𐙚 This is my writing blog, my main blog is @rosierecs13 where I post fic recs
here is the Masterpost for that blog
𐙚 My name is Rosie, I'm just a girl in her 20s deciding what I want to do with my life before I graduate, this is a fun blog on the side.
𐙚 Currently writing and taking requests for: Off Campus characters
Off Campus
John Logan:
“Five Times Logan Almost Said I Love You” (And the One Time He Finally Did)
five moments where Logan nearly confesses his feelings — and the one time he finally does.
Fake Lies, Real Feelings
convincing John Logan to fake date you is apparently much easier then admitting you have feelings for the one guy you can't have.
↪ Part 2
Briar House Party
At a chaotic Briar hockey house party thrown by Dean Di Laurentis, the night spirals into nonstop chaos involving drinking games, bad decisions, and too many opinions from Garrett, Allie, and Hannah. Amid the noise and disaster, Logan stays quietly protective of Y/N, and the two end up closer than ever despite the madness around them.
Hockey Jackets Lead To Bad Decisions
John Logan can flirt with anyone for fun, but the second y/n ties his hockey jacket around her waist, it starts feeling dangerously less casual. Between stolen touches, teasing confessions, and a growing inability to keep their eyes—or hands—off each other, one night at Malone’s turns into the beginning of something neither of them is prepared for.
"Cherry Pie & Mixed Signals"
John Logan thought he understood exactly what his feelings for Hannah meant—right up until Hannah’s intimidating, sharp-tongued roommate walked into the Briar house and flipped his entire world sideways in a single afternoon. What starts as teasing banter and an unexpected walk across campus quickly turns into something far more dangerous: the realization that the easiest connection Logan’s ever had might be with the one girl he absolutely didn’t expect.
Dean Di Laurentis:
The Captain’s Rule
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.
↪ Part 2
The Girlfriend Clause
Dean’s father threatens to cut him off after another scandal hits the hockey team, so Dean lies and says he’s in a serious relationship. The problem? The girl he asks to pretend-date him is the one person on campus who genuinely can’t stand him.
↪ Part 2, Part 3
Crossing the Line
Dean hooks up with Garrett Graham’s younger sister after a party and fully expects it to be a one-time thing. Then she transfers to Briar and ends up living directly across from him.
Off Limits
Garrett makes it very clear that his sister is not to be touched, dated, or even breathed near. Dean agrees immediately. Then she starts showing up everywhere he is—study groups, hockey parties, even his recovery sessions after practice. Not on purpose… allegedly. The problem? Dean is starting to think Garrett might be the only thing standing between him and something real.
Summary: convincing John Logan to fake date you is apparently much easier then admitting you have feelings for the one guy you can't have.
wc: 842
Pairing: John Logan (Off Campus) x reader
A/N: I wasnt really sure what to do with this, i might do a longer part idk
Part 01: Fake Lies, Real Feelings
Masterlist
After the kiss, nothing felt simple anymore. y/n kept replaying it in her head, Logan’s hand on her wrist, his voice lower than usual, the look on his face right before he kissed her like she had finally stopped pretending too. And then, somehow, they had both agreed—wordlessly, stupidly—that the fake relationship was… still going. Just with fewer lies.
Which was how she ended up in Logan’s room again on a quiet Sunday night, pretending she has “come over to study,” while currently doing everything except studying. Logan was behind her on the bed, flipping through one of her notebooks with exaggerated seriousness.
“This is criminal,” he said.
“What is?”
“You wrote ‘probably fine’ as an answer to a practice problem.”
“It was probably fine.”
He hummed like he didn’t believe in her academic integrity. “You’re going to fail out of Briar and it’ll be my fault.”
Y/n turned her head slightly. “Why would that be your fault?”
“Because I’m distracting you.”
“That implies you think you’re important enough to distract me.”
Logan leaned closer, voice calm. “I kissed you two nights ago.”
Y/n’s brain short-circuited for half a second.
“…That was one time,” she said, way too quickly.
He smiled. “Sure.”
She hated how warm her face got. She also hated that she didn’t move away. Instead, she shut her notebook slowly. “We agreed not to make it weird.”
Logan tilted his head. “We didn’t agree on that.”
“We absolutely should have.”
“Too late,” he said simply.
That was the thing about him. Logan didn’t push in loud ways. He just stayed close enough that eventually, it stopped feeling like a choice to leave.
Y/n turned fully this time. “What are we doing, exactly?”
Logan looked at her for a long moment. No teasing this time.
Just honest.
“I think,” he said carefully, “we’re trying to figure out what happens when we stop pretending.”
Her throat tightened slightly. “And what happens?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he reached out slower than before, and brushed his thumb along her knuckles.
Like he was testing if she’d pull away.
She didn’t.
That seemed to answer something for him.
Her back hit his bed, laughing still from something stupid he’d said, and Logan was looking at her like he’d finally stopped holding himself back from noticing her.
“Logan,” she murmured, half warning, half something else entirely.
“Yeah?” he said, but he didn’t sound like he was planning on stopping.
She should’ve said something smart.
Something defensive.
Instead she said, “You’re staring.”
“I know.”
“That’s weird.”
“No,” he corrected softly, shifting closer, “that’s honest.”
That did it.
Something in her finally gave in.
She reached for him first.
And Logan—who was usually all control and sharp edges and arrogance—went still for a fraction of a second like he didn’t quite trust it was real. Then he kissed her again, slower than the first time, more certain.
Y/n felt it immediately—the difference between pretending and choosing.
His hand rested at her waist, steady, grounding, like he was reminding himself she was actually there. Like she might disappear if he didn’t hold on carefully enough.
When they finally pulled apart, he stayed close. Forehead nearly against hers.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Y/n let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. “You’re asking me that now?”
A faint smile. “Habit.”
She studied him for a second. “You’re not as confident as you act.”
His expression flickered—just a little.
Then he said, “You’re not as unaffected as you act either.”
That was annoyingly accurate.
She huffed softly. “We’re terrible at fake dating.”
“We were always terrible at fake dating,” he corrected. “We’re just not fake anymore.”
That sat between them in a way that felt heavier than everything that came before it.
Y/n reached up, brushing her fingers lightly along his jaw.
“So what now?” she asked.
Logan leaned into her touch just slightly, like he couldn’t help it.
“Now,” he said, voice low, “we stop calling it fake.”
Her heartbeat picked up, “And call it what?”
His thumb traced slow circles at her waist, grounding and deliberate. “Whatever you want,” he said. “As long as I get to keep doing this.”
Y/n smiled before she even realized she was going to, “Bad answer,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because I think I want more.”
That made him pause for a second.
Then Logan kissed her again—slow, deeper, like a promise he didn’t need words for. This time, neither of them pretended it meant anything less than everything it was becoming.
Later, when she left his room much too late and much too reluctantly, his hoodie stolen and her thoughts a mess, Logan leaned against his doorframe watching her go.
“Y/n,” he called softly.
She turned.
He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at her like he was memorizing her.
Then, quieter than anything he’d ever said to her before: “Come back.”
Summary: Dean’s father threatens to cut him off after another scandal hits the hockey team, so Dean lies and says he’s in a serious relationship. The problem? The girl he asks to pretend-date him is the one person on campus who genuinely can’t stand him.
wc: 1179
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x reader
A/N: part 3 as requested
Masterlist | Part 1 Part 2
The kiss almost happened three times before it actually did.
The first was in the hotel elevator.
The second was outside Y/N’s apartment at two in the morning after Dean walked her home and neither of them seemed capable of saying goodnight like normal people.
And the third—
The third was what ruined everything.
“This is getting weird,” Y/N announced.
Dean looked up from the couch in the hockey house common room. “You’ll need to narrow that down.”
She pointed between them.
“This.”
Dean blinked innocently. “Wow. Super specific.”
“I’m serious.”
Unfortunately, she looked serious.
Which meant Dean’s heartbeat immediately started acting suspicious.
Y/N crossed her arms. “We said fake dating.”
“It is fake dating.”
“You held my hand in the grocery store yesterday.”
“Method acting.”
“You got jealous when the cashier flirted with me.”
Dean sat up straighter. “I did not get jealous.”
“You called him ‘coupon boy’ under your breath.”
“In fairness, he looked like a coupon boy.”
Y/N stared at him.
Dean stared back.
Then, traitorously, they both started laughing.
Which was another issue.
Because it was getting harder and harder to remember why they disliked each other in the first place.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
Dean grinned. “And yet you keep hanging out with me voluntarily.”
“That’s temporary.”
“Mm.”
Her eyes narrowed immediately. “What does ‘mm’ mean?”
“It means I don’t believe you.”
That wiped the amusement off her face faster than expected.
Dean’s smile faded slightly too.
Oh.
Right.
Because there was an expiration date on this.
Eventually the fake relationship would end.
His father would calm down.
Y/N would stop looking at him like this.
And Dean—
Dean would go back to being himself.
The thought felt strangely awful.
“You’re cooked,” Logan informed him later that night.
Dean looked up from his locker. “Can everyone in my life stop speaking in riddles.”
“You’re in love with her.”
Dean immediately pointed at him. “You people are way too comfortable accusing me of emotions.”
Logan snorted. “Dean.”
“I’m serious.”
“You smiled at your phone during practice.”
“…That proves nothing.”
“You hate texting.”
Dean opened his mouth.
Paused.
Closed it again.
Because unfortunately Logan was right.
Again.
Dean hated when that happened.
“She’s temporary,” Dean muttered finally.
Logan’s expression shifted slightly.
Not mocking anymore.
“That’s not what you’re scared of.”
Dean looked away first.
Which was answer enough.
The disaster happened during family weekend at Briar.
Because apparently the universe enjoyed humiliating Dean personally.
“You didn’t tell me your mother was coming,” Y/N hissed under her breath.
“I didn’t know she was coming,” Dean hissed back.
Across the hockey arena lobby, Dean’s parents approached together.
His father looked composed as always.
His mother looked warm.
Sharp-eyed.
Dangerous in an entirely different way.
“Oh,” she said immediately upon seeing Y/N. “So this is the girl.”
Dean already didn’t like her tone.
Y/N smiled politely beside him. “Nice to meet you.”
His mother hugged her within thirty seconds.
Traitor.
Complete traitor.
And somehow, impossibly, the day only got worse from there.
Because Y/N fit into his life too well.
She laughed easily with his mother.
She challenged his father without sounding intimidated.
She sat beside Dean during lunch like she belonged there.
And Dean realized something horrifying halfway through the afternoon:
He wanted this.
Not the fake version.
The real one.
The terrifying, permanent version.
Which was obviously a psychological crisis.
“You look panicked,” Y/N said quietly later that evening.
Dean stood beside her outside the arena while people filtered past them.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s usually a bad sign.”
Correct.
Very correct.
Dean rubbed a hand over his jaw. “My mother likes you.”
“She also threatened to fight a referee.”
“That’s how she shows affection.”
Y/N laughed softly.
Dean’s chest tightened painfully.
God.
That laugh.
“You okay?” she asked again.
Dean looked at her.
At the girl who had somehow become the best part of his day without him noticing.
The girl who challenged him, steadied him, saw through him.
The girl who touched his arm casually now like it was instinct.
And suddenly the thought of losing this felt unbearable.
Dangerous realization.
Very dangerous.
“You ever think maybe we made a mistake?” he asked quietly.
Y/N’s expression shifted immediately.
Her hand dropped from his sleeve.
“Oh.”
Dean blinked. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because how was he supposed to explain this without detonating everything?
How was he supposed to say I think I stopped pretending a while ago?
Y/N looked away first.
And that somehow hurt worse.
“We should probably end this soon anyway,” she said softly.
Dean felt the words like physical impact.
“What?”
“The fake dating thing,” she clarified, still not looking at him. “Your father believes us now.”
The panic in Dean’s chest sharpened instantly.
Too fast.
Too intense.
He hated it.
“Oh,” he managed.
Y/N nodded once.
Silence stretched.
Then she smiled.
And Dean immediately knew it was fake.
“I should go,” she said.
Before he could answer, she walked away.
Dean stood there frozen while something unfamiliar and terrible settled heavily in his ribs.
Regret.
The hockey house became unbearable after that.
