— pornstar!bangchan x pornstar!fem reader in which receiving an apportunity contract from a adult film you didn't think would be interest in you was already absurd enough in your opinion, now you have to face and try to act as calmly as you can as you face one of Red Lights face—christopher bang—and apparently you are to collab with him too? oh how nasty could that be?
content warning: this one shot contains graphic smut that doesn't suit some of the readers. one shot contents involved, dom!bangchan x sub!reader, slight bdsm, somnophilia, mention of sesomnia, mention of sleeping disorder, fingering, nasty make out session, , cream pie, bulging, and some other taboo kinks that might be uncomfortable to read. please proceed with reader's discretion. please do note that whatever is written here doesn't depict any real life situation and situations mentioned inside the fic are purely for fiction purposes only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
word count: 10k words
"I heard you are looking for me, Mr. Hong?"
Chan's voice was steady as he stepped into the office, though a faint tension sat beneath it. It was rare for his boss to call anyone into this room without a clear reason, and that alone was enough to make curiosity—and a quiet nervousness—settle in his chest.
Mr. Hong looked up from the documents on his desk. A small, composed smile touched his lips when he saw him.
"Ah, Christopher. Right timing. Come here. I have something to tell you."
He gestured toward the chair across from his desk. The office was quiet, the afternoon light filtering through the tall windows and casting long lines across the floor. Chan closed the door behind him and walked forward, still unsure what this sudden summons was about.
Whatever Mr. Hong wanted to say, it clearly wasn't something he intended to discuss in front of the rest of the staffs.
"Chan, sir. I have been your actor for the past six years. So please, stop calling me by my government name," he said as he sat down in the chair across from the desk.
Mr. Hong chuckled softly at the familiar protest. He never really intended to stop. He enjoyed the small flicker of reaction Chan always gave whenever he used his government name.
"Right, Chris," he replied lightly, still amused. "Anyway. Here, take a look."
He slid an iPad across the desk toward Chan. On the screen was a news article about their rival adult production company, Velvet Desire. The headline alone was enough to make Chan's brows lift slightly. Poor Mr. Chen. The scandal looked messy, and from the way the article was written, it was clear the man hadn't handled the situation well at all.
Chan stared at the screen for a moment longer. He hadn't heard about any of this. Between his own packed shooting schedule and the solo contents he'd been buried in, the news had completely passed him by. Still, the name of the production made something tighten quietly in his chest. He was an avid watcher of one particular actress under Velvet Desire, and seeing the company in trouble like this was more surprising than he wanted to admit.
"Since when?" he asked, eyes still on the article.
Mr. Hong leaned back in his chair, watching Chan's reaction carefully.
"Recently enough that the industry is still talking about it," he said. "I heard they are now permanently closed."
The way he said it made it clear this wasn't just idle gossip. Whatever had happened at Velvet Desire, Mr. Hong already had plans, and Chan had a feeling those plans involved him.
"I see. But, sir, what does it have to do with me?" Chan asked, still confused about where the conversation was heading. Mr. Hong leaned back slightly in his chair, watching him with that same calm, knowing expression.
"Ah, yes. By any chance, do you happen to know their star BJ? Ms. Y/N?"
Chan's eyebrows furrowed at the name.
Who in the industry wouldn't know that name?
He was a huge fan of your streams. Finding someone truly attractive was rare for him—especially working in the adult film industry, where he had become extremely picky over the years. But you were different. To him, you looked like someone carved from a goddess's features. If he had to count how many times he had imagined you as the one beneath him during his own shoots, he would need more than just his fingers. He would need his toes as well.
Still, he kept his expression carefully neutral.
"...I've heard of her." Mr. Hong's mouth curved into a small, amused smile.
"Well, of course you have. I heard you are frequent on her streams."
The comment landed a little too accurately. Chan's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the iPad, though he didn't look away from his boss. For a moment, the quiet office felt a little too sharp, as if Mr. Hong had just peeled back a private corner of his life without warning.
"If I say I offered her a contract to sign for us... do you think it would be a good idea?"
That was what finally caught Chan off guard.
Red Light District, true to its name, only signed male actors. The company had built its entire brand around that exclusivity. Hearing his boss casually suggest bringing in a female BJ made something prickle under Chan's skin. Excitement, maybe. Or something far more than that.
"I'm not sure I understand you, sir," Chan said carefully. "You mean to say Red Light District offered a contract to a female actress? Exclusively?"
"Well, yes."
Mr. Hong turned his swivel chair toward the glass wall behind him, gazing out over the city as he spoke.
"She's a diamond, wouldn't you say so? She's pretty, has a huge fanbase. She would be a very good investment for us."
Chan remained quiet for a moment, eyes lowering to the iPad still in his hands. The idea alone was already stirring something restless in him. You under Homme Fatale's name. Possibly working under the same company as him.
"And what exactly would her role be here?" he asked.
Mr. Hong's reflection smiled faintly in the glass.
"Which is why you are here, Christopher."
Mr. Hong finally turned his chair back to face him fully. His expression was calm, but there was a clear weight behind his words.
"I plan on making her collab with every actor we have. You first, at that. I trust you would take care of her and make her feel comfortable for her first project with us." He held Chan's gaze steadily. "What do you say?"
For a second, Chan didn't answer. The words settled heavily in the quiet office. You. Collaborating with Homme Fatale. With him first. The same woman whose streams he had watched more times than he cared to admit. The same face he had privately imagined during his own shoots. And now his boss was placing her first project directly in his hands.
Chan exhaled slowly through his nose, buying himself a moment to keep his expression composed.
"...You're serious?" he asked at last.
"I am." Mr. Hong leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the desk. "She already has the attention. What she needs is a strong first partner under our name. Someone experienced. Someone who can lead without overwhelming her. That would be you."
Chan's fingers tapped once against the side of the iPad before going still again. Internally, his thoughts were already moving too fast—curiosity, and something far less professional twisting together beneath the surface.
"Or do you want me to hand her to Hongjoong first? He's a good candidate for her too—"
"I'll do it."
The words left Chan's mouth before Mr. Hong could even finish the sentence. There was no hesitation in them. Just a firm, immediate answer that filled the quiet office more sharply than he intended. For a brief second, even Chan seemed aware of how quickly he had spoken, but he didn't take it back.
Mr. Hong's smile widened slightly, satisfied. "Just as I thought."
He leaned back in his chair, the decision already settled in his mind. "You can go now. I'll call for you again once she's here."
Chan gave a short nod and stood from the chair. He placed the iPad back on the desk, then turned toward the door. His expression remained composed, but beneath it, something restless had already begun to stir.
As he stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him, one thought stayed fixed in his mind.
He can't wait to finally see you in person.
——
You took your third deep breath of the hour, fingers tightening slightly around the strap of your bag as the elevator continued its smooth climb. Nervousness sat heavy in your chest, no matter how many times you tried to steady it. It wasn't as if the adult content industry was new to you. Streaming had already made that world familiar. But this was different. Being signed as an actress—appearing in actual productions instead of staying behind a camera as a BJ—was a step far beyond what you were used to.
Beside you, the secretary let out a soft chuckle. You turned your head toward her. She was slightly smaller in frame than you, maybe a little younger too, though it was hard to tell. Her expression was kind, lightly amused, as if she had already seen this exact kind of tension in other people before.
"Nervous, Ms. Y/N?" she asked. She must have noticed the way you kept exhaling, one deep breath after another.
You almost wanted to laugh at yourself. Why was this building so big and tall anyway? You could have sworn you had already been inside this elevator for an hour, when in reality it hadn't even been five minutes. Maybe you really were just that tense.
You offered her a small smile instead of answering directly.
"You shouldn't be," she assured you gently. "Everyone here is friendly. Including the boss. You're very pretty and very ideal. He would like you, I assure you."
The words were meant to comfort you, and in a way they did. Still, they didn't completely quiet the restless feeling under your skin. You glanced back toward the glowing floor numbers above the door, watching them climb higher and higher.
The elevator finally dinged as it reached the designated floor.
"Smile," the secretary said softly beside you.
You took another deep breath, straightened your back, and forced a polite smile onto your face just as the doors slid open. The hallway beyond was quiet and elegant, far too polished for the nervous thrum still sitting in your chest. There was only one door in sight at the end of the short corridor.
The secretary stepped out with you and gave a small encouraging nod.
"Just knock on that door," she said. "Good luck, Ms. Y/N."
Then she remained by the elevator, clearly leaving the next part to you. You walked forward on your own, each step sounding a little too loud against the clean floor. When you reached the single door, you paused for half a second, smoothed your expression one last time, and raised your hand to knock.
knock knock
You were just about to twist the knob yourself when the door opened from the inside. The sudden movement made you freeze.
Standing tall right in front of you was a man whose presence nearly made your heart lurch up into your throat. For a second, your mind went completely blank. Out of every possibility you had braced yourself for, this was not one of them. Instead of the company's boss, the first person you saw inside the office was him.
Christopher Chan Bahng.
The same face you had seen countless times in Red Light District's productions. The same man whose work you knew far better than you would ever admit. And now, he's standing only a step away, close enough that you could see the sharp calm in his expression as he looked down at you.
Before you could fully recover, a voice came from behind him.
"Ah, there you are."
Your eyes unconsciously tried to peek past Chan's shoulder toward the source of the voice. Mr. Hong was seated further inside the office, watching the doorway with a composed smile.
"Come inside, Ms. Y/N."
Chan stepped aside slightly, holding the door open for you. The quiet shift of his body made the space feel even smaller, and for a moment you had to remind yourself to move. With your heart still beating far too fast, you stepped into the office, suddenly very aware that your first day under Red Light District had begun with the last person you expected to see.
You gave Chan a small smile and bowed your head just a little.
"Thank you," you said timidly before finally stepping inside.
The office was larger than you expected, clean and modern.
"Just sit wherever you are comfortable," Mr. Hong said. He was already seated on the couch in front of his massive office desk. You hesitated for only a second before moving toward the seat across from him, smoothing your hands over your clothes as you sat down.
Mr. Hong offered you a polite smile.
"Welcome to Red Light District," he said. "I apologize for urging you to come all the way here. I hope you don't mind."
You straightened your back a little, trying to keep your expression calm even as your nerves continued to buzz under your skin. Between Mr. Hong's eyes and Chan sitting nearby, it was hard not to feel the weight of the meeting already beginning.
"Oh no, really. It's a huge pleasure to be here," you said as you finally let yourself sit on the couch across from him.
A few seconds later, Chan took the seat beside you. Not close enough to crowd you, but not far either. You kept your posture composed, hands resting neatly over your lap, even as your awareness of him made it a little harder to focus completely on the man across from you.
Mr. Hong gave a small nod, clearly pleased by your answer.
"So," he continued, "I assume you have read the contract I sent you last time, since you are here?"
"Yes," you answered, fingers resting lightly against your lap. "Although I am not sure why Red Light District is trying to recruit me. I am not an actress... and not a male at that."
Mr. Hong gave a small, patient smile, the kind that suggested he had already expected your confusion. He leaned back slightly against the couch, one arm resting along the top of the cushion as he regarded you.
"You see, I wanted to start a project for all of my current Red Light District roster," he explained. "Each of them will release a video in accordance with the theme of the said project."
Your forehead creased faintly as you tried to follow the direction of his words. Even with his explanation, you still couldn't quite understand where you were meant to fit into something built around an all-male roster.
"And looking for an actress for each of them would be such a huge amount of work, wouldn't you say so too?" he added.
The implication settled in slowly.
A single partner shared across the project, matched with each actor under the same theme instead of the company searching for someone new every time.
