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College baby (extra SMAU) TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!!

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ I realized I have too much to do in the next few days before I leave for my trip and I’ll have no time to write a full chapter before that so i sat down and made these, enjoy the little treat for now! 🫶🏽

College Baby masterlist

toonice113

College baby (ch.4) TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!!

Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

Summary: Somehow you find yourself co-parenting with the biggest manwhore in all of Briar U.

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ *taps on the microphone* is this thing on? Hiiiii I'm back with this series! (kinda) I tried forcing myself to incorporate an ask into it and for some reason my brain short circuited and decided i could no longer write lol but a few days ago I decided to scratch the ask (sorry nonnie, I might do the ask as a blurb at some point) and just write whatever, I also said there would be like 3 chapters until the story reached the show storyline but actually, next chapter will probably be at the beginning of the show so yeah, sorry for the wait, I can't promise I won't take another month for the next update because I have things happening irl for the next two weeks but yeah enjoy!

College Baby masterlist

book-lish

The Accident

Beau Maxwell x Di Laurentis!Reader

AN: the beau fic I have been working on foreverrrr. Okay so basically I needed an AU where Beau lives soooo…

Warnings: Medical Talk, Mentions of Blood, Car Accident

When Beau had invited you to his grandma’s birthday dinner you thought nothing of it. Of course you would be in attendance with your handsome boyfriend to celebrate Mimi Maxwell’s birthday. If there was one person Mimi Maxwell loved more than Dean Di Laurentis, it was Y/N Di Laurentis. Yes, how cliche, you were dating your older brother’s best friend. Though you use the term older lightly, Dean was barely 11 months older than you.

shojizbae

From Wife to Girlfriend

Garrett Graham x baby mama!Reader

Part two to Puck Baby

Briar had crushed BU 5-0. All morning, the team had been hyping each other up, but Garrett was hardly a member today. His mind was elsewhere. Maybe with his prom-posal, as he wrote "you're a certified beauty, going to prom with me would be goal-den" and the bouquet of tiger lilies he spent over 200 dollars on from a nice florist. At lunch, he was thinking of your teary face as you slapped down the positive tests and then told him to stand outside the bathroom as you took the third one. During the game, he was focused on showing off for Isaac. He was practically walking on water. Your seats were right behind the players' section. So, while he was getting water, the toddler could bat him on his helmet. The win was only a temporary thrill. In the locker room showers all he could think about was how you cried as you zipped a knee-length white dress over your growing baby bump. And as he drove you and Isaac to dinner he remembered every tear that rolled down your cheeks at parenting classes, at sonograms, and finally in the delivery ward.

So many tears. So much wasted time. He wanted to give you your time back. He knows he can't take the tears back, but god damnit he would do something about the pain. It started with taking more initiative in Isaac's life. No more parties, period. Exceptional grades, exceptional performance. He was going to lock down that Bruins spot, and he was going to give you a good life. Obviously, he had a key to your apartment. It was a luxury two-bedroom in Brighton, and his dad pays the rent. He sends the house cleaners to your apartment while he takes you and Isaac to celebratory ice cream.

shojizbae

Puck Baby

Garrett Graham x Baby Mama! Reader

There were reasons Garrett Graham “didn’t do girlfriends”. Yes, he needed to focus on school, practice, and building his career. Yes, he didn’t have the bandwidth to let anyone into a messy family. Especially since at the end of his senior year, things got a whole lot messier. A prom night went sour when, in July, while Garrett was packing his bags for a summer intensive, he got a very threatening text

“I’m coming over right now. Don’t move an inch.”

Twenty minutes later, you were in his bathroom with a box of pregnancy tests and two positive ones dated for the two days prior in your favorite teal Sharpie. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the third test showed two pink lines. Garrett let you absolutely soak his shirt with your snot while you repeated: “What are we supposed to do?” Personally, Graham would support whatever decision you made. He knew his dad would be beyond angry, and part of him really enjoyed that. But he knew you. The two of you met in your freshman year at your boarding school. And you were a good catholic girl. You wore your cross every moment you breathed, and you enjoyed going to mass, even on Wednesday. You hoped one day to be a stay-at-home wife and take your kids to Sunday school. So Garrett wasn’t surprised when you wanted to keep your baby. He even agreed to elope with you at the town hall. What his dad didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Eventually, when Garrett’s notarized marriage license arrived in the mail, Phil found out. Garrett expected rage, wrath, fury, or something. After he spilled the whole story, his dad just looked at him. He kind of got a distant look in his eye.

pucksandpower

bless your heart (part one)

Dean Di Laurentis x Garrett Graham x John Logan x Tucker!Reader

Summary: Tucker’s one rule is simple … don’t touch his sister. Garrett, Dean, and Logan agree. They are very good at agreeing. They are considerably less good at following through

Warning: 18+ content

Read part two here

The television screen flashes with the blinding strobe lights of a digital goal horn.

“Read it and weep, Graham,” Logan says, leaning back on the battered leather sofa and crossing his ankles on the coffee table. He tosses his Xbox controller onto the cushion beside him with a heavy, satisfying thud. “That’s three in a row. You’re losing your touch.”

Garrett glares at the screen, his jaw set. “That was a garbage bounce and you know it. EA Sports actively caters to your lack of skill.”

pucksandpower

bless your heart (part one)

Dean Di Laurentis x Garrett Graham x John Logan x Tucker!Reader

Summary: Tucker’s one rule is simple … don’t touch his sister. Garrett, Dean, and Logan agree. They are very good at agreeing. They are considerably less good at following through

Warning: 18+ content

Read part two here

The television screen flashes with the blinding strobe lights of a digital goal horn.

Garrett glares at the screen, his jaw set. “That was a garbage bounce and you know it. EA Sports actively caters to your lack of skill.”

pucksandpower

bless your heart (part two)

Dean Di Laurentis x Garrett Graham x John Logan x Tucker!Reader

Summary: Tucker’s one rule is simple … don’t touch his sister. Garrett, Dean, and Logan agree. They are very good at agreeing. They are considerably less good at following through

Warning: 18+ content

Read part one here

The first fourteen days of the spring semester are a slow, agonizing descent into madness.

