About me: My name is Christina, I'm 20+, and I love 2000s rom-coms, Halloween, writing, cats...and Taylor Swift more than anything. I'm a creative person at heart and share personality type with Kat Strattford and Wednesday Addams. I've been writing since I read the Twilight books and currently write for Wednesday, HotD, Off Campus, TSITP and more
you can send requests here at any time
☆ Who I currently write for
House of the Dragon/Game of thrones ((Daemon Targaryen + Aemond Targaryen + Aegon II Targaryen + Jacaerys Velaryon + Cregan Stark + Jon Snow) | Masterpost
Off Campus (Dean Di Laurentis, John Logan, Garrett Graham) | Masterpost
The summer I turned pretty (Conrad Fisher + Jeremiah Fisher) | Masterpost
I also have masterpost for: MCU characters (Masterpost), Teen Wolf (Masterpost), Jess Mariano (Masterlist), Marcus Baker (Masterpost), Scream (Masterpost), Tate Langdon (Masterpost), Coriolanus Snow (Masterpost)
REQUESTS RULES
I have the ability to deny and delete any requests I don't want to write
I don’t have a set word count for requests, but I try to keep them between 0.5k - 1k
Do not send me the exact same request you sent to many other writers. If see it, I'll then delete it
Smut is allowed, and welcomed
I WILL NOT WRITE
These NSFW themes — feet fetish, a/b/o, innocent!reader , humiliation/degrading kink, water sport, graphic SA or anything non-con (unless it’s part of a ‘game’)
RPF (real people fiction)
Romanticization of mental health (eating disorders, depression, any type of self harm, etc.)
Anything yandere related
Anything involving someone being sick or periods (that's just boring to me)
Peter x Tony (romantically) or any form of incest (with the exception of GoT and HotD)
Pregnancies / main characters being a parent
male!reader
nb!reader or gn!reader (nothing against it, I just wouldn’t want to write it wrong)
black!reader or plus size!reader (nothing against it, I just would want to offend anyone by writing something I don’t know about)
I didn't go the full possessive route, but here's hungry tucker
Summary: You and Tucker need a last minute costume for Dean's birthday
‘’You can’t be a bee.’’
‘’It’s not just a bee,’’ Tucker argued. ‘’It’s a metaphor. You know, the birds and the bees.’’
‘’I’m not dressing up as a bird.’’
‘’Logan is. He found some wings in the lost-and-found. And we cut up a bee costume someone left here last Halloween.’’
You blinked. ‘’Wait. So you’re doing a couple costumes with Logan instead of me?’’
‘’You said you and Lacey were dressing up as Daphné and Velma from Scooby Doo.’’
You let out a dramatic sigh. ‘’Not anymore. Lacey is trying to end the night in Beau Maxwell’s bed and decided she would never do so if she dressed as Velma. Because Velma is nerdy and not sexy.’’ You threw your hands in the air. ‘’Then she wanted to be Daphné and we got into an argument. I’m Daphné. I’ve been a Daphné girl since I was five years old. I’m the one studying criminology.’’
Tucker bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. The sheer seriousness with which you defended your iconic duo costume was adorable. To him, it was just a costume for Dean’s birthday party. To you, it was clearly a matter of principle.
So he kept his mouth shut.
‘’Of course, baby.’’ Tucker reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his dimples flashing as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. ‘’You’re the hot detective.’’ He leaned in and kissed you, sealing the debacle.
‘’What are we gonna go as then?’’ you asked, raising an eyebrow at your man.
It couldn’t be something that takes too long to put together. The party was in two days. Even the fastest delivery service wouldn’t make it on time. And there were no Halloween stores open at this time of year.
You took your brainstorming to the kitchen barstool and began browsing on Pinterest.
With his curly hair, Tucker would make a good Patrick from 10 Things I hate about you. He had the charm and the dumples, but not the bad boy attitude. Next on your list was Tarzan and Jane. You had a cute yellow dress in your closet that still had the tag on. It could be perfect for this costume.
‘’How down would you be to spend the night shirtless?’’
Tucker pulled out the two layered cake from the freezer, ready to ice it. It was a surprise for Dean’s birthday. Garrett had found tiny hockey sticks and liquor bottles small enough to fit onto the cake…and a single condom packet. That one was Logan’s contribution. According to him, Dean was constantly clogging the shower drain with them.
‘’And a…leopard mini skirt?’’ you added.
You lost him at the skirt.
‘’I ain’t showing off my legs for free. I work hard on those thighs.’’
You laughed, taking this as a no. There goes Tarzan and Jane…
You scrolled again, refusing to give up.
‘’What about Danny and Sandy?’’
‘’Too much hair gel.’’
A sigh left your lips. You forgot about that part. Slicking down Tucker’s curly hair would take hours. And a lot of hair gel. Only to wash it out a few hours later. It wasn’t worth all the work.
Turning back to your phone, you scrolled again, but nothing was calling your name.
‘’By any chance, do you still have the cowboy hat from the last karaoke night?’’
Tucker didn’t even take a few seconds to think. ‘’Yeah. Gotta keep a little piece from home.’’
‘’By any chance, do you happen to have the boots that match?’’
He raised an eyebrow, pausing his icing. ‘’Are you going to dress as a cowgirl?’’
You shook your head, a smirk curling. ‘’Think sexier.’’
Tucker frowned. ‘’I have no idea.’’
‘’Then, you’ll have to wait until the party to find out.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
When you stepped out of the bathroom in a corset and garter stockings, Tucker let out a few southern curses. His eyes traveled from your heeled boots to the way your breasts were pressed against the corset, then back down again.
You bit back a laugh. ‘’Is that your final review?’’
Tucker stared at you for another second, clearly struggling to form a coherent thought. ‘’How about we skip the party and stay here? I can think of many many thing we could do together.’’
You shook your head, stepping closer to Tucker. He didn’t look bad himself in jeans and a cowboy hat.
‘’How about we go downstairs and have a few drinks,’’ you began, reaching to unbutton a few more buttons of his shirt. ‘’And later, we come back to our room and—’’
Tucker cut you off by crashing his lips on yours. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, feeling your breasts press against his chest. You deepened the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to knock his hat off.
If you had it your way, you would stay here too. Take Tucker to bed and have him fuck you with only the hat on.
When you finally pulled back, Tucker looked at you with a grin that made your stomach flutter.
‘’You were saying?’’ he murmured, trailing his lips down to your neck.
You gave his shoulder a small push. ‘’I was saying we should go downstairs.’’
Tucker sighed, acting like a child who had just been told he couldn't eat cookies before dinner. You had never seen him this hungry for you.
‘’And we're going to behave, Cowboy.’’
You fixed his hat and he was trying his hardest to not grab you by the thighs and pull you onto the bed.
Can I have reader comforting Dean after the accident? Maybe Dean was with him when it happened?
Summary: Being Dean’s emergency contact when he gets into the accident with beau
—
Getting a phone call from the hospital was never good news.
‘’Hello?’’ you answered, feeling your heart beat in your chest.
For a moment, there was only silence on the other end. The kind of silence that made your stomach twist before anyone even said a word. Then, a woman asked to speak to you. Her voice was calm, professional, but there was something about the way she spoke that made your fingers tighten around your phone.
‘’Yes. This is me.’’
‘’My name is Meredith. I’m a nurse at Boston’s general hospital. I’m calling regarding Dean Dilaurentis. It says in his file that you are his emergency contact.’’
Your breath caught.
Hospitals didn’t call unless something had happened. Unless someone had been hurt.
‘’I-is he okay?’’ you asked, immediately feeling stupid after.
Of course he was not okay. Why would she have called?
‘’Mr. Dilaurentis is currently being treated by our emergency team. He was brought here by ambulance an hour ago from a car accident.’’
Your dorm room suddenly felt too small. The walls seemed to close in around you, and the sound of your own heartbeat became louder than anything else.
Dean was driving back to Briar tonight. It was snowing outside. Just a light dusting. But maybe the snow was heavier on the highway?
Your mind immediately filled with every possible nightmare.
‘’I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
When you arrived at the hospital, you were directed to the second floor. Most rooms were plunged into darkness, the patients asleep for the night at this hour, so you walked quietly to Dean’s assigned one. The door was open and you could hear him talk to one of the nurses.
You let the nurse finish and leave before stepping in.
Inside, Dean was sitting in a bed and wearing one of those ugly blue hospital gowns. He had a cut on his face, right above his eyebrow, and bruising on his neck from the seatbelt. They were worn for safety, but bruising was a common injury following an accident. Better that than being ejected and getting your head through the glass windshield.
He didn’t look too injured for someone who had been in a car accident.
‘’Dean?’’ you said softly.
He glanced at the door and relief washed over his face. ‘’Baby.’’
His voice made your heart ache. It was so small and weak and…pained.