"You mean to say you want me to be the one who'll act for each of your roster as their partner?" you asked carefully.
The question left your lips slower than usual. Across from you, Mr. Hong didn't look surprised by the clarification. If anything, he seemed pleased that you had reached the point so directly.
"Exactly," he replied. "The production can pay you whatever you want us to pay. You just have to collaborate with my boys."
Your fingers shifted slightly against your lap as you took a second longer to absorb it. This was no longer just a meeting about recruitment. It was a proposal that would place you at the center of Red Light District's next project.
It wasn't the idea of sex that made you nervous. You weren't inexperienced. Past relationships had already taken care of that, and intimacy itself was not something that unsettled you. What made your chest feel tight was the thought of the people you would be facing. These were not anonymous partners or faceless viewers behind a screen. They were established names in the industry, men with polished images and large followings, and the idea of standing across from them as their partner for a project was what left you unsettled.
After a moment, you lifted your gaze back to Mr. Hong.
"Is there any way I can know who the actors part of this project are?" you asked.
The question came out evenly. If you were truly being asked to take on a role this large, then the least you needed was clarity. Knowing the names, knowing exactly who you would be expected to work with felt necessary before you could even begin to consider the rest of the offer.
"Well, I can't exactly tell you yet who you will be collaborating with," Mr. Hong said. "But all I can say is that Christopher here..." He pointed toward the man seated beside you. "...will be the first one. And everyone who follows will be announced. How about that?"
Oh shit.
Not only did this man have a massive fanbase of women drawn to his build and stamina, but now he was being placed at the very start of the project. You couldn't even tell whether what you felt was pure nervousness or disbelief at the fact that you were actually going to experience him firsthand.
Your teeth caught your lower lip before you could stop yourself.
Mr. Hong must have noticed the shift in your expression, because his tone softened just slightly.
"Of course, if you don't fancy any of them, then we shall look for who you'd be comfortable with. That includes Chris."
"No—no, it's not like I am uncomfortable with him," you said quickly. "I'm a huge fan of his, actually. I'm just a little overwhelmed."
Mr. Hong raised both eyebrows, a smirk flashing across his face. "Oh, are you? What a coincidence then." His gaze flicked briefly toward Chan before returning to you. "He used to watch your streams too."
Your head slowly turned toward Chan. He only gave you a small smile, neither denying nor confirming what Mr. Hong had just said. Sitting this close to him after everything that had just been revealed left a strange heat lingering under your skin.
Mr. Hong continued before the silence could stretch too long.
"You have all the rest of the month to think about it," he said. "Please, don't feel pressured. If you want, we'll give you the script in advance so you can scan through it and decide whether you're going to take it."
His tone remained composed, but there was a clear weight of persuasion behind it.
"Ms. Y/N, I know how much you dedicate yourself to building whatever you have right now, and Red Light District is here to provide more for you. Everything Velvet Desire failed to give you."
The offer settled heavily between the three of you. More pay. More reach. A project large enough to shift the direction of your career. And at the center of it, for the first collaboration at least, was the man currently seated beside you.
You lowered your gaze for a moment, fingers pressing lightly together in your lap as the weight of the decision began to take shape. A full month to think. A script in advance. And an opportunity that was quickly becoming harder to ignore.
——
You didn't realize an entire month had already passed until the deadline was right in front of you. The days after the meeting with Mr. Hong had blurred together, reading over the contract again and again, opening the advanced script more times than you could count, then closing it just as often when the weight of the decision crept back in.
In the end, you accepted the offer before the month ran out. Whether it was opportunity, curiosity, or something harder to name that finally pushed you to say yes, you weren't entirely sure.
And now, you were back at the company.
This time, though, you weren't being led toward the boss's office. The hallway is more private, until the staff member guiding you stopped in front of a door and opened it. Beyond it was the set.
At first glance, it looked less like a studio and more like a real bedroom. Warm lighting spilled softly across the space, carefully arranged to feel intimate under the cameras. A large bed sat at the center, dressed in clean sheets and muted colors. Nightstands, a half-drawn curtain, and a few carefully placed details completed the illusion, making the room feel lived-in rather than staged. Around the edges, however, the truth of where you were remained—cameras already positioned, softboxes waiting, and a small crew moving with quiet efficiency.
This was where everything was going to happen.
"Oh, you're finally here!"
A woman near the edge of the set suddenly lit up the moment she spotted you. Before you could fully step further inside, she was already bolting toward you with bright energy that felt almost too lively for a kind of work she is currently in.
"God, you are even prettier in person," she said, looking you over with open admiration. "How come you were under such a filthy company?"
You stared at her in mild confusion, lips pressing into a thin line. The bluntness of the comment caught you off guard, especially coming from someone you had never met before.
She only chuckled at your reaction, clearly unbothered.
"I'm Hannah, makeup artist—well, Chan's makeup artist," she introduced herself. Then she tipped her head toward the set with a small, eager smile. "Come inside. Everyone has been waiting to meet you."
She turned slightly, already expecting you to follow, her earlier excitement still lingering in the way she glanced back at you. Beyond her, the carefully staged bedroom waited, along with the rest of the people who were apparently already aware that you had arrived.
Hannah didn't waste any time. With the same bright energy as before, she guided you further into the set and began introducing you to everyone nearby. Camera assistants, lighting staff, a couple of coordinators checking the shot list, and the others preparing for the first shoot. Names passed by a little too quickly for you to hold onto all of them, but you still bowed politely and offered each person a small smile.
You weren't used to this.
Streaming had always been controlled. Familiar. Contained. This was different. Here, there were multiple pairs of eyes, quiet assessments, and the knowledge that your work would no longer happen behind a private camera of your own choosing. Shyness tugged at your posture, but you forced yourself to keep your back straight and your expression composed. If you were going to do this, then the least you could do was look confident while standing in the middle of it.
You had just finished greeting another staff member when the bathroom door near the side of the set opened.
Chan stepped out.
A white towel hung low around his hips, the only thing covering him, and water still clung to his skin from the shower. A few drops trailed from his damp hair down the line of his neck, over the hard plane of his chest, and along the defined cut of his abdomen before disappearing into the edge of the towel. He didn't look rushed or self-conscious. If anything, he looked completely used to walking into a room like this.
Your throat tightened before you could stop it.
You swallowed hard, the sound almost too noticeable in your own head as your eyes caught on the water still sliding down his torso. All the composure you had been carefully holding onto slipped for a second, replaced by the sudden, very real reminder of exactly who your first partner under Red Light District was going to be.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Christopher. At least wear something before getting out of the bathroom!" Hannah scolded, already grabbing a robe from a nearby chair and throwing it at him. "Can't you see a lady sitting here? Are you trying to scare her off?"
Chan caught the robe easily against his chest. Instead of looking apologetic, he only raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting with mild amusement.
"How rude," he said. "I didn't know Y/N was already here. If I had known, I could have been more of a gentleman and greeted her first." His gaze flicked toward you for a brief second before returning to Hannah. "Besides, there's nothing on me that everyone here hasn't already seen before. So what's the difference?"
The casual way he said it only made the heat in your face worse. Around the set, a couple of staff members chuckled under their breath, clearly used to this kind of exchange. Hannah, however, looked one sigh away from throwing something heavier than a robe at him. Chan finally slipped the fabric over his shoulders, though he didn't bother tying it closed right away, leaving far too much of his still-damp chest visible as he turned his attention more fully toward you.
"Hi," he greeted simply. "Sorry about that."
"Oh no, it's okay. What you said isn't wrong anyway," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
Hannah dropped into the seat beside you with a small paper bag in her hand, clearly catching the exchange. Her brows lifted with immediate interest.
"Oh, so you've watched his videos?" she asked.
The question made your face heat all over again. It wasn't that you were embarrassed about watching adult content—after all, that world was part of your own work, but saying it out loud in front of the actor himself made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach.
"Anyway, since the bathroom is already free... here." She held the paper bag out to you. "Clean yourself up if you need to, then change into this outfit. Come outside whenever you're ready."
You accepted the bag with both hands. Inside was the outfit prepared for the shoot—the first outfit you would wear under Red Light District, and the one Chan would see you in once you stepped back onto the set.
Pushing yourself up from the seat, you gave them both a small nod before heading toward the bathroom Chan had just come out of.
Once the bathroom door was locked behind you, the quiet felt heavier than it had outside. You set the paper bag on the counter and opened it, only to freeze at what was inside.
Nestled carefully within the tissue paper was a wine-red lingerie set. For a second, all you could do was stare. Then, slowly, you lifted it out by the straps.
One look was enough to pull the breath from your lungs.
It was beautiful, but it would barely cover anything at all. The fabric was delicate and expensive-looking, more suggestion than clothing, with fine lace panels and clean cut lines meant to cling rather than conceal. You swallowed hard, fingers tightening slightly around the material as the reality of the shoot settled in even deeper.
Still, you had agreed to this. Shyly, and with no small amount of hesitation, you began to change. Each piece felt more revealing than the last as you slipped into it. The soft material settled against your skin with a kind of intimacy that made you hyperaware of every shift of your body. When you finally turned to face the full-length mirror on the bathroom wall, the breath you had been holding left you all over again.
Your earlier assumption had been right. The lingerie barely covered anything. It hugged your body almost too well, following every curve without leaving much to the imagination. The top had no heavy padding, yet the cut lifted and framed your breasts in a way that made them look fuller, the wine-red lace sitting stark against your skin. Lower down, the hem of the panties was edged in the same delicate lace, resting so high on your hips that it nearly tickled the underside of your ass with every small movement.
This wasn't something new. Not really. You had worn outfits like this in front of a camera before, some even more revealing, if you were being honest with yourself. Streaming had long since made the sight of your own body in lace and barely-there fabric familiar. Under a lens you controlled, it was easier. There was distance. A screen. A barrier between you and the people watching.
But this was different.
The thought of stepping outside and showing this to the crew in person made your nerves tighten far more than you expected. There would be no filter between their eyes and your body. No private setup. No safe little frame you could hide behind. Just a staged bedroom, warm studio lights, and a handful of people waiting on the other side of the door.
You let out a quiet breath and pressed your palms lightly against the edge of the sink, forcing yourself to steady. No matter how revealing the lingerie felt, this was the job you had accepted. And eventually, you were going to have to open that door.
Eventually, you forced yourself to open the door.
Hannah was already waiting just outside, and the moment she saw you she let out a bright, approving sound before ushering you toward one of the chairs near the edge of the set. Almost immediately, she began working, dabbing light makeup onto your skin with quick, smoothing everything into place without making it too heavy. Powder, a soft touch of color, a bit of definition around your eyes. Nothing overwhelming, just enough to hold under the lights.
You tried to focus on that.
But your heart kept pounding hard in your chest, each beat a little too loud.
Across the set, Chan was watching you. Not casually. Not in passing. His stare was steady and intense, following the way you sat there in the wine-red lingerie while Hannah finished preparing you. Even when someone walked between the two of you, you could still feel the weight of his attention like heat against your skin.
One of the producers approached while Hannah was still adjusting the last of your makeup and held out a thin folder.
"Here's the script again," he said. "Same one you've been reading. Just a reminder of the general plot for today's shoot. Keep it intimate and reactive. We'll adjust as we go."
You took the folder with both hands and nodded, but the words only half settled in your mind.
Because even as the producer spoke, your thoughts kept spiraling around the feeling of Chan's burning stare. Every line on the page felt harder to hold onto when your body was so sharply aware of him standing only a short distance away, already looking at you like the cameras were not the only thing about to focus on you.