The house feels like a morgue. The television is rarely on. The Xbox controllers gather dust on the coffee table. The pink poster board with the shiny gold stars is gone — Garrett tore it down on day three because looking at it made him want to punch a hole through the drywall.

You have completely ghosted them.

You haven’t stopped by the house. You haven’t sent a single text. When Tucker invited you over for a movie night last week, you claimed you were swamped with homework. When he asked you to come to their opening game of the semester, you said you had a terrible migraine.

sunnydilaurentis

lights, camera, ex? | found family au ⋆˚࿔

✩.* found family fics!

✩.* found family masterlist

summary: in which an ncaa promotional shoot pairs two rival captains, your boyfriend and your ex, and the internet reveals the past you never wanted garrett to learn from anyone but you.

notes: hi! thank you all for your patience 💌 i'm still not 100% sure how i feel about this chapter, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. the next part will be up soon, so stay tuned! 🤍 <3

ꪆৎ

the producer calls for a lighting reset, almost immediately, the entire studio shifts.

camera operators wheel expensive-looking equipment across the floor, assistants duck beneath cables stretched between lighting stands while someone calls for another lens from behind the monitors.

the organised rhythm of filming gives way to the familiar chaos of a reset.

a crew member appears at garrett's side, wordlessly pressing two bottles of water into his hand before slipping away.

"cheers, man" garrett calls after him anyway.

the crew member only lifts a hand over his shoulder in acknowledgment before weaving between the cameras.

garrett twists the cap loose, taking a long drink. he hadn't realised how warm the studio had become beneath the lights. he wipes the condensation from the bottle onto his bare thigh before looking around the room.

beside him, tom lets out a quiet breath, dropping into one of the folding chairs lined against the wall. "forgot how much waiting around there is at these sorts of things."

garrett smiles. "yeah. i thought we'd be spending more time on the ice."

tom laughs quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. "me too."

for a minute, neither of them say anything, both of their gazes fixed on the crew working around them.

someone is adjusting a light by what can't be more than a few centimetres, another photographer crouches low, studying something on the back of her camera before shaking her head and trying again.

an assistant walks between them carrying an armful of spare jerseys before disappearing behind one of the backdrop walls. somewhere across the studio someone asks for a coffee order, three different people answer at once.

garrett smiles to himself. it's strangely fascinating, there are so many people involved in making a few minutes of footage look effortless.

tom twists the cap off his water bottle before glancing sideways to look at garrett, "you been getting recognised much?"

garrett shrugs, "a little."

"comes with winning."

"i guess." garrett rolls the bottle between his palms.

tom nods, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "enjoy it while it lasts."

garrett looks over. "what?"

"this." he gestures vaguely around the studio, "all of it."

his hand sweeps past the cameras, the photographers, the crew moving from one setup to the next.

"people caring, everyone suddenly knowing your name."

garrett follows his gaze. he'd never really thought about it like that. to him, hockey was hockey, everything else just came with it.

he hums quietly, "yeah. i guess so."

tom laughs under his breath, before grabbing garrett's shoulder, gently shaking it in reassurance. "loosen up graham, college hockey's not a bad gig."

garrett glances at him. "no?"

"not if you're winning."

he leans back in the chair, stretching one leg out in front of him. "you walk into a party after a big weekend."

he pauses, grinning to himself at the thought.

"and you'd think someone had announced free drinks." garrett laughs politely, tom mistakes it for encouragement.

"girls everywhere." he points to his left, "one over here," then to his right, "another one over there."

he chuckles to himself. "you spend half the night trying to remember who's already introduced themselves."

garrett lets out a quiet breath through his nose, more uncomfortable than amused. "yeah, i'm not really sure. never really wanted that."

tom looks at him, eyebrows raised. "seriously?"

"yeah."

"come on, man." he laughs, shaking his head, clearly unconvinced. "you're fucking captain at briar. half the country's talking about you guys."

garrett shrugs again. "doesn't really change anything."

"bullshit."

there isn't any malice behind it, just confidence. the kind that assumes everyone wants to live the same way he does.

"you've gotta bask in the glory a little, graham." he nudges garrett's shoulder lightly with the back of his hand.

"what's the point otherwise?"

garrett smiles, the answer coming to him easily, without needing to think about it. "i think making frozen four's enough."

"nah. you're wasting opportunities."

garrett raises an eyebrow. "opportunities?"

"pretty girls."

he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "they're lining themselves up for you."

he shakes his head dramatically. "what a waste."

garrett smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. "i'm alright."

"don't tell me you're one of those blokes who actually goes home early."

garrett laughs. tom stares at him for a second before letting out a laugh of his own. "jesus."

"what?"

"you are."

garrett nods once. "i've got someone."

your ex's smile lingers. "yeah?"

"yeah." there isn't a second's hesitation. "her name's y/n."

the words leave him as naturally as breathing, tom doesn't react immediately. he simply looks at garrett, then something shifts, small enough that most people would never notice.

his smile still sits on his face, but it pauses, just for a fraction of a second.

y/n.

the name lands somewhere deep in the back of his mind.

briar.

captain graham.

the girlfriend people had mentioned once or twice, the one he'd never actually put a face to. the pieces slide together almost instantly, garrett graham was your boyfriend.

his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the water bottle, "right."

his smile returns, slightly smaller. "good for you."

garrett nods. "thanks."

a silence settles between them, not awkward, just quieter than before.

around them, someone calls for another battery pack, a makeup artist walks past carrying three brushes tucked between her fingers, the photographer laughs loudly at something one of the producers says.

tom slowly rolls the unopened bottle between his palms. "probably smarter than what i do."

garrett glances over. "what's that?"

your ex smiles to himself. "keeping track."

garrett frowns. "keeping track of what?"