You crossed the distance to his bed and wrapped your arms around him, mindful of the IV that dripped steadily into the back of his hand. Dean pushed his face in your chest as he broke into tears, his sobs muffled against the fabric of your coat. His arms tightened around you like a lifeline. You ran one hand over his hair, the other gently rubbing circles on his back, while pressing soft kisses to the top of his head between cries.
A cold dread pooled into your stomach. Something bad had happened tonight.
Maybe another car was involved in the accident? Was a child in the other car? You know Dean would feel horrible for hurting a child. Did…did someone die? You suddenly felt sick.
You tried to focus on the smell of antiseptic from the hospital room mixed with Dean’s usual cologne that still clung to him despite everything. The steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor nearby was oddly soothing in contrast to how shattered Dean sounded.
‘’I’m here, baby,’’ you soothed, pressing one last kiss to his head.
A nurse knocked on the door, making Dean jump from your embrace and wipe his tears.
‘’Sorry to interrupt,’’ she apologized politely. ‘’Do you have any other phone numbers we could use to reach Mr. Maxwell’s family? His emergency contact is not answering.’’
Dean sniffled and nodded. ‘’Yeah. Erm, there’s his sister.’’
You watched as Dean, with trembling fingers, scrolled on his phone. The screen had a long crack, assumingly from the accident. He gave the nurse a number and she left, giving the two of you a compassionate smile.
When she said ‘Mr. Maxwell’, your brain didn’t register right away that she meant Beau Maxwell. He and Dean had carpooled together to New York, which meant he was in the accident too.
Then, it clicked. Dean’s tears. The nurse’s smile.
Your stomach began to churn. No.
‘’Dean, where’s Beau?’’ you asked cautiously.
His eyes welled with tears again, laced with guilt. ‘’I killed him.’’
Why is the hotd tag so fucking dry? I need more Aemond and Jace 😭
Honestly, I feel this too, anon... Where are the Aemond, Aegon, Jacaerys and Cregan fics? I've seen people thirsting over Ormund Hightower and I just don't get it (no shade to the actor!)
I'm going to be honest: I have not watched hotd past episode one this season. And from what I'm seeing online, some plotlines and characters have become a shitshow. Is used to be so good. What is happening?
Summary: After hearing of Alys Rivers getting too close to Aemond, you go to Harrenhal to confront her.
‘’Dragon!’’ the knights below shouted, scattering from the courtyard as you and Silverwing glided over Harrenhal.
She released a deep, resonant roar that echoed through the castle, announcing your arrival. The sound rolled over the towers and battlements, causing every head in the courtyard to tilt skyward.
At your command, Silverwing began her descent, her broad wings beating steadily as she glided from the sky toward Harrenhal's courtyard. The enormous dragon circled the castle once before lowering herself gracefully to the ground.
You slid from the saddle, your boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, and glanced around, searching for a familiar head of silver hair.
According to one of your sources, a woman from the Riverlands had been seen with your husband…quite a lot. Alys Rivers. Or, as some whispered, the witch.
The rumors had spread quickly through Harrenhal, carried by servants and soldiers alike, each telling the story with a little more exaggeration than the last. They spoke of her strange influence over Aemond, of the time they spent together, of the way she seemed to be standing far too close to him.
How foolish she was to believe she — a bastard with nothing to her name — could take what belonged to you. Aemond was your husband, the man who kneeled for no one else than you, the man who would spill blood if anyone dared to harm you, the man who would burn the world down for you, and no woman would simply step into your place.
Alys Rivers had mistaken proximity for devotion, and she would soon learn the difference.
Before you could make it up the rutted track, a guard came up to you.
‘’Welcome to Harrenhal, Princess. The Prince Regent didn’t inform us of your arrival—’’
‘’Where is my husband?’’ you asked, not letting him time to finish.
The guard stiffened at your tone — cold, commanding, like the strike of a whip. He bowed his head quickly and led you inside the castle.
.˳·˖✶𓆩 𓆪✶˖·˳.
The castle loomed around you: towering stone walls etched with old fire damage from past wars, banners bearing the Greens’ sigil fluttering above high towers, servants and soldiers scattering out of your path like mice before an approaching wolf. They knew better than to meet your gaze directly when anger radiated from you like heat from dragonfire.
Your white hair cascaded down your back into a mix of twists and braids, which helped get them out of your face when riding. The riding clothes you had on were made of a half skirt over pants, adding femininity to your masculine attire. Your sword was secured against your hip, ready to face a battle at any time.
Your heart hammered at each of your steps. A cold rage burned deep in your chest where only love and possession had ever lived when it came to Aemond.
At the end of a long and humid corridor where rainwater pooled into puddles, a wooden door was closed. A guard stood outside, letting you know Aemond was inside.
By the fierceness in your steps and the color of your hair, the guard figured you were the Prince Regent’s wife. Without a word, he bowed his head before stepping aside and pulling the door open.
The door creaked open to reveal a narrow, dimly lit chamber — the apothecary. The air was thick with the sharp scent of crushed herbs and burning incense, meant to purify and heal. Glass jars lined wooden shelves, their contents murky: powders, tinctures, dried roots.
Aemond sat shirtless on a chair as a woman with long black hair was applying a sort of pomade to his side. She wore simple robes of riverland browns and black, giving away her social status. Her appearance had nothing to be envied, far too plain looking for a prince’s taste.
At your entrance, Alys’ head snapped up immediately, as did Aemond’s one eye.
For one frozen heartbeat, the room went utterly silent save for crackling firelight flickering off glass bottles.
Then, Aemond recovered faster than expected for a man caught mid-tenderness by an unknown woman applying salve to his bare side. He stood abruptly from the chair, and covered his wince as pain shot through him. In his movement, he knocked Alys’ arm with his elbow and the pomade jar in her hands clattered softly onto the wooden table beside her, nearly toppling over.
Your voice tore through the room like a whip, harsh, furious and dripping with venom.‘’Step away from him, your bastard witch!’’
Aemond barely had time to react before you were across the room in three strides, a shiny dagger in your hand as you lunged. Alys barely had time to gasp before your blade pressed against her throat, the cold steel biting into soft skin.
Her wide eyes filled with amusement but she quickly tried to cover it with fake terror. She didn’t flinch, didn’t whimper like a true servant should. Her dark eyes held something far too clever for someone who claimed to be just an apothecary.
‘’My apologies, your grace. I was only helping the Prince Regent with his wounds,’’ she explained innocently.
Her words made your blood boil.
Helping him.
As if she were some loyal servant tending to her lord. As if the rumors whispered throughout the walls were nothing more than harmless gossip. As if you could not see the way she looked at him — the quiet confidence, the familiarity, the way she stood far too close to a man who belonged nowhere but beside you. As if you could not see the way she had touched him.
A dry laugh left your lips. ‘’Don’t mistake me for a fool, witch. I know women like you. You hide behind kindness and concern, whisper exactly what a man wants to hear, and convince him he's the one making the choices. By the time your victim realizes what's happening, you've already wrapped yourself around his head.’’ You pressed the blade harder against her pale skin, drawing blood but not enough to kill her. ‘’But it’s not going to work this time because—’’
Aemond’s voice cut through the tension. ‘’Enough.’’ He reached for your arm, the one holding the dagger, and his single eye moved between you and Alys. ‘’Put the dagger away.’’
But you didn’t obey.
Your breath came fast and furious through flared nostrils as hatred burned in your gaze. You wanted to see her blood spill from her throat and soak the floor.
This woman dared touch what was yours? Dared stand so close? Dared smile at him like she had any right? And now he wanted you to lower the blade, as if she were the victim here? Not happening.
Aemond saw the fury in your eyes. He knew that once you’ve woken the fire inside a Targaryen, it was almost impossible to extinct it.
‘’Let’s not spill blood tonight, my love,’’ the prince continued, feeling his breathing close to your ear. ‘’We have an audience.’’
Behind you, the guard who stood by the apothecary door looked like he was debating whether or not to step in. As Aemond’s guard, his job was to keep the Prince Regent from any harm. But although you weren’t pointing the dagger at him, the guard didn’t know what you would do next.
Reluctantly, you lowered the blade, but not without a last threat. ‘’If I see your filthy bastard hands on my husband again, I’ll cut them off and have my dragon burn the rest of your body.’’
Summary: Dean has to deal with you after karaoke night
Warnings: mention of drinking and drunk behavior, Dean being consent king, nudity,
When you came back from karaoke night, Garrett tucked you in on the couch like your mom used to when you were little. He left a glass of water and some Advils on the table for the morning, then took care of Hannah who had disappeared upstairs.
You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but the couch wasn’t comfortable and you felt hot in your clothes. You looked around for your bag, forgetting it was in Garrett’s room. After a few minutes, you abandoned your quest and took off your jeans.