Reading the script again did nothing to calm you down. If anything, it made everything worse. Sitting there with the folder open in your hands, the plot you had already skimmed through over the past month suddenly felt much sharper now that you were on set, dressed like this. On paper, it had been easier to treat as just another concept. Now, the details settled in with uncomfortable clarity.
You were meant to act as Chan's college roommate.
Your character sufferingw from a sleep disorder it led to sleepwalking. In the scene, that disorder would carry you into his room in the middle of the night, into his bed, where the sleepwalking shifted into sexsomnia. The most intense part came after: your character was supposed to wake up in the middle of it, still in his arms, still in his bed, realizing only then what was happening.
Your fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the script. It sounded a lot more intense now than it ever had during all those private read-throughs in your room. Back then, it had been distant. Contained. Easy to close and put aside. Here, under the warm set lights of the staged bedroom, with the crew finishing preparations and Chan's presence impossible to ignore, the scene felt far more immediate.
Your train of thought was cut short by the director's voice.
"Y/N? Are you ready?"
You looked up at once. Across the set, the crew had already shifted into place, cameras adjusted, lights settled into their final positions. And on the bed at the center of the bed, Chan was already there—seated against the headboard, watching the room with quiet focus as if the shoot had already begun for him.
For a second, your body felt heavier than before. Then you closed the script, set it aside, and stood up. Drawing in a deep breath, you forced the tight feeling in your chest to loosen just enough to move. When your eyes met the director's again, you gave a small nod.
"Yes."
You moved into position at the edge of the set, just outside the frame of the staged bedroom. From there, you watched as Chan settled onto the bed. He lay back against the mattress with practiced ease, shifting once before letting his body fall into the still posture of someone deep in sleep. His breathing evening out until he looked convincingly unconscious under the warm set lights.
Your fingers tightened around the small note in your hand.
It was part of the scene—the folded paper you were supposed to be carrying while sleepwalking, a detail written into the opening before everything turned more intense. The edges pressed into your skin as you held it a little too hard, the only solid thing you could focus on while the rest of the set fell quiet.
"Three... two... one. Action." The director's voice cut through the room.
That was your cue.
You closed your eyes first, letting your expression go slack, shoulders loosening just enough to sell the daze of someone moving without full awareness. Then, slowly, you began to walk toward Chan's bed. Each step was careful and unfocused, measured to look aimless, the note still clutched in your hand as you crossed the staged bedroom floor toward the man waiting for you under the appearance of sleep.
You tried to stay as calm as you could, even though your knees felt close to giving out with every step.
The bed seemed narrower now that you were moving through it under the cameras' focus. Eyes still closed, expression carefully emptied into the daze, you kept your pace slow and uneven.
Then you heard it. The soft rustle of sheets from the bed. You almost cursed under your breath.
"Y/N...?"
Chan's voice reached you before anything else. Even with your eyes closed, you could hear how professional he sounded. His tone was roughened just enough, hoarse in that convincing way of someone who had truly just woken up, still half-caught in sleep.
You remained standing at the side of his bed, unmoving, still holding the note loosely in your hand as the scene required. A second later, you felt his fingers carefully tug the paper free from your grasp.
There was a brief pause as he unfolded it.
"If you are reading this," he read aloud, voice still carrying that freshly woken roughness, "please convince me to go back into my room. I'm currently sleepwalking and I might end up doing something we both are going to have a problem with."
Chan looked up at you. For a moment, his stare lingered too long on your face—on the soft looseness of your expression, the wine-red lingerie against your skin, the way you stood so close to the edge of his bed. You were so pretty under the warm set lights that it nearly pulled him out of character.
He caught himself just in time, swallowing down the break before it could show too clearly. Still, when he spoke again, there was a faint edge of real curiosity beneath the performance.
"What do you mean... something we're both going to have a problem with?"
You felt stuck on your feet, completely unmoving. Nervous? Overwhelmed? Too conscious of the cameras currently recording every angle of the staged bedroom? You couldn't even tell which feeling was strongest. All of it tangled together until your mind went blank. Your fingers curled uselessly at your side, and for one terrifying second, the script you had read for an entire month disappeared from your head.
Then you felt a hand on your wrist. Chan's voice followed, so low and discreet that it could only have been meant for you.
"Don't be nervous," he whispered. "Come on. You need to move. I'll discreetly guide you."
You swallowed hard. The sound of your own throat working felt too loud in your head, but his words were enough to push your body back into motion. Your feet shifted at last. One hand pressed against Chan's chest, guiding him back down onto the bed as you followed the flow of the scene and straddled his hips.
"W-woah, woah. Wait, Y/N. W-what are you doing?"
You didn't know if he was still fully acting, but his tone was painfully convincing—surprised, breathless. His hands settled on your hips a second later, the grip light but deliberate, as if he were silently urging you to continue the movement the scene required.
Right. You were supposed to be in the middle of an episode. So you did.
Your hips rolled forward carefully at first, following the dazed, unfocused behavior written into the sleepwalking sequence. Even though it was acting, the moment you felt the firm bulge beneath you press up against your core, a genuine moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The sound was soft, startled, and far more real than anything you had planned to give the cameras.
"S-shit— Wait— don't move— fuck—"
Chan moved so effortlessly that it almost stole the air from your lungs. In one smooth motion, he lifted his upper body and locked an arm around your waist, forcing your hips to still against him. His face buried itself against the curve of your shoulder, breath coming out ragged and hot through the thin fabric of your lingerie.
For a second, it really did feel like he was trying to stop you. Then his mouth shifted closer to your ear, voice dropping into a whisper meant only for you.
"You're way too stiff, baby. Don't mind all the cameras filming you. Just go with the flow, yeah? I got you."
His body moved again after that—but this time it synced perfectly with yours. From the outside, it still looked like you were the one driving the scene. But in reality, it was the opposite. Chan was guiding every roll of your hips with the firm pressure of his hands and the controlled push of his body beneath you, making the movement look natural while taking over the rhythm himself.
Another soft moan slipped past your lips. A shiver ran straight down your spine when he ground up against you, the hard line of him pressing firmly into your core through the thin barrier of fabric. The friction sent a sharp pulse of heat low through your stomach.
"Y-Y/N— damn it— I said don't move—"
His voice was still rough enough to sell the scene, strained and breathless, but the intensity beneath it no longer felt entirely performed. This was not what was supposed to happen. The carefully written sequence from the script was already slipping. And yet, none of the people behind the cameras stopped you. No cut was called. No one interrupted the way your bodies continued to move together under the warm set lights.
Your hand moved on instinct, fingers sliding into his hair and gripping tightly as a slow pool of pleasure began to gather low in your stomach. Every guided grind of his hips only fed it further, blurring the line between what was meant to be acting and what your body was starting to feel in earnest.
Chan's frustration finally snapped through the carefully held rhythm of the scene. His hand slid up into your hair, fingers tightening before he pulled your head back in one firm motion. The sudden force exposed the line of your throat and forced your upper body to arch against him. From the way he did it, it was clear he expected your eyes to open.
But you remained in character. Your eyes stayed closed, expression still slack with that half-conscious look the scene demanded, even as a soft, genuine gasp escaped your mouth from the sting in your scalp. The sound was quiet, but far too real to be pure performance.
Chan's breath left him in a rough exhale.
"Oh, I see," he rasped, staring up at your face. "So you like this, huh? This is what you want?" His grip stayed firm in your hair, keeping your head tilted back as his other hand lifted and gave a light, testing tap against your cheek. "Are you really sleeping? Come on, Y/N."
His voice was low and strained, caught between the aggression of the scene and something sharper beneath it. Beneath you, his hips shifted again, pressing up against your core with deliberate pressure while he searched your face for any break in the act. The cameras continued rolling around you, but in that moment it felt less like a set and more like he was genuinely trying to drag a reaction out of you.
A sharp hiss left Chan's lips as his hands worked over you, only to be stopped again and again by the thin barriers of the lingerie. Every time his palms slid up your waist or over your chest, the fabric caught beneath his fingers and pulled a fresh edge of frustration into his movements. He paused just long enough to tap your cheek once more, checking, as if making certain you're still playing your role well.
When he seemed satisfied, he stopped bothering with the clothing altogether.
Using raw strength, Chan gripped the wine-red lingerie and tore it open. The sharp sound of fabric ripping cut through the staged bedroom, sudden and violent enough that your body nearly reacted on instinct. For a split second, the urge to snarl at him for destroying the outfit rose hot in your throat. You swallowed it down hard, forcing yourself to remain inside the scene, eyes still mostly closed, posture still slack even as cool air rushed over newly exposed skin.
Luckily, the camera was currently angled toward your back.
"What the hell are you doing?" you whispered under your breath, the movement of your mouth hidden from the lens.
Your eyes opened just slightly. Chan was already looking at you, close enough that the heat of his breath brushed your cheek. A slow smirk tugged at his mouth, equal parts mischievous and reassuring, as if the torn lingerie scattered around your body was nothing more than a minor detail.
"Just stay with me, yeah?" he murmured, voice low enough for only you to hear. "I got you."
Before another word could leave your mouth, Chan's lips were already on yours.
The kiss was not gentle in the slightest. It landed hard and hungry, all teeth and tongue, crashing into you with so much force it stole the rest of your breath. There was nothing polite or measured about it. He kissed you like he had been waiting for the chance his entire life, mouth open and demanding as he dragged your bottom lip between his teeth before pressing back in even deeper.
His hand fisted into your hair again, gripping tight at the back of your head as he pulled you closer. The pressure forced your mouths harder together, erasing what little space had been left between you. A low, guttural moan rumbled out of his throat—so rough and feral it vibrated against your lips. It sounded like restraint, like he was trying to hold something back.
Internally, you doubted that very much.
There was nothing restrained in the way he kissed you. His tongue pushed past your lips without patience, tasting you thoroughly, messy and deep. Every angle of his mouth was greedy, almost nasty in how completely he took control of the kiss, as if he wanted to devour the sound of your surprise before it could fully form. The hand in your hair flexed whenever you tried to pull in a breath, keeping you right there against him while his other arm locked around your waist.
Slowly, the sheer dominance in the way Chan kissed you began to overwhelm your senses.
What started as shock melted into something far more dangerous. Almost without realizing it, you were kissing him back. Your mouth yielded under the rough press of his, then answered it, drawn in by the sheer intensity of him. The feeling was ecstatic—dizzying in a way you had never experienced before. No one had ever kissed you like this. Even though it was rough, almost disrespectful in how completely he took from your mouth, your body reacted with unmistakable heat. It liked it. Craved more of it.
Your arms lifted and wrapped around his neck, fingers sliding into the damp hair at his nape as you pulled yourself closer. Chan responded immediately. With a firm tug and the shift of his body, he drew you down until your chest rested against his. The change in position made your breath hitch into the kiss, the solid heat of him rising to meet you.
That was when it fully registered.
He was still topless beneath you. Your palms landed against the sturdy plane of his chest, and the hard muscle under his warm skin made your fingers flex instinctively. For a second, you tried to push yourself up, needing space, needing air, but Chan thrust upward at that exact moment.
The hard line of his cock ground firmly against your already soaked cunt through what little fabric remained between you. The sudden friction tore an audible gasp from your lips, breaking the kiss as your body jolted from the sharp rush of pleasure. Your palms pressed harder against his chest, not quite pushing him away anymore, while your hips stuttered from the feel of him dragging so deliberately against your sensitive core.
Chan's breath was ragged against your mouth, his hands already tightening on your waist as if daring you to try pulling away again.