Because suddenly Y/N wasn’t there constantly anymore.
No sarcastic commentary from the kitchen counter.
No stealing his hoodies.
No late-night arguments over movies.
Dean noticed every absence.
Every silence.
“You look haunted,” Garrett told him.
Dean glared from the couch. “I’m relaxing.”
“You’ve been staring at the wall for twenty minutes.”
“It’s an interesting wall.”
Logan walked in, took one look at Dean, and sighed.
“Oh my God. You actually messed this up.”
Dean pointed at him tiredly. “I’m asking respectfully for everyone to stop perceiving me.”
“No,” Logan replied immediately.
Garrett frowned slightly. “Wait. Did you two break up?”
Dean laughed humorlessly. “Can’t break up if it was never real.”
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Because they sounded wrong.
Completely wrong.
Logan noticed too.
“You don’t believe that anymore,” he said quietly.
Dean didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because the horrifying truth was—
He didn’t.
Not even a little.
Three nights later, Dean ended up outside Y/N’s apartment at midnight.
Again.
Apparently emotional devastation made him predictable.
She opened the door wearing one of his hoodies.
That nearly killed him instantly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.
Dean looked at her for a long second.
No jokes this time.
No charm.
No deflection.
Just honesty, terrifying and exposed between them.
“I think I ruined this,” he admitted.
Y/N went very still.
Dean exhaled shakily. “And I know we said fake. I know this started because I’m an idiot and a liar and mildly emotionally dysfunctional—”
“Mildly?” she interrupted automatically.
He laughed weakly.
Then looked at her again.
Serious.
“But somewhere along the way,” he said quietly, “you stopped feeling fake to me.”
Silence.
Y/N stared at him like she’d forgotten how to breathe.
Dean forced himself to keep going anyway.
“Every time you touched me, every time you looked at me like I was worth something…” He swallowed hard. “I started wanting it to be real.”
Her expression cracked slightly.
Hope.
Fear.
Both.
“Dean…”
“I’m in love with you,” he said finally.
There it was.
Out loud.
Terrifying.
Irreversible.
And somehow the world didn’t end afterward.
Y/N looked at him for one long heartbeat.
Then crossed the distance between them and kissed him.
Dean stumbled slightly in surprise.
Not fake.
Definitely not fake.
Her hands grabbed the front of his jacket while Dean held her like he was afraid she might disappear if he loosened his grip.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathing unevenly, Y/N rested her forehead against his.
Summary: John Logan thought he understood exactly what his feelings for Hannah meant—right up until Hannah’s intimidating, sharp-tongued roommate walked into the Briar house and flipped his entire world sideways in a single afternoon. What starts as teasing banter and an unexpected walk across campus quickly turns into something far more dangerous: the realization that the easiest connection Logan’s ever had might be with the one girl he absolutely didn’t expect.
wc: 2256
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a few days now, enjoy
Masterlist
The first thing John Logan noticed was the combat boots. Not because combat boots were unusual at Briar, but because the girl wearing them looked like she would rather be anywhere else.
Dean had been talking for the last five minutes—something dramatic about being “psychologically bullied” by Hannah’s roommate—but Logan stopped listening the second the front door opened wider behind Hannah.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Hannah said, dropping her backpack near the stairs while cold winter air swept into the house. “She just thinks you say dumb things.”
Dean looked personally wounded. “That’s basically hate.”
Garrett snorted from the kitchen island where he was digging through the fridge for beer. “To be fair, you do say dumb things.”
“I say emotionally honest things.”
“You asked her if pharmacy school was ‘basically legal drug dealing.’”
Dean pointed defensively. “That was a valid question.”
“No,” Hannah said flatly. “It wasn’t.”
Logan leaned one shoulder against the kitchen doorway, only half paying attention. The house smelled like stale beer, detergent, and whatever mystery takeout Dean had abandoned on the coffee table three days ago. A hockey game quietly played from the TV while Tucker yelled upstairs about someone stealing his shampoo again.
You know, the normal chaos.
Then Hannah stepped aside.
And suddenly Logan’s full attention locked onto the girl behind her.
Oh.
Okay.
He understood Dean’s problem immediately.
The girl standing in the doorway looked nothing like Logan expected from Hannah’s descriptions.
Not prettier—
Actually, no. Definitely prettier.
But not in the polished Briar-girl way he was used to. She looked rougher around the edges. Cooler somehow. Like she’d thrown herself together in ten minutes and accidentally looked incredible anyway.
Dark curls spilled messily over one shoulder beneath a black beanie. Heavy eyeliner framed deep brown eyes that scanned the room once—quick, sharp, unimpressed. Tattoos wrapped around both forearms beneath the sleeves of an oversized vintage Metallica shirt, disappearing beneath silver rings and stacked bracelets.
Black cargos.
Combat boots.
Leather jacket despite the freezing weather outside.
And an expression that said she’d already decided everyone in the room was slightly embarrassing.
Logan immediately wanted to make her laugh.
Which was weird.
“She’s staring again,” Dean muttered under his breath.
Without missing a beat, the girl replied, “I can hear you.”
Dean straightened instantly. “See? Terrifying.”
Hannah sighed like this exact interaction happened hourly. “Everyone, this is my roommate, y/n.”
y/n lifted two fingers lazily in greeting. “Unfortunately.”
Garrett laughed under his breath.
Logan bit back a smile.
Then y/n’s gaze landed on the three hockey sticks shoved beside the kitchen counter.
She blinked once.
“…Why are there hockey sticks in the kitchen?”
“Storage issue,” Garrett answered immediately.
“That sentence should never exist.”
Dean pointed toward her dramatically. “See? Judgmental.”
“You’re using sports equipment as interior design.”
“It’s temporary.”
“There’s dust on them.”
Garrett looked genuinely offended. “Wow.”
y/n finally smiled a little.
And Jesus Christ.
That smile changed her whole face.
Up until then she’d looked intimidating. Guarded in that cool, detached way that made people keep their distance automatically.
But the smile softened her.
Not completely.
Just enough to feel dangerous in an entirely different direction.
“Your house looks exactly how I imagined,” she said.
Garrett narrowed his eyes cautiously. “What does that mean?”
y/n looked around once more. “It smells like protein powder and poor decisions.”
Logan laughed before he could stop himself.
Not just a quick chuckle either—a real laugh that escaped unexpectedly.
y/n’s eyes flicked toward him instantly.
And stayed there.
Just for a second longer than normal.
Interesting.
There was no instant swooning recognition in her expression. No “oh my God, hockey player” energy.
If anything, she looked mildly entertained by him.
That almost never happened.
Hannah nudged y/n’s shoulder. “Ignore them. We’re gonna study upstairs.”
y/n shook her head slowly like she couldn’t believe these people functioned independently.
Then she adjusted the heavy backpack hanging off one shoulder.
Logan noticed immediately how full it looked.
“You heading out?” he asked before thinking too hard about why he cared.
y/n looked over at him again.
Close up, her eyes were darker than he thought. Warm brown under the kitchen lights, framed by smudged eyeliner that somehow made her look even more exhausted.
“Yeah,” she said. “Lab shift.”
Dean frowned. “You voluntarily go to labs?”
“She’s in pharmacy,” Hannah reminded him.
“That still sounds fake.”
y/n looked at Dean with complete seriousness. “You’re right. I made the entire degree up for attention.”
Tucker wandered downstairs just in time to hear that. “Honestly? Respect.”
“Thank you,” y/n replied.
Logan grinned.
There was something weirdly easy about talking to her already.
Normally conversations with girls at Briar went one of two ways:
Flirting.
Or boredom.
Sometimes both.
But y/n talked like she genuinely didn’t care who he was, and somehow that made him want her attention more.
“What kinda lab?” Logan asked.
“Antibiotic resistance research.”
Dean blinked. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means bacteria are becoming resistant to treatment.”
“Oh.”
“Which is bad.”
“Right. Yeah. That part I got.”
y/n gave him a slow nod like she was encouraging a small child through a difficult learning experience.
Logan laughed again.
And this time y/n’s attention shifted fully toward him.
Like she hadn’t expected him to actually find her funny.
“You really like it?” he asked her.
Something in her expression changed immediately.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Like someone quietly lit a match behind her eyes.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “A lot.”
No sarcasm this time.
No teasing.
Just honesty.
And for some reason, that hit Logan harder than it should’ve.
Most people at Briar liked things.
Hockey.
Parties.
Classes sometimes.
But y/n loved what she studied.
He could hear it in her voice instantly.
Could see it too.
It made her look different somehow. More awake.
“Jesus,” Tucker muttered. “That’s terrifying.”
y/n nodded solemnly. “Women in STEM. Horrifying.”
Logan laughed hard enough to duck his head briefly.
God, she was funny.
Not try-hard funny.
Just naturally quick in a way that kept catching him off guard.
Hannah checked her phone and groaned. “We’re late.”
Garrett perked up immediately. “Wait—before you disappear, can you make that cherry pie again?”
y/n paused halfway to the door.
“Cherry pie?”
Garrett pointed dramatically at Hannah. “See? She gets it.”
y/n looked interested now. “I’m listening.”
“She makes homemade pie,” Garrett explained reverently.
y/n stared at Hannah for a beat. “Why are you hiding this from the public?”
“Because every time I bake for you people, you act like Victorian children seeing sugar for the first time.”
“That’s because we’re broke,” Logan said automatically.
y/n immediately pointed at him. “Exactly.”
There it was again.
That tiny flicker of connection.
Like they’d accidentally stepped into the same wavelength.
“I spent twenty minutes debating whether generic ramen tastes different from brand-name ramen yesterday,” she admitted.
Logan nodded seriously. “It absolutely does.”
“Emotionally?” y/n asked.
“Emotionally.”
She laughed softly under her breath.
And Logan felt stupidly victorious about causing it.
A few minutes later, Hannah disappeared upstairs with Garrett while Dean and Tucker argued loudly in the kitchen about frozen pizza.
y/n headed for the front door again, pulling her beanie down tighter over her curls.
Logan moved before he fully thought it through.
“I’m heading to campus too,” he said casually. “I’ll walk with you.”
Dean looked up so fast it was almost violent.
The expression on his face screamed gossip.
y/n noticed too.
One eyebrow lifted slightly.
But after a second, she opened the door anyway.
Cold air hit instantly.
Outside, Briar looked gray and slushy beneath the overcast sky. Snowmelt soaked the sidewalks while groups of students hurried past in scarves and winter jackets.
For the first block or so, they walked quietly.
Not awkward.
Just… settling into each other.
y/n shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. Logan kept stealing glances at her beside him.
At the way her curls escaped beneath the beanie.
At the tiny silver hoop through her nose.
At the tattoos winding around her wrists.
He caught himself staring at her mouth once and immediately looked away.
“So,” Logan said finally, “what do Hannah and Allie say about us?”
y/n’s mouth twitched.
“You want the honest answer?”
“Always.”
“They think you’re the least emotionally constipated of the hockey players.”
Logan barked out a laugh. “That’s somehow insulting and flattering.”
“It gets worse.”
“Oh no.”
y/n looked entirely too pleased with herself now.
“Hannah specifically said—and I quote—‘Logan acts like a frat boy but has the emotional energy of someone who wants to hold hands at a farmer’s market.’”
Logan stopped walking for half a second.
“What?”
y/n burst out laughing.
Not just smiling now.
Actually laughing.
Head tipping back slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
And Christ.
That was dangerous.
Because suddenly Logan wanted to hear that sound again immediately.
“You enjoy ruining lives, huh?” he asked.
“A little.”
They crossed the street together while snow crunched beneath their shoes.
Then y/n glanced sideways at him.
“So,” she said casually, “you like Hannah.”
Straight to the point.
Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. “Am I really that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“That’s brutal.”
“You look at her like she invented sunlight.”
“Well,” Logan muttered, “now I’m never recovering from that sentence.”
y/n laughed softly again.
But then her expression gentled slightly.
“She looks at Garrett the same way, though.”
That landed harder than Logan expected.
Not painful exactly.
Just true.
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly.
“You okay with that?”
He thought about lying.
Instead he shrugged.
“I think maybe I got attached to wanting something I couldn’t have.”
y/n was quiet for a second beside him.
Then she nodded slowly.
“I get that.”