"names."

tom laughs. "who you've already spoken to, who thinks you're interested, who gets pissed because you don't text them afterwards."

tom shrugs. "it can be a fucking nuisance, but a good one to have." he says it casually, like it's just part of the job, simply another perk that comes with people knowing your name.

garrett smiles politely, but it doesn't quite sit right.

it's subtle, easy enough to laugh off, yet it doesn't quite fit. all morning, tom had come across as thoughtful, respectful, easy to talk to.

the kind of captain garrett could understand, but this doesn't line up.

it isn't enough for garrett to write him off, yet it chips away at the impression he'd formed. for the first time that morning, he wonders whether tom is as genuine as he'd seemed.

tom catches garrett looking. "what?"

garrett shakes his head. "nothing."

before either of them can say anything else, the producer claps loudly from across the studio. "alright, boys. let's get back to work."

chairs scrape softly across the floor. garrett stands first, screwing the cap back onto his bottle before setting it beside the monitor.

tom smooths a hand over the front of his hoodie, the easy grin already slipping back into place. by the time the cameras begin rolling again, he's every bit the polished, media-trained captain he'd been all morning.

if it weren't for the conversation they'd just had, garrett isn't sure he would've believed those two versions of him could exist at the same time.

the first post goes up at ten-thirty in the morning.

you know because allie comes racing into your room, phone in hand, squealing excitedly.

you're sitting on your bedroom floor with a half-finished drink between your knees, trying to highlight a reading for class, yet failing miserably. your laptop had been open for twenty minutes, reading the same paragraph six times.

“here he is!”

your fingers still around your highlighter. “who?”

“your boyfriend!” she exclaims, voice animated as she turns her phone towards you. “they're already posting some behind the scenes."

you look before you can stop yourself.

garrett is standing in front of a grey backdrop in his briar jacket, arms folded, his expression caught somewhere between polite and mildly uncomfortable.

beside him stands the other college captain. your ex, tom langford. he's smiling easily, relaxed, every bit as charming as the cameras expect him to be.

you almost laugh.

what a joke.

the caption on the post reads.

two captains. one trophy. the road ends here. frozen four championship game this month.

you feel the room tilt, not dramatically, just enough that your body becomes suddenly aware of itself. your pulse in your wrists, the cold plastic cup against your leg, the faint scent of allie’s perfume, the way your throat tightens around nothing.

allie zooms in on garrett’s face and laughs. “he looks like he wants to fight whoever told him to cross his arms like that.”

you force a smile. “yeah.”

“very captain america.”

“don’t let dean hear you say that.”

“dean would agree.”

she keeps scrolling, completely unaware that the man standing beside garrett once knew everything there was to know about you.

another clip loads.

garrett and tom sitting side by side in director chairs. someone off camera asks a question.

who has the better slapshot?

garrett points to himself at the exact same time tom points to garrett. the crew behind the camera laugh, tom grins, leaning back in his chair. “i can admit when i’m beat.”

garrett shakes his head, amused. “don’t lie on camera.”

“i’m being humble.”

“that’s not what i’ve heard.”

tom glances over at him, smiling like they've known each other for years. “yeah? you been talking about me, graham.”

garrett laughs. “hard not to. you keep scoring.”

you feel your breaths starting to shorten. garrett complimented him like it was nothing, because to him, it was nothing.

it was just hockey, just respect, just two captains doing a stupid promotional campaign because the ncaa knows exactly how to sell rivalry when it looks good on camera.

allie lowers her phone, noticing your sudden change in breathing. “are you okay?”

you blink. “yeah.”

“y/n, you've gone pale.”

“i’m fine.”

“you sure?”

“i think the coffee just hit weird.”

allie frowns, but she doesn't push, not yet. “okay” she says slowly.

you reach for your own phone, noticing three unread messages from garrett.

baby 🤍

they have me doing reaction videos

pray for me

baby 🤍

dean says i look stiff

then another message, a few minutes later.

this guys a ladies man

won't stop talking my ear off about it

normally, a message like that wouldn't faze you. you would laugh and send back a sarcastic reply. instead, you just stare at the screen, unable to respond.

allie notices this time. “okay" she says, sitting up. “what was that?”

“nothing.”

“that was not nothing.”

“allie.”

“did garrett say something?”

“no.”

“then what?”

you shake your head, feeling the old instinct rising up inside you. minimise, smooth it over, make yourself smaller.

do not make this a problem, do not make yourself a problem.

“i’m fine” you say, hate the sound those words.

“i just need some air.”

allie’s face shifts, less playful now, more careful. “do you want me to come?”

“no. i’m okay.”

you stand before she can argue. your legs feel strange beneath you, too light yet too heavy all at once. you make it to the bathroom down the hall, locking the door, and sitting on the closed toilet seat with your hands pressed over your mouth.

you don't cry, you refuse to cry, not over him, not after all this time.

the next fifteen minutes pass in silence. you hear the bathroom door rattle softly, not enough to startle you, just enough to remind you that you're not completely alone.

"y/n?"

allie's voice is muffled through the wood, gentle, soothing. "i know you locked the door."

you don't answer, another few seconds pass. "i'm coming in if you don't tell me to go away."

you let out a shaky breath, "it's open."

the door eases inward. allie quietly closes it behind her before sitting on the tiled floor opposite you, giving you space.

neither of you speak.

the fan hums overhead, someone laughs somewhere out in the hallway. you hate how normal everything else still sounds.

allie watches you for a long moment, before speaking carefully.

"y/n...i don't want you to freak out, okay?" she shifts a little closer, "just let me do the talking."

you finally look up, curiosity getting the better of you. her expression is soft, concerned.

she swallows, "that's him, isn't it?"

your chest tightens. "the guy next to garrett, the other captain."

she pauses.

"that's tom."

you can't answer, your throat closes completely, allie knows.

"he's your ex."

it's not a question, not really, more just a statement. "the awful one."

your eyes squeeze shut, you manage the smallest nod in response.

allie's face crumples, "oh, y/n."

she's beside you before you even realise she's moved, arms wrapped around you carefully, like she's worried you'll break if she holds you too tightly.

you cry. not loudly, just enough that your shoulders shake against her. she rubs slow circles over your back in an attempt to comfort you. "i've got you y/n, i'm here."

"i'm so sorry." you shake your head against her shoulder. "i just didn't want anyone to know."

"i know."

"i wasn't hiding him."

"i know."

"i just..."

your voice disappears, she waits, when you don't finish, she speaks instead. "i won't tell anyone."

she pulls back just enough to look at you, "i promise."

a beat of silence.

her expression turns serious. "you need to tell garrett, before someone else does."

your stomach drops, you immediately look away. "i can't."