Much better.
Half an hour later, the door opened and the sound of it closing stirred you from your light sleep.
‘’Tuck?’’ you asked, not seeing well in the darkness of the living room.
‘’Wrong guy.’’
A smile curled on your lips at the voice and your heart jumped in your chest even though you were still hazy from sleep and alcohol.
The hardwood creaked as Dean stepped closer.
‘’Hey babydoll,’’ he whispered, crouching down beside where you lay curled under Garrett’s old flannel blanket. ‘’Had fun tonight?’’
You nodded. ‘’Did you like my song?’’
Dean took his time trying to muster an answer. ‘’It was…entertaining.”
Then, Logan came home, forcing you and Dean to part. You weren’t doing anything incriminating, but Logan had suspicions about the two of you. He saw his friend’s hand on your hip in the kitchen and the way you looked at Dean.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Once in his room, Dean peeled off his clothes and brushed his teeth, then climbed into bed.
Karaoke nights were always a wild ride. From Tucker and Birdie’s deafening Bohemian Rhapsody duet to music students acing the highest notes, and inevitable drunk emotional breakdowns, there was never a dull moment.
But the one performance stuck on Dean’s mind was yours. He could replay it all in his head perfectly; you standing on that karaoke stage, completely fearless — and completely tipsy —, singing your heart out while dragging half the bar into it. He won’t be able to hear that stupid song without thinking of you.
Which was a very annoying problem.
Because that song was on the radio all the time. Because you were Garrett's sister and he would absolutely murder him if he knew his pants felt tight after your little number.
Dean groaned and flopped on his stomach, forcing his mind to stop thinking about you.
Just as he succeeded in making his dick go down, his door creaked open. Dean sat up quickly, seeing you in your underwear and the top you wore at Malone’s.
‘’What are you doing here?’’ he hissed.
You ignored his question and jumped on Dean’s bed. He caught you, causing you to giggle.
‘’Hi.’’
‘'Hi,” he repeated, still holding you. ‘’Where’s your pants?”
You shrugged. ‘’It’s hot,” you replied, reaching for the bottom of your top to pull it off but Dean stopped you.
On another night, he would have let you take off whatever you wanted — shirt, panties, everything —, but not when you had this much to drink. Dean wouldn’t take advantage of you.
‘'Can we not do that tonight?”
You whined. ‘’But it’s hot.”
‘’It’s the alcohol talking. Let’s get you back to bed before G hears you and plots my death.”
Dean stood and you pulled off your top and threw it in a corner.
‘’Ugh, fuck me…” He groaned at the sight of your topless self. Those perfect tits he loved to play with.
Dean felt his body react and quickly opened his drawers to find a shirt for you. ‘’I’m gonna ask this nicely, please put a shirt on.” He handed it to you, but you shook your head.
‘’No.’’
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘’Yes.’’
‘’No."
‘’Baby..."
You crossed your arms over your chest in a surprisingly stubborn display of drunken determination.
Dean blew out a slow breath toward the ceiling. ‘’You're impossible.’’
Another giggle left your lips and you began humming to another Sabrina Carpenter song.
Dean exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair as he stared at you, his half naked, stubborn little problem. You were glowing in the dim bedroom light. Tipsy. Bare. Unbothered. And he was this close to losing every ounce of self-control he had ever had.
Without asking again, he slipped the shirt over your head gently. You resisted slightly at first but soon gave in as the cool fabric settled on your skin. The shirt was inevitably big on you, which only made Dean feel worse because now all he could picture was how cute — and sexy — you looked in his clothes.
You didn’t fight him anymore once dressed. The shirt smelled like him.
‘’Alright, my battle is done.’’
Dean pulled his comforter and got underneath, then tapped the space next to him. If Garrett got mad in the morning, he’ll say you were looking for a shirt and you were too drunk to go back downstairs.
‘’G’night,’’ you mumbled, pressing close against Dean with sleepy warmth.
‘’Good night,’’ he said back, pressing a gentle kiss at the top of your head.
visiting Logan at the garage when he's dirty from oil and shit
For this one, we are following Logan’s book backstory. I hate that they changed his father for a mother in rehab, and that he has a sister instead of a brother working at the garage. (just like I hate how they watered down Phil’s abuse…)
Summary: You visit Logan at the garage…in a skirt
Warnings: 18+, suggestive content,
—
You pulled outside Logan & Sons Auto Repair, spotting Logan's truck parked along the side of the building where he always left it. The familiar sight tugged a smile onto your face before you had even turned off the engine.
The afternoon sun was beating down on the cracked asphalt as you climbed out, the scent of warm pavement, motor oil, and rubber already drifting through the air. The wide garage doors were rolled open, exposing cars up on lifts and the organized chaos of tool chests, air hoses, and half-disassembled engines.
The rhythmic clank of metal echoed from inside, followed by the whir of an impact wrench.
You stepped through the open bay, weaving around a stack of tires.
One of the older mechanics glanced up from beneath the hood of a pickup truck. ‘’Well, look who decided to stop by,’’ he said with a knowing grin.
‘’Hi George,’’ you greeted, smiling at the man in his early fifties.
‘’No clicking noise this time?’’
You shook your head. ‘’Car is doing good.’’
He wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag before jerking his chin toward the far end of the shop, already knowing you were looking for Logan. ‘’Last bay. He’s been under that Mustang since lunch.’’
‘’Thanks.’’
As you made your way deeper into the garage, familiar sounds filled the space — classic rock humming from an old radio, compressed air hissing, muffled laughter between the mechanics.
You spotted him a second later, half hidden under a red car that looked far too fancy to be here.
You reached for the creeper and yanked hard, causing him to roll out from under the car, spanner in hand.
‘’What the fu—?’’ Logan trailed off, looking up at you from his perch with his bandana tied over his head and oil smeared on his cheek. ‘’Hey, babe.’’ He smiled, pleased to see you. ‘’Got any car trouble?’’
‘’Nope,’’ you replied. ‘’I was just stopping by to see you.’’
The garage was thirty minutes from Briar, but you didn't have anything else to do this afternoon. And you secretly loved to see him in his mechanic overalls. Bonus points if it was dirty or open at the chest.
‘’I’m kind of in the middle of something here… Jeffrey was supposed to have this Mustang ready for 3PM, but he called to say something came up and couldn’t come in to finish the job,’’ Logan explained, tired of his unreliable brother. ‘’This client leaves good tip so we can’t afford to lose him.’’
You hummed in understanding as he wheeled himself back under the car.
‘’I get it. But you should tell Jeffrey to go fuck himself.’’
Logan snorted. ‘’I wish!’’
A familiar tune came on the radio and you found yourself humming to it while Logan worked on the Mustang. Ever so often, he would peek one eye out from under the car, catching your silhouette standing there — patient and pretty in your skirt and flowy blouse —, and it hit him all over again how lucky he was.
‘’You wanna make yourself useful, baby?’’ he asked as the music changed, voice teasing but warm. ‘’Grab me that 10mm socket from the tray?’’
You turned toward the rolling tool cart, scanning the neatly organized sockets until you spotted the 10mm. Picking it up, you walked back to Logan and, with one leg on either side of his body, handed it over to him.
He rolled out from under the car to grab the tool and swore. ‘’Can you please not stand like that?’’ he said, gesturing to the perfect view up your skirt that you had unintentionally given him. ‘’You know I can’t focus with that pink thong right in my face.’’
A soft laugh left your lips. ‘’Close your eyes.’’
‘’Close your legs.’’
‘’No.’’ You crossed your arms, looking down at him. ‘’You’re looking up my skirt.’’
‘’Because you’re flashing your pussy in my face!’’
The sound of a tool clattering on the concret accompanied by a loud ’Ow, fuck!’ coming from one of the other mechanics echoed in the garage. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his space was right next to Logan’s so he had heard everything.
‘’You did not just say that… Jesus, this is a garage, kid.’’
Logan groaned in embarrassment and moved to roll back under the car.
Dean hooking up with Garrett's sister at his and Hannah's wedding. This could be fun
I've been working on this one for almost two weeks. It's finally out!! I can't believe I wrote 8k...
Summary: The wedding bells are finally ringing — Hannah and Garrett are getting MARRIED! For the occasion, everyone reunites at a breathtaking lakeside venue in Massachusetts, just a stone's throw from where their story first began. Friends return, old memories resurface, and for one unforgettable weekend, Briar's favorite alumni are back together. Among the guests is Garrett's younger sister, who spent the last three years living her best life across Europe. She never expected to see Dean again — not after the week you shared together
Warnings: 18+, smut, p + v, secret relationship, drinking,
—
‘’Logan and Grace are going to go in first. Then, Allie and Tucker,’’ the wedding coordinator explained. ‘’Don’t forget, bridesmaids come in from this side and groomsmen the other.’’