Logan glanced over.
“You do?”
“My entire life’s kinda built around it.”
“How?”
y/n adjusted her backpack higher on her shoulder before answering.
“My parents came to Canada with nothing,” she said. “So for them, success isn’t optional. It’s survival.”
There wasn’t resentment in her voice.
Just exhaustion.
Logan understood that immediately.
“My dad’s different,” he admitted slowly. “But… similar outcome.”
y/n looked over at him more carefully then.
Not teasing now.
Just listening.
“Family stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
The fact that she said it so casually made him want to anyway.
Which was new.
“He’s an alcoholic,” Logan admitted after a moment. “Money’s always been bad.”
y/n’s expression softened instantly.
Not pity.
Never pity.
Just understanding.
“That’s hard,” she said quietly.
Logan shrugged automatically even though tension tightened in his chest. “I’ll survive.”
y/n looked at him for a second longer than necessary.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “You probably will.”
Something warm settled low in Logan’s stomach.
Because she sounded like she meant it.
The conversation flowed easier after that.
Lighter again.
They talked about classes, textbooks, terrible cafeteria food.
y/n admitted she once fell asleep in the library during finals and woke up four hours later with keyboard marks on her face.
Logan told her about Garrett accidentally breaking a table while wrestling Tucker.
At some point, Logan realized he hadn’t thought about Hannah in almost an hour.
Which felt strange.
Not bad strange.
Just unexpected.
They reached the science building too quickly.
y/n slowed near the steps, staring up at the giant concrete building with visible disappointment.
“Ah yes,” she said flatly. “My prison.”
Logan smiled. “You love it though.”
“Unfortunately.”
Then she turned toward him fully.
Cold wind pushed curls across her face while students streamed around them toward the entrance.
Up close, Logan noticed details he hadn’t before.
Smudged dark nail polish.
Faint shadows beneath her eyes from exhaustion.
A tiny tattoo behind her ear.
Pretty.
Really fucking pretty.
“You know,” y/n said casually, “you’re not what I expected.”
“What’d you expect?”
“Hockey player.”
Logan grinned. “I am a hockey player.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yeah.
He did.
“And you’re not what I expected either.”
y/n folded her arms. “What was your expectation?”
“Honestly?” Logan admitted. “Someone scary.”
A slow smile spread across her mouth.
“I can still ruin your life if you want.”
Logan’s stomach flipped embarrassingly fast.
“Good to know.”
For one suspended second neither of them moved.
The chemistry between them felt sudden now.
Heavy.
Noticeable.
y/n tilted her head slightly.
“You flirt a lot for someone supposedly in love with another girl.”
Logan groaned instantly. “I am not in love with Hannah.”
“Mhm.”
“I’m serious.”
y/n’s eyes flicked briefly toward his mouth before lifting again.
“You’ve spent this entire walk staring at mine.”
Logan froze.
y/n looked unbearably smug.
“That’s different,” he said weakly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Because talking to you feels stupidly easy.
Because you actually listen.
Because I forgot about Hannah the second you laughed at me.
Instead Logan just stepped a little closer.
Close enough to smell vanilla and cold winter air clinging to her jacket.
“You ask too many questions, scientist,” he murmured.
y/n smiled slowly.
“And you deflect too much, hockey boy.”
Then she backed toward the doors, still looking at him.
Still smiling.
And Logan stood there in the freezing cold watching her disappear inside like a complete idiot—
grinning to himself the entire way back to the house.
Summary: Garrett makes it very clear that his sister is not to be touched, dated, or even breathed near. Dean agrees immediately. Then she starts showing up everywhere he is—study groups, hockey parties, even his recovery sessions after practice. Not on purpose… allegedly. The problem? Dean is starting to think Garrett might be the only thing standing between him and something real.
wc: 1906
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Graham!reader
A/N: Hope you enjoy, planning on making this a little series
Masterlist
Dean Di Laurentis had been told “no” before.
No late hits.
No reckless penalties.
No skipping class after away games.
No hooking up with girls who knew exactly who he was and wanted him for it anyway.
He’d never been great at listening.
But when Garrett Graham said this no, Dean actually nodded like he meant it.
It wasn’t even subtle.
Garrett cornered him outside the rink after practice, still in full gear, sweat cooling under the fluorescent lights. His jaw was tight in that way that meant he wasn’t joking, wasn’t teasing, wasn’t being the easygoing captain everyone else knew.
This was older brother mode.
And Dean, unfortunately, knew the difference.
“You stay away from my sister,” Garrett said flatly.
Dean blinked. “I don’t even know your sister.”
“You will,” Garrett said. “And when you do, you don’t touch her, you don’t flirt with her, and you definitely don’t breathe in her general direction like you’re thinking about it.”
Dean let out a short laugh, because what else was he supposed to do with that?
“Got it,” he said easily. “Hands off. Invisible mode. Celibate lifestyle.”
Garrett studied him for a long second, like he was deciding whether Dean’s word meant anything at all.
Then he nodded once. “Good.”
And just like that, it was over.
Dean didn’t think about it again.
Which was, in hindsight, his first mistake.
The second mistake was assuming Garrett’s sister was some distant, theoretical figure—like a mythological warning or a family legend.
She wasn’t.
She was real.
And she kept showing up.
At first, it was subtle enough to ignore.
A girl in the back of Dean’s psych lecture, sitting three rows behind him, hair tied up in a messy knot, pen tapping against her notebook in a rhythm that somehow managed to be distracting from halfway across the room.
Dean didn’t look at her twice.
Except he did.
Because she laughed quietly at something the professor said under her breath, like she wasn’t trying to be heard but couldn’t help herself.
And Dean found himself listening for it again the next class.
That was mistake number three.
By the time he saw her at the hockey house, it was already too late.
Dean had just finished practice and was running on autopilot—shower, hoodie, food, couch. The usual rotation.
The house was loud in that chaotic way Briar parties always were, even on weeknights. Someone had music blasting. Someone else was yelling about a beer pong rematch. Someone was definitely going to regret something in the morning.
Dean barely registered any of it until he walked into the kitchen.
And stopped.
Because she was there.
Leaning against the counter like she belonged there more than anyone else in the room, holding a red cup she clearly wasn’t drinking from, watching Tucker attempt to explain something with his hands like it was a scientific breakthrough.
She looked up mid-sentence.
And saw him.
There was a beat.
Just one.
Her expression shifted—subtle, but not unnoticed. Like recognition flickered first, then something else followed it. Something quieter. Sharper.
Dean didn’t know her name yet.
But his brain supplied it anyway.
Garrett’s sister.
Of course.
Tucker was still talking. “—and I’m telling you, if you angle it right—”
Dean stepped forward before he could stop himself.
“Hey,” he said.
Her eyes snapped to him again.
Up close, it was worse.
Not in a bad way.
In a problem way.
“Hey,” she repeated.
Tucker finally noticed the shift in attention and looked between them. “Oh—uh. You two know each other?”
Dean opened his mouth to say no.
He should’ve said no.
But Garrett’s voice echoed in his head like a warning siren.
Don’t touch her. Don’t flirt. Don’t breathe near her.
So instead, Dean said, “Not really.”
Her gaze held his for a second too long.
Then she nodded like that made sense.
“Cool,” she said lightly. “I’m going to steal Tucker for a second.”
Tucker blinked. “I—what?”
But she was already pulling him away.
And Dean stood there like an idiot, watching her walk out of the kitchen like she hadn’t just rearranged something in his brain without asking permission.
After that, it got worse.
Because now he noticed her everywhere.
Study group in the library? She was there, sitting across from him like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Hockey house again? She showed up with Tucker and Hannah, laughing at something Garrett said like she wasn’t aware she was committing a felony in Dean’s general direction.
Even at recovery sessions after practice—ice baths, physio, the slow grind of getting his shoulder back in shape—she appeared in the doorway once, talking to the team trainer, hair damp from rain.
Dean froze mid-stretch.
She looked at him.
Waved.
Like they were normal people.
Like there wasn’t a rule hanging between them in giant invisible letters.
OFF LIMITS.
Dean didn’t wave back.
He absolutely didn’t.
He just looked away so fast he nearly pulled something in his neck.
“You’re doing that thing again.”
Dean looked up from his phone.
Logan stood across from him in the dining hall, tray balanced on one hand, expression already bored.
“What thing?” Dean asked.
“The thing where you stare at someone like you’re trying to solve a math problem but you’re actually just horny and emotionally unavailable.”
Dean choked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Logan nodded toward the far table.
Dean followed his gaze.
And there she was.
Laughing.
Head tilted back slightly, like she didn’t care who saw her enjoy anything.
Dean looked away immediately.
“Not staring,” he said automatically.
Logan sat down. “You’re staring.”
“I’m observing.”
“That’s worse.”
Dean exhaled through his nose. “She’s Garrett’s sister.”
Logan paused. “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s… bad.”
Dean shot him a look. “Helpful.”
Logan shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen you make worse decisions for less attractive people.”
Dean kicked his chair lightly. “Shut up.”
But Logan was still watching him.
“Does Garrett know you’re doing that thing again?”
Dean didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
The thing about rules was that they only worked if they stayed abstract.
Garrett’s rule was simple: stay away.
But rules didn’t account for proximity.
Or coincidence.
Or the fact that she kept ending up alone with him in places where Garrett wasn’t watching.
Like the library stairs one night when it was raining and the building lights were half-off and everyone else had already gone home.
Dean was leaving when he heard her voice.
“Hey.”
He stopped.
Turned.
She was sitting on the bottom step, books scattered beside her, phone in her hand like she’d given up on pretending she had somewhere else to be.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “Studying.”
“At midnight?”
“It builds character.”
Dean should’ve kept walking.
He didn’t.
Instead, he sat down one step above her.
A mistake he would fully recognize later.
“You’re going to fail if you keep doing that,” he said.
She glanced at him. “You sound like my brother.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
A pause.
Then, softer: “Depends on the day.”
That was the first time Dean laughed around her.
Real laughter.
Not the kind he used in crowds or interviews or locker rooms.
She looked at him when he did it.
Like she noticed.
Like she filed it away somewhere.
And something in Dean’s chest tightened, unfamiliar and unwelcome.
He stood up too quickly.
“I should go,” he said.
She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Probably.”
But neither of them moved right away.
It escalated the way most bad ideas do.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Until suddenly it wasn’t quiet anymore.
It was her sitting beside him in the training room after practice, pretending she was there for Garrett but actually talking to Dean while he taped his wrist.
It was Dean holding the door open for her in the hallway and realizing he was waiting for her to walk through first.
It was the way she started looking at him like she expected him to show up.
And worse—
He did.
The breaking point came on a Thursday.
Garrett was out.
Team meeting ran late.
Dean was supposed to go straight home.
Instead, he ended up in the gym.
And so did she.
She was stretching on the mat near the mirrors, hair tied up again, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Music played softly from her phone.
Dean stopped in the doorway.
She looked up.
Didn’t seem surprised.
“You’re late,” she said.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I didn’t either,” she replied. “But here we are.”
Dean should’ve left.
He didn’t.
Instead, he stepped inside.
“You always just… appear where I am?” he asked.
She smiled slightly. “Is that your ego talking?”
“That’s my confusion talking.”
She sat up a little, resting her elbows on her knees. “I don’t plan it.”
“That makes it worse.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them.
Not awkward.
Worse than awkward.
Charged.
Dean glanced away first. “Garrett would kill me.”
She hummed. “Probably.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
She studied him for a moment.
Then said, “Does it bother you?”
That was the problem.
It did.
But not the way it should’ve.
It bothered him that Garrett had a claim over something Dean hadn’t even realized he wanted yet.
It bothered him that the only thing standing between him and her was a rule he had agreed to without understanding the cost.
“I said I wouldn’t,” Dean said quietly.
She tilted her head. “Yeah?”
“I don’t go back on my word.”
A pause.
Then she stood.
Walked closer.
Not rushing.
Not hesitant either.
Just… certain.
Dean didn’t move.
She stopped a foot away from him.
Looked up.
“You don’t have to do anything,” she said softly.
That was the moment.
The exact second everything shifted.
Because she wasn’t asking.
She wasn’t pushing.
She was just there.