"you can."

"no." your voice cracks. "i can't."

allie reaches over, squeezing your hand. "you don't have to tell him today, but he can't find out through someone else and especially not through something as trivial as social media."

the internet finds it at eleven-forty-three pm.

you're not asleep.

you're lying in bed, the room swallowed by darkness, your phone resting on your chest as you stare into nothing, running through the conversation you'll have to have with garrett tomorrow.

allie lies beside you, curled beneath your spare blanket. she'd taken one look at your face earlier and decided she was sleeping in your room tonight, never bothering to ask for permission.

she's fast asleep, or at least pretending to be.

your phone buzzes once, then again, then again. you ignore it at first, until the entire screen lights up with dean’s contact.

dean

y/n

another message.

dean

are you awake?

your stomach turns. you sit up slowly, careful not to wake allie.

then another notification drops down.

dean's children

logan

the groupchat starts buzzing, fast, too fast.

dean

everyone shut up

logan

i didn’t say anything

dean

you said uh

logan

that’s barely a word

tucker

garrett

where are you?

your blood goes cold.

you open instagram, your thumb moving on instinct. you don't even need to search for it. the hockey gossip account is waiting at the top of your recommended feed, a fresh photo dump posted only minutes ago.

the first photo is from media day, garrett and tom standing shoulder to shoulder beneath the frozen four logo.

the second is a screenshot from an old hometown account. you at seventeen, standing beside tom in a school gym, his arm around your waist, your head tucked into his shoulder.

the third photo is prom. you in a dress you haven't thought about in years, him kissing your cheek, your smile bright, completely unaware of the fact that he was cheating on you.

the caption on the post reads

wait. garrett graham’s girlfriend used to date rival captain tom langford? high school sweethearts apparently. frozen four just got a whole lot more interesting.

for a moment, you can't feel your hands. the rest of your body follows, every limb going frighteningly numb as though it's beginning to shut down.

you feel as though you could be sick.

you immediately feel allie sit up beside you. “is everything okay?”

you don't answer. she looks at your phone, face draining of all colour. “oh my god.”

the messages keep coming, not from the groupchat now, from garrett.

one, then another, then another.

baby 🤍

is this real?

baby 🤍

y/n

baby 🤍

please tell me this isn’t how i’m finding out.

you stare at the screen until his name blurs. your phone starts ringing, the sound haunting you.

'baby 🤍 is calling...'

allie whispers your name, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. you can't pick up, you can't move.

the call ends, another message appears.

baby 🤍

that’s him?

you press your hand to your mouth, allie reaches for you. “hey. breathe.”

you shake your head, because you can't. the photos are right there, the past has climbed out of wherever you buried it and dragged itself straight into the middle of the one good thing you had tried so desperately to keep untouched.

your phone buzzes one more time.

baby 🤍

that’s your ex?

you close your eyes. for the first time all day, there is nowhere left to hide.

garrett stops calling, and somehow, that's worse.

the silence after the ringing cuts out feels louder than the phone itself, heavier than the groupchat exploding beneath your thumb, heavier than allie’s hand hovering uncertainly over your knee.

you stare at your phone screen until the words dissolve into meaningless shapes, tears welling so quickly they distort everything in front of you.

that’s your ex?

three words, one question.

no anger is visible, not really, yet text can only carry so much.

you know garrett. you know the way his jaw would tighten, the controlled stillness settling over his features, the way his shoulders would straighten before he allowed himself to properly react.

you've seen him angry before, rarely, never without reason, but enough to know that his quiet is far more frightening than shouting could ever be.

“y/n” allie says, careful now. “you need to answer him.”

you swallow, shaking your head immediately, sharp and terrified. “i can’t.”

allie’s face crumples. “okay,” she whispers. “okay. sorry.”

you press your palms to your forehead, trying to force air into your lungs.

your phone buzzes again, not garrett this time.

dean.

dean

are you okay, y/n?

then-

dean

no one is upset with you, please just tell me you're okay

it's official, they all knew.

the old instinct rises in you so quickly it is almost embarrassing. control it, contain it, do not let it spread, do not let everyone know, do not let the mess become bigger than it already is.

you have spent years doing this.

folding pain into neat corners, hiding it somewhere private, smiling over the top of it, learning that if you made yourself easy enough to love, quiet enough to keep, maybe no one would look too closely at the damaged parts.

survival habits. the kind tom left you with, the kind garrett had been quietly teaching you to let go of.

your throat tightens. on your phone, the groupchat keeps buzzing.

dean's children

logan

is garrett with anyone?

tucker

he left the house

dean

what do you mean he left the house

logan

like physically exited the building, dean

dean

not the time

tucker

i tried calling him

no answer

your chest goes cold. “he left” you whisper.

allie glances down at her own phone screen. “he’s probably coming here.”

the thought sends a wave of panic through your body so fast you almost stand.

“no.”

“y/n-”

“no, i can’t-”

a knock hits the door. not loud, not angry, just one firm knock. garrett’s voice sounds, low from the hallway.

“y/n.”

everything inside you stops.

jetblackashx

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 orbiter // part nineteen - the cabin.✦݁˖

it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.

throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realizes he's left you behind.

⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader

series masterlist

kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ proper lunch.

pairing – garrett graham x nursing student!reader summary – between wound reviews, vaccination clinics, asthma education, and stolen lunch breaks, garrett makes sure his girlfriend gets fed and reminded how good she is. warnings – medical placement, primary care setting, vaccination clinic mention, wound care mention, asthma review, food/eating. notes from me – MY SWEET DOMESTIC BABIES HOW I LOVE THEM!! based on these requests combined! thank you babes! word count – 3.1k

navigation – masterlist |

Monday

By twelve-thirty, the medical centre has already taught her three important things: the blood pressure machine in room four lies, children can sense fear more accurately than most diagnostic equipment, and nobody working in primary care gets to eat lunch at the time written on the roster.

She comes out through the side entrance at twelve forty-seven with her scrub top pulling strangely beneath her cardigan, one pocket weighted down by three pens, a folded observation sheet and a tiny glittery sticker she’d found stuck to her elbow after the morning vaccination clinic.

