way.
you started crying, quietly, which was worse than if you had sobbed. he moved closer without a word until your foreheads touched, and you felt him exhale against your lips. his thumb brushed under your eye, catching tears that would only be replaced by more.
“hey,” he murmured, like he was trying to soothe something frightened. little did you know, his heart was breaking into a million pieces at the sight of your tears. “hey.”
you hated that this was happening. you hated that he mattered enough for leaving to feel like being peeled out of your own life. you hated that you had known him for such a short time and somehow, he had made himself essential to you anyway, as if your heart had taken one look at him and made a decision without your permission.
“you make me feel insane,” you whispered, and that made him laugh once, softly, though you could hear the sadness in it.
“i know.”
you let out a shaky breath. “no, i mean it.”
“i know,” he said again, quieter this time.
you stayed like that, forehead to forehead, not kissing, not speaking, just breathing the same air. you could feel his hand trembling just slightly where it held your face, and that nearly broke you more than anything else.
he was trying so hard to be steady for you. trying so hard to keep the moment gentle.
and then, before you could say anything else, before you could decide whether you were brave enough to ruin this with the truth, he said it.
“i love you.”
he didn't dress it up. he didn't hesitate, either. he just said it like it had been waiting there all along, like it had reached the point where staying hidden hurt more than being spoken.
you stared at him, tears coming to a stop from the shock.
for one suspended second, the whole room seemed to go still around you. the traffic outside, the people below, the morning itself—it all receded. there was only his face inches from yours, his eyes searching yours as if he had given you the most fragile thing he had and was waiting to see what you would do with it.
apart of you had always known.
not because either of you had said it, not because you had promised anything, but because of the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't paying attention. because of how gently he had learned you. because of the way silence with him had never felt empty. because loving him had become the easiest and most dangerous thing you had ever done.
still, hearing it then, with the morning already taking shape around you, with no time left, felt almost unbearable.
your mouth trembled before the words came out. “i love you too.”
he closed his eyes just for a second, like you saying it back had struck somewhere deeper than he had prepared for. then, he kissed you.
not urgently. not desperately. just slowly, with one hand still at your face and the other finding your waist beneath the sheets, holding you as though tenderness itself could become a form of staying. you kissed him back with tears still wet on your cheeks, and he kissed you like he didn't mind them, like grief and love belonged together this morning, and there was no point trying to separate them.
when you pulled apart, you tucked your face into his neck because you couldn't bear the look in his eyes again so soon. his arms came around you immediately, drawing you against his chest until there was no space left between you.
you stayed like that for a long time.
maybe minutes. maybe an hour. time had become strange with him. too fast when you wanted more of it, too slow when you were afraid of what came next.
his hand moved up and down your back in a slow rhythm, and you listened to his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and alive and unfairly calm. you wondered how many mornings from now you would wake and reach for the memory of this one like a bruise. you wondered if loving someone briefly, always felt this permanent.
outside, the city kept waking up. inside, you held each other tighter.
you wanted to tell him not to let you go. you wanted to say you would miss him in ways that would embarrass you if put into words. you wanted to ask him what was going to happen to all this love once there was nowhere for it to go.
instead, you lifted your head and looked at him.
his lashes were still dark with sleep. his hair was a mess. there was a faint mark near his collarbone from where you had kissed him the night before, and seeing it there made something sharp and helpless twist through you. proof. evidence. something to suggest that this had really happened, that he had really been yours for a little while.
you touched it lightly with your fingertips.
he gave you a sad smile. “what?”
you shook your head. “just looking at you.”
his smile deepened, but only barely. “you been doing that a lot.”
“i know.”
“and?”
you tried to answer, but your throat tightened too quickly. he seemed to understand anyway. he always did.
he leaned in and kissed your forehead, then the corner of your eye, then the edge of your mouth; each kiss quiet and deliberate, as if he were trying to leave something behind on your skin that wouldn't fade once you were gone.
you thought, then, that maybe this was what real heartbreak was. not shouting, not drama, not collapse. just this. a soft room. a pale morning. the person you love holding you as if they would keep you if they could, and both of you knowing they cannot.
eventually, you would have to get out of bed. you would have to pack the last of your things and look at him one last time. eventually, one of you would have to leave first.
but not yet. so you curled in closer, and he pulled the blanket higher around you, and you laid there in the fading quiet of your last morning together, saying nothing at all.
because he had already said it. because you had said it back. because sometimes love didn't save you. sometimes it only made losing each other more beautiful.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
by the time you got to the station, you already hated it.
you hated the crowds. you hated the sound of rolling suitcases over the concrete. you hated the bright board overhead with its neat rows of departures, as if leaving could ever be that simple—just a time, a platform, a destination. you hated the way people moved around you two with coffees in their hands and places to be, like this was an ordinary morning and not the end of something that had changed you down to the bone.
most of all, you hated that he was the one carrying your bags.