And Dean realized, with something like dread, that Garrett wasn’t the problem.
Garrett was just the excuse.
Dean exhaled slowly.
“This is a bad idea,” he said.
“I know,” she replied.
A beat.
Then, quieter: “So is it a yes or a no?”
Dean should’ve said no.
He really should’ve.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Just enough to close the space between them.
And that was all it took.
They didn’t kiss like it was a movie.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t perfect.
It was quiet.
Careful.
Like both of them were trying to decide if they could take it back afterward.
They couldn’t.
Afterward, Dean pulled away first.
Immediately.
Like distance could undo what had already been done.
He ran a hand through his hair.
“This can’t happen again,” he said.
She nodded.
But her eyes didn’t leave his face.
“Okay,” she said.
Too easily.
Too calmly.
Like she didn’t believe him.
And Dean hated that he didn’t either.
The worst part wasn’t Garrett.
Not yet.
It was the fact that Dean started noticing her absence immediately.
The empty seats.
The missed glances.
The silence where she used to be.
And every time he saw her across a room after that night, it felt less like coincidence.
And more like gravity.
Pulling them back together.
Against every rule he’d agreed to follow.
Against every reason he had to stop.
Because Garrett Graham might have said she was off limits.
But Dean Di Laurentis was starting to understand something far more dangerous:
Summary: John Logan can flirt with anyone for fun, but the second y/n ties his hockey jacket around her waist, it starts feeling dangerously less casual. Between stolen touches, teasing confessions, and a growing inability to keep their eyes—or hands—off each other, one night at Malone’s turns into the beginning of something neither of them is prepared for.
wc: 2870
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but then changed my mind. Formatting is kind of everywhere. Not edited.
Masterlist
The bass at Malone’s was loud enough to vibrate through the floorboards.
Every surface in the place felt sticky, humid from too many students packed together under flashing lights, and the air smelled like cheap beer, perfume, sweat, and something aggressively fried from the kitchen. Which normally would have been my cue to leave after thirty minutes.
But Hannah and Allie had cornered me before I could escape.
So now I’m trapped in the middle of the dance floor while Allie screamed the lyrics to a JLo directly into my ear.
“If you elbow me one more time, I’m reporting you to the authorities,” I yelled over the music.
“You look too hot to complain!” she shouted back immediately.
“That’s because this dress is cutting off circulation to my legs!”
Hannah burst out laughing beside us, dark curls bouncing as she danced. “Worth it!”
Easy for her to say.
The black dress looked incredible in my bedroom mirror two hours ago. Sleek. Tiny. Dangerous in a fun way.
Now?
Now it had decided it couldn't stay down on my thighs and kept trying to ride up. Every thirty seconds I had to yank the hem back down while trying to preserve what little dignity I had left.
“I swear to God,” I muttered, tugging at the fabric again, “this dress is one wrong move away from becoming a crop top.”
Allie nearly choked laughing.
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m fighting for my life.”
“You’re winning, though,” Hannah assured me. “Half the bar has been staring at you since we got here.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It should be.”
Unfortunately, Hannah wasn’t wrong. I could feel eyes following us every time we moved through the crowd. And one pair in particular was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Because leaning against the bar in a fitted grey Henley—with sleeves pushed up to his forearms like he personally wanted to ruin my mental stability—was John Logan.
He was currently talking to Garrett Graham. Laughing at something Dean said. Looking unfairly good doing literally nothing. I made the mistake of glancing over again. Big mistake. Huge.
Because Logan happened to look up at the exact same moment. Our eyes locked across the crowded bar. Then he smiled, not a polite smile, not a casual hey-I-know-you smile either. A slow, knowing smile like he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t be. Heat immediately crawled up my neck.
“Oh my God,” Hannah said beside me. “You’re staring again.”
I immediately started moving again out of pure embarrassment, nearly sloshing my drink onto the stranger beside me.
“I hate both of you.”
“You wanna know the worst part?” Hannah asked.
“No.”
“He keeps looking over here too.”
I nearly choke on air. “Excuse me?”
But before Hannah could answer, the dress betrayed me again. Aggressively. I gasped, grabbing the hem before disaster struck. “That’s it. I’m taking this thing out back and setting it on fire.”
Allie doubled over laughing. “You brought extra clothes though, right?”
“Yes,” I said obviously. “Because unlike you two, I believe in preparation.”
Honestly, being roommates with Hannah and Allie meant always carrying backup options.
Backup makeup, shoes, advil, dignity.
“My bag’s at the table,” I said, pointing toward the back booth where Tucker and Dean sat.
Hannah nodded sympathetically. “Go change before you accidentally traumatize the hockey team.”
“Excellent idea.”
I shoved my way through the crowd, muttering apologies. Heat clung to my skin from dancing, and by the time I reached the booth, I was already annoyed enough to change into sweatpants and never speak again.
Tucker looked up first. “There she is,” he announced dramatically. “The only responsible person at this school.”
Dean snorted into his drink. “That’s a low bar.”
I laughed softly and bent down to grab my tote bag from beside the booth—Only for another hand to reach it first. Long fingers wrapped loosely around the strap. My stomach immediately did something humiliating. Slowly, I looked up.
Logan sat sprawled comfortably against the booth seat, one arm stretched along the back behind Dean. Up close he somehow looked even broader than he had across the room, shoulders straining the soft grey fabric of his Henley. His hair looked slightly damp at the ends and his eyes were absolutely full of amusement.
“You leaving already?” he asked. His voice was rough from the noise in the bar, low enough that I felt my heart skip.
“No,” I replied. “My dress is trying to humiliate me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I noticed.”
My entire body heated instantly. “You noticed?”
Dean made a choking sound into his beer while Tucker physically covered his face.
Logan looked completely unashamed. “It’s hard not to,” he said. “You’ve been fighting with that thing since you got here.”
I pointed accusingly at him. “You are a terrible person.”
“Nah.” He stood up from the booth in one smooth movement. “Just observant.”
Standing this close to him felt unfair. He was tall enough that I had to tilt my head slightly to keep eye contact. Then Logan glanced down toward my legs again. A slow grin spread across his face. “You know,” he drawled, already shrugging off his hockey jacket, “there’s a pretty obvious solution here.”
Before I could answer, he held the jacket out toward me. Navy blue with ‘Briar Hockey’ stitched across the chest. It was still warm from his body.
“You’re offering me your jacket?”
Logan lifted one shoulder casually. “Seems safer for the general public.”
Tucker laughed so hard he almost dropped a fry.
I should’ve said something smooth. Something flirtier than standing there staring at him like an idiot. But of course my brain had become occupied by the sight of Logan holding the jacket. Dear God. “You okay there, y/n?” he asked, clearly entertained now.
“Yes,” I lied immediately. “I am perfectly fine.”
His grin widened. “That’s good news for me.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been flirting with you for the last ten minutes.”
My heart nearly stopped.
Dean made a loud gagging noise. “Jesus Christ, Logan. Buy us dinner before you start confessing feelings.”
“Shut up,” Logan muttered automatically. But he never looked away from me once.
And suddenly the noise of Malone’s felt farther away somehow., like the entire bar had blurred around us. Then Logan stepped closer, close enough that my pulse jumped stupidly hard.
“C’mere,” he said softly.
My brain short-circuited again.
Before I could respond, he took the jacket gently from my hands and moved behind me.
Every nerve ending in my body immediately became aware of the fact that John Logan was standing directly behind me.
I could feel heat radiating off him.
Could smell his cologne more clearly now—clean and warm and dangerously comforting.
Then his fingers brushed lightly against my hips as he wrapped the sleeves around my waist.
Not lingering.
Barely there.
Still enough to make my stomach flip violently.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured near my ear.
I swallowed hard. “It’s winter.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Oh.
Oh, that was flirting flirting.
His knuckles skimmed my waist one last time as he tied the sleeves securely in front.
“There,” Logan said quietly behind me. “Problem solved.”
I turned around slowly.
Big mistake.
Because now he was even closer.
Close enough that I could see the tiny scar near his eyebrow.
Close enough that I noticed his eyes weren’t just brown—they had these stupid gold flecks in them under the bar lights.
Close enough that my brain started making deeply unhelpful observations about how nice his mouth looked.
“You’re very smug for someone lending me a jacket,” I managed.
“Can you blame me?” His gaze dragged slowly over me, entirely unapologetic. “You look really good in my clothes, y/n.”
That should not have affected me that much.
And yet.
I crossed my arms mostly to give myself something to do. “Do you flirt with every girl like this?”
“Nah.”
His eyes held mine steadily.
“Only the ones who stare at me from the dance floor like they wanna climb me.”
My jaw dropped open.
Dean lost it completely beside us.
“Oh my God,” I laughed, horrified. “You saw that?”
I groaned and covered my face instantly while Tucker cackled loud enough to attract attention from nearby tables.
“This is my villain origin story.”
Logan laughed too then.
Not the cocky teasing laugh from before.
A real one.
Warm and low and ridiculously attractive.
Then his hand closed gently around my wrist.
The touch surprised me enough that I looked up immediately.
“Don’t hide now,” he murmured, tugging my hand away from my face.
The teasing edge in his voice softened just slightly.
And somehow that felt even more dangerous.
“I kinda like when you look at me.”
My stomach flipped so hard it was honestly concerning.
For one suspended second neither of us moved.
The lights flashed blue and gold across his face. Music pounded through the floor beneath our feet. Around us, Dean was still laughing at something Tucker said, people shouted over drinks, glasses clinked behind the bar—
But Logan’s attention stayed completely, entirely on me.
Like I was the only interesting thing in the room.
Then his gaze flicked briefly to the jacket tied around my waist before returning to my face.
“Plus,” he added casually, “now everybody knows you’re wearing my jacket.”
I blinked. “And why exactly does that matter?”
His grin turned lazy again.
“No reason.”
Liar.
And judging by the look in his eyes—
he knew I knew it too.
By the time I realized John Logan was still holding my wrist, it was already becoming a problem.
Not a real problem.
A dangerous problem.
Because his hand was warm, his thumb rested lazily against the inside of my wrist, and the look in his eyes was doing deeply irresponsible things to my nervous system.
Around us, Malone’s was still loud and chaotic—music blasting, people yelling over each other, glasses clinking behind the bar—but somehow the space directly around us felt weirdly smaller.
Focused.
Like the rest of the room had blurred at the edges.
Logan tilted his head slightly, watching me with obvious amusement. “You always get this quiet when a guy flirts with you?”
I narrowed my eyes immediately. “I’m not quiet.”
“You were staring at me like you forgot your own name two seconds ago.”
“That’s a medical condition.”
Dean nearly fell out of the booth laughing.
Tucker pointed a fry at me. “Honestly, y/n? Respect.”
“Thank you,” I said with dignity. “At least someone here supports women.”
Logan’s mouth twitched.
Still holding my wrist.
Still entirely too close.
“You okay there, hockey boy?” I asked sweetly. “You seem attached.”
His gaze dropped briefly to where our hands were touching before lifting back to my face.
“Nah,” he said easily. “Just making sure you don’t run away.”
My stomach flipped.
Which was ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
Because John Logan flirted with everyone. That was practically part of his personality. He was charming and hot and knew exactly how to look at someone like they were the center of the universe for five minutes at a time.
I knew that.
Unfortunately, knowing it did absolutely nothing for me when he smiled like that.
“You think I’d run away?” I asked.
“I think,” Logan said slowly, “you’ve been pretending not to notice me staring at you all night.”
Heat crawled up my neck instantly.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
“That’s not a denial.”
“Please stop being observant. It’s ruining my life.”
He laughed softly, finally letting go of my wrist.
I immediately missed the warmth.
Which felt pathetic.
Before I could spiral about that too much, Logan leaned one hip against the edge of the booth beside me.
“So what’s in the emergency backup bag?” he asked.
“Gym shorts. Oversized T-shirt. Snacks.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Snacks?”
“I’m a woman in STEM. Survival is important.”
Dean pointed at me dramatically. “See? This is why she’s my favorite.”
“You told Hannah last week I looked like I’d poison someone for fun.”
“You do.”
“That’s just the eyeliner.”
Logan laughed again, shaking his head.
God, he laughed a lot around me.
That felt… nice.
Dangerously nice.