The air outside is cold enough to make the inside of her nose sting. Garrett’s already sitting on the little bench beside the staff car park, one ankle resting over his opposite knee, a paper takeaway bag tucked between his shoes and his phone loose in one hand.

He looks up before the door has finished closing behind her. The change happens quickly, his attention lifting away from the screen and landing fully on her like he hasn’t spent the last twenty minutes surrounded by traffic, bare winter trees and a medical centre sign advertising flu shots. “Hey, baby.”

jetblackashx

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 orbiter // part eighteen - the kiss .✦݁˖

it's no secret that where garrett graham is, you're likely close behind. and everyone knows where you are, garrett graham is too. that’s the outcome of growing up best friends.

throw in the messy deal between garrett and hannah, it has you wondering if your so called ‘best friend’ even realises he's left you behind.

⤷ aka off campus social/text au! - garrett graham x fem!reader

series masterlist

kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ quality control | SMAU

pairing – garrett graham x briar media!reader summary – a simple request for more social media content turns into garrett posting a shirtless gym video, an influx of very interested followers, and one extremely unhappy girlfriend. warnings – suggestive humour, jealousy, possessive behaviour, shirtless garrett, sexual innuendo, swearing. notes from me – i decided to whip up a quick lil SMAU for these babies!! the images don't necessarily depict what briar media!reader looks like, just more for the aesthetics and vibes 😌 not my best but i'm still getting the hang of SMAUs!!! based on this ask!!

navigation – masterlist |

kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ forty-four.

pairing – garrett graham x nursing student!reader summary – garrett finds out his girlfriend got his number tattooed on her body and reacts about as calmly as anyone could expect. warnings – 18+, explicit smut, oral sex, fingering, rough sex, doggy style, spanking, praise kink, dirty talk, tattoo reveal. notes from me – ANYWAAYYYYYYY!!!!!! as promised, yeah sorry i had to do it. this comes at the most 'recent' end of their timeline!! so i'll be going back and filling in gaps now, i was just desperate to post this! word count – 6.9k

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The second-skin comes off on Tuesday morning in the shower, which is less ceremonial than the tattoo probably deserves. She peels it carefully from one corner beneath warm water, watching the clear film lift away from her lower back in the fogged mirror with the awkward concentration of somebody trying to inspect a body part positioned almost specifically to prevent self-assessment.

The little forty-four underneath is darker than it will be once it settles completely, the skin around it faintly pink and shiny, but the numbers are clean. No leaking. No angry redness. No warmth beyond what she would expect from a healing tattoo and a hot shower.

She pats it dry with a clean towel, applies a thin smear of unscented moisturiser and spends the next two days pretending she hasn’t developed a habit of turning sideways every time she passes a mirror.

Garrett still doesn’t know. That part becomes funnier with time.

kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ not like that.

pairing – garrett graham x nursing student!reader summary – after sex, garrett and his girlfriend talk through old wounds, hospital fear, and what it actually means to show up for each other. warnings – references to controlling ex, past emotional abuse, garrett’s family trauma, hospital injury, lockdown mention, anxiety. notes from me – hi babes!!! as requested here!! word count – 5k

navigation – masterlist |

The room has gone soft around the edges. It’s partly the lamp on her desk, the little warm one, and partly the rain pressing quietly against the window, blurring the glass until the campus lights beyond it look melted and far away. Mostly, though, it’s Garrett.

Garrett naked beneath her in a bed technically designed for one person and currently holding two with the sort of optimism usually reserved for temporary bridges. Garrett with one arm folded behind his head, the other heavy around her waist, his skin warm and slightly damp everywhere their bodies are still pressed together.

His chest rises slowly beneath her cheek, no longer the hard, uneven movement from ten minutes ago, though his heartbeat hasn’t entirely committed to acting normal yet. Neither has hers.

The duvet is tangled around their legs. One of her pillows is on the floor, along with Garrett’s jeans, her underwear and a pharmacology flashcard that had become a casualty of sex despite being several feet from the bed when they started.

sunnydilaurentis

the night before | found family au ⋆˚࿔

✩.* found family fics!

✩.* found family masterlist

summary: in which y/n pulls away from garrett, unable to be intimate with him as the weight of tomorrow becomes impossible to ignore.

notes: hi! i hope you're all well! 🤍 this one really hurt to write..oh garrett 🥺

ꪆৎ

the night before the ncaa shoot is painfully ordinary.

garrett finishes practice just after six. by the time he knocks on your dorm room door, he looks exactly like he always does after training.

tired, hungry, and happy to see you.

“hi, baby.”

you open the door before he can knock a second time. “hi.”

he smiles immediately, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, the kind that has always made somewhere inside your chest feel quietly safe.

he leans down to kiss you, you kiss him back.

“i brought dinner.”

he lifts the takeaway bag between you, eyebrows raising, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“bribery?”

“absolutely.”

“come in.”

he slips off his shoes by the door without thinking twice, the action so familiar it feels instinctive.

your room smells faintly of vanilla from the candle allie lit earlier before disappearing to the hockey house. she'd tried her best to convince you to come with her, reminding you that tucker was making salmon for everyone.

but all afternoon, anxiety had sat quietly beneath your ribs, growing heavier each time tomorrow crossed your mind.

the thought of sitting in a room full of people, knowing every conversation would eventually drift back to the ncaa shoot, made your chest tighten.

you'd told allie to go without you. tonight, one person felt manageable.

a house full didn't.

garrett drops onto your bed with a dramatic groan. “i think jensen seriously hates us.”

“only on weekdays.”

“today is thursday.”

“exactly.”

you laugh quietly. he looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, a small smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"what?" you ask.

"nothing."

he pats the space beside him. "c'mere."

you sit. he immediately reaches for you, gently pulling you sideways until you're tucked against his chest, your back resting against him. his chin settles lightly on top of your head.

the room fills with easy things. shared chips, stolen bites, garrett complaining about practice, you telling him about a tutorial that ran overtime.

it's comfortable, entirely familiar, the sort of evening you've had dozens of times before. eventually the containers are pushed aside, and garrett stretches out properly on your bed.

you curl beside him instinctively, your head settling against his shoulder as his fingers drift lazily through your hair. the television plays quietly in the background, neither of you paying it much attention.

the silence is comfortable, familiar.

the kind that only comes after years of knowing someone so well you no longer feel the need to fill every quiet moment.

eventually, you glance up at him. "big day tomorrow," you murmur, trying your best to sound supportive. regardless of who would be standing beside him, you knew this was a huge moment for garrett.

he sighs. “don't remind me.”