Your hips started moving on their own.
Almost without thought, they rolled forward to meet his, falling into rhythm with every upward grind of his body beneath you. The thin barrier of fabric did almost nothing to dull the sensation. Each time the hard bulge of his cock dragged against your sensitive core, another spark of pleasure shot low through your stomach and made your thighs tighten around his waist.
Your eyes dropped to half-lidded as you stared down at him, lips parted around uneven breaths. You tried to muffle the sounds rising in your throat, forcing them back down before they could fully escape, but it was impossible. Every time his length grazed over you just right, a soft, broken noise slipped free anyway, too raw to swallow completely.
Chan watched you with dark eyes, his hands steady on your waist as he guided the movement without ever fully stopping it.
"God, I didn't know you were like this," he murmured, voice low and rough. "All hazed and deep in your sleep... but here you are, grinding yourself on top of me." His hips pushed up again, deliberate and slow, pressing his bulge firmly against your soaked cunt. "Does it feel good, hm?" a weak whine left you before you could stop it.
Slowly, almost helplessly, you nodded.
That small admission only seemed to feed the heat between you. Your hips kept moving, chasing the friction with less and less restraint, while Chan continued to meet every roll of your body from below. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the script still existed—but as for whether you were still in character...
You didn't even know anymore.
"Please..." you breathed out, the word barely holding together as your teeth sank into your lower lip.
Your head wobbled, half wanting to tip back from the pleasure building low in your stomach, half wanting to drop forward toward his mouth again. Every grind of his hips beneath you made the choice harder, the hard line of his cock dragging against your soaked cunt with enough pressure to pull another shaky sound from your throat.
Chan's eyes darkened at the plea.
"Oh, baby," he hummed, the softness in his voice edged with something openly mocking. His hands flexed on your waist, guiding your hips into another slow, deliberate roll against him. "What do you want, hm?" He pushed up harder this time, letting you feel every thick inch of the bulge straining beneath you. "You want more? You want to feel better?"
Your fingers tightened against his chest, nails pressing lightly into warm skin as your hips stuttered forward again on instinct. Whatever answer you tried to form dissolved into another soft, needy sound, your body already responding long before your mouth could catch up.
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and knowing.
"Right. As if you could answer me right now."
Chan shifted beneath you, adjusting his position with easy strength until your balance settled more firmly over his hips. One hand lifted to your face, his palm warm against your cheek as his thumb stroked slowly across your skin. The touch was deceptively gentle compared to everything else he had done, and your body reacted before thought could catch up, your head immediately leaning into his hand, seeking more of the contact.
"Lift your hips for me, baby," he cooed. The soft command sank straight through the haze clouding your mind. Already smitten by the way he handled you, you obeyed without resistance. Your hips rose just enough to create space between your bodies.
Chan didn't waste the opportunity. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down in one smooth motion, dragging the last barrier away from your skin. Cool air touched your newly exposed core for only a second before the heat of his body returned beneath you. You are now left completely bare over him, open and vulnerable under the warm set lights while his hands guided you back into place.
Your hips dropped back down at once, instinctively seeking the heat of him again. The moment your bare cunt pressed against the hard bulge still trapped beneath his clothes, Chan let out a low chuckle.
"So greedy," he murmured, clearly amused. "Can't wait for me to fill you up, hm? This pretty cunt needs some warming, is that it?"
His hands returned to your waist and lifted you with easy strength, creating space between your bodies. You resisted on instinct, stubbornly trying to sink back down against him, chasing the friction he had just taken away. The small struggle only seemed to entertain him further.
"Ah, ah. Keep it up, baby," he warned lightly, though there was nothing soft in the way his fingers flexed against your skin.
Then he finally freed himself. The thick length of his cock sprang free from the remaining fabric, and the moment it did, the tip slapped softly against your entrance. The sudden hot contact tore a louder whine from your throat, the sound slipping out before you could swallow it down. Your hips jerked at the feel of him—bare, heavy, and so close.
Chan held you there for a moment longer, the thick head of his cock resting against your entrance as if he wanted you to feel every second of the wait. Your hips twitched in his hands, a restless little movement that made the tip drag through your wetness and pull another soft, broken sound from your throat.
"Easy," he murmured, though the restraint in his voice was already thinning.
Then he began to lower you. Inch by inch, the blunt head pressed in, stretching you open around him with a heat so intense your fingers curled hard against his chest. A shaky gasp left your lips as he sank deeper, the thick length of him filling you far more completely than the earlier friction had even hinted at. Your body clenched around the intrusion on instinct, walls fluttering as you tried to adjust to the size of him.
Chan's breath hitched beneath you.
"Fuck..." The curse slipped out low and rough, his grip on your waist tightening as he guided you down the rest of the way until you were fully seated on his cock. The sudden fullness punched a louder moan from your throat, your head tipping forward as your thighs trembled around his hips.
For a second, he stayed still, buried to the hilt inside you, letting you feel every hard inch of him.
Then his hips rolled up. The first real thrust dragged a high, needy sound out of you. Chan followed it with another, deeper this time, using his hold on your waist to pull you down into every upward snap of his hips. The stretch, the heat, the wet slide of him moving inside you—it all crashed together so intensely that whatever remained of the script scattered completely.
Your body moved with him, meeting each thrust as best as you could while he fucked up into you with growing force. Soft, unbroken moans spilled from your lips, each one punched out of you whenever he bottomed out. The staged bedroom, the cameras, the crew beyond the lights—all of it faded under the overwhelming feel of Chan filling you again and again, his hands locked on your waist like he had no intention of letting you go.
Chan didn't give you everything at once.
Even with his cock buried deep inside you, he kept control of the pace, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate thrusts that filled you completely before easing back just enough to make your body chase him. Every time the pleasure started climbing too fast, he changed the rhythm—shallower, slower, denying you the exact pressure you needed. Your thighs trembled around his waist as a frustrated whimper broke from your throat.
He fucked you through the first rise carefully, guiding your hips down onto him until your walls fluttered hard around his length and your breath turned sharp and uneven. The moment your body tightened like you were about to tip over, Chan locked his hands on your waist and held you still, stopping all movement. The sudden denial dragged a broken sound out of you, your fingers clutching at his chest as the unfinished peak left you shaking.
Only when the worst of it faded did he start again.
The second build was worse.
Chan thrust up into you deeper, harder, letting the wet sound of your cunt taking him fill the narrow space between your bodies. Your moans grew higher, less controlled, every stroke pushing you back toward the edge with ruthless precision. Heat pooled low and tight in your stomach until your whole body was straining for release—And once more, he stopped.
A sob caught in your throat. Your head dropped forward, hair sticking to your damp cheeks as frustrated tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. You were trembling in his hold now, oversensitive and aching, the emptiness of being denied twice leaving you a mess against his chest.
"Please—" The word broke out of you raw. "Chan, please—"
That was when he finally gave in.
His grip tightened and he snapped his hips upward hard, burying himself to the hilt before fucking into you in earnest. There was no more teasing after that—only deep, relentless thrusts that forced broken moans from your throat with every impact. The slick, nasty sound of skin meeting skin filled the bedroom, wet and filthy as he drove into your soaked cunt again and again.
Your bodies moved together in a rough, desperate rhythm. Chan's hands stayed locked on your waist, pulling you down into every hard thrust while your arms wound tightly around his neck. Moans spilled freely from both of you now, bouncing softly off the walls of the set as the heat between you swallowed everything else. The cameras, the crew, the fact that this was supposed to be a shoot—all of it disappeared. There was only the punishing pace of his cock, the slap of his hips against yours, and the way your bodies clung and shuddered through every stroke.
"Fuck— you feel so good—" Chan groaned, forehead pressing against yours as he fucked you faster.
Your sobs turned into high, helpless sounds of pleasure, the earlier frustration burning straight into overload. The coil inside you snapped without warning. You came hard around him, walls clenching and pulsing as a broken cry left your lips, body jerking through the force of it.
Chan followed almost immediately.
A deep, guttural moan tore from his chest as his hips slammed up one last time and stayed there, burying himself as deep as he could while he spilled into you in thick, heavy pulses. His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise as he rode out his release, forehead still pressed to yours, both of you shaking through the shared climax.
For several long seconds, neither of you moved. Only the sound of ragged breathing filled the space between you, bodies locked together, slick with heat, completely lost in each other.
"CUT! Fantastic! That was phenomenal Y/N. You did so great!"
The director's voice cut cleanly through the haze, sharp enough to drag the rest of the world back into place.
If it hadn't been for that call, you might not have remembered this was supposed to be a video at all. You had been too carried away. Chan had been incredible, more than you could have imagined, and the intensity of it had pulled you under so completely that the line between performance and reality had disappeared.
Even after the filming officially ended, you remained flopped against his chest, too weak to move. Your muscles felt useless, heavy with exhaustion and the lingering tremor of release. Every breath pressed your body closer against his damp skin, and for a moment all you could do was lie there, cheek resting over the steady thrum of his heartbeat while the set slowly came back to life around you.
But you stayed right where you were, boneless and spent on top of Chan, still trying to gather enough strength to remember how to move at all.
*no hate/directness to og poster btw when i say this, just general thoughts/opinions of mine*
edit: I also just want to preface this by saying I’m not disagreeing with OP at all because I actually agree with the point being made. I just think it’s worth mentioning that the lack of non-smut fics isn’t entirely on writers either. I’m literally an author who writes smut the least out of everything I write😭, so I’m not saying this from a place of bias or defensiveness—I just think there’s another side to the conversation that’s worth acknowledging.
I feel like I've been seeing this take a lot late, and I completely understand wanting more variety. But I also think it’s worth acknowledging that readers don’t always have the same energy for non-smut pieces.
If you compare the engagement on an average smut post to a genuinely well-written, thought out, unique, emotional series, mini series, multi-part fic, or even a oneshot, the difference can be huge. The notes, reblogs, comments, asks, and overall interaction often just aren’t comparable.
And I don’t say that to criticize readers or shame anyone for enjoying smut! A lot of writers do write for their own enjoyment, imagination, and creativity. But I also think it’s natural for us to notice what gets the most engagement under the tags we're writing for and, sometimes, fall into creating more of what we know people are actually going to interact with.
So if you’re tired of seeing so much smut, I think one of the best ways to change that is to show non-smut work the same enthusiasm smut gets. Reblog. Leave a comment. Talk about it in an ask to spark discussion. Recommend it. Interact with posts that aren't sexually charged.
Because writers notice what gets attention, and engagement genuinely does influence what people feel encouraged to create. This isn’t me saying anyone owes is interaction—just that if you want more variety, supporting that variety is probably the most effective place to start!
I actually started to change for the better when I told myself never to use the word 'hate' again. What we say to others, and especially what we say to ourselves, affects our emotional state and our energy. Now I try to stick to lighter words and lighter ways of being because I want to surround myself with light and positivity and love.
Pairing: garrett graham x childhood best friend!reader
Summary: when the granddaughter of the former head coach of the New York Rangers transfers to BriarU, people don’t expect you to be so attached to captain of the Briar Hawks hockey team, garrett graham. what everyone didn’t know was that you are his childhood best friend. don't forget the guys who welcomed you with unconditional support and became family like you’ve never expected.
Warnings: childhood best friends to lovers trope. (they act like they’re married and have been together for 30 years) one-bed trope. no mention of y/n, pet names are used to refer to the reader: petal and angel. found family to the absolute max, along with dean being a menace. wholesome love all around. reader is given princess treatment.
a/n: worked my butt off for this one, and i hope you all love it as much as i do. i'm such a sucker for the found family trope. also a little family healing for garrett, and did i mention that garrett is completely gone for the reader? (let me know what you think!)