“What kind of snacks?” he asked.
I stared at him. “Are you flirting with me or trying to rob me?”
“Can’t it be both?”
I snorted despite myself and finally crouched to dig through my tote bag. “Goldfish crackers. Granola bars. Sour candy.”
“y/n,” Tucker said solemnly, “marry me.”
“No.”
“That’s fair.”
I pulled out the folded pair of black athletic shorts I planned on changing into and tossed the bag onto the booth seat.
Logan looked personally offended.
“You’re replacing the dress?”
“The dress betrayed me.”
“But the dress is winning.”
“That sounds fake.”
“No seriously.” His eyes dragged over me again, slower this time. “It’s a really good dress.”
My brain fully malfunctioned for half a second.
The confidence in his voice was what got me.
Not teasing now.
Not joking.
Just honest.
And somehow that was worse.
“You are aggressively good at this,” I informed him.
“At flirting?”
“At making people forget basic motor functions.”
A grin spread slowly across his face. “Yeah?”
“Unfortunately.”
Dean groaned loudly. “I can literally feel the sexual tension from here.”
“Then leave,” Logan said without looking away from me.
Tucker clutched his chest dramatically. “He’s in deep already.”
“I’m not in deep,” Logan shot back automatically.
I raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of wording.”
He looked at me for a second.
Then smirked.
“You catch everything, huh?”
“Occupational hazard.”
“What occupation?”
“Judging people.”
“Damn,” he said. “And here I thought it was pharmacy.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
And Logan’s expression shifted immediately when he heard it.
Softer somehow.
Like he liked making me laugh.
That realization hit me right in the chest.
“You know what’s weird?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“You’re way less scary than Hannah made you sound.”
I gasped dramatically. “Excuse me. I worked very hard on my terrifying reputation.”
“She told Garrett you once made Dean reconsider his entire personality.”
“I did.”
Dean pointed at me. “She looked me dead in the eyes and asked if I had hobbies besides being loud.”
Logan barked out a laugh.
“To be fair,” I said, “you didn’t have an answer.”
“That’s not the point.”
The music switched songs, bass vibrating through the floor harder now as more people crowded onto the dance floor.
Across the room, Hannah spotted me and wiggled her eyebrows obnoxiously.
I immediately flipped her off.
She looked delighted.
Logan followed my gaze toward the dance floor. “You gonna keep dancing?”
“Eventually.”
“You were having fun before your dress declared war.”
“I was having fun until somebody noticed.”
“y/n,” he said, looking genuinely amused, “you were staring at me like you were conducting scientific research.”
“In my defense, your arms are upsetting.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Tucker made a strangled noise.
Dean physically bent over laughing.
And Logan—
Logan looked so pleased with himself it was unbearable.
“My arms?” he repeated carefully.
I immediately realized my mistake.
“Oh my God.”
“y/n likes my arms,” he announced to the table.
“I actually need everyone here to die.”
He laughed outright now, head tipping back slightly, and the sight hit me with embarrassing force.
Because Logan was pretty.
Like offensively pretty.
Especially when he laughed.
“You know,” he said casually, flexing one arm against the table edge just enough to be annoying, “most people compliment my face first.”
“You don’t need compliments about your face. You already know about your face.”
“That’s true.”
“Horrific answer.”
He grinned.
Then leaned closer suddenly, voice dropping lower.
“But for the record,” he murmured, “I noticed your legs first too.”
My entire train of thought derailed.
Completely.
Gone.
Dean slapped the table hard enough to rattle the drinks. “Jesus Christ, just kiss already.”
“Dean,” I said weakly, still staring at Logan, “I’m trying to have a nervous breakdown in peace.”
Logan’s eyes flicked down briefly to my mouth.
Just for a second.
Still enough to make my pulse jump.
Then he looked back up slowly.
“Would it help,” he asked softly, “if I told you I’ve been trying not to kiss you since you walked in?”
I forgot how breathing worked.
Actually forgot.
Logan noticed immediately too, because his grin turned lazy and unbearably smug.
“There she goes again,” he murmured.
“Shut up.”
“You get all wide-eyed every time I flirt with you.”
“Maybe because you flirt like you’re trying to cause structural damage.”
That earned me another low laugh.
And before I could recover from that either, Logan reached out and adjusted the collar of his hockey jacket where it sat tied around my waist.
His fingers brushed bare skin just above my thigh.
Summary: Dean’s father threatens to cut him off after another scandal hits the hockey team, so Dean lies and says he’s in a serious relationship. The problem? The girl he asks to pretend-date him is the one person on campus who genuinely can’t stand him.
wc: 1179
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x reader
A/N: highly requested part 2
Masterlist | Part 1
The problem with fake dating, Dean realized very quickly, was that pretending to be in love required an alarming amount of touching.
Not dramatic touching.
Worse.
Natural touching.
The kind that happened without thinking.
A hand at the small of Y/N’s back while walking through crowded restaurants.
Her stealing fries off his plate.
His thumb brushing her wrist during conversations because his body apparently hated him now.
It was becoming an issue.
A serious issue.
Because Dean Di Laurentis was starting to forget which parts were fake.
“You’re staring again,” Y/N said from across the library table.
Dean blinked. “I’m literally reading.”
“You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes.”
“That’s because economics is emotionally abusive.”
Y/N snorted softly before returning to her notes.
Dean watched her anyway.
Which was becoming another problem.
She looked different lately.
Or maybe he was just noticing things he hadn’t before.
The way she tucked hair behind her ear while concentrating.
The tiny wrinkle between her brows when she was annoyed.
How she always stole his hoodies but complained they smelled like hockey.
Normal things.
Dangerously normal things.
Across from him, Y/N looked up slowly.
“…You’re doing it again.”
Dean leaned back in his chair lazily. “You’re very distracting.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re pretending to date me voluntarily.”
Her expression flattened. “Temporary psychosis.”
Dean grinned automatically.
And there it was again.
That shift.
That stupid warmth in his chest every time she looked at him like she was trying not to smile.
God.
This was becoming catastrophic.
The hockey team noticed next.
Of course they did.
Hockey players noticed emotional instability the way sharks noticed blood.
Dean walked into the house kitchen one Friday morning to find Logan, Garrett, and Tucker staring at him.
Dean stopped immediately. “Why do you all look like detectives.”
Garrett pointed at him slowly. “You’re humming.”
Dean blinked. “People hum.”
“You don’t.”
“That’s profiling.”
Tucker narrowed his eyes. “You also made breakfast.”
“Okay, now you’re just inventing crimes.”
Logan took a sip of coffee. “He made pancakes.”
Silence.
Garrett looked horrified. “Oh my God.”
Dean crossed his arms defensively. “They were frozen.”
“That somehow makes it worse,” Logan muttered.
Dean hated all of them.
Mostly because they looked way too smug.
“You like her,” Garrett said suddenly.
The kitchen went quiet.
Dean laughed instantly.
Too quickly.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s fake.”
Logan looked unconvinced.
Tucker looked entertained.
Garrett looked suspicious.
Dean grabbed his coffee and fled before anyone could say something emotionally devastating.
Cowards.
All of them.
The real problem started during Dean’s family charity gala.
Apparently, pretending to date someone for one weekend had evolved into “ongoing appearances.”
Which felt legally fraudulent.
“You clean up okay,” Dean admitted as Y/N stepped out of the apartment bathroom.
She adjusted one of her earrings. “You sound shocked.”
“I’m always shocked by you.”
“That’s because you’re not very bright.”
Fair.
But Dean barely heard the insult.
Because she looked—
Dangerous.
Black dress. Bare shoulders. Hair down.
And suddenly Dean understood why men in historical wars used to write poetry and lose their minds.
Y/N noticed him staring immediately.
“…Why are you making that face?”
Dean blinked once. “I forgot how language works.”
She stared at him.
Then laughed despite herself.
And something in Dean’s chest tightened painfully at the sound.
Oh no.
No, no, absolutely not.
He was not falling in love with the fake girlfriend.
That felt deeply against the rules.
The gala itself was torture.
Not because of his father.
Because of everyone else.
“You’re so good for him,” one woman told Y/N warmly.
Dean nearly choked on champagne.
Y/N smiled politely. “That’s sweet.”
Sweet.
Dean’s family had never once used the word sweet to describe him.
Responsible, maybe.
Talented.
Promising.
Difficult.
Never sweet.
“You’ve calmed him down,” another person added.
Y/N glanced toward Dean instinctively.
And smiled.
Actually smiled.
Not fake.
Not polite.
Soft.
Fond.
Dean felt his entire nervous system short-circuit.
Because for one terrifying second, it looked real.
Not the relationship.
The feeling behind it.
Then his father approached.
“You two seem happy,” he observed carefully.
Dean prepared himself for criticism automatically.
Instead, his father looked at Y/N and said:
“I haven’t seen him like this before.”
Silence.
Dean went still.
Y/N did too.
Something about the statement landed strangely heavy.
Because Dean didn’t know what “like this” meant.
Softer?
Calmer?
Happy?
The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.
His father moved away before either of them responded.
And suddenly Dean couldn’t breathe properly.
“You okay?” Y/N asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
Lie.
Big lie.
Because now he was realizing something horrifying:
He liked who he was around her.
And Dean Di Laurentis had spent years carefully avoiding that kind of vulnerability.
Things finally exploded in the hotel elevator afterward.
Not dramatically.
Worse.
Quietly.
The elevator doors closed.
Silence settled around them.
Dean loosened his tie slightly while Y/N kicked off her heels with visible relief.
“That was painful,” she muttered.
“You did great.”
“You almost called a senator ‘bro.’”
“In my defense, he had aggressive bro energy.”
She laughed again.
Dean’s chest hurt.
Again.
Everything hurt lately.
Y/N leaned back against the elevator wall. “Your father was weird tonight.”
Dean looked away slightly. “That’s normal.”
“No.” She studied him carefully. “He looked proud of you.”
That word hit like a punch.
Proud.
Dean swallowed once.
Hard.
“He likes you,” he said instead.
“That’s not what I said.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched.
Then Y/N stepped closer slightly.
Not much.
Just enough to matter.
“You know,” she said softly, “I think he’s starting to realize you’re not who he thinks you are.”
Dean laughed under his breath. “You give me way too much credit.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I think people don’t give you enough.”
The elevator suddenly felt too small.
Dean looked at her.
Really looked at her.
At the girl who challenged him constantly. Saw through every joke. Called him out without ever making him feel small.
The girl who somehow made him want to be better instead of just pretending to be.
Dangerous.
So unbelievably dangerous.
“You need to stop doing that,” he said roughly.
Her brows furrowed. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me like I’m worth something.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence.
Y/N’s expression changed instantly.
Softened.
And that was somehow worse.
“Dean…”
He should’ve backed up.
Should’ve laughed it off.
Made a joke.
Instead he stayed exactly where he was while her hand lifted slowly to straighten his loosened tie.
Again with the tie.
Again with the tiny touches that felt too intimate.
“You’re an idiot,” she whispered.
Dean smiled faintly. “Frequently.”
Her hand lingered against his chest.
The elevator stopped.
Neither of them moved.
The doors slid open.
Still neither of them moved.
Then Dean looked down at her mouth accidentally.
And Y/N noticed.
Which became a problem immediately.
A huge problem.
Because she didn’t step away.
And suddenly the fake relationship wasn’t the thing scaring Dean anymore.
Summary: At a chaotic Briar hockey house party thrown by Dean Di Laurentis, the night spirals into nonstop chaos involving drinking games, bad decisions, and too many opinions from Garrett, Allie, and Hannah. Amid the noise and disaster, Logan stays quietly protective of Y/N, and the two end up closer than ever despite the madness around them.
wc: 1310
Pairing: John Logan x Reader
A/N: Not edited, any mistakes lmk
Masterlist
The Briar hockey house was loud enough to qualify as a safety hazard.
Somewhere between the basement speakers shaking the walls and Dean Di Laurentis yelling, “THIS IS A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT,” the entire building had officially stopped being a residence and become a liability.
Y/N had been here for exactly forty-seven minutes and already regretted three life choices.
One: agreeing to come.
Two: trusting Logan when he said it would be “chill.”
Three: wearing white sneakers.