They nodded, following the instructions and walking slowly and elegantly.
‘’Best man and maid of honor, you'll be last before the bride— where is the bride?’’
Everyone looked around for Hannah, then turned to Garrett because he of all people should know where his future bride was.
Truth was, he hadn’t seen Hannah in a few hours. Her parents had arrived in the morning along with other members of her family. Then, it was Allie’s turn, and although they had seen each other the night before, they had a lot to talk about.
‘’I’m here,’’ Hannah called with you in tow, making your brother sigh with relief. ‘’The strap of my dress broke so we had to sew it back on.’’
The two of you went to the back of the aisle while Garrett returned to his place at the altar.
The wedding coordinator smiled. ‘’Crisis averted. Shall we continue? Best man and maid of honor, you'll be the last ones down the aisle before the bride. Dean, once Garrett's in position, you'll take yours beside him.’’
Dean gave a curt nod.
He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him. His hair seemed a little longer and his shoulders wider, but he still looked as handsome as you remembered. Especially in gray. It matched his blue eyes well.
Tearing your eyes from him, you busied yourself by smoothing the wrinkles from Hannah's dress, adjusting the water bottle in her hands that served as a bouquet before stepping off to the side. It looked ridiculous, but her flowers won’t get here until tomorrow morning so Allie improvised and gave her a water bottle instead.
You felt a nudge. Dean was waiting and offering you his arm. You apologized quietly and took it.
The second your hand slipped into the crook of his arm, Dean straightened and you began walking side by side down the aisle — not as a couple, not even close —, but there was something undeniably intimate about it.
With calm eyes looking ahead and a soft floral dress ending just above your ankles, you began walking. Every step brought you closer to your brother standing tall at the altar, but all you could focus on was the feel of Dean’s bicep under your hand.
‘’How’s Florence?’’ the latter asked quietly.
‘’Good,’’ you replied carefully. “Quiet. Beautiful. A little too easy to get lost in.”
Dean hummed softly, like he was picturing it. “Sounds like you picked the right place, then.”
You glanced up at him, but his eyes stayed forward, focused on the path ahead. Dean’s arm stayed steady beneath your hand as you walked, like he wasn’t thinking about it at all. Like this was just another role to play.
But you were very aware of it.
The warmth of him. The solid press of muscle under your fingers. The way he matched your pace without effort.
‘’You look good in that dress, by the way.’’
You almost stopped walking right there, taken by surprise by his compliment. It wasn’t just any compliment though. It lingered — heavier than it should have, carrying something unspoken beneath it.
The wedding coordinator watched carefully from the front, then lifted a hand. ‘’Perfect. Stop there!’’
You both came to a halt, still arm in arm.
‘’Dean, you'll step over to Garrett once she reaches her spot. Maid of honor, you'll line up with the two bridesmaids. Your spot is at the front."
You nodded.
‘’Perfect,’’ the coordinator said, making a note on her clipboard. ‘’Now let's practice the bride's entrance.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
For the rehearsal dinner, the wedding party had gathered around a long table in the property’s large backyard. The sun was about to set over the lake, giving a beautiful golden hour ambiance, which was perfect to take pictures for the wedding album.
Three years had gone by since you all sat down together. Life had pulled everyone in different directions — different cities, different countries. Sunday dinners like this didn’t happen as easily anymore.
But somehow, the chaos was exactly the same.
‘’Because G has banned me and Pricilla from his house. You know I would never miss your birthday, Hannah,’’ Tucker defended.
You glanced at him, a soft smile on your lips. ‘’Priscilla? You got a girl, Tuck?’’
Logan laughed, shaking his head between bites. ‘’Priscilla is Tucker’s golden lab.’’
You blinked. How did you not know Tucker got a dog?
You knew he had moved back to Texas and opened a gym, but somehow a whole dog had completely slipped under your radar.
‘’That dog got mud all over my couch the last time you came over,’’ Garrett added.
‘’And the carpets…and the entrance wall,’’ said Hannah.
‘’And Priscilla is very sorry about the mess,’’ Tucker apologized, completely unbothered. ‘’She’s better behaved now.’’
Garrett rolled his eyes.
‘’Can I see her?’’ you asked.
Tucker pulled up an album from his phone and handed it over. ‘’This was when Dean visited last month. He took her on a run every morning. She loved him. Refused to leave the guest room for hours after he left.’’
You raised an eyebrow as you looked over the screen. ‘’You? Dean Di Laurentis? You went to Texas?’’
That was unexpected. Dean had always been a city person. The kind who preferred penthouses to ranches and clubs to open fields. You had difficulty imagining him in cowboy boots and a plaid shirt.
You swiped to the next photo: Priscilla in a truck bed, a purple bandana around her neck, someone’s hand scratching her belly. You recognized Dean’s signet ring instantly. Swiping again, a short video of Dean in athletic shorts, shirtless and sweaty, likely coming back from a run. Tuck called for his dog, but the latter stayed by Dean’s feet.
‘’She’s very cute,’’ you said, handing the phone back.
You couldn’t risk staring at Dean’s naked chest too long.
Tucker slipped it into his pocket with a satisfied grin. ‘’She knows it, too.’’
‘’She also knows she can get away with murder,’’ Dean pointed out. ‘’Last Christmas, she stole an entire loaf of garlic bread off the counter.’’
‘’It was artisanal,’’ Tucker defended. ‘’My girl has expensive taste.’’
Garrett scoffed. ‘’She ate the plastic bag too.’’
Laughter rolled through the table, and something in your chest tightened.
When you left for Europe, you had assumed keeping up with your friends through social media, texts and phone calls would be enough to stay in the loop. Apparently, it wasn't. There was so much you had missed…
‘’Enough about that dog,’’ Allie decided, setting her empty glass of wine down. ‘’Now that Hannah and Garrett are tying the knot…who is next? I saw this gorgeous dress on 5th Avenue and I need an occasion to buy it.’’
Hannah laughed, shaking her head at her best friend.
Garrett’s eyes turned to Logan. ‘’My bet’s on Logan. No pressure though,’’ he added.
Allie made a disapproving sound. ‘’Your money’s already lost Graham because Logan doesn’t want to get married. Grace told me.’’
Grace narrowed her eyes at Allie and Logan was quick to defend himself. ‘’That’s not what I said.’’
‘’I said I didn’t see the point of spending so much money on a wedding. I’ve seen the prices and it’s insane shit. Right now, our priority is to get a house,’’ he explained, covering Grace’s hand with his.
Beside him, Grace nodded.
‘’We all know Dean’s never settling down, so that leaves you,’’ Allie continued, shifting her eyes to Tucker and then to you. ‘’And you.’’
‘’Tucker caught Dean’s college habit, so marriage is probably not on his mind,’’ Logan teased, only to receive a piece of bread thrown at him.
‘’And my sister is not seeing anyone,’’ Garrett said, his eyes falling on you. ‘’She would have told me, right?’’
Before you could say anything, Allie did.
‘’You don’t know that,’’ Allie said smoothly. ‘’She might have a mysterious Italian man she didn’t tell us about.’’
The table went a little quieter.
There had been an Italian man in your life, but that boat sank into the Mediterranean sea before it even left the port. His name was Edoardo. He was tall, handsome and worked as a chef at a high-end restaurant. You kept him from your friends due to that relationship not being serious enough to share.
Dean’s gaze found yours then, steady and unreadable, like he was waiting.
‘’I don’t.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
After one last glass of wine, you wished everyone good night, then went to your room. Being the sister of the groom had its perks — you had been granted a room to yourself. Unlike Tucker and Dean who were forced to room together. It'll be like away games at Briar, Garrett told them with a clap on their shoulder and an amused smile.
Unzipping your dress and removing the makeup from your face felt freeing. Although she was relatively comfortable, you had been wearing that dress since noon. You couldn’t wait to fall on the plush bed and close your eyes.
Except your eyes wouldn’t close.
The ceiling fan turned slowly above you. Outside, faint frog sounds mixed with crickets as the moon glowed over the lake. It should be relaxing, but instead your mind wouldn’t quiet.
It kept replaying moments you didn’t want to replay too closely.
Dean’s arm under your hand.
His voice beside you in the aisle.
His eyes on you when Allie asked if you were seeing someone.
He hadn’t looked at you like that since…Paris.
You had posted on your social media about setting foot in Paris and, a few days later, Dean sent you a DM about an hypothetical trip to Paris. He needed a place to take his mind off work because working at his grandfather’s law firm was sucking the life out of him.
Seeing him haul his suitcase up to your small apartment the following made you mentally kick your feet and giggle. He was really there. For you.
That night, you went to the bar under your apartment and talked over a glass of wine. It was funny how quickly life had changed from beers at Malone’s to wine in Paris. You felt so…adult.
‘’I didn’t know you were a win connaisseur, Di Laurentis.’’