“camera shy?”

“i play hockey. he groans dramatically. "i don't stand in front of cameras pretending to smile naturally.”

you tip your head back to look at him properly. “you do smile naturally.”

“not when someone tells me to.”

"well…" your thumb brushes absentmindedly over the back of his hand. "just pretend they're not there then."

"that's your professional advice?"

"mhm."

"wow." he says, nodding once. "that's really groundbreaking, baby."

you burst into laughter at his words. garrett grins immediately, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs with you.

there's a beat of silence.

his fingers continue moving slowly through your hair. “apparently they want interviews.”

“you'll be fine, you're a natural.”

“i hope so.” he pauses, as if to think for a moment. “still don't know why they picked me.”

you look up at him, as though the answer is obvious. “because you're one of, if not the best player in college hockey.”

garrett snorts. “did logan pay you to say that?”

“no.”

“jensen?”

“definitely not jensen.”

he laughs, the sound settling warmly through your chest. for a moment, neither of you say anything, until, almost absentmindedly, he adds, "it'll be interesting meeting him properly."

your stomach tightens, so suddenly that you almost miss the next thing he says. “we've only played against each other, i've never really had a proper conversation with him before.”

you nod, once, hoping that's enough. garrett notices the movement, “what?”

“nothing.”

“you made a face.”

“did i?”

“yeah.”

you force yourself to shrug. “just tired.”

he studies you, only for a second, before smiling softly. “long week hey.”

“very.”

“come here.”

you already are, but he means closer. he shifts onto his side until you're facing each other properly. his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing gently beneath your eye. “missed you this week.”

you smile. “you saw me yesterday.”

“too long.”

"you're so dramatic."

"i've been told."

you smile, rolling your eyes. he only smirks, one hand coming up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb brushing once across your cheek before he tips your face towards his.

"c'mere" he murmurs.

he kisses you. slowly, patiently, the way he always does. never hurried, never demanding, just enough that the rest of the world seems to disappear.

your hand slips instinctively into his hair as he lingers there for another moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours when he finally pulls away.

"i love you, y/n."

a smile tugs at your lips. "i love you too."

his hand moves, settling gently against your waist before slipping beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, warm fingertips splaying across your skin.

it's familiar, comfortable. the sort of touch you've leaned into countless times before.

normally, you melt against him without thinking. your kiss deepens, your fingers curl into his hair, and somewhere between another kiss, another laugh, the two of you end up tangled beneath the sheets together.

but tonight-

your body stiffens before your mind can catch up. only for a heartbeat, still, garrett notices immediately. he pulls back at once, his hand stilling where it rests against your side before sliding away completely.

"hey."

his voice is soft enough that it almost disappears beneath the noise of the television.

"you okay?"

you blink, you hadn't even realised you'd frozen. "yeah."

he searches your face, clearly not believing you. "are you sure?"

"mhm."

another small pause, his expression doesn't change. there's no frustration, no confusion, only quiet concern. "are you just not feeling it tonight?"

your throat tightens in response. he's making it so easy, so safe, and somehow, that only makes the guilt settle heavier in your chest.

tonight, when all garrett wanted was to be close to you, all you could think about was tomorrow, about tom.

tom wasn't even here, yet somehow, he was still getting to you. you hated that he'd managed to follow you here, into the safest part of your life, without even being in the room.

you lower your eyes, shame settling heavily in your chest. "i'm sorry."

"hey."

he shakes his head immediately, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "you don't need to apologise, y/n."

"i just..."

the words refuse to come.

how do you explain that it has nothing to do with him?

that every time he kisses you tonight, your mind drifts elsewhere.

tomorrow.

tom.

garrett standing beside him, smiling, shaking his hand, being completely oblivious as to who he's talking to.

your stomach twists at the thought. "i'm just..." you swallow, settling for an excuse that barely scratches the surface, "really tired."

he nods immediately, without hesitation, without question. "okay."

there's no disappointment evident in his tone, no attempt to convince you otherwise, no teasing, no sigh. he simply leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "that's all you had to say."

his hand slips completely from beneath your sweatshirt, reaching for the blanket instead. he tugs it higher around your shoulders before resting his hand lightly over the top of it, content to simply have you close.

"movie?" he asks.

you nod. "please."

he reaches for the remote, never mentioning it again, never making you feel guilty. halfway through the film, you fall asleep against his shoulder.

garrett glances down, smiling to himself, before pressing a gentle kiss into your hair. you're just exhausted, he thinks, feeling guilty for not reading the room sooner.

you probably just needed a quiet night.

oh how he was incredibly wrong.

sunnydilaurentis

before he knew | found family au ⋆˚࿔

✩.* found family fics!

✩.* found family masterlist

summary: in which the boys unknowingly praise y/n's ex-boyfriend, before garrett reveals he'll soon be spending a day filming ncaa media content with him.

notes: hi! get your tissues ready… we're diving into some angst. i hope you all enjoy the first of these 🤍 💌

ꪆৎ

sundays at the hockey house are rarely productive. by midday, every plan has been abandoned.

the television plays quietly in the background, some game nobody is paying proper attention to, while takeout containers cover half the coffee table.

grace is curled into one couch with her legs across logan’s lap, while sabrina and tucker argue from the floor over whether the movie they watched the night before was actually bad or whether tucker simply didn't understand it.

“i understood it” he insists.

“you asked me who the main character was forty minutes in, tuck.”

“there were too many men with the same haircut.”

“there were three men.”

“exactly.”

dean is stretched across the armchair with allie sitting sideways over his lap, eating fries from a carton balanced against his chest despite his repeated claim that they belong to him.

“you said you weren’t hungry” she reminds him.