Logan appeared behind her like a well-dressed disaster, pressing a drink into her hand.
“It’s not that bad,” he said.
Y/N glanced around.
Dean was on top of the kitchen island, attempting to DJ while Garrett tried to physically remove him.
Allie was laughing so hard she was crying into Hannah’s shoulder.
Someone had brought a fog machine.
There was no fire alarm yet, which felt optimistic.
“It’s very bad,” Y/N corrected.
Logan took a sip of his drink. “Fair.”
A loud crash echoed from the hallway.
“THAT WAS A DOOR,” Garrett shouted.
Dean shouted back, “IT’S A PORTAL NOW.”
Y/N turned slowly toward Logan. “Why are you friends with him.”
“He was assigned to me freshman year,” Logan said calmly. “I never recovered.”
Five minutes later, the kitchen had become its own ecosystem.
Dean was now making shots for strangers like he was running a very questionable nightclub.
“Winner gets bragging rights,” he announced.
“And a concussion,” Garrett muttered.
Allie climbed onto a counter. “I’ll take one.”
Hannah immediately grabbed her arm. “Absolutely not.”
Y/N leaned against Logan’s shoulder. “Is it always like this?”
“Yes,” Logan said.
“Why do people keep coming back?”
“Stockholm syndrome.”
Dean pointed at Logan. “Your girlfriend looks bored. Fix it.”
Y/N raised a brow. “I’m not bored.”
Logan looked down at her. “Are you bored?”
“No.”
Dean squinted. “That’s worse. That’s concern.”
Garrett sighed. “We should’ve gone to engineering school.”
At some point, someone turned the hallway into an obstacle course.
No one knew who started it.
No one took responsibility.
That meant Dean.
“Fastest run wins,” he declared.
“I am not racing you,” Logan said immediately.
“You’re scared.”
“I’m logical.”
Y/N crossed her arms. “I think Logan wins.”
Dean gasped. “Betrayal.”
Garrett pointed at Logan. “She’s right, though.”
Allie nodded. “Logan runs like he has something to prove.”
Hannah added, “He does. It’s called pride.”
Logan sighed. “I hate all of you.”
“Love you too,” Y/N said sweetly.
Dean clapped. “Alright, Romeo, you’re running first.”
Logan hesitated.
Then looked at Y/N.
“You’re timing me?”
She smiled. “Obviously.”
That was enough.
He ran.
And of course, he won.
Dean fell halfway down the stairs trying to “improve aerodynamics.”
Garrett refused to help him up.
Y/N escaped upstairs for five minutes of peace.
It lasted exactly thirty seconds.
Allie burst in. “Okay, I need your opinion—do I text the guy or let him suffer?”
Hannah followed. “Don’t text him. Let him suffer.”
Allie: “That’s toxic.”
Hannah: “It’s strategic.”
Y/N sat on the edge of the bed. “What did he do?”
Allie: “He said I ‘seemed chill.’”
Hannah: “Dump him.”
Allie: “We’re not even dating.”
Hannah: “Pre-dump him.”
Y/N laughed into her hands.
Then Logan appeared in the doorway.
He paused.
Took in the scene.
“You escaped,” he said.
Y/N nodded. “Briefly.”
He crossed the room, pulling her between his knees where she sat.
Immediately calmer.
Like he’d anchored himself to her without thinking.
Dean’s voice echoed faintly from downstairs: “IF ANYONE BREAKS MY BLENDER I’M STARTING A WAR.”
Logan didn’t even blink. “He already broke it.”
Y/N looked up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Define okay.”
She smiled softly. “That’s a no.”
Logan shrugged. “I’m here with you. That helps.”
Hannah made a noise like she was witnessing something emotionally intimate and unacceptable.
Allie whispered, “I hate how soft they are.”
The music downstairs got louder.
Which was impressive, considering it had already been loud enough to shake teeth.
When they came back down, the situation had evolved.
Dean was now hosting “truth or dare,” except it was 80% dares and 20% chaos crimes.
Garrett had his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.
Someone had dared Dean to balance on a couch armrest.
He was succeeding.
“Ask me anything,” Dean said dramatically.
A random guy yelled, “What’s your biggest fear?”
Dean didn’t hesitate. “Emotional vulnerability.”
Y/N called out, “That’s not a fear, that’s your personality flaw.”
The room erupted.
Dean pointed at her. “That’s slander.”
Logan leaned down slightly. “She’s right.”
Dean looked betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Logan: “I’m in love. I can’t be objective.”
The entire room went quiet for half a second.
Then—
Dean: “Ew.”
Garrett: “Get a room.”
Allie: “That was actually kind of sweet.”
Hannah: “I’m going to cry again.”
Y/N just elbowed Logan lightly. “You’re dramatic.”
Logan: “You like it.”
She did not answer.
Which was answer enough.
It started with spilled alcohol.
It always started with spilled alcohol.
Some guy bumped into Y/N. Drink went everywhere.
Logan tensed instantly.
Not visibly.
But Y/N felt it.
That shift.
The protective edge sharpening under his calm exterior.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately.
“I know,” Logan replied.
But he didn’t move away.
The guy muttered an apology and walked off.
Dean appeared behind them like a menace. “If anyone disrespects her again, I’m starting violence.”
Garrett grabbed his shirt. “No violence.”
Dean: “Controlled violence.”
Garrett: “No.”
Logan didn’t take his eyes off Y/N.
“You okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.
“I’m okay.”
He nodded once.
Then, like it physically pained him, relaxed.
Allie leaned toward Hannah. “He’s worse than Dean when it comes to her.”
Hannah: “He just hides it better.”
By two in the morning, the party had degraded into something softer.
Less chaotic.
More tired chaos.
People sat on counters and floors instead of dancing.
Dean was eating cereal again.
Garrett was asleep sitting up on a chair.
Allie and Hannah were arguing in whispers about whether pineapple belongs on pizza.
(It does. They disagreed.)
Y/N was curled against Logan on the kitchen floor.
Summary: Dean hooks up with Garrett Graham’s younger sister after a party and fully expects it to be a one-time thing. Then she transfers to Briar and ends up living directly across from him.
wc: 1070
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Graham!reader
A/N: this is unedited. I just dont feel like it
Masterlist
The first mistake Dean Di Laurentis made was flirting with the girl in the leather jacket.
The second mistake was continuing after she rolled her eyes at him.
The third mistake?
Not asking for her last name.
“You always this annoying?” she asked, leaning against the crowded kitchen counter at the party.
Dean grinned immediately. “Only when I’m trying to impress someone.”
“Is it working?”
“You’re still talking to me.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
God, she was pretty.
Not in the usual way Dean noticed girls at parties, either. She looked unimpressed by literally everything around her, including him, which unfortunately only made him more interested.
Music rattled the walls of the hockey house while people shouted over each other downstairs.
Dean barely noticed any of it anymore.
Not when she kept looking at him like she expected him to disappoint her.
“That’s a dangerous expression,” he told her.
“What expression?”
“The one that says you think I’m an idiot.”
“I don’t think,” she corrected. “I know.”
Dean laughed hard enough that nearby people looked over.
And just like that, he was done for.
Her name was Y/N.
She went to school three hours away.
She hated beer.
She thought hockey players were overconfident disasters.
And somewhere around one in the morning, Dean kissed her in the upstairs hallway because she looked at him like she wanted him to.
It was supposed to be simple.
One fun night.
No complications.
No feelings.
Dean Di Laurentis practically invented avoiding feelings.
Then, the next morning—
He walked downstairs into the kitchen and found Garrett Graham making coffee.
Y/N walked in two seconds later wearing Dean’s hoodie.
Silence.
Garrett blinked once.
Twice.
Then very slowly:
“…Why is my sister wearing your clothes.”
Dean felt his soul leave his body.
Y/N froze mid-step. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Garrett repeated. “OH?”
Dean considered jumping through the nearest window.
Y/N crossed her arms immediately. “Relax.”
“Relax?” Garrett looked personally betrayed. “You hooked up with Dean?”
Dean pointed weakly. “In my defense, I didn’t know she was related to you.”
Garrett looked ready to commit violence.
“That somehow makes it worse.”
Logan wandered into the kitchen half-asleep, took one look at everyone’s faces, and immediately backed out.
“Nope.”
Coward.
The aftermath was catastrophic.
Garrett banned Dean from speaking to his sister.
Dean laughed directly in his face.
Y/N told both of them they were being ridiculous.
And then she left.
Which should’ve been the end of it.
Honestly, Dean expected it to be.
One chaotic mistake.
Funny story.
Move on.
Except two months later, Dean came back from practice to find someone dragging suitcases into the apartment directly across from his.
He stopped walking.
She looked up.
Dean stared.
Y/N stared back.
“No,” he said immediately.
She sighed like she’d already had this reaction several times today. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“You live here?”
“Transfer student.”
“Across from me?”
“Yes, Dean. I understand how hallways work.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “This feels targeted.”
“You think I chose housing based on ruining your life?”
“…Did you?”
She looked dangerously close to laughing.
Which meant Dean was already losing this interaction.
Again.
Garrett appeared at the end of the hallway carrying another box.
Then saw Dean.
Then saw Y/N.
Then looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Trust me,” Y/N muttered, “I’m suffering too.”
Dean leaned casually against the wall. “Wow. Harsh.”
“You deserve harsh.”
“Still thinking about me, though.”
Garrett made a violent choking sound.
Living across from Dean Di Laurentis turned out to be a genuine health hazard.
Because he was everywhere.
Leaning in her doorway.
Stealing her snacks.
Knocking at midnight because “Logan locked me out” even though Logan later confirmed this was completely false.
And worst of all?
Dean was unexpectedly easy to like.
Underneath all the flirting and arrogance, he was funny. Thoughtful in weird quiet ways. The kind of person who remembered tiny details and acted like he didn’t.
Which was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
“You’re staring again,” Dean said one evening.
Y/N looked up from her textbook to find him sprawled across her couch like he paid rent there.
“I’m trying to figure out how you got into my apartment.”
“You gave me a key.”
“That was for emergencies.”
“I was emotionally bored.”
“That is not an emergency.”
Dean considered this seriously. “Agree to disagree.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
Dean noticed immediately.
His expression softened for half a second before the usual cocky grin returned.
“There she is.”
“There who is?”
“The girl who likes me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“You bought my favorite cereal.”
“You complained for two weeks.”
“And you listened.”
Y/N hated when he sounded genuinely pleased by things like that.
It made this harder.
Because Garrett still glared every time Dean entered a room.
Because dating her brother’s teammate was objectively a terrible idea.
Because Dean still had a reputation for never taking anything seriously.
And because sometimes, late at night when they sat together in silence, she caught him looking at her like he wanted to say something real.
That part scared her most.
The breaking point came during movie night at the hockey house.
Everyone was there.
Garrett. Logan. Tucker. Hannah. Allie.
Dean sat beside Y/N on the couch.
Too close.
Not touching.
But close enough that everyone noticed anyway.
Garrett definitely noticed.
Especially when Dean handed Y/N his drink automatically without looking.
Especially when she took it automatically.
Especially when Dean murmured, “Careful, it’s strong,” softly enough that it sounded intimate.
Garrett paused the movie.
The entire room groaned.
“No,” Logan said immediately. “Whatever this is, no.”
Garrett pointed between them. “What is happening?”
“Nothing,” Y/N answered too quickly.
Dean stayed suspiciously silent.
Allie narrowed her eyes. “Oh my God.”
Hannah gasped. “OH MY GOD.”
Tucker looked delighted. “I knew it.”
Traitor.
Garrett looked at Dean like he’d committed a federal crime. “Tell me you’re not flirting with my sister again.”
Dean opened his mouth.
Y/N immediately cut in: “He’s not.”
Everyone looked unconvinced.
Including Dean.
Garrett looked between them slowly.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“You like her.”
Silence.
Dean’s stomach dropped.
Because that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was—
He really, really did.
And judging by the expression on Y/N’s face when she looked at him, she’d just realized it too.
Summary: Dean’s father threatens to cut him off after another scandal hits the hockey team, so Dean lies and says he’s in a serious relationship. The problem? The girl he asks to pretend-date him is the one person on campus who genuinely can’t stand him.
wc: 1400
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x reader
A/N: Hope you enjoy
Masterlist | Part 2
Dean Di Laurentis had exactly three talents:
Hockey.