Dean let out a quiet laugh, swirling the deep red wine in his glass before taking another sip. ‘’I’m not. I just appreciate a good french red.’’
You smiled over the rim of your own glass. ‘’Paris does have great wines.’’
‘’What else is great about Paris?’’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer over the table.
You wanted to grab the front of his shirt and kiss him. But you didn’t.
Not long after, the combination of jetlag and a long flight hit Dean and you came back to your place.
‘’I forgot to tell you, there’s only one bed,’’ you explained, slightly embarrassed, motioning to the Murphy bed near the window.
Dean glanced at the bed, noting your light pink sheets that matched the ones at your old dorm — some things didn’t change. ‘’What?! I thought this was the Ritz.’’
You threw a pillow at him and he laughed.
The next day, instead of taking him to all the tourist traps, you decided to show him your Paris. The neighborhood café you always go to for breakfast, your favorite bakery, little rituals you loved, and hidden corners tourists rarely see. Dean’s french was terrible, so you had to translate for him…and you may or may not intentionally left out the compliments locals gave him.
It wasn’t until that evening that he made a move to kiss you. Not a sweet, romantic kiss like the romcoms. It was all tongue and pure desire, making up for all the time he had wanted to kiss you again but refrained from. You heard a passerby whistle teasingly but ignored him, gripping the front of Dean’s button up shirt to press him against you.
That week in Paris was your best kept secret.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
It was nearly 1am when you heard a knock on your door.
Peeling the comforter off you, you left your bed. You assumed it was Garrett getting cold feet and needing to talk, but when you cracked the door open, your heart stumbled.
Dean.
He had changed out of his dress clothes into a pair of athletic shorts, his blond hair looking like he had been tossing and turning for the past hour.
‘’Sorry,’’ he said quietly. ‘’I thought this was Garrett’s room… Tucker’s snoring is a violation of the Geneva Convention. I was hoping to crash with him.’’
You raised an eyebrow. ‘’Garrett's room is on the floor above. He has the master bedroom.’’
‘’Right. I should I guessed that.’’
Dean scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence dimmed by sleepiness and the late hour. The dimmed hallway light casted soft shadows across his unfairly handsome face.
‘’Do you want to come in? Can let the best man show up with bags under his eyes. It’ll ruin the wedding picture.’’
Inviting Dean was at the rock bottom of the list of good ideas. Actually, it probably belonged somewhere below drinking champagne on an empty stomach and letting Logan pick the wedding playlist.
Because this was Dean.
Dean, who found you alone and crying on your birthday during your second year at Briar and took you to the closest bakery to buy your favorite cake. Because no one should be alone and crying on their birthday…especially without a cake. He even made it a tradition to send a chocolate and raspberry cake to your door on your birthday. Dean who punched Hunter Davenport after he cheated on you. Dean who kissed you the night the Hawks won the Frozen Four and called you his good luck charm. Dean who came to Paris just to spend time with you.
And now he was standing in your doorway in the middle of the night, shirtless and looking far too good for you to keep your hands — and lips — to yourself.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
‘’You dropped out of law school?!’’ you repeated, staring at him in disbelief.
‘’In my second year. And I left the family’s firm,’’ Dean added, sinking farther into the plush pillows, one arm hooked behind his head.
Your jaw nearly hit the floor. ‘’What?!’’
You had always found it ironic that the guy who got into the most trouble was the one who wanted to become a lawyer — like his grandfather. But the more you got to know Dean, the more you realized there was far more to him than his Six Flags reputation. Beneath the effortless charm was someone who was genuinely intelligent. He stayed on top of his classes, picked things up faster than most people, and had a sharp mind that made law seem like the perfect fit.
Dean gave a small shrug. ‘’I realized it wasn't for me. It was...too much.’’ His gaze drifted toward the ceiling before finding yours again. ‘’After I quit, I went down to Tucker's place in Texas for a few weeks. I needed to get away, clear my head, and figure out what I actually wanted to do with my life.’’
‘’Did you find it?’’
He hummed. ‘’I coach a junior girls team. I may have missed my opportunity to play in the NHL, but hockey is still part of me.’’
A smile spread across your face. ‘’That’s great, Dean.’’
He let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded almost embarrassed. ‘’Yeah?’’
‘’Yeah.’’
You pulled the plush blanket over your legs as a cool breeze slipped through the cracked window. As you shifted against the headboard, Dean's eyes flickered down your cami two-piece pajama for the briefest second, following the movement before catching himself and looking back up. He could probably see your nipples against the fabric, but it’s not like he hadn’t already seen them.
‘’I’m sure you make an amazing coach.’’
A crooked smile tugged at his lips. ‘’Those girls are something else,’’ he continued. ‘’They're between eleven and thirteen, so half the practices are spent teaching them hockey, and the other half is convincing them that falling isn't the end of the world.’’ He chuckled. ‘’But when one of them finally nails a drill they've been struggling with, it's a better feeling than getting an A on any exam I ever took.’’
You couldn't help but smile wider. ‘’You like seeing them succeed.’’
He nodded. ‘’I do.’’ A thoughtful silence settled over him. ‘’I spent so long chasing what everyone else thought I should want that I never stopped to ask myself what actually made me happy.’’
His eyes met yours, steady enough to make your stomach tighten.
“Turns out, it wasn't arguing in a courtroom. It was being at a rink.’’
You held his gaze a second longer than necessary, his as beautiful as you remembered. In the soft moonlight spilling through the large window, you had a perfect view of the ripples of muscles of his chest and abs. He may not play hockey anymore, but his body still carried the unmistakable strength of an athlete.
Dean caught your wandering eyes, and one corner of his mouth lifted. ‘’What about you? Paris looked good on you. Why move to Florence?’’
‘’A job opportunity. You know the winery we visited together?’’
His expression softened slightly, the memory clearly clicking into place. ‘’The one where you tried to convince me you could tell the difference between wines?’’
‘’I could,’’ you defended, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him.
Dean laughed, catching it against his chest with an easy grin. ‘’You absolutely could not.’’
You laughed quietly before continuing. ‘’A position opened up in their marketing department. Their headquarters are in Paris, but the job is remote. I can work from wherever I want as long as I’m in the office once a month. Paris was amazing, but I wanted something different. Somewhere quieter.’’
Dean looked impressed — and proud. ‘’That’s great, baby.’’
The word slipped out so naturally neither of you registered it at first. Then both of you froze.
You searched his face before allowing the smallest smile on your lips. ‘’You used to call me that.’’
Dean let out a quiet breath. ‘’Old habits are hard to unlearn.’’ He tried to make it sound like a joke, but the longing in his eyes gave him away.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
A soft but insistent knock on your door slowly pulled you from sleep. Not again…
You chose to ignore it, far too comfortable under the sheets, and pressed your face deeper into your pillow. Whoever needed you could wait another ten minutes, right?
Then you felt the warmth of someone beside you, and the events of last night came rushing back. You couldn't remember exactly when the talking stopped or who fell asleep first. You must have moved during the night absentmindedly because Dean’s arm was under the bottom of your top, resting over your soft skin and you were curled up against him. The touch was intimate, but not undesired.
Peering one eye open, you saw that Dean was still asleep. His blond hair was messy from the night, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see. Without the usual smirk or playful confidence, he looked almost peaceful.
You brushed a hand through his hair, wishing you could stop time and stay here longer.
Unfortunately, a second knock hit your door.
‘’Hey, you awake?’’ Grace's voice came from the other side. ‘’It’s past eight and Ava is here for hair. Madeline should be here in fifteen minutes for makeup. Unless you want to look like jetlag is affecting you, I suggest you come down. Oh, and there’s breakfast too!’’
Right. The wedding.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The large living area, which had been turned into a bridal glam suite, was already alive by the time you walked in. You hadn’t bothered dressing, not wanting to get unwanted clothing marks when you’ll change into your dress later.
The smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled the room, mixing with the sound of laughter and the occasional panic that came with a wedding morning.
It was organized chaos.
Hannah sat on a chair in her silk robe, coffee in one hand and a croissant in the other, laughing as Allie tried to convince her that she absolutely needed to get her hair into an updo because it’ll look better with her veil…and will make her chest stand out.
‘’I don’t like having pins poking at my scalp,’’ Hannah argued, tearing a piece from her croissant. ‘’And my chest will stand out whatever I do. My dress is a sweetheart neckline.’’
‘’I’m with Allie on that, but not for the same reason,’’ Grace replied, sitting across from her while Ava was beginning to curl her hair. ‘’It’s gonna be hot today and having your hair down is only going to make you uncomfortable.’’
Hannah’s mom agreed with Grace, but reminded Hannah that it was her wedding. She could wear her hair however she liked.
You made yourself a plate with blueberry scones and some strawberries, trying to not think about the man who was in your bed.