they weren't even that heavy, you could have carried it yourself. but he had taken them from you the second you both stepped out of the cab, slinging them over his shoulder without asking, and you had let him because there was something unbearable in watching him do ordinary things for you one last time.
you walked side by side through the station, not touching at first. not because you didn't want to; but because touching made it too real.
the huge glass ceiling let in a pale, washed-out morning light, the kind that made everything look too exposed. people hurried past you in bursts of movement and sound, their voices overlapping with the far announcement of arrivals and departures in a language you had only just begun to grow fond of. somewhere nearby, a child laughed. somewhere else, someone was crying. the whole station was full of motion, of reunion and departure and impatience, and somehow that made your silence feel even heavier.
you kept glancing at him. he looked unfairly composed.
dark jacket. sleep-rumpled hair he had not fully fixed for once. one hand wrapped around the strap of your bags, the other tucked into his pocket. his jaw was set in that quiet way it got when he was feeling more than he wanted anyone to see. if you had not known him by then—if you had not spent weeks learning the smallest shifts in his face, the meanings behind his silences—you might have believed he was calm.
but you knew him. you knew the stillness in him was effort. you knew he was holding himself together with both hands.
once you reached the platform that your ticket read, you both came to a devastating stop. neither of you moved before he glanced at you.
"you okay?" he asked too quietly.
the question was ridiculous. it almost made you laugh. instead, you looked away toward the tracks, blinking too quickly. “no.”
your voice came out smaller than you meant it to. honest in the worst possible way. he was quiet for a second.
then, you felt his hand at the back of your arm, warm and steady, guiding you gently out of the main rush of people and closer to one of the pillars near the platform entrance, where the crowd thinned just enough to let you have the illusion of privacy.
the train was already there. that was the cruel part. it had arrived before you were ready, all silver and blue and humming softly against the platform, as if it had been waiting patiently to take you away from him. you stared at it with immediate resentment.
“don’t look at it like that,” he murmured.
you turned to him. “like what?”
“like you want to fight it.”
despite everything, you let out a small laugh. “i do.”
that made the corner of his mouth lift.
god, you loved him.
you loved him in that moment with such useless force it made your chest feel thin, like your ribs could no longer hold everything inside you properly. you loved the tired softness in his eyes. you loved the way he was trying to make this easier for you even though you could tell it was wrecking him too. you loved that he was standing there pretending to be steadier than he felt because he thought you needed him to be.
but you wished he would stop. you wished he would break with you. yours eyes dropped to your bags still hanging from his shoulder.
“you don’t have to carry that anymore,” you said quietly.
he looked at you for a moment before sliding the straps off and setting the bags beside your feet. neither of you reached for them after that. they sat between you two like another thing waiting to leave.
an announcement crackled overhead, something about boarding, something about time, something you refused to fully listen to. around you two, people began to move with more urgency toward the train doors, the station shifting into that particular rhythm that meant goodbye was no longer theoretical. it was happening. it was here.
you could feel yourself starting to lose the fight against tears again, heavy wads of water pooling at your waterline.
you pressed your lips together and looked down, but that only made it worse, because then all you could see were both of your shoes pointed toward each other on the concrete, close but not touching. ridiculously normal. like any other couple about to say goodbye after a weekend away. like there was any world in which this was casual.
his fingers tipped your chin up. “hey.” that one word nearly shattered you. your eyes met his.
he looked tired now. not sleepy—wrecked. like this morning had finally reached him too. there was something helpless in the way he was looking at you, and you realized then that he did not know how to do this either. he was just better at hiding it.
“i don’t know how to leave you,” you whispered. his hand stayed on your face. for a second, he said nothing. his thumb moved once over your cheekbone, and you could feel how carefully he was trying to breathe.
“i know,” he said at last. that was all. not it’ll be okay. not don’t say that. just the truth.
you let out a shaking breath that turned into a laugh and then almost into a sob. “that’s all you have to say?”
a sad smile touched his mouth. “no.”
“then what?”
his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before lifting back to your eyes. around you, the station kept moving. more footsteps. another announcement. a whistle from somewhere farther down the platform. but inside that small space between you two, everything had gone painfully still. then he said, very quietly, “come here.”
you stepped into him like there had never been another place for you to go, and his arms came around you instantly, hard enough to make your breath catch. it wasn't gentle this time, it was tight.
he held you like someone trying not to lose something already slipping away, one hand spread wide over your back, the other cradling the back of your head, pressing you close into his chest.
you buried your face in his jacket and inhaled. he smelled like cold air, soap, and the cologne you had gotten used to finding on your sheets, your sweaters, on your skin hours after he was gone. familiar already. dangerous already. you wrapped your arms around him and held on as tightly as you could, like there was still some bargain left to make with the universe if you just refused to loosen your grip.
he kissed your hair. then your temple. then he pressed his mouth against the side of your head and just stayed there. you could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy beneath your cheek. so he was not calm. this was ruining him too.
when you finally pulled back enough to look at him, his hands stayed on your waist, like even that small amount of distance was unacceptable. your face was wet. you didn't know when you had started crying again.
he looked at you with that raw, unguarded expression you had only ever seen in private, and something in him seemed to give way.