Flirting.
Making catastrophic decisions with unreasonable confidence.
Unfortunately, talent number three was about to ruin his life.
Again.
“You’re being dramatic,” Dean said into the phone.
His father’s voice turned colder. “You embarrassed this family.”
Dean leaned back in his chair at the hockey house kitchen table, resisting the urge to hang up.
Across from him, John Logan quietly slid a coffee toward him like he was witnessing a hostage negotiation.
Which, honestly, felt accurate.
“It was one bar fight,” Dean argued.
“You were photographed standing on a police car.”
“That part was taken out of context.”
“There is no context where that becomes acceptable.”
Fair.
Mostly.
Dean dragged a hand through his hair while his father continued.
“You’re months away from the NHL draft and acting like an irresponsible child. Sponsors are asking questions. Scouts are asking questions. I’m asking questions.”
Logan mouthed, You’re screwed.
Dean ignored him.
Then came the final blow.
“If you can’t start behaving like someone worth investing in,” his father said sharply, “I see no reason to continue financially supporting you.”
Silence.
Dean sat up slightly.
Because that was new.
Threats were normal.
Disappointment was normal.
But this?
This sounded real.
“You’re cutting me off?” Dean asked carefully.
“I’m giving you one last opportunity to prove you can take something seriously.”
Dean laughed humorlessly. “And what exactly does that mean?”
A pause.
Then:
“Stability.”
Dean already hated where this was going.
“People respect commitment,” his father continued. “Responsibility. Structure. Frankly, a serious relationship would do wonders for your image.”
Logan nearly inhaled coffee into his lungs.
Dean stared blankly at the wall.
“A girlfriend,” he repeated flatly.
“A respectable one.”
Click.
The line went dead.
Silence filled the kitchen.
Then Logan whispered:
“Oh, this is going to become your worst idea yet.”
It started as a joke.
That was the problem.
Because Dean initially laughed about it.
“A fake girlfriend?” he said later that night to Garrett and Logan. “What is this, a Netflix movie?”
Garrett looked horrified already. “Please tell me you’re not actually considering this.”
Dean pointed at him. “Counterpoint: money.”
“That’s not a counterpoint.”
“That’s several thousand counterpoints.”
Logan leaned back against the couch. “Okay, but who would willingly agree to date you?”
Dean opened his mouth.
Paused.
Then immediately wished he hadn’t thought of her.
Because unfortunately, there was one person believable enough to impress his father.
One person smart enough to pull it off convincingly.
One person who came from the kind of polished, respectable background his family would approve of.
One person who absolutely hated him.
“Oh no,” Logan said immediately.
Garrett squinted. “Why do you look like that?”
Dean stood up slowly. “I need to go make a terrible decision.”
Y/N opened her apartment door, took one look at Dean, and sighed deeply.
“No.”
Dean blinked. “I haven’t even said anything.”
“You’re here after midnight smiling like that. Whatever it is, no.”
Fair.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Harsh.”
“You once set off the fire alarm trying to make garlic bread.”
“It was aggressively frozen.”
“You’re proving my point.”
Dean grinned despite himself.
God, she was mean.
It was kind of incredible.
Y/N crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”
Dean hesitated.
Then decided honesty might actually help for once.
“My father threatened to cut me off unless I stop publicly acting like a disaster.”
“…That sounds reasonable.”
“See? This is why people fear you.”
“What do you want, Dean?”
He inhaled once.
Then:
“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
Silence.
Y/N stared at him.
Then laughed.
Not a cute laugh either.
A full, disbelieving, you’ve completely lost your mind laugh.
Dean waited it out patiently.
Finally she wiped under her eyes dramatically. “Oh my God. You’re serious.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the details.”
“I don’t need details to reject insanity.”
Dean stepped forward slightly. “You’d be amazing at it.”
“I hate you.”
“Exactly. Nobody would suspect emotional attachment.”
Y/N pointed toward the hallway. “Leave.”
Dean didn’t move.
“You owe me,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “For what?”
“You backed into my car freshman year.”
“That was one time.”
“And you drove away.”
“You deserved it.”
“Debatable.”
Y/N groaned loudly. “Why me?”
Because you’re the only girl I know who wouldn’t fall for the act.
Dean absolutely could not say that out loud.
So instead:
“Because my father would believe you.”
That made her pause.
Not agreeing.
Just thinking.
Dangerous.
Dean saw it immediately and pressed harder.
“One dinner,” he said. “One weekend pretending we’re disgustingly in love. My father calms down. You get free food.”
“You think I can be bribed with food?”
“I think everyone can.”
“That’s concerning.”
Dean smiled slowly. “That’s not a no.”
Y/N glared at him for a long moment.
Then finally:
“If I say yes, you follow my rules.”
Dean straightened immediately. “Done.”
“You don’t even know the rules.”
“I’m adaptable.”
“You’re emotionally feral.”
“Also true.”
She sighed like this physically pained her.
“Fine.”
Dean blinked.
“…Fine?”
“One weekend,” she warned. “Then we never speak of this again.”
Relief hit him so fast he nearly laughed.
Instead he held out a hand dramatically. “Pleasure doing business with you, sweetheart.”
Y/N looked at his hand like she was considering violence.
Then shook it anyway.
Big mistake.
Because Dean smiled automatically.
And for one weird second—
The tension shifted.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
Enough for them both to notice.
Y/N pulled her hand back immediately. “Don’t make this weird.”
“Too late.”
The fake dating started disastrously.
Which honestly made sense.
“You need to stop looking at me like I committed tax fraud,” Dean whispered through his smile during lunch with his father.
Y/N smiled sweetly through gritted teeth. “You feel like tax fraud.”
Across the table, Dean’s father watched them carefully.
Assessing.
Judging.
Exactly the way Dean expected.
“What do you study again?” his father asked Y/N.
“Political science.”
“Impressive.”
Dean nearly rolled his eyes.
His father had never once called hockey impressive.
Y/N noticed.
Of course she did.
Under the table, her foot tapped lightly against Dean’s ankle.
Not affectionate.
Grounding.
And weirdly—
It helped.
“So,” his father continued, “how long have you two been together?”
Dean opened his mouth automatically.
Y/N beat him to it.
“Seven months.”
Dean turned toward her slightly.
That was specific.
Y/N smiled calmly. “We met at a campus fundraiser.”
“We hated each other immediately,” Dean added.
Her eyes flicked toward him briefly.
Then:
“And somehow he kept showing up anyway.”
Something about the way she said it hit unexpectedly hard.
Dean looked at her.
Really looked.
And suddenly realized two terrifying things at once:
She was very good at pretending to like him.
He liked it way too much.
Later that night, after the dinner finally ended, Dean walked her back to her apartment in unusual silence.
“You survived,” Y/N said.
“Barely.”
“You were less annoying than expected.”
Dean gasped softly. “That’s basically a love confession.”
She rolled her eyes.
But she was smiling.
And Dean noticed something dangerous then.
The fake touches had started feeling natural.
Her hand on his arm.
His hand at her back.
The way she leaned toward him automatically during conversations.
It should’ve felt forced.
Instead, it felt easy.
Too easy.
At her apartment door, Y/N turned toward him slowly.
“Your father likes me,” she said.
“Everyone likes you.”
“That sounded sincere. Gross.”
Dean laughed quietly.
Then stopped.
Because she was looking at him differently now.
Less irritated.
More curious.
Which was somehow worse.
“You know,” she said slowly, “you’re not exactly what I expected.”
Dean leaned against the doorway. “Yeah?”
“I thought you were just arrogant.”
“Ouch.”
“You are arrogant.”
“Fair.”
“But…” she hesitated briefly, “you care more than people realize.”
The words landed somewhere deep in his chest.
Dangerous territory.
Dean covered it with humor automatically.
“So you admit I’m charming.”
“I admit you’re slightly less unbearable than usual.”
He grinned.
Then, before either of them could think too hard about it, Y/N reached up and fixed the crooked collar of his jacket.
Small gesture.
Casual.
Intimate enough to make Dean forget how to breathe for half a second.
Her hand lingered accidentally.
Their eyes met.
And suddenly the fake relationship started feeling a little too convincing.
Summary: convincing John Logan to fake date you is apparently much easier then admitting you have feelings for the one guy you can't have.
wc: 3265
Pairing: John Logan (Off Campus) x reader
A/N: there will probably be a part 2 for this
Masterlist | Part 2
Out of the roughly 15,000 men at the school, 300 being athletes, 30 of them on the hockey team, and she had to fall for the one guy she absolutely could not have feelings for. Out of every guy in the school, out of every team, she had to have feelings for Garrett Graham. Her best friend's boyfriend. Hannah’s well deserved happy ending.
It started small, laughing at his jokes a second too long. Watching him without realizing. Noticing things like how he always held Hannah’s hand like it was automatic, like it was easy. That’s what made it worse, it was easy for them.
So y/n made rules, very strict rules: Don't be alone with Garrett, don’t stare at Garrett.
Rules she broke every single day.
The more she tried not to think about him, the more her brain insisted on betraying her. Which was how she ended up pacing her dorm room at 10:30 at night while Allie sat cross-legged on her bed like a therapist who had not consented to this job.
“I’m telling you,” Allie said slowly, “this is total avoidance behaviour.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” Y/n snapped, “I don’t even like Garrett like that.”
Allie gave her a look.
Y/n added quickly, “He’s Hannah’s boyfriend. Obviously I don’t like him like that.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Y/n grabbed her water bottle like it could physically defend her from this conversation. “This is insane. Even if I did like anyone I’m too busy for a relationship. I have midterms. I have—”
“You have a crush,” Allie said simply.
“I do not—”
“And Logan has a crush on Hannah.”
That stopped her. The room went quiet in a way that felt like something clicking into place, whether she wanted it to or not.
Y/n exhaled sharply. “That’s unfortunate for him.”
“It’s unfortunate for both of you when you’re both suffering in silence like idiots.”
“I’m not suffering,” Y/n muttered.
Allie raised an eyebrow.
Y/n stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “…Okay, fine. Slightly suffering.”
“Thank you.”
The problem wasn’t just the feelings. It was the situation. Hannah and Garrett were solid. Happy. Loudly in love in a way that made it impossible to ignore. No matter how bad you wanted too. And John Logan, he was not her problem. John Logan was never her problem. John Logan had loud opinions, hockey arrogance, and the most irritatingly observant person she had ever met.
And yet.
Allie stood up. “Talk to him.”
“I am not talking to John Logan.”
“You literally might be the only two people on campus who haven’t acknowledged this dynamic.”
“There is no dynamic.”
Allie rolled her eyes, “You’re both exhausting”. Then she left Y/n alone with her thoughts, which was honestly worse.
She didn’t plan to go to Logan’s room. It just… happened, like her feet had given up waiting for her brain to catch up. She knocked once, then immediately questioned every life choice she had ever made. The door swung open, Logan looked at her like she had interrupted something important.
“What did you do?” he asked immediately.
“Hi to you too.” Y/n didn’t even hesitate before walking past him into the room like she belonged there. “I might have implied to Allie that we’re seeing each other.”
Logan closed the door slowly, like if he moved too fast reality would break and he’d get arrested by consequence itself. “Why would you do that?”
“Because we both have crushes on people we shouldn't and this is easier than admitting anything. I’m pretty sure it’s an avoidance technique.”
That made him pause. A beat. Then, flatly: “Right.” Logan stared at her for a long second, like he was trying to decide if she was a prank or a threat. Then he laughed, once, sharp, disbelieving. “You’re insane.”
“Probably.” she sighed, “but, you're the one who agreed to talk to me alone at night.”
“I didn’t agree to anything. You showed up in my room.”
“Yeah, but you didn't ask me to leave. That sounds like consent-adjacent language.”
“Don’t use legal terms you don’t understand.”
She dropped onto his bed like it had personally invited her. “Anyway, it’s fine. We just keep it going for a bit and they’ll leave us alone.”
Silence stretched, then Logan exhaled, like he was stepping off a cliff he’d already decided he was too tired to climb back up from. “Fine.”
She hesitated. “You’re actually agreeing?”
“I’m agreeing under one condition.”