‘’So, are you feeling nervous?’’ you asked the bride-to-be. ‘’I can’t wait to have you as my official sister in law.’’
A sigh left the brunette’s lips. ‘’A little,’’ she admitted, trying to not think about everything that could go wrong. ‘’But who isn’t on their wedding day, right?’’
You rounded the table and sat beside Hannah, offering her a small smile. ‘’Well, if there’s one thing you can stop worrying about, it’s Garrett leaving you at the altar.’’
Hannah looked over at you, her eyes softening.
‘’My brother has been head over heels in love with you since college. I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he’s with you, or talk about anyone the way he talks about you. You’re it for him.’’ You paused, glancing down at your hands before continuing. ‘’Garrett and I didn’t grow up with the best example of what love was supposed to look like. He was so scared of being like him… But he found an amazing girl who helped him realize that he wasn’t our dad’s copy. He was nothing like him.’’
Hannah’s eyes grew glassy, and she reached for your hand. ‘’I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry so early.’’ She tried to blink the tears away, but her mom handed her a tissue.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The ceremony was beautiful.
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the lake, its calm surface shimmering behind the flower-lined aisle. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers through the gardens, stirring Hannah's veil just enough to make it dance as she walked toward Garrett.
There wasn't a dry eye among the guests.
Especially after the vows. You had expected something heartfelt from Hannah. As a musician and songwriter, she had a way of putting even the biggest emotions into words. But Garrett? No one had expected him to put together something as touching. There hadn't been any grand declarations or poetic metaphors — just honest promises, quiet memories, and a love so undeniable even Cupid’s nemesis would’ve been rooting for them.
By the time the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, the entire lawn erupted into applause.
Garrett didn't hesitate. He cupped Hannah's face and kissed her as though he'd been waiting years for that moment — which, in a way, he had.
Across from you, you caught Dean looking at you. He didn't look away when your eyes met, holding your gaze.
You hadn’t talked once today. There hadn’t been any time to. From the moment you climbed out of bed this morning, the day had been a whirlwind of hair and makeup, dress repairs, photos, last-minute details, and the ceremony itself.
For a brief moment, the cheers around you faded into the background.
He looked devastating in his blue suit, the tailored jacket hugging his broad shoulders and tapering perfectly at his waist. The crisp white shirt beneath it made his sun-kissed skin stand out, while the afternoon light caught the golden strands of his hair. Clean-shaven and effortlessly put together, he looked like he had stepped straight out of a perfume ad — so unfairly handsome it was almost distracting.
Dean’s gaze flickered back to the newlyweds before returning to you, and the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but something in the way he looked at you made your heart skip.
Behind you, Allie was studying the exchange without saying anything.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Long oak tables overlooked the lake, dressed with a dusty blue table runner that matched the cushion on the chairs. Low arrangements of pale blue delphiniums, white ranunculus, baby's breath served as centerpieces, accompanied by flickering candles. The woodland elegance matched Hannah and Garrett perfectly.
On the very left, a small stage was built with a piano keyboard set in the middle, letting the guest assume Hannah would be performing later. According to Allie, she had written a song for Garrett. A song she never planned on releasing nor singing elsewhere. A song just for their big day.
‘’A picture with the bride!’’
Jules called as they were holding a camera, making sure you, Allie and Grace were all in the picture too.
You had already taken loads of pictures, but these were only for the memories you would look back on years from now. Silly selfies, people dancing and laughing, and inappropriate gestures from the groomsmen.
After the picture was taken, one of Hannah’s aunts stole her away and Grace went to Logan’s rescue, catching a woman well into her forties flirting with him. An amused laugh spilled on your lips at the sight.
‘’What’s going on between you and Dean?’’
You snapped your attention back to her. ‘’What are you talking about?’’
Allie gave you a look. ‘’I saw him looking at you.’’
‘’You’re imagining things. When was the last time you had your eyesight checked?’’
‘’Don’t play that card with me,’’ she warned, not letting go of the subject.
You sighed. ‘’I’m not playing any cards, Allie. There’s Dean and I.’’
Speaking of Dean, he was standing by the bar, getting drinks with Tucker and a Bruins player. Tucker was talking about hockey stats, completely invested in whatever point he was trying to make, but Dean’s attention had shifted to you. His eyes moved over you slowly, taking in the blue dress you were wearing and the way the silky fabric fell perfectly against your body.
He watched Allie leave, then turned back to the bartender and ordered another glass of champagne.
‘’Thought you might need a refill,’’ he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear as he appeared at your side.
You smiled as you accepted the glass. ‘’Trying to get me drunk, Di Laurentis?’’
Dean's lips twitched. ‘’If I was, I would have brought you something stronger.’’
A laugh escaped you. ‘’Thanks.’’
As you took the flute, his fingertips lingered against yours for the briefest second before his other hand found the small of your back. The touch was innocent enough that no one around you would think twice about it, but you felt every second of it. You leaned slightly into him, taking a sip of champagne while his thumb brushed your skin lightly.
‘’Having fun?’’ he asked.
You looked around, seeing Hannah and Garrett smiling patiently through yet another round of family photos.
‘’It's weird,’’ you admitted. ‘’My brother is married.’’
Dean followed your gaze. ‘’I know.’’
‘’It feels like yesterday we were all at Briar, and now…’’ You laughed softly. ‘’Give them a couple of years and they'll probably be chasing toddlers around.’’
‘’Garrett's going to be an overprotective dad.’’
‘’Oh, absolutely.’’
‘’Hannah's going to pretend she's the reasonable one.’’
‘’But she'll secretly be worse.’’
Dean chuckled. ‘’One hundred percent.’’
For a moment, the two of you simply watched them, the conversation settling into a comfortable silence.
‘’So, when are you going back to Florence?’’ Dean asked.
Before he could answer, the band eased into a slow song. Around you, conversations quieted as couples drifted toward the dance floor.
‘’Dance with me.’’
You blinked. ‘’Dean…’’
He set his champagne flute on the nearest table before holding out his hand. ‘’Come on. It’ll be like on Canal Saint-Martin.’’
The memory hit you instantly — the warm summer night along Canal Saint-Martin, some musicians strumming their instruments beneath the glow of a lamppost while a small crowd lingered along the water's edge. Without a second thought, Dean had held out his hand, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, and pulled you into the music. He surprised you by not stepping on your feet — not even once. You swayed to the music, his hand settling at your waist before he effortlessly twirled you beneath the glow of the moon.
No one had ever danced with you like that. No one had ever looked at you the way he had that night.
You looked at his outstretched hand for another second before slipping your fingers into his.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
You couldn’t remember who made the first move. Who reached for whom. All you knew was that Dean's lips were on yours and your hands all over each other’s body.
Every few steps, one of you would reluctantly pull back just enough to keep climbing the stairs before crashing together again and kissing against the wall, unable to wait until you reached somewhere you could finally be alone.
This kiss was the first since Paris.
That last night, you both agreed to never speak of Paris. Because you would never work as a couple. Dean was in New York, working at his family’s firm and would be attending law school in the fall while you were on the other side of the ocean. The distance between you was simply too much.
Yet here you were.
Dean’s hand cupped your jaw as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding in and caressing yours. Your fingers tangled in the lapels of his suit, wrinkling the expensive fabric as he backed you up another step.
A laugh escaped you when your heel caught on the edge of the stair.
‘’Careful,’’ Dean murmured against your mouth, one arm instinctively circling your waist before you could lose your balance. ‘’I don’t want you to get a concussion before I get my piece of cake. I’ve been wanting to do kiss you all day.’’ He pressed his right below your ear. ‘’To touch you all day,’’ he continued, kissing down your neck. ‘’To fuck you all day.’’ He pulled the thin strap of your dress down your shoulder and kissed your exposed skin.
You leaned your head back, pliant under his lips, and pushed your hands into his hair. Dean’s breath hitched when you pulled at it, loving the way you knew exactly how to unravel him.
He kissed down your collarbone, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of skin he hadn’t touched in what felt like a lifetime ago.
Once you made it into one of the rooms, you pulled Dean’s jacket off and began working on his belt while he lifted the bottom of your dress up, high enough to slip a hand under and press his hand over your panties.
‘’Dean,’’ you mewled, bucking against him.
He smirked against your lips, keeping going as he felt a wetness soak through the fabric. ‘’Like that, babydoll?’’
Tease was Dean’s second name. This man absolutely loved to play with your body and vice versa. He could spend over an hour just doing that. But your body was literally aching for him right now.
‘’Dean,’’ you repeated, breaking the kiss. ‘’If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll kick you out of this damn room and do it myself.’’
He didn't need to be told twice.
Pants down to his thighs, the blond slipped a condom on before pushing inside you, the sensation making you gasp sharply and claw at the vanity table under you. You had almost forgotten why everyone at Briar went to him for a good time. Your body arched at the delicious stretch, your walls clenching around his cock.