Word count: 13.1k
masterlist
“Did you guys hear about the granddaughter of the former New York Rangers coach transferring here from Columbia?” Logan asked Dean and Tucker from the kitchen. “We’re out of beer.”
Just as he made the statement, Garrett walked through the front door holding a case of beer: “I come bearing gifts.”
“Our saviour,” Logan jokingly praised as he opened his welcoming arms for Garrett to hand the case over to him.
“Logan, is she hot?” Dean chirped from the couch.
“What girl caught your eye?” Garrett teased, walking over to the pantry in search of a snack.
“Not yet. I was asking the boys if they heard about the new transfer from Columbia. Apparently, she’s the granddaughter of the former Rangers coach,” Logan explained.
His words had Garrett pause his rummaging and slowly turn around to face Logan. “Where’d you hear that from?” Garrett’s voice came out more snippy than he had meant.
“A couple of the guys in the locker room mentioned it today at morning practice,” Logan shrugged, not noticing Garrett’s shift in mood.
Garrett’s breath hitched at the mere thought of guys he knew talking about you.
The girl he grew up with. Of course, he knew you.
He couldn’t even remember the number of times you two would go off and explore an arena wherever the Rangers were playing. Even when someone would catch the pair of you somewhere you probably shouldn’t have been, no one could ever say anything against the pout that you would pull out when you were kids. It helped that you were the Rangers’ head coach’s granddaughter.
Your families have been connected since before both of you were born. His father met yours when he first made the team at 18. Your father was 20 and determined to prove that he deserved to be on the team, not just because his father was the coach. Both felt like they had something to prove and became a fierce pair on the ice.
Your mothers bonded quickly when they were first introduced. It wasn’t easy with husbands who were always in the limelight.
They marveled when they found out they were pregnant around the same time. Garrett was born exactly one month before you. Which was something you never heard the end of during your childhood. He would always claim that it was his job to make sure you were safe.
They would always gush when you two were together as children. Garrett was always trailing behind or beside you like a protector, and he was always the first one to help you up when you stumbled over your feet. Sometimes, it felt like he knew you better than he knew himself.
Garrett remembered all the family vacations that you guys shared. The way that his father would put on an act and pretend that they were this picture-perfect family, but you didn’t buy it.
You’ve hated Phil Graham from the moment you overheard an argument between Garrett’s parents when you were 8 years old. You were staying over for a couple of days as your parents were away traveling. Garrett had begged you to ask your parents if you could just stay with his family instead of staying with your grandparents.
It didn’t take much convincing for your parents to let you stay with the Graham family. Granted, they didn’t know what happened behind closed doors.
A memory flashed in Garrett’s mind of the first Halloween without his mom and the first time his father laid hands on him.
“Gare, you don’t have to be brave with me.” You were inspecting his bloodied knuckles. The first aid kit sat next to you on the bed. “This is going to burn a bit.”
“Petal, just do it already.” he tried to squirm away, but you kept a firm grip of his hand in your lap.
Garrett redirected his focus from the pain to you. He watched as you took care of his hand, making sure it was clean before putting ointment over the split knuckles and wrapping it with such care. He looked at you like you were the only thing that brought light to his life.
“Okay, all done,” you muttered quietly while you started putting all the stuff from the kit away. You walked over to his closet to put it back in the corner where you first stashed it when you saw bruises on his mother’s wrists years ago.
“I hate him.”
“I know you do.”
“He’s a monster. He’s cruel. He never treated my mom right, even before she got sick. He’s always been so mean,” Garrett sniffled. He looked down at his wrapped hand and clenched his other fist tightly. “I never want to be like him.”
His words caught your attention, and you sat back over to him. You took his hands in yours and brought them close to your heart. “You, Garrett, are nothing like your father. You are nothing but kind and caring. You always look out for me even when you don’t need to. You are so special, and I never want you to think otherwise.” You told him with fierce invigoration.
Even at 12 years old, Garrett knew then that he would never love someone as much as he loved you at that moment.
“G? You all good there?” Logan snapped his fingers in front of Garrett’s face, hoping to pull him out of his daze.
Garrett shook his head slightly as if to clear the thoughts that scrambled through his mind about you. “Sorry, what’d you say?” His eyes flickered over to Logan, but he still seemed distracted.
“I was telling you about that girl. I heard from a couple of the guys that it hasn’t even been confirmed that she’s transferred officially.” Logan explained to him.
Garrett let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. That news made him feel better that it was just rumors. His chest felt tight at the thought that you wouldn’t share such big information with him. Especially considering he last talked to you a week ago, and you didn’t mention anything about the possibility of transferring to Briar U.
“Hey, G? Do you know her? With your dad being a former Ranger,” Tucker speculated, making his way over to the kitchen to grab a beer. “Maybe a connection?”
Dean joined the rest of the group. “If you do, can you put in a good word for me?”
“Not a chance,” Garrett snorted. “I’m leaving this conversation.” He started to walk away from the boys and headed for the stairs.
“G? You didn’t answer the question!” Garrett heard Tucker yell out from the kitchen. Ignoring him, Garrett made quick work of taking out his phone and pulling up your contact.
His thumb hovered above the call button until he got to his room and closed the door behind him.
“Hey, bub! What’s up?” you answered. Just from hearing your voice, Garrett’s body relaxed. He felt the tension that he held in his shoulders melting away while listening to you. “I actually have some news for you!”
Garrett shook his head. He flopped back against his bed, softly laughing to himself, “Just wanted to talk to you.”
“Love, we just talked last week. Did something happen?” The concern in your voice was obvious. “You know you can call me anytime, right? No matter what.”
“I know, Petal.” A warm smile crept onto Garrett’s face. “Is it a crime to just want to hear your voice?”
“You’re such a sap.” Your laugh came through the phone, and Garrett almost forgot the reason why he called you.
“You said you had something to share with me?” Garrett turned the conversation back to you.
“You know how I’ve been telling you I want a change of pace? I feel stuck here, and I love my family, but I need some space to breathe without someone asking me for Rangers tickets or if I’ve ever wanted to hook up with any of them,” you rambled, beating around the bush of the actual news. “I just want to feel like I’m on my own for once. Wow, I sound entitled. I am so sorry for that–”
“Don’t apologize. I’m always here to listen to you.” Garrett cut you off, knowing that if he didn’t, you would continue apologizing for something you never had to be sorry for. “And I get it. Trust me, I do.”
“I miss you, Garrett.” You admitted it so softly that he almost missed it.
“I miss you, Petal.”
“You’ll be sick of me when I transfer to Briar U.” You snuck the surprise in. “I’m serious, you’re never going to get a moment alone again.”
The moment he comprehended what you said, he couldn’t stop his smile from widening. “Petal, don’t play with my heart like that if you’re not serious.”
“Garrett Graham, did you hear what I just said? I am serious.” You mockingly defended your words. “Love, I mean this. I already submitted the paperwork. I’m waiting on my credits to transfer over, so I can get my new schedule.”
“When will you be here?” The urgency in Garrett’s voice and the question got a giggle out of you.
“Maybe a week or two. I’m still trying to solidify my official housing situation. They offered me a suite on campus, but I’m considering looking for a place off campus,” you explained the small conundrum. “Gramps said he would pitch in if I find a place because he says that he knows the ‘kind of boys that could live on the same floor’ as me. Which is verbatim to what he said, by the way,” you laughed to yourself, thinking back to the conversation with your grandfather.
“I one hundred percent agree with Gramps. Don’t even worry about finding a place. Just stay with me, Petal,” Garrett offered without a single thought or hesitation. “I’d know you’re safe. Gramps would feel better knowing that you’ve got four giant hockey players to protect you. Your dad might not be the biggest fan of it cause he hasn’t met the other guys, but he’ll trust me with you.” Garrett was reasoning with you.
“Love, I couldn’t intrude on you or the rest of your housemates. This is a big thing, and I’m a big girl. I can figure this out…” You trailed off. You had to admit to yourself that what Garrett offered sounded nice. From your search, most places close to campus were already filled since it was midway through a semester. You saw a few that caught your eye, but the drive was 25 minutes away from campus.
“Petal, this isn’t up for discussion.”
“Yes, it is. Especially considering I’m almost positive that when you were moving in, you told me that there were only four rooms.”
“I’ve got the master bedroom, Petal. It’s plenty of room for you and me. There’s an ensuite bathroom. Honestly, it’d just be how it was when we were little and used to go on vacation,” Garrett countered you. “Baby, please just stay with me.”
The softness of his voice almost made you cave at the spot. “You have to ask your housemates.”
“Done. They won’t have a problem with it.”
“You ask them now, Garrett. Go downstairs and throw the idea out there for them. Keep me on call, so I can hear their reactions,” you instructed him.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Garrett shot out of bed and headed for the door. “Boys! I got a question for you!” Garrett yelled out to them, hoping they could hear him over the TV blasting the sounds from their video game.
“Bub, that was straight in my ear,” you pointed out, reminding him you were still right next to the speaker.
“Oh shit, sorry, Petal,” Garrett muttered as he hurried down the stairs.
Dean was the only one to catch what Garrett had said. He pointed it out to Logan. “Petal?”
Logan looked up from the screen. He twisted his head to glance at Garrett. “What’s up, G?”
“Who are you talking to?” Dean quipped at the same time as Logan.
The exchange took Tucker out of the game and left him watching the people around him. He muted the TV, leaving the house quiet.
Garrett’s posture gave away his nervousness about finally bringing you up to them. He never purposely tried to avoid any topics that could relate to you, but that also meant he chose to never bring it up. He got enough questioning about his ‘legendary’ dad and what it must have been like to grow up in that environment. That’s all anyone ever cared about anyway.
“The granddaughter you were asking about?” Garrett answered, hoping his tone was enough to signal to them to be cool about it.
“What do you mean ‘the granddaughter,’ G?” Logan questioned. His eyes widened by the moment.
“How do you guys feel about getting another roommate?” Garrett blurted out. He never thought it would be nerve-wracking to mention you to the guys. He felt like he had to share a part of you that he only ever wanted to keep to himself.
“We only have four bedrooms,” Dean pointed out the obvious.
Tucker gave him an up slap against the back of his head, “He knows that, dingus.”
Garrett ran a hand through his hair as he scanned the guys for their reactions. “What’d they say, Bub?” You weren’t even on speakerphone, but it was loud enough in the silent house that the others could hear you clearly.
“You’ve known who I was talking about this whole time? You just pretended to be stupid or something?” Logan's thoughts gathered quickly to make the connections. “Let me sound like some idiot going on about it.”
“Yeah. She’s transferring from Columbia.” Garrett swept over Logan’s realization.
“G, I don’t know any girl that would want four guys as their roommates,” Tucker claimed, because it seemed laughable that a girl would ever want to live with guys who eat, breathe, sleep hockey.
“She’ll be fine. I’m not asking you to give up any of your rooms. Mine will be fine. I don’t want her to be in the dorms. You know how the guys over there are. I’d feel better knowing she’d be close,” Garrett explained with a rare softness in him that no one ever really heard other than you.
“She’d be more than close,” Dean muttered under his breath. Logan nudged him in the side with his elbow.
“Are you sure she even wants to move in?” Logan asked him honestly.
“Gare, put me on speaker, please?” You requested politely. Garrett abided and shoved the phone more in the guys’ direction. “Can they hear me?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” All three of the guys affirmed for her.
“Unbelievable.” Garrett guffawed at the three in front of him.