Y/n narrowed her eyes. “Of course you are.”
“Don’t fall in love with me while pretending to date me.”
That should’ve been her first warning. “Obviously…. What makes you think I would?"
Logan leaned back against his desk, completely calm in a way that made her suspicious. Y/n stared at him for a long moment.
“Okay,” she said finally, dragging the word out like she was stepping into traffic. “New rules.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t have rules”
“Of course we did. Now we have new ones.”
He gestured for her to continue.
She pointed between them. “Rule one: we agree on what we’re telling people before we start… whatever this is.”
“Fair.”
“Rule two: no improv. We discuss things”
“That’s going to be hard for me.”
“Of course it will be.” She rolled her eyes.
He nodded slowly. “And?”
Y/n hesitated, then added, “Rule three: if we’re going to sell this, we need to stop acting like we hate each other.”
Logan tilted his head. “Do we hate each other?”
She opened her mouth. Paused. “...I’m currently undecided.”
That got a quiet laugh out of him. “Alright,” he said. “So what’s the story?”
Y/n leaned back in the chair, thinking. “People already think I’m into Garrett. So we flip it.”
Logan frowned. “Flip it how?”
“We make it obvious I’m not interested in him anymore.”
“And I’m your distraction?”
She looked at him. “You’re my cover.”
Then Logan nodded slowly. “And Hannah?”
Y/n hesitated for half a second too long.
Logan noticed, of course he did. Then he said, quieter, “We keep it separate.”
“Yeah,” she agreed quickly. “Separate.”
Silence settled again, but it wasn’t as sharp this time. Logan pushed off the desk. “So. We’re selling a fake relationship to shut people up about real feelings we don’t want to deal with.”
Y/n pointed at him. “Don’t make it sound like that.”
“That’s what it is.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You already agreed.”
“I’m aware.”
A pause. Then Logan stepped closer—not enough to crowd her, just enough to make her look up at him.
“So,” he said, voice lighter again, “what’s our public image?”
Y/n studied him for a moment. Then, slowly: “We act like you’re obsessed with me.”
Logan’s mouth twitched. “That’s believable.”
“And I tolerate you.”
“Even more believable.”
“And we make everyone else uncomfortable enough to stop asking questions.”
Logan nodded once. “That part I can do.”
Y/n stood up, finally feeling the weird, shaky edge of what they were doing settle into something structured.
“Good,” she said. “Because starting tomorrow, we’re in a relationship.”
Logan looked at her like that sentence meant something entirely different than she intended. Then he smirked. “Yeah,” he said. “We are.”
The next week was hell. And also, unfortunately, a little fun. They didn’t tell anyone at first. There was no announcement, no official “we are now fake dating” press release. It was just… something they started doing. Like a habit they couldn’t explain and didn’t bother correcting. A hand at her waist in the hallway—casual, like it belonged there. Logan steering her through crowds without asking. A glance held just a second too long when someone said his name. Y/n laughing at something he said that wasn’t even that funny, because the way he was looking at her made it impossible not to. And people noticed, of course they did.
It started small.
Dean was the first to notice it, he stopped mid-step in the living room, eyes bouncing between them as Logan handed Y/n her coffee without looking away from her face.
“Did I miss something,” Dean said slowly, “or are you two suddenly… tolerable to each other?”
Y/n choked on her drink.
Logan didn’t even blink. “We’ve always been tolerable.”
“No,” Tucker cut in immediately, squinting like he was trying to solve a crime. “This feels weird.”
“It’s called growth,” Y/n said too quickly.
“It’s called suspicious,” Tucker corrected.
Logan leaned back against the counter, arm brushing Y/n’s in a way that felt far too intentional for something that was supposed to be “just acting.” “You guys are weirdly invested in our relationship.”
Dean pointed at them. “You just said ‘our relationship’ like it’s normal.”
“It is normal,” Logan said.
Y/n nodded a little too fast. “Extremely normal.”
No one believed them. Which, unfortunately, was the goal.
The first real test came in the hallway outside Y/n’s lecture. She was mid-sentence, complaining about her professor, when Logan appeared behind her without warning and slid his hand to her waist like it had always been there. Her brain stalled, not her body, though, because that part reacted instantly. Because Logan was close—too close for someone who was technically just a fake boyfriend. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her hoodie. Close enough that if she turned her head slightly, her mouth would be inches from his jaw.
“You’re late,” she said, but it came out weaker than intended.
“Am I?” he replied, glancing down at her like he was amused that she thought she could be in charge of anything here.
“Yes.”
“Then I guess you should’ve left without me.”
“I don’t need you to walk me to class.”
His hand tightened slightly at her waist—not possessive, just… anchoring.
“I know,” he said simply. “But you like it.”
That should’ve been said lightly. It wasn’t. Y/n looked up at him too quickly. Logan’s expression didn’t change. But his eyes did something subtle—something that made her forget what she was about to say.
“You’re getting cocky,” she muttered.
“I’ve always been cocky.”
“Not like this.”
“Like what?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Because the answer was: like you know exactly what you’re doing to me right now.
Instead, she said, “Like people are watching.”
At that, Logan glanced around the hallway. A few students were definitely watching.
Good.
He leaned slightly closer, voice dropping just enough to feel like it belonged only to her.
“Let them.”
Y/n’s pulse jumped, traitorously. Then Logan stepped back like nothing had happened, hand sliding from her waist slowly—deliberately—before he gestured toward her classroom.
“After you.”
She walked past him on autopilot, fully aware of two things:
One, everyone had definitely noticed.
Two, Logan had absolutely enjoyed that more than necessary.
By midweek, it had gotten worse. And by worse, she meant: Logan had stopped pretending there was a line at all. He’d started sitting closer. Standing closer. Looking at her like he was constantly in the middle of deciding something he hadn’t told her about.
And Y/n—infuriatingly—was reacting. Not loudly or obviously, but enough.
Enough that when Logan brushed his thumb over her knuckles during a group study session, she forgot what she was saying mid-sentence.
Enough that when he leaned down behind her to grab her textbook and his chest pressed lightly against her back, she sat completely still until he moved away.
Enough that Allie, watching from across the room, slowly closed her laptop and said, “Yeah, this is fake my ass.”
Y/n nearly threw a pen at her.
The worst moment came on a Thursday night. They were alone in Logan’s room again—something that was starting to happen far too often to still feel accidental. Y/n was sitting on the edge of his bed, pretending to read while Logan paced in front of her like a problem that refused to sit still.
“We need consistency,” he said.
“In what?”
“In how we act in front of people.”
Y/n didn’t look up. “We’re already consistent.”
“No,” Logan said. “Sometimes you avoid me. Sometimes you look like you want to argue. Sometimes you look like—” He stopped.
Y/n finally glanced up. “Like what?”
Logan’s jaw tightened slightly. “Like you’re not pretending.”
Silence settled between them, heavy and sharp.
Y/n closed her book slowly. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”
Logan didn’t answer right away, he stopped pacing and turned toward her.
“Is it?”
That did something to her stomach.
She hated that it did.
“It’s a fake relationship,” she said carefully. “We’re supposed to be convincing.”
Logan nodded slowly. “Right,” he said.
But he didn’t sound convinced, he stepped closer to her until he stopped just in front of her.
“You know what the problem is?” he asked quietly.
Y/n swallowed. “What.”
“You’re good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Pretending,” he said.
Her heart kicked once, hard.
“That’s not a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
That didn’t annoy her like it should have, Instead, she stood up slowly, forcing space between them that she immediately regretted.
“Maybe you’re just bad at it,” she said.
Logan’s eyes flicked down to her mouth for half a second, then back up.
“Maybe I stopped trying.”
The air changed, not dramatically, but enough that she felt it everywhere.
“Logan,” she warned softly.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Don’t what?”
She didn't answer, she couldn't. There were too many possible endings to that sentence. Logan stepped closer again anyway, slower this time. Giving her every chance to stop him. She didn't move away though. That was her mistake, or maybe it wasn't.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.
Y/n exhaled, shaky. “You’re supposed to be pretending.”
“I know.”
Another step closer.
“I am pretending,” he added. His hand came up—not touching her yet. Just hovering near her waist like he remembered exactly where it usually went. “And you’re not making it easy.”
That made her laugh once, breathless. “That’s your excuse?”
“No,” he said. “That’s the problem.” Then his hand finally settled at her waist again. Like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.
Y/n’s voice came out softer than she meant it to.
“This is a bad idea.”
Logan’s expression flickered—something honest breaking through the control.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them fixed it.
Instead, Logan leaned in just slightly—not enough to kiss her, not yet—but enough that she could feel the shift in everything unsaid between them.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured, “we’re going to have to convince them harder.”
Y/n let out a shaky breath. “Harder?”
His thumb brushed lightly against her side. “Yeah,” he said. “Because I don’t think anyone believes us anymore.”
A pause.
Then, quieter:
“Especially not me.”
And that was the moment Y/n realized the lie wasn’t what was getting dangerous anymore. It was how easily it was starting to feel like the truth.
It wasn’t until a Friday night party at the hockey house that everything shattered. Y/n had lost track of Logan somewhere between music and bodies and the kind of laughter that made everything feel blurry. Then she saw him.
On the balcony.
With Hannah.
Her stomach dropped so fast it felt like falling. She couldn’t hear them, but she saw enough.
Logan’s hands in his pockets. Hannah laughed softly. The kind of moment that didn’t belong to anyone else.
Y/n turned away before she could think, she only made it two steps before a hand caught her wrist. Not harsh, but certain she wasn't going to run away. She turned, Logan.
“Hey,” he said over the noise. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” she said quickly. “I just—forgot something.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
He studied her face. Too closely. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing.”
“Running.”
Y/n scoffed. “I don’t run.”
Logan raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. “Fine. Avoiding.”
His grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. “It’s not what you think.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
That made her pause, the noise of the party faded a little, like the world had decided to give them a pocket of silence.
Y/n swallowed. “You were with her.”
“I was talking to her.”
“That’s worse,” she muttered before she could stop herself.
Logan blinked. Then something shifted in his expression. “…You think I like her.”
Y/n didn’t answer fast enough.
That was answer enough.
Logan let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You really think I’ve been doing all of this for Hannah?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said honestly.
A pause.
Then Logan stepped closer.
“You think I’ve been doing this because I want someone else?”
Her breath caught slightly. “We’re not actually dating.”
His eyes flicked down to her mouth for half a second before snapping back up.
“No,” he said quietly. “We’re not.”
Then, softer: “But I didn’t start this to get closer to her.”
Y/n’s voice barely worked. “Then why?”
Logan hesitated.
For the first time since she had met him, he looked unsure, “Because you were easier to think about than her.”
Silence hit like a wave.
Y/n stared at him. “That makes no sense.”
“It does,” he said. “You just don’t want it to.”
Her heart was doing something deeply offensive.
“This was about me?” she whispered.
Logan exhaled like he was giving up. “At some point, yeah.”
That was the moment everything tilted.
Because suddenly she wasn’t thinking about Garrett anymore, she wasn’t thinking about Hannah, she was thinking about Logan’s hand still on her wrist.
Thinking about how he hadn’t let go, how close he was, how she wanted him this close.
“…This is a bad idea,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, probably.” Logan agreed.
Neither of them moved.
Then Y/n, barely audible:
“We’re still fake dating.”
That made him pause.
Then he smiled, small and real.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, finally looking up at him properly. “But you’re doing it wrong.”
“Oh?”
“You forgot the part where you’re supposed to kiss me in front of people.”
Logan’s expression shifted—something softer breaking through the sarcasm.
“Is that so.”
Y/n nodded once. “Commitment, right?”
For a second, he didn’t move.
Then he leaned in.
Slow.
Like he was giving her every chance to stop him.
She didn’t.
The kiss wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t loud.
It was just real in a way their fake relationship had never been.
When they pulled back, Logan rested his forehead lightly against hers.
“So,” he murmured. “Still think I like Hannah?”
Y/n let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
“No,” she admitted.
A pause.
“I think you like me.”
Logan smiled against her.
“Finally,” he said. “Took you long enough.”
And for the first time, Y/n’s story didn’t feel cursed.
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
Masterlist | Part 2
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
Masterlist
#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.