‘’Ah, fuck,’’ you moaned, feeling him fill you.
Dean thrusted into you with long, deep strokes, his hands on your hips keeping him anchored. ''Baby, you feel so good,'' he praised, his pelvis smacking against your ass loudly. ‘’Missed this so much. Missed you so much.''
You rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts as desire ran through your whole body. There was no better dick than this one. Not that you would ever admit it.
Curses left his lips as he thrusted more erratically, desperate and needy after all this time apart. Your breasts were threatening to spill from your dress, whose skirt was currently bunched up at your waist for accessibility purposes. Taking it off would have been easier, but neither of you bothered fully undressing.
After you both finished, Dean, who was spent and breathless, pressed kisses up your spine, a smirk curling on his lips. He wasn’t ready to let go of you — and neither were you.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
You and Dean slipped back into the celebration, each stealing a glass of champagne from a passing server. The music was still playing, laughter drifted across the lawn, and, thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed you had disappeared.
Dean took a sip of champagne, but you stopped him.
‘’Wait,’’ you said, reaching up and brushed your thumb across the corner of his mouth, wiping away the faint smear of your lipstick.
‘’Where were you?’’ came Grace’s voice from behind you, making you both turn a little too quickly. ‘’You missed the bouquet toss.’’
You nearly choked on your champagne.
For a second, your mind went completely blank. Between the lingering taste of Dean’s lips, the orgasm he just pulled out of you and the pleasant haze you were basking in, coming up with a believable excuse felt impossible.
Dean didn't miss a beat.
"She lost an earring," he said smoothly. ‘’I was helping her look for it. It belonged to her mom’s, so it’s a very sentimental piece.’’
Grace's face immediately fell. ‘’Oh no! Did you find it yet?’’
You nodded, forcing a small smile. ‘’It was in the grass, over there,’’ you said, pointing to the right.
Relief softened her features. ‘’Good!’’
Guilt twisted in your stomach as she smiled, completely convinced. But before you could dwell on the lie, Grace linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from Dean.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Hannah disappeared for a few minutes before returning in a different dress — a simple white satin gown that flowed around her as she crossed the lawn toward the small stage. A hush gradually settled over the reception. Conversations faded, glasses were set down, and every guest turned toward her.
She smiled as she settled onto the piano bench, smoothing the skirt over her legs before resting her hands lightly on the keys. Behind her, hundreds of fairy lights twinkled against the trees, reflecting softly across the dark lake. The warm glow bathed the stage in gold, making it feel almost magical.
Garrett stood at the front of the crowd, unable to take his eyes off his wife.
Hannah leaned toward the microphone with a nervous laugh. ‘’Garrett and I had an unusual debut, you could say. I was going to tutor him in Ethics and, in exchange, he would help me get this one guy’s attention. He came up with this whole plan where we would pretend to date...except we forgot about the pretending part.’’
Laughter rippled through the guests, Garrett shaking his head with an affectionate smile.
Hannah's sparkling eyes found him before she continued.
‘’Music has always been my form of expression — my refuge. With a guitar in my hand and a sheet or paper, I was practically the next Taylor Swift,'' she continued, glancing at Allie. ''But there came a moment in my life where I was convinced I had lost my creativity and ability to write lyrics.''
She looked down, making your heart ache. The past may be behind her, but would never stop hurting. You had never met someone as strong as Hannah.
‘’Garrett encouraged me to write songs again.’’ Her smile returned. ‘’He would listen to my old videos and tell me how he loved that song. How he loved my voice. His confidence in me gave me the courage to write again and to perform my original work.''
You’ll never forget the day of her showcase. How everyone had rushed to the auditorium to see her perform and support her. She and Garrett were broken up at that time, but he had stood in the front row — for her.
‘’The day I accepted to tutor him was the best decision I made because, unknowingly, I needed him just as much. He didn't just make me fall in love — he made me believe in my music again. And without him, I wouldn't be recording in a music studio. So, for our special day, I decided to write and dedicate this song for you, my husband.’’
Hannah pressed the first keys and you got lulled into her melody, the soft notes drifting across the lakeside like a secret meant only for the two of them.
For a moment, nobody moved.
The entire world seemed to narrow down to Hannah sitting beneath the glow of the fairy lights and Garrett standing a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung every star in the sky herself.
Her voice joined the piano, gentle at first, carrying every emotion she had poured into the song. It wasn’t a performance. Not really. It was a love letter set to music.
You watched Garrett’s expression change as he listened. The playful smile he had worn moments ago slowly disappeared, replaced by something softer. Something vulnerable.
Your eyes drifted through the crowd, looking for Dean.
He stood on the other side of the stage with Tucker, his attention on you — again. Except this time, there was no smirk. No teasing grin. No playful look in his eyes. He was just looking at you. Really looking at you. And somehow, that felt more dangerous.
You expected him to look away the second he realized you had caught him, to put that familiar wall back up and pretend he hadn’t been watching. But he didn’t.
Dean held your gaze across the crowd, the music filling the space between you.
Then Hannah’s voice rose, pulling your attention back to her.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
As fun as weddings were, nothing compared to the moment you finally take off your shoes. Pretty shoes were demons in a heel form! With a relieved sigh, you slipped the straps from your ankles and kicked the heels away before wiggling your sore toes against the cool bathroom floor.
You removed your jewelry and caught your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was beginning to fall from its carefully pinned curls, and your makeup was begging to be removed.
Just as you were about to change out of your dress, you heard your door open and close. The sound of the water faucet running covered it, causing you a near heart attack when you saw Dean’s reflection in the mirror.
‘’You want to kill me, Di Laurentis?’’
His tie had disappeared somewhere throughout the evening and the top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and he looked just as tired — and tipsy — as you felt.
‘’You’re too beautiful to kill,’’ Dean replied with an easy smile, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.
You turned off the faucet and snorted. ‘’That’s your opening line? You’d make a shit slasher killer.’’
‘’Who said I wanted to be a slasher killer? Can’t hide that handsome face under a mask.’’
You shook your head. ‘’What are you doing in my room?’’
He pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few slow steps into the bathroom. ‘’I wasn't lying, by the way."
You paused, your hand resting on the edge of the sink. ‘’About what?’’
He met your eyes in the mirror. ‘’About you looking beautiful.’’
‘’Can you unzip my dress?’’
Dean reached for the delicate zipper, his knuckles brushing the bare skin of your back as he slowly eased it down. The soft rasp of the zipper seemed impossibly loud in the quiet bathroom.
When he finished, his hands lingered at your waist as he caught your eyes in the mirror, then pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder. ‘’Anything else?’’
You pulled the thin straps from your shoulders, letting the dress slip down your body until it pooled around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Dean's gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror, sweeping over your bare skin before finding your eyes again. You should have felt shy beneath his attention, but you had been naked together long enough to not care anymore.
A light groan left Dean’s throat. ‘’Now you’re going to kill me.’’
A cocky grin threatened to spread on your face. You would never get over the power you had over this man. This man who normally oozed confidence like cologne, could melt into something softer just from seeing your naked body. No one else ever acted that way with you.
‘’Am I?’’
One of his hands slowly moved up to your chest, cupping and squeezing your breast in his large hand. ‘’Yeah. I’m fucking dead, babydoll.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Morning came far too soon.
You woke up to sunlight spilling through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind that made it impossible to pretend you were still asleep. Past you was an idiot for not shutting the blinds last night.
Rolling over, you came face to face with Dean’s blue eyes.
‘’Morning,’’ he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
Somehow, even after an entire night of celebrating, he looked unfairly good.
A small smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it. ‘’Morning.’’
He watched you for a moment, then a familiar crooked grin appeared.
‘’What?’’ you asked.
‘’Nothing.’’
‘’You're staring.’’
‘’Can't I appreciate the view?’’
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide your smile.
Before Dean could come up with another smug remark, the door swung open and Allie rushed inside, her hair a mess and missing one slippers on.
‘’Bathroom emergency!’’ she announced breathlessly. ‘’My room doesn’t have a bathroom and someone is already using the main one and I really, really need to…pee.’’ She came to an abrupt stop, her eyes darting from you and then to Dean, and the fact that his bare ass was in full sight. ‘’Oh my god.’’
Allie’s jaw dropped. For a solid three seconds, she didn’t move — or breathe — and just stood there like someone had pressed pause on the entire universe. Then her brain caught up. Dean Di Laurentis was in your bed and completely naked.
‘’Oh my god!'' she shrieked again, louder this time.
Dean barely flinched, while you wanted to disappear through the mattress. Not because you were embarrassed of being seen with him. It just wasn’t how you wanted to reveal your ‘relationship’.