“that was before you started eating my food.”

you barely notice any of it.

you're lying along the larger couch with garrett settled partly behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist, his chest warm against your back. your legs are tangled beneath a blanket someone dragged downstairs, his chin resting near your shoulder.

it's comfortable, quiet in the way only a full room can be quiet.

garrett’s thumb moves beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, brushing slowly over the skin at your side. not suggestive, barely conscious, just there.

you're halfway through reading an article for class when logan suddenly sits forward.

“wait.”

grace’s feet nearly slide from his lap. “what?”

logan points at the television. “did they just show highlights from the eastwood game?”

tucker looks up. “probably. they won last night.”

“no, but did you see the third-period goal?”

dean lifts his head. “the one from the top of the circle?”

“yeah.”

something inside you stills.

logan reaches for the remote, turning up the volume. the screen cuts back to the previous night’s highlights. players in dark uniforms spill across the ice, the commentary sharp with anticipation and excitement.

you know the colours before you see the number, you know the number before you see his face.

your thumb stops moving over your phone, the replay begins.

a clean pass across the blue line. the puck settles, then the shot comes hard and fast, the net moving before the goalie seems to understand what happened.

logan lets out a low whistle. “that’s fucking insane.”

“goalie had no chance” tucker says.

dean sits forward as the replay slows. “look where he releases it.”

the clip plays again.

you stop breathing for half a second. garrett feels it, his hand pausing against your waist.

on the screen, your ex-boyfriend turns towards the boards after scoring, teammates crowding around him. the camera catches his wide grin as he's pulled into the celebration.

you've seen that exact smile before.

outside your high school gym, through the windscreen of his car, across your kitchen table while your father joked that he was practically family already.

it used to make you feel chosen, later, it only made you feel stupid, incredibly, undeniably stupid.

“he barely had any space” logan says.

“he didn’t need it,” garrett replies behind you, his voice casual and thoughtful. “he gets the puck off too quickly.”

tucker nods. “goalie thinks he’s going high glove, then he changes the angle.”

“he does it all the time” garrett says. “defenders start closing too early.”

“then he passes through them" dean adds.

“exactly.”

the praise lands quietly.

garrett isn't exaggerating or trying to impress anyone. he simply means every word.

your body instinctively tightens before you can stop it. noticing, garrett’s arm shifts around your waist.

“you okay?” he murmurs, lips brushing your shoulder as he says it, absent-minded more than deliberate. the conversation continues around you as logan searches for another clip.

you force your shoulders to loosen. “yeah.”

garrett’s thumb brushes once over your side. “you sure?”

“mhm.”

you keep your eyes on your phone, refusing to look back at the television, at your ex.

garrett hums quietly, clearly unconvinced. a second later he reaches across the coffee table without moving away from you, stealing one of dean's fries.

dean points immediately, "oi."

"it's an emergency."

"what emergency?"

garrett drops the fry into your hand instead of eating it himself, "y/n forgot to eat."

"i've literally been sitting here."

"exactly."

you laugh before taking a bite. garrett doesn't mention the conversation again, yet continues to keep an eye on you.

logan finds another video. your ex carries the puck through the neutral zone, drawing two defenders before slipping a pass between them without looking. his winger catches it cleanly, before scoring.

dean whistles. “that pass is filthy.”

“he pulls both defenders towards him” tucker says.

“because they know they can’t give him space” garrett adds. “that’s what makes him dangerous. it isn’t just the shot itself.”

“he controls the whole shift” dean says.

“pretty much.”

“you’ve watched a lot of their tape” dean observes.

“jensen makes me.”

“that wasn’t a denial.”

garrett smiles faintly, answering dean easily, as though the answer is obvious. “he’s worth watching.”

the words go through you slowly.

he’s worth watching.

once, you had believed that too.

you spent entire winters following him from rink to rink, sitting in freezing bleachers with your hands hidden inside the sleeves of his jacket.

you watched the early mornings, the private coaching, summer training. you listened while he spoke about the nhl like it was less a dream and more an appointment he had to attend.

you had been proud of him, terribly, faithfully proud. until you found him tangled up in sheets, moaning your best friend's name.

“he’s probably going first round” logan says.

dean scoffs. “top ten.”

“he’ll play centre professionally” garrett says.

“even with his size?”

“he’s strong enough, and his defensive game is better than people realise.”

tucker checks his phone. “he’s above fifty-eight percent on faceoffs too.”

dean stares at him. “do you have his entire season memorised?”

“no.”

sabrina leans over, glancing at tucker's phone. “he's on his player profile.”

grace looks up, clearly bored with the conversation. “are any of you capable of discussing hockey without pretending you’re scouts?”

all four boys answer at once, in complete unison. “no.”

allie reaches across dean for another fry. “who exactly are we talking about?”

the name leaves logan’s mouth easily, you feel it like a hand closing around the back of your neck, suffocating you.

tom langford

allie hums in recognition. “is that the captain everyone online is obsessed with?”

“yes” dean says.

“he looks smug.”

logan points at her. “thank you allie!”

“you’ve never seen him play” dean says, turning his gaze onto her.

“i don’t need to. i have instincts.”

“terrible ones.”

“you’re dating me.”

“exactly.”

the room laughs. you try to join in, but the sound comes out thin.

beneath the blanket, garrett absentmindedly intertwines your fingers again. he doesn't even look at your hand when he does it, as though holding it is something as automatic as breathing.

the highlights end, but logan continues scrolling. “you know what’s worse?” he asks. “apparently he’s a really good captain too.”

garrett nods. “he is.”

you feel his chest move behind you.

dean turns. “you’ve heard that?”

“everyone has. he stays late with younger players, watches extra film, takes the blame publicly when they lose.”

“coach jensen likes him” tucker says.

“jensen respects him” garrett corrects.

“same thing from jensen.”

logan drops his phone onto his lap, before bringing his hands up to shield his eyes. “fuck sake. he's really making the rest of us look bad.”

garrett laughs. normally, you love the feeling of it against your back, yet today, it only twists strangely through your chest.

once, long before garrett knew you, you sat in bleachers and watched that same boy skate. you wore his number, waited after games in his jacket, knew which skate he tied first, what song he listened to before warm-ups.

you believed you understood him better than anyone, until you discovered someone else had been receiving the same messages. the same promises, maybe even sitting in the same passenger seat when you weren't there.

it was awful, really

dean looks at garrett, crossing his arms over his chest. “you’ll probably get matched against him if both of us make the frozen four.”

garrett shrugs. “probably.”