“Garrett’s just being overdramatic about this. I don’t want to force myself into your guys’ space–”
“Petal.” Garrett cut you off with a tone that didn’t leave room for much argument.
“Love, you can’t just ask them something like that and expect them to be completely okay with it.”
“Petal, I will call Gramps. Please don’t make this more complicated.”
“Garrett Graham! Don’t you dare!” You yelped on the phone.
Garrett’s mind was only focused on the sound of your voice, as if the rest of the world melted away from him. Logan, Tucker, and Dean all raised eyebrows at each other because of the pair of you. They had never heard Garrett be like that with a girl. Hell, they never saw him interact with many girls unless it was for a night, and they were always quick to leave.
“Petal, all you have to do is say yes.” Garrett implored.
“Would you guys be okay with it? If not, I’ll work something else out, don’t worry about me.” You asked them, uncertain about Garrett’s plea.
“If you’re important to Garrett, you’re important to us. You’re welcome here anytime,” Tucker answered for the three.
Dean raised a finger in the air to signal he was about to chime in. “Get ready for some serious game nights,” he joked.
Logan added, “What’s your drink of choice?”
“A cosmo,” you answered simply, with humor lacing your voice.
“Bullshit, it’s always a strawberry mojito,” Garrett called out to counter.
“Besides the point,” you brushed off.
“Honey, we have to go attend the fundraiser.” Your dad’s call from the hallway broke you away from the conversation. He knocked against your door softly.
“Come in,” you told him.
“You talking to someone, Sweetie?” He said from the door.
“Just Gare, Dad,” you announced to him as he started to enter your room.
“Hey, son! I saw a clip from your last game, and you’re looking real good out there. With this one transferring over, I’m going to have to attend some games in person finally,” your dad happily spoke to Garrett. Who had made his way to the kitchen and placed his phone on the counter while he searched for a drink.
The other three scrambled from the couch to the counter to continue to listen to the phone call. All of them actively started to slowly get more and more geeked out at the mere presence of your dad’s voice.
“Hey, Pop! Thanks, it’s been quite a season out there, but our next home game is in two weeks. Will you be in town?”
“Yeah, I’ll get the lot to come out since it’ll be Petal’s first home game because she originally chose a school with no hockey!” Your dad bellowed out in a laugh. “We have to cheer for you while we can.”
“Gramps, still mad at me for Boston?” Garrett queried.
“Like Gramps could say mad at you, Bub,” you snorted.
Logan, Dean, and Tucker were in utter disbelief at what they were witnessing. They had never seen Garrett at peace and content, talking to people on the phone. He was never like this when he was on the phone with his dad.
They started to question the relationship that Garrett had with you and, presumably, the rest of your family. It was evident that he was close with your family, but it seemed deeper than that. A casualness that only came around when you were talking to family, but they assumed he was somehow also romantically linked to you. Maybe it was both, but the scene in front of them was creating bounds of confusion.
“He’ll get over it once he sees you on ice,” your dad assured him. “Anyways, Garrett. Petal and I have to seriously head out now before the Missus has both of our heads.”
“It was good talking to you, Pop.”
“Bye, bub. I’ll let you know when I get back later. I love you!”
“I love you too, Petal.” Garrett grinned to himself, and the boys officially thought they had lost the Garrett Graham that they knew. The call ended, and Garrett turned back to the boys. “You shitheads are actually okay with this, right?”
And just like that, Garrett Graham was back the way they knew him to be. “G, what the hell was that?” Logan was baffled.
“The former Rangers’ head coach is going to attend our next game,” Dean said in a daze.
“You gotta tell us what’s going on, man,” Tucker said, exasperated by no explanation.
It was clear that Garrett didn’t even know where to start. His mouth opened and closed exactly three times before he even let anything out. “What do you guys want to know?” He thought it was a great question to gauge where the guys’ heads were at.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been with her this whole time, and you’re still with bunnies,” Logan chastised him. “That’s not cool, man.”
“No. No, we’re not dating,” Garrett responded, putting his hands up to somehow show his innocence. “We grew up together.”
“No way there’s nothing there, G,” Tucker protested.
“So you wouldn’t mind?” Dean gave Garrett a look that explained what he had meant.
“Dean, you’re not getting with her. Don’t even think about trying anything,” Garrett warned.
“Oh, you’re in love with her.” Logan snapped his fingers at Garrett.
“Dude, I thought we already knew that,” Tucker said to Logan.
“Wait, how is it going to work with her moving in here? This is not exactly a five-star hotel.” Dean gestured to the slight mess around them. While it was cluttered, the house wasn’t too bad at its current state. It looked lived in. “I mean, if you’re not dating her, but she’s going to share your room with you. I’m just trying to understand this, man. Because that means no more bunnies for you like ever.”
“There’s not going to be another bunny,” Garrett said as if it were the most simple thing.
“He’s a changed man, Dean,” Tucker whooped as he made his way over to Garrett and gave him a good slap on the shoulder. “G, this girl means a lot to you, and if you want her to live here. We’re seriously cool about it.”
“Thanks, Tuck.”
After much discussion, your family thought it was best if you had a week to settle in. Since you weren’t moving into your own place, you didn’t need to bring much other than clothes and necessities. You and Garrett had talked about what he had and what you still needed to buy, but agreed that you could just go shopping together rather than getting anything beforehand. Everything you needed to bring was able to fit in your G-Wagon.
While you didn’t officially start until next Monday, you were finally at Briar to pick up your schedule and really take in the new campus without the rush of trying to figure out where your classes were.
It was Friday, and students were still scattered around campus for those who still had classes. You were walking around aimlessly, trying to find a cafe that Garrett recommended that you might like.
Meanwhile, the guys were finishing grabbing lunch on campus after their practice. They headed out of the dining hall together. Garrett was looking down at his phone as he checked your location, knowing you would be at Briar already.
Garrett cocked his head to the side because, according to the phone, you were in his vicinity. “Holy shit, look at her. She’s like an angel,” Dean guffawed as he stopped the guys in their tracks.
“She’s beautiful,” Logan commented.
“Out of your league, dude,” Tucker added on.
Garrett tilted his head back up to see what Dean was going on about. There you were, about 20 feet away. He had half a mind to tell Dean off, but he agreed with him.
You hadn’t noticed the group staring at you. They watched as you pulled your phone out as if you were making a call. You held the phone to your ear while still looking around, but not fully catching the four boys.
Garrett’s phone rang in his hand, the other three’s heads snapped to look at his phone. He accepted the call. “Hey, Petal.”
“Bub, I think I’m lost,” you told him.
“You look so cute, though. Like a lost little duck,” he continued to admire you from afar.
He watched the realization dawn on your face after his words. You scanned your surroundings and finally saw them. Your face lit up at the sight of Garrett. He did just the same when he saw you start to head in his direction. You hung up the call and slid your phone back into your purse. Garrett slid his to his pocket to free up his hands.
The three guys stayed back as Garrett walked to meet you. They watched as your grin spread across your face. It was so bright that it could make anyone melt if they knew it was directed at them.
The sight of you starting to jog towards Garrett in pure joy was something to behold. You met each other halfway and practically crashed into one another. His arms wrapped around your waist automatically. Your arms locked around his neck. Neither of you was particularly interested in letting go.
“You’re actually here,” Garrett mumbled into your hair. His grip tightened even as he pulled back to look at your face. His eyes crinkled at the corners from the way he was smiling in genuine delight. “I’m never letting you go anywhere without me again,” he chuckled as he picked you off your feet and spun you around.
Your laugh was blissful. Students flowed around you both while they pointed out Garrett and the ‘mystery girl’ he was with. But in the moment between you and Garrett, all of them were forgotten, like the rest of the world.
“Gare, let me down!” you yelped, laughing. Garrett missed that laugh. More than he’d realized.
Garrett set you back down, but you stayed in his arms. You reached up to fix a piece of hair that had fallen across his forehead. Without any hesitation. Without any thought. Like you had done it a thousand times before. Garrett didn’t even react. He was fully occupied by admiring you.
Back to the Dean, Logan, and Tucker. The three guys nearly choked when they saw that. “I thought he said they aren’t dating?” Dean pointed to you two. “She fixed his hair.”
“I was not expecting them to run into each other’s arms,” Logan quipped.
“What is happening?” Dean was utterly confused by the scene in front of him.
“I don’t know.” Logan shook his head.
“I’ve never seen him smile that much.”
“Neither have I, Dean.”
“They have to be dating,” Dean declared.
“If they’re not now, I hate to see them when they are,” Tucker cackled, clapping his hands together. “C’mon, let’s introduce ourselves to our new roommate.”
You tore your eyes away from Garrett’s and glanced over to where the guys were. “Your friends?”
Garrett turned back and saw them walking toward you two. He sighed, “Unfortunately.” He watched as Dean cheesed and happily waved to you. “Oh, my God.” Dean was mortifyingly enthusiastic.
You broke an arm away to wave back. “Are they on something?”
“Worse.”
“Perfect.”
You dropped your arms down and attempted to pull away from Garrett to get ready to greet them. Which Garrett’s response was laughable. Instead, he moved to stand behind you and keep his arms around you. The guys caught how Garrett’s stare stayed on the side of your face. The kind of smile plastered on his face was something his friends had never seen before. It was warm. He looked hopelessly gone.
“Let me guess, the one leading the pack is Tucker, Dean is obviously the blond, which leaves Logan, who has that brooding brunette look to him.” You humored him.
“The second they get over here and meet you. They’re never going to leave us alone,” Garrett said, exasperated. You laughed and moved one hand to lightly grip his forearm while you waited for the three to make their way over.
“Can’t believe he waited a week before she transferred to tell us that he knows her,” You heard Dean tell the guys.
“Hey, you guys! Garrett, you remember we exist, right?” Logan greeted, joking.
Dean was the first one to offer you a hand. You moved your hand from Garrett’s arm and shook Dean’s waiting hand. “Hi, Angel.”
“Angel?” you whispered to Garrett in question as you pulled away from the handshake.
Garrett just scoffed, but luckily Dean was there to explain, “You look like an Angel, unless I can call you Petal?”
“You’re pushing it,” Garrett warned. Dean smirked and raised his hands to motion to back off.
“Okay, but Angel, if things don’t work out with him, let me know. I’ll only be a few doors away.” Dean winked at you playfully, signalling he was really only saying it to mess with Garrett.
Garrett looked about a second away from committing a felony. You felt his arms tighten around you and pull you to press against him. Logan noticed and burst out laughing. You nearly choked. “You’re a fun one, Dean.”
“Call me Six Flags,” Dean nodded at you.
“I hate you,” Garrett told him.
“No, you don’t, Graham.” Dean smiled.
“Don’t mind him,” Tucker pushed Dean out of the way. “I’m Tucker, well, John, but Logan is also John,” Tucker introduced himself. He opened his arms slightly, and you tapped on Garrett’s arms to let you go. You giggled and accepted the hug. “We cleaned the house for you, Ma’am,” he whispered as you guys parted.
“Oh, how very kind of you all,” you told him.
Logan watched with a grin on his face that reflected genuine. Like he’d decided within the past few minutes that you belonged with them. “We’ve heard nothing but your name for the past week, and honestly, I’m just happy you’re here.”
Your expression softened. “That’s really sweet. And seriously, thanks for being so cool about this. I really appreciate you guys.”
“Any time, Angel,” Logan replied. Dean snorted at the use of the name.
“Not you too, Logan.” Garrett rubbed at his temples. He reached an arm out to you, and you naturally wrapped your arms around him. “Do you have everything with you already?”