And you wanted to have a talk with Dean before telling anyone. What did last night mean? Was it simply two people getting caught up in a wedding, too much champagne, and old feelings...or was it the beginning of something real? You needed to know where Dean's head was. Where his heart was.
‘’I’ll be back,’’ Allie declared, her bladder forcing her to rush to the bathroom.
‘’Cover yourself,’’ you hissed at Dean, pulling up the sheets to hide his lower half.
He grinned like the devil. ‘’That’s not what you were saying last night.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
You had forgotten how American brunch was different from in Europe. You had grown accustomed to fresh bread, cheese, prosciutto, and an espresso that disappeared in three sips. Here, brunch was an event — towering stacks of pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, hashbrowns, endless refills of coffee, and enough food to keep you full until dinner.
It was also the perfect cure for hangovers.
They also had bottomless mimosas. This was the best part of American brunch.
At one of the tables, Tucker, Logan and three Bruins players were stuffing their faces with eggs, bacon and hashbrowns while feeling the weight of an elephant sitting on their head. Some things never changed.
A few tables over, Allie and Grace were sitting together, visibly regretting last night’s last glass of champagne.
With a plate of pancakes and a mimosa in hand, you walked over to them. ‘’How’s the head, Gracie?’’
‘’I hate champagne,’’ she replied, glaring at your mimosa.
‘’She and Logan stole a bottle of champagne last night,’’ Allie explained, stabbing a hashbrown. ‘’It didn’t agree with the cocktails and she got sick.’’
‘’Oh no,’’ you said, feeling bad for Grace.
‘’That’s Logan’s fault,’’ the latter grumbled. ‘’He kept getting me refills—’’
‘’Heard that!’’ Logan called from his seat. ‘’I plead not guilty.’’
You laughed, then began eating your pancakes.
‘’So,’’ Allie began. ‘’Did you sleep well? Aunt Shauna said she heard some strange noises all night. Her room right next to yours.’’
Lifting your head from your plate, you glared at her. She may have kept her mouth shut about this morning, but you knew Allie Hayes too well to know she would do anything to pull the juicy gossip out of you.
You opened your mouth to spill out some lie, but Dean appeared at your table. He had showered and changed out of his wedding clothes.
‘’Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but Garrett is looking for you.’’
You raised an eyebrow. Was Garrett actually looking for you? Unlikely. He and Hannah were busy thanking Hannah’s family for their gifts and for coming to the wedding. They were from the midwest, so some of them were going to hit the road soon.
‘’I'll be back,’’ you told the girls.
‘’Take your time,’’ Allie sang, her grin widening.
You shot her a warning look that only made her smile harder.
Dean waited until you had fallen into step beside him before leading you away from the dining room and out onto the wraparound porch overlooking the lake. The chatter from brunch faded behind you, replaced by the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the few singing birds.
‘’We need to talk.’’
You nodded. ‘’I know.’’
‘’I assumed we would talk in the morning, but hurricane Allie blew in and…’’ Dean trailed, taking a seat on the bannister so he was closer in height to you. ‘’This weekend, it wasn’t just a wedding fling. Not for me. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I quit the firm. About us.’’
He let the words settle between you before continuing.
‘’Not just the physical part. Although the sex is fucking great.’’
You let out a small laugh. He wasn’t wrong.
‘’What I’m saying is, I want to try us. For real.’’
‘’We still live on different continents, Dean,’’ you reminded him.
‘’I know. But we were at different stages of our life back then. I think we can work.’’ Dean searched your face, as if trying to gauge whether you were on the same page or not. ‘’I coach from September to May. I have the whole summer to myself. And you said it yourself, your job is remote. You can spend a few weeks in New York, work from there. We can make it work.’’
You stared at him.
Because that was the thing about Dean. When he really wanted something, he didn't just talk about it. He figured out how to get it. But right now, he was making it sound almost too easy.
‘’I know there'll be days where the time difference sucks. Days where one of us is tired or busy or wishes the other person was just there.’’ He paused, reaching for your hands and pulling you in. ‘’But I want this. I want us, baby.’’
Your heart tightened.
‘’Dean…’’
‘’You want it too. I know it.’’ He leaned his forehead against yours. ‘’I feel it.’’
Of course you wanted it. Wanted him. But you were scared of hurting. Because love was painful.
‘’I don't want this to be something we try for a few months and then give up when it gets hard,’’ you admitted. ‘’I don’t want to get hurt, Dean.’’
His expression turned serious again. ‘’Neither do I.’’
He leaned to kiss you, slow and deep, and you melted against his tongue.
Behind you, the door opened and Garrett stepped out. ‘’What the fuck?!’’
Summary: The wedding bells are finally ringing — Hannah and Garrett are getting MARRIED! For the occasion, everyone reunites at a breathtaking lakeside venue in Massachusetts, just a stone's throw from where their story first began. Friends return, old memories resurface, and for one unforgettable weekend, Briar's favorite alumni are back together. Among the guests is Garrett's younger sister, who's spent the last three years living her best life across Europe. She never expected to see Dean again — not after the kiss they shared on a late night
logan and garrett sister. Him finding out about the relationship. I love those fics
Logan in plaid or a bandana is just superior
Summary: Logan is not giving your his attention, so you decide to hard launch your relationship on social media…for Garrett to see
—
‘’Babe stop, this is a good scene,’’ Logan shushed, avoiding your next kiss under his jaw.
Garrett was with Hannah, Dean at Malone’s with Beau, and Tucker…you didn’t know where he was. But he wasn’t home. It was just you and Logan, cuddling on the couch while watching an action movie. They weren’t your favorite genre, but it was Logan’s turn to pick. And this one had Chris Evans in it, so it wasn’t too bad.
You ignored Logan’s complaint and continued kissing down his neck, trying to lure his attention away from the screen. It was rare that everyone was out of the house, so you wanted to take advantage of the rare moment you had all to yourselves.
Because if Garrett caught you together, Logan would be a dead man. When you came to Briar, your brother made it very clear that you were off-limits and that he better not see any of their eyes linger too long.
Logan tensed under your kisses, his breath hitching as you reached a specific spot on his neck. ‘’Mmh, baby,’’ he groaned softly, his hand slowly traveling from where it had been resting on your lower back to under your shirt.
His fingers were warm against your skin, calloused from years of gripping hockey sticks and working odd jobs. The contrast of his rough hands on your soft back sent a shiver through you.
He still hadn’t looked away from the movie.
Stubborn bastard.
So you pressed another kiss right under his jaw, then one lower, near that sensitive spot just above his collarbone. And sure enough, his thumb stilled on your back for half a second before he exhaled sharply through his nose and finally turned toward you.
‘’We said we would spend the night together. Actually doing something together instead of rushing into sex,’’ he reminded, his brown eyes looking down at you.
‘’I know…’’ you sighed. ‘’But I’m really not into this movie. Can we just turn it off and go upstairs? There’s early practice tomorrow so I know Garrett won’t stay at Hannah’s for the night. I can’t risk being here too late.’’
Logan pressed a button to check the time left of the movie. ‘’There’s twenty-seven minutes left. Twenty is we take out the end credits. Then we go to my room and I’ll make it up to you. Deal?’’
Twenty minutes felt like an eternity. But you accepted and turned your attention back to the tv.
You tried to pay attention to the movie. You really did. But Logan’s arm was still wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing small circles against your side, and every few minutes you caught him glancing down at you instead of the screen.
‘’You’re terrible at pretending you care about this movie,’’ he murmured.
You looked up at him, offended. ‘’I have no idea what you’re talking about.’’
‘’You haven’t watched the screen in at least ten minutes.’’
‘’That’s because Chris Evans isn’t on the screen anymore.’’
Logan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. ‘’You’re unbelievable.’’
Giving up on the movie, you grabbed your phone and opened your photo app to see the silly pictures you and Logan had taken earlier. There were a bunch of laughing faces while you tried different instagram filters, but the last one was cute though. The two of you were standing in the kitchen, Logan behind you as he kissed your cheek.
You posted it on your private story — where only a few of your sorority sisters were part of — and put your phone back down.
Under a minute later, notifications popped up and you cursed, realizing you had posted on your public story. To add oil to the fire, you didn’t notice that Logan’s hand was under your sweatshirt and cupping one of your breasts.
Before you could take it off, Logan’s phone buzzed.
From Garrett: You’re a DEAD man walking, John Logan!
Summary: The wedding bells are finally ringing — Hannah and Garrett are getting MARRIED! For the occasion, everyone reunites at a breathtaking lakeside venue in Massachusetts, just a stone's throw from where their story first began. Friends return, old memories resurface, and for one unforgettable weekend, Briar's favorite alumni are back together. Among the guests is Garrett's younger sister, who's spent the last three years living her best life across Europe. She never expected to see Dean again — not after the kiss they shared on a late night