“golden boy against golden boy” logan says. “that’s the matchup everybody wants.”

something competitive sharpens in garrett’s expression. “it’d be a good game.”

dean scoffs. “boring answer.”

“you want me to start threatening him through the television?”

“a little.”

garrett laughs, before inhaling deeply behind you. “speaking of, jensen pulled me aside yesterday.”

dean turns, his eyebrows narrowing in confusion. “that sentence never ends well.”

“nah this time it's actually not bad. ncaa media wants to do some frozen four promotional stuff.”

logan sits up. “with you?”

“apparently. interviews, photos, some skills content.” garrett’s hand remains beneath yours. “they’re doing a captain campaign.”

you already know. your body knows before your mind catches up, your fingers tightening around his. garrett glances down at your joined hands, before looking back up, meeting the gaze of his friends. “they want the two of us together...”

"tom and i."

he says your ex's name, out loud. he says it here, in the hockey house. between his own easy, calm voice and the approving reactions of the people you love most, he unknowingly lets the one part of your past you've worked so hard to keep outside these walls slip inside.

for a moment, the room sounds very far away.

“that’s sick!” logan says.

dean gives a low whistle, “they know what they’re doing.”

“that’s going to be everywhere” tucker adds.

everywhere, it's going to be plastered everywhere. you won't be able to escape it, no matter how hard you try.

“they’ll probably make you compare shots" logan says.

“or do accuracy challenges” tucker adds.

something inside you folds in on itself.

speak up.

“when is it?” tucker asks.

“next week, i think. they’re still finalising it.”

“whole day?”

“sounds like it.”

logan leans back. “you’re going to come home best friends.”

garrett snorts, shaking his head, yet smiling. “doubt it.”

“why? you clearly admire him.”

“his hockey” garrett corrects.

“same thing to you.”

dean grins. “g’s going to ask for his autograph.”

garrett huffs. “alright, i’m leaving.”

“you can’t. you live here.”

you stare straight ahead as the conversation around you fades into background noise.

next week, garrett and him in the same room. talking, laughing, being photographed together.

your past and present standing side by side.

garrett shifts beneath you, clearly eager to hear your opinion. “what do you think, y/n?”

everyone looks over, you turn to meet his gaze.

garrett's expression is open. not excited exactly, because he never enjoys media obligations, but there is interest there. professional respect and the quiet satisfaction of being chosen because he earned it.

you force a smile, squeezing his hand gently in assurance, “sounds like a pretty big deal.”

garrett nudges you gently, attempting to downplay the opportunity being presented, “nah, probably just a lot of standing around.”

“with one of the best players in college hockey” logan adds.

garrett glances at him. “you done?”

“not remotely.”

the conversation moves on to the kind of questions they might ask.

“best hands” dean says.

“tom” tucker answers.

“fuck you” garrett mutters.

“best defensive game.”

“garrett.”

“hardest shot.”

“garrett.”

“best release.”

there's a pause before dean points at the television, “tom.”

garrett exhales through his nose. “i regret ever telling you guys.”

“best overall player” logan says.

“garrett” you answer automatically, the words falling from your mouth before you're even able to stop them. the room goes quiet for half a second.

garrett looks down at you, surprised by how quickly you'd answered.

not because you've compared them, but because you need it to be true. if there was one thing to be certain of, it's that garrett is everything your ex never was, never could be.

garrett's expression softens, before he presses a delicate kiss to your temple, “thank you, baby."

you grab your phone, shifting your gaze onto it before he can see too much on your face.

“you really okay?”

you nod quickly, his eyes remain on you.

“you feel tense, y/n.”

“i’m just tired.”

“you weren’t tired ten minutes ago.”

you swallow. “headache, maybe.”

his thumb traces another slow circle beneath your sweatshirt. not fidgeting, soothing, almost as though he's trying to settle something he can't quite identify.

he's careful not to put you on the spot. “want to go upstairs?”

the offer is soft, private. part of you wants to say yes, to let him take you away from the name being passed around the room as though it means nothing. to curl into his bed and tell him the truth while there is still time.

garrett, that’s him.

my ex.

the one who cheated.

the one who made me feel impossible to love.

you imagine the change in garrett’s features, the promotional shoot disappearing, the boys never speaking about your ex the same way again.

the questions, the anger.

you shake your head. “no. i’m all good, i promise.”

garrett doesn't believe you, you can tell.

but he knows the difference between avoidance and a boundary, even when you're not brave enough to name which one this is, so he doesn't push. he only adjusts the blanket higher over your legs, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “tell me if it gets worse.”

“i will.”

another lie, small enough that you can pretend it doesn't count.

across the room, dean is still talking. “you need to ask him about that shot.”

“i already know how he does it” garrett replies.

logan points at the television. “then stop him.”

“that’s the plan.”

tucker leans back against the couch. “honestly, if anyone in college hockey can shut him down, it’s probably you.”

“probably?” garrett repeats.

“definitely” dean corrects.

logan grins. “that matchup is going to be insane.”

before reaching for the remote, garrett ducks his head slightly. "do you want a tea or anything?"

you blink. "what?"

"you said you had a headache."

your chest tightens in warmth, admiration. "i'm okay."

he studies you for another second before nodding once, "alright."

grabbing the remote, garrett rewinds the highlight before pressing play again.

the shot flashes across the television once more. the room falls back into analysis. release point, angle, timing, tom's passing, tom's edge work, tom's captaincy, tom's draft prospects.

the boys keep talking, not carelessly or cruelly, but with the uncomplicated admiration athletes have for talent that cannot be denied.

you hear every word. elite, smartest player on the ice, future nhl captain, the kind of player every coach wants.

garrett’s hand remains beneath yours the entire time. warm, steady, safe.

you tell yourself that this is enough.

this is only hockey, the shoot is only a day, your ex is nothing but a name from somewhere you no longer belong.

when the replay ends and his face fills the screen again, smiling beneath the arena lights, you feel garrett’s thumb move slowly across your skin.

he's still watching you, quietly, carefully, already noticing the first crack in a story you have not yet told him.

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