“listen to me,” he said.
you nodded because you couldn't do anything else. his jaw tightened, and for one terrible second, you thought he might stop there, might decide whatever he wanted to say was too much, too late, too dangerous. but he didn't.
“this doesn’t get to become something small just because it ended fast.”
you stared at him. he swallowed once, hard.
“you don’t get to leave here and act like this was some... pretty little thing that happened to you in another country.” his voice had gone lower, rougher now, emotion breaking through despite himself. “you don’t get to pretend i didn’t—” he stopped, exhaled sharply, then tried again. “you matter to me.”
the tears came harder after that. not because you doubted it.
because hearing him say it so plainly made it real in a way you couldn't protect yourself from. because some part of you had still been afraid that once you stepped onto the train, all of this would begin to dissolve immediately, turning into memory too fast, into something dreamlike and impossible to prove.
but this—his face, his voice, the way his hands trembled slightly at your waist—was proof. you let out a shaky breath. “you matter to me too.”
his eyes searched yours, almost angry with feeling. “too?”
you laughed through tears, and he huffed a breath that might have been a laugh too, despite everything. “i love you,” you said.
you didn't plan on saying it again. maybe you should have saved it. maybe you should have let the morning keep it. but standing there with the train waiting with his hands on you and no future you could point to with certainty, the words rose up all on their own.
his whole face changed— enough for you to see how deeply it landed. he leaned down and kissed you. right there on the platform, with people passing and announcements overhead and the train waiting to take you away from him.
it wasn't a polite goodbye kiss.
it was slow at first, heartbreakingly slow, his hand sliding from your waist to the side of your neck, his thumb under your jaw like he needed to feel that you were real for one second longer. then, you kissed him back with all the grief you had, all the love, all the helplessness, and something in the kiss deepened—still tender, still careful, but fuller now, almost desperate beneath the softness. like neither of you knew how to stop once you had started.
when you broke apart, your foreheads touched for half a second. he exhaled against your mouth. “i love you too,” he said.
the words went through you like light through glass. beautiful but sharp, ruining. another boarding announcement sounded. louder this time. final.
you closed your eyes. “no,” you whispered.
he let out the saddest little laugh you had ever heard. “i know.”
he stepped back first, but only barely, his hands sliding slowly from your waist like even that small release cost him something. then he reached down, picked up your bags, and handed it to you.
that nearly hurt more than the kiss. you took them from him with both hands. your fingers brushed his.
"write to me,” you said, even though you knew letters were too slow for feelings like this. even though you knew wanting things didn't make them possible.
“i will.”
“promise?”
his expression tightened. then he nodded once. “yeah. i promise.”
the conductor called for final boarding. this was it.
there should have been some final perfect thing to say. something literary and aching and worthy of the kind of love that had grown too fast and too real between you. but all you could think, looking at him one last time on that crowded platform, was how badly you did not want a world that did not have him standing in front of you.
so, what you said was, “i don’t want to go.”
his eyes flickered shut for the briefest second. when they opened again, they were shining, water threatening to drop from his lash line.
“i know,” he said. then, softer—“but go.” his voice almost cracked.
and that was what broke you. not because it was cold, but because it was love. because he wouldn't ask you to stay if staying would ruin your life. because he loved you enough to let the train take you home.
you kissed him once more, quickly this time because you knew if you made it longer, you would never leave. then you turned before your body could change its mind. he let go of you, the familiar warmth of his body escaping yours for the last time.
you got on the train without looking back at first. because you simply couldn't bear to.
you made it through the door, down the narrow aisle, to the window seat with shaking hands and a pulse so loud you could barely hear anything else. your bags slipped from your shoulder onto the floor. you sat. breathed once. twice. then, you looked up.
he was still there. exactly where you had left him. one hand in his coat pocket, the other hanging by his side. not moving. not pretending to move on yet. just looking up at your window like he could still see you clearly through the glass.
you put your hand up before you could stop yourself. his mouth tightened in that almost-smile you knew so well, the one that always looked like he was feeling too much to fully make it happen. then, he lifted his hand too.
the train jerked beneath you. slowly, painfully, it began to move.
he stayed where he was as the platform started to slide away as the distance opened like a wound between you. you watched him get smaller through the glass, watched the shape of him blur, not because he was too far now, but because your eyes were too full of tears to hold him properly.
still, you kept looking. even after he became only a dark figure among others. even after the platform gave way to tracks and iron beams and the station began to disappear.
you kept looking long after there was nothing left to see.
because some selfish, foolish part of you believed that if you stared hard enough, you could keep him. but the train carried you forward anyway.
and all you could do was sit there with your hand still half-raised, your mouth trembling, and the taste of him still on your lips, thinking the most devastating thought of your life:
you had found him.
and now you were leaving him behind.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
an: oh my god this was terribly painful to write. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did- I've been craving nothing more than to write something incredibly angsty.
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