“Yeah, my car is packed to the brim right now,” you answered. “Are you guys done for the day?”
“We cleared the schedule, so we can help the Missus move in,” Dean claimed.
“Perfect! Would any of you mind if you drove my car to the house?” You reached into your purse to grab your keys and dangled them in front of the guys. Dean nodded and opened the palm of his hand. “Thank you, kind sir,” you teased, dropping the keys into his waiting hand. “I parked it in the lot near admissions! It won’t be hard to miss.”
Dean finger-saluted you. “I’ll see you all at home?”
“Yeah, we’ll meet you back there.” Tucker motioned to himself and Logan before breaking away from the group with Dean.
“See you in a bit,” Garrett responded, waving goodbye to the three.
When Garrett pulled up to the house, it was bigger than you expected, but at the same time, it made complete sense for the four hockey players.
Well.
Four college hockey players, and apparently you know.
Even after Garrett had parked the car, you knew better than to try to just get out yourself. You waited patiently while Garrett rushed over to your side to open the passenger door and offer a hand to you.
With your hand laced with his, you guys made your way to the porch. The front door swung open. Dean stepped outside, twirling your car keys around one finger. “Your car is officially here.”
“My hero,” you pretended to gush. “Thanks, Dean.”
“No problem, Angel.”
Dean tossed the keys in your direction, but Garrett intercepted and caught them. He kept hold of them and pointed them to pop open the trunk. The movement was so familiar that neither of you really reacted. Unfortunately, Dean did, and so did Logan and Tucker, who were right behind him.
Immediately. They exchanged a look. You pretended not to notice. Garrett definitely noticed.
“Alright,” Garrett announced. “Let’s move this circus inside.”
You all turned to look at your car and the full trunk. Silence. You cleared your thoughts. “What?”
Logan pointed to the mountain of boxes. “You know you’re sharing a space with G, right?”
“We’ll make it work.” You shrugged.
Tucker went to pick up one of the boxes, and he immediately regretted it. “What is in this?”
“Just books.”
“All of them?”
You nodded proudly, “I like reading.”
“Nobody likes reading that much,” Dean retorted.
You pulled your hand away from Garrett to snatch the box away from Tucker. “Give me my children.”
Garrett laughed, and the sound made you smile before you could stop yourself. “Come on,” he said, taking the box from your arms before you could protest.
“Hey!”
“No, Petal.”
“I can carry it,” you defended.
“I know.” He said, heading into the house.
Instead of arguing, you sighed, picked up another box, and followed him inside. Dean, Logan, and Tucker were standing still, which, in passing, you told them, “I thought you guys were going to help?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” The three all got a box of their own to carry in.
The inside of the house was exactly what you expected. A little chaotic, but you could tell that they made an effort to tidy up the house for your arrival. It was comfortable. The kitchen looked surprisingly clean.
“I’m a mean cook, Angel. Just you wait,” Tucker boasted before going up the stairs to drop off the box in Garrett’s room. Well, now your shared room.
Any nerves that you had about transferring to Briar and moving in with the guys disappeared. This didn’t feel like walking into a house of strangers. It felt like walking into a place you’ve somehow already been a hundred times.
Maybe because Garrett was here, or that his friends welcomed you without hesitation. Everyone kept making room for you without even realizing they were doing it.
By the time the second trip down to the car was made, you were already helping Dean and Logan make fun of Garrett’s habit of neatly folding laundry.
By the third trip, Tucker is asking you what your favorite meal is, so he can try to make it. Then Logan explained the house’s completely unnecessary ranking system for takeout restaurants, and somehow you’re laughing through all of it.
Dean placed the final box onto the floor. “Important question.”
“Which is?” you asked back while looking through a box full of shoes in dust bags.
“You’re completely okay with just moving into his room,” Dean gestured around Garrett’s master bedroom.
“He offered,” you shrugged, “And it’s not like we haven’t shared rooms before. Growing up on summer vacations, our parents always figured that we would sneak into each other’s rooms anyway, so they just started putting us together by the time we were seven.”
“That clarification should’ve come when we first called last week,” Logan said.
“I hate living here.” Garrett rubbed a hand over his face.
“No, you don’t, G,” Tucker mumbled.
By midnight, only a few boxes were left to unpack, and you guys gathered in the living room for some late-night pizza. The kitchen light was off, the room was illuminated by the TV, and six pizza boxes had taken over the coffee table.
Dean was on his fifth slice and in full interrogation mode. “Okay,” he said, pointing at you and Garrett. “We have questions,” he said, pointing to Logan, Tucker, and himself.
“Yup, we all do,” Logan added, leaning back against the couch.
Tucker nodded. “Especially because he’s acted weird for an entire week.”
“I haven’t acted weird,” Garrett tried to pass off. All three of the roommates stared at him.
You laughed into your drink. Garrett looked betrayed.
Dean pointed dramatically, “First question: how long have you two known each other?”
You and Garrett answered at the same time, “Since birth.”
No response.
“Literally?” Logan blinked. “He neglected to mention that he had a childhood best friend.”
“Literally,” you repeated. “Our moms were best friends before we were born.”
“How?” Dean gaped.
“Buddy, I think you all know who our dads are.” You gently parented him.
“And your grandfather?” Logan asked.
“Former head Rangers coach, as you guys know. Only stepped down after my dad retired from hockey,” you told him while reaching for another slice. Before you had to get up from your place next to Garrett, Tucker plopped another slice on your place. “Thanks, Tuck.”
“Who’s older?” Dean went.
You rolled your eyes at the question, knowing what was coming.
“Me,” Garrett claimed proudly.
“By one month,” you scoffed. “You guys would never believe how many times he pulled that out in an argument.”
“I’m older,” Garrett dismissed.
“By thirty-one days.” You deadpanned.
“Still older.”
“You brought it up constantly.”
“Because it’s true.”
Logan looked delighted. “This explains so much.”
“What does it explain?” Garrett questioned.
“Why you two act like a married couple.” Logan’s words had you choking on your drink. Garrett nearly did the same, but he was quick to rub your back in soothing motions. The action really didn’t help your case. Dean howled in laughter after catching it. Logan and Tucker snickered to themselves.
After calming down, Dean moved on to his next question. “How have we never heard of you before?”
The room went a little quieter. Garrett mumbled, “You guys know I don’t really talk about home.”
No one pushed. They all knew that much.
The boys knew Garrett didn’t like interacting with his dad and that his mom had passed away when he was younger. What they didn’t know was that you had been there through it all.
You nudged his knee with yours, and he glanced at you briefly. Just for a moment, but his shoulders loosened a little.
“There was never a reason to bring me up. I was away in New York, and god knows that Columbia kept me busy enough to have any downtime,” you explained. “And you guys were always away when I would visit during the summer.”
“Wait, a damn minute.” Dean paused mid-bite.
“What’d you just say?” Logan was taken aback.
“What do you mean by that?” Tucker probed.
Garrett shook his head and poked you in the side. “They didn’t know that, Petal.”
“Well, now they do.” You finished the last bit of your slice and put your plate on the coffee table. You leaned back against the couch and tucked your feet under you. Garrett lifted his arm, and you scooted closer to his side.
His arm came behind your waist, and his hand landed on your hip. He tugged you to be snug against his side.
“Now, a serious question,” Dean remarked, even though he felt like he was interrupting something.
“Dangerous start.” Your laugh was airy, with tiredness starting to dawn on you.
“Who said ‘I love you’ first?”
“Straight for the kill,” Logan snorted.
“Oh god,” Tucker mumbled into his drink.
“So help me, god.” You heard Garrett mutter under his breath. You turned your head to look at Garrett and found him already facing you. “We’re not answering that,” Garrett scoffed.
“There was a first time!” Dean gasped.
“Everyone has a first time,” Garrett attempted to brush him off, but he replied too quickly to seem casual.
“That is not helping your case, G.” Logan chuckled.
Dean sat back, feeling victorious. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?” you asked.
“That whatever this is–” Dean gestured between you and Garrett, “–has been happening for years.”
Garrett groaned.
Tucker nodded thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m just glad you finally showed up. He’s been unbearable this week.”
“I have not.”
You laughed again, and before you could think about stopping yourself, you leaned your head against Garrett’s shoulder.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it was, and Garrett didn’t even hesitate before leaning back.
Dean, Logan, and Tucker exchanged identical looks like before. None of them said a word. They didn’t need to. The answer to every question was sitting right there on the couch for them to see.
The next morning, you woke up to Dean banging against the bedroom door. The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds. You turned slightly and felt your cheek brushing against Garrett’s bare skin. The bed was a sight of tangled limbs and Garrett’s head tucked into the crook of your neck.
The persistent knocking caused him to shift in his sleep, an arm instinctively tightening around you.
“Gare, I cannot breathe.” You attempted to pull yourself away from his grasp.
“Baby, it’s too early,” Garrett murmured in your ear, not aware of the knocking yet.
“Guys, wake up, we want to go to breakfast!” Dean yelled from the other side of the door.
“Dean, just come in,” you permitted him.
The door creaked softly, and Dean entered the room with a hand covering his eyes. “Angel, are you guys decent?”
“You wish I wasn’t.” You chucked a pillow at him, which he annoyingly caught.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Garrett grumbled, realizing Dean was in the room.
“The guys and I want to get breakfast at Malone’s, and Angel hasn’t been yet, so it’s perfect.” Dean begun. “We’re leaving in 30 minutes.”
“That sounds great. We’ll be ready,” you told him.
“Okay, okay, now get out,” Garrett shooed Dean away.
“Angel, you see what we’ve had to deal with?”
“Try dealing with him for your entire life,” you countered.
“You’re a strong woman.”
“The best. Now, seriously, man, out.” Garrett pointed an arm to the door.
“Fine, but you guys better be downstairs soon!” Dean said as he shuffled out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Finally,” Garrett mumbled, tucking his head back into your neck.
“Bub, we have to get up.” You ran a hand through his hair. You felt him smile against your skin. “Come on, let me up,” your hand continuing to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Baby, I haven’t woken up with you in my arms for months. You’re breaking my heart here.” Garrett expressed, trying to be serious, but the whisper of a smile played at the edges of his lips.
“You are being dramatic.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Fortunate for me.” He pressed a kiss against your forehead and finally loosened his grasp around you.
You rose from the bed and stretched. You looked out the window. “This is nice.”
“Yeah,” Garrett replied. You turned back to face him.
You found him already staring at you.
The drive to Malone’s was chatterful. Your car was chosen, but the designated driver was Garrett. You were seated in the passenger seat, holding Garrett’s hand in your lap. The backseat arrangement was laughable. Dean, Tucker, and Logan, in that order, were squeezed into your back seats, which you always felt like were spacious when driving with your friends. But with three hockey players in place, they were like a tin of sardines.
When Garrett finally parked, Logan was the first out of the car and almost tripped over his own legs, with Tucker trying to push him to get out faster.
Logan beat Garrett to opening your door. “Angel,” he said, a smirk pinching at his cheeks while he offered his hand to you.
“You’re doing this on purpose.” You stifled a laugh as you peeked at Garrett, who was five steps short of your door.
“Let me have this one?” Logan whispered. You took his hand and got out of the car. Rather than letting go of your hand, he wrapped your arms together and guided you to the entrance of Malone’s. “You are going to love this place, Angel.”
“Petal.”
You heard him say from behind you, turning back to look at him. “Yes, Gare?”
Garrett Graham would never admit to pouting, but lo and behold, a sliver of a pout was edging his lips. “You’re just leaving me behind?” he gaped. Instead of responding, you let Logan lead you guys in.
“Snubbed by your own girl, that’s got to be tough.” Dean clapped a hand on Garrett’s shoulder.
“G, stop moping and let’s go. I’m hungry, man,” Tucker told him, heading in after you and Logan.
Inside, you and Logan were waiting by a booth. Logan slid into one side, and you to the other. Tucker sat next to Logan. Dean dragged over a spare chair, spun it around backwards, and sat at the end of the booth. Garrett stopped at the edge of the booth. “Oh, now you want to be next to me?”
Ignoring his dramatics, you looked up from the menu. “What do you guys usually get?”
Garrett sighed pitifully. He slid next to you and snaked his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. You automatically put the menu in front of both of you. “You’ll like the berry waffles.”
“Sounds yummy.” You leaned your head against his shoulder.
“You’d think they didn’t wake up next to each other,” Dean teased. “Garrett, get a grip, dude.”
Even with the teasing, Logan, Tucker, and Dean enjoyed seeing Garrett like this. A kind of softness that he never really displayed to people besides you. The tenderness as he whispered to you as if no one else existed. The way the menu was shared, and Garrett was pointing out all the things he thought you would like to try at some point.
A waitress came by with coffee. Without asking, Garrett reached over and slid a mug in front of him before adding two sugar packets. Then a splash of cream. He stirred it once before pushing it toward you. “There.”
“Thanks, baby.” You took a sip. “Perfect.” You pressed a kiss against his jaw.
“You didn’t even watch him make it,” Logan commented.
“I don’t have to?” Your eyebrows pulled together, showing your slight confusion.
“You just trusted whatever he put in it?”
“He’s made my coffee since I first started drinking coffee.”
Logan blinked. “They’ve killed me.”
“God, I forgot that you guys have been married for years,” Dean joked.
Tucker ignored the rest of the group and got to ordering. The rest of you followed suit.
Around the diner, people had definitely started noticing. Mostly because four starting hockey players were difficult to ignore, especially when one of those players is the captain, Garrett Graham. What really stuck out was you, the unfamiliar girl who leaned into his side as if you belonged there.
Whispers bounced between tables.
“Who is she?”
“Is that the new transfer girl people have been talking about?”
“How does she have Graham bringing her with the guys?”
“I thought he said he doesn’t do girlfriends.”
Two girls near the counter glanced over one too many times. One leaned toward the other. “I’ve literally never seen him with a girl before.”
“Maybe she’s his sister.”
You happened to laugh at something Garrett said, but the smile that was plastered across his face said it all.
One of the girls frowned. “Definitely not his sister.”
Dean noticed before anyone else. Without turning around, he spoke just loudly enough for it to reach anyone sitting at the counter. “Man.” The others looked at him. “It’s amazing how people forget that minding their own business is free.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Tucker said bluntly. The whispering behind him immediately quieted.
Logan casually leaned back in the booth. “It’s almost like we have our own lives.”
There was a softness that came over your features. It radiated such appreciative affection for such new, devoted friends. The guys defended you as if you were their own, without a second thought or hesitation.
Dean caught your eye and winked at you. “We’ve got your back, Angel.”
“Always,” Logan added.
“You’ve got us for life, Angel,” Tucker finished.
“You guys are going to make me cry.” You teared up a bit, and your face flushed with heat at the gesture. Garrett rubbed at your side soothingly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Angel, we’re practically family already,” Logan reasoned, sending you a sweet smile.
“I am going to be the best uncle ever,” Tucker claimed, nodding his head.
“But I get to be the Godfather,” Dean asserted in full seriousness, but the act dropped quickly with a grin spreading across his face.
“We’ll play rock, paper, scissors for it.” Logan contended, waving a hand at Dean.
Garrett snorted, shifting the attention to him. “Unlikely,” he scoffed jokingly under his breath, but it wasn’t quiet enough for the guys not to catch it, and especially not for you.
You pressed a hand against the one he had on your side. Your thumb rubbed circles against his knuckles.
“Listen, buddy, we never said you had to be the dad,” Logan tutted at Garrett.
You felt Garrett stiff beside you. “That’s not even funny, man.”
“Oh, this is gold.” Tucker snickered at Garrett’s obvious displeasure at the mere idea of you creating a life with someone else.
“I’m fine.” You all caught on to Garrett’s voice and how defensive he sounded.
Dean wasn’t ready to end Garrett’s suffering just yet. “You want blond babies, Angel?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “They’d be beautiful.”
Your whole body shook with laughter at Dean’s insinuation. You didn’t see Garrett’s face, but the guys did. The way his brow wrinkled into a deep frown. His right eye twitched while he was glaring down at Dean. “Godfather, typically means you’d have to be alive for the role.”
Dean paled slightly. Instead of replying, he took a long sip from his water, gulping awkwardly.
Tucker had put his hand to muzzle his laugh that was threatening to spill out.
Logan was suddenly very interested in a ketchup bottle. “These ingredients are so funny.”
The waitress came up to the table with breakfast, unaware of the scene she was walking into. “Hope you all enjoy,” she said, setting plates in front of each of you. She refilled your waters before finally walking away from the booth.
Garrett’s frown dropped just like that. Before you could reach for the syrup, Garrett poured it perfectly on your waffles. You grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate. You took a bite of about half of it before you offered it up to Garrett’s mouth. He ate the rest without questioning.
Neither of you looked exactly at each other, but the way you moved with ease and avoided bumping into one another said it all.
Neither of you broke the conversation either. Garrett asked if you liked the waffles. You nodded sweetly, taking another bite. He hummed, satisfied in response. It happened so naturally that it was obvious that neither of you even processed how you guys were.
Across the table, Logan stared.
Then at Tucker.
Then at Dean.
“I think we’ve been upgraded from roommates,” Logan muttered to the two.
“We’re just watching these two domesticate each other in real time.” Tucker looked a bit in awe at how evidently you both were in tune with one another.
Dean nodded solemnly, “I think we’re witnessing a thirty-year marriage before the first date.” He took another bite of the pancakes. “They’re hopeless.”
You and Garrett looked over. “What?” you both asked at the same time.
The three roommates burst into laughter. You and Garrett looked at each other, and despite having no idea what was so funny. You both started laughing, too.
Della, from behind the counter, watched the way the five of you fit together. She had never seen the boys the way they are right at this moment. She immediately decided that you were a missing piece in a very chaotic puzzle of hockey players. You belonged at that table.
Breakfast lingered long after the plates had been cleared.
The conversation drifted from hockey to classes, then somehow to the time that Dean accidentally set the kitchen toaster on fire. “It was defective,” Dean insisted.
“It exploded because you put a Pop-Tart in sideways,” Tucker replied.
“That’s a design flaw.”
“More like user error.”
You laughed at the pair, shaking your head. You tapped against Garrett’s thigh. “I’ll be right back.”
“Bathroom?” Garrett slid out of the booth to let you out.
“Mhm.” He helped you out like a gentleman and kissed your hand before you walked away from the table.
You did head toward the hallway for exactly seven steps. Then you quietly veered toward the register, looking over your shoulder, and the guys were busy talking about the next home game coming up in a week.
The waitress looked up with a smile. “Everything okay, honey?”
“Perfect, actually.” You pulled out your card that you had sneaked into your pocket before you left earlier. “I’d like to pay for our table.”
She glanced toward the booth. “The hockey boys?”
“Yeah.” You smiled.
“They’re usually fighting over who pays.”
“I figured.”
“You sure? Honey, I’m positive that none of those boys would want you to pay.”
You looked over your shoulder again. The four of them were full of laughter. Logan was dramatically reenacting whatever play he was retelling. Tucker looked like he regretted encouraging him. Dean was adding in parts that Logan was leaving out. And Garrett. He was watching the conversation with that quiet little smile he’d worn almost all morning.
It tugged at something in your chest. “They’ve been really good to me.”
The waitress followed your gaze. “You’ve known them for a long time?” She wondered.
“Just the one I was sitting next to.”
She rang up the bill. You tipped her generously when signing off the receipt. When she handed your copy, you tucked it into your pocket along with your card before anyone could notice.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sweetie.”
When you returned, Dean looked up. “That was fast.”
“I think we’re ready to finish up here,” Tucker said.
“I physically cannot move.” Dean leaned back and rubbed his stomach.
“You had seven pancakes,” Logan reminded him.
“I regret nothing.”
Garrett politely signalled for the waitress’s attention. She placed the check holder at the edge of the table. “Huh,” Garrett muttered when he reached for it.
“What?” Logan asked.
“It’s empty.”
Dean frowned. “What do you mean it’s empty?”
“The bill.”
“You guys already paid?” Tucker questioned.
Garrett looked at the others. “I didn’t.”
“I was waiting for him,” Dean said, pointing to Garrett.
“So was I,” Tucker admitted.
The waitress walked by carrying another tray to pick up the empty plates off the table. “You boys are all set.”
Four heads turned. You busied yourself with applying some lip balm. “What?”
Logan shook his head.
“It was taken care of already.” The booth fell completely silent.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward you.
“Petal,” Garrett said.
“No.” You stopped.
“You paid?” He scoffed.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely paid,” Logan retorted.
“You didn’t have to do that, Angel,” Dean said.
“I didn’t do anything,” you shrugged.
“Bullshit,” Garrett muttered.
“Breakfast seemed like a pretty cheap way to say thank you for letting me into your lives so easily.”
The table was quiet for another moment. Then Dean stood up. “Oh.”
“What?” You glanced at him. Tucker and Logan slid out of the booth to stand as well. Garrett did the same. Your eyes flickered to each of them. They all shared a look and nodded. In a blink, you were bombarded by the four. They hugged, keeping you in the middle. “Guys, I can’t breathe.”
“Too late,” Logan mumbled.
“Petal, we don’t need that.”
You were holding up two different colored fluffy throw blankets. “Do you like the dark blue better or the gray?” ignoring Garrett’s statement.
“You’re not going to use it, and it’ll end up on the floor.”
“I can use it in the living room.” You brushed him off.
“Okay, fine, just get both. One for the living room and the other for the bed.” Garrett gave in.
You hummed to yourself triumphantly. “You see, that wasn’t so hard.” You brushed a faint kiss against the left side of his jawline before you put the blankets in the cart.
A husband who was in the same aisle with his wife had watched the short interaction between you and Garrett. He had a fond expression written across his face. “Son, happy wife, happy life.” He simply said before following his wife out of the aisle.
“Are you planning a proposal I don’t know about yet?” You teased Garrett, grinning at him. Your faces were inches apart.
Garrett brought a hand to your face with his thumb gently stroking your cheek. His face carried a relaxed smile. His gaze was locked into your eyes. “Not yet. But eventually.”
You wished his words would surprise you, but in reality, it was more of a confirmation than anything else. “I think we’re skipping a few steps.” You placed a hand on his chest, and you could feel the beating of his heart.
“Like there would be anyone for me other than you,” Garrett murmured.
You could tell he was holding himself back. The way he brought himself closer to you and tilted his face to yours. His pupils dilated, and you could feel his heartbeat start to quicken. “You know, for a second there, I thought you were finally going to do it.”
“If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”
“Who said you had to?”
His lips brushed against yours. It felt like he was trying to test the waters. Your hand slid from his chest to his jaw. The hand on your cheek pulled you in even closer, if that was possible. His lips smiled against yours.
The gap finally closed. The way his lips parted against your own so gently. The kiss was chaste since you both were standing in a store. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He said, pulling away to look back into your dazed eyes.
You pecked his lips again. “We never stood a chance.”
“Against what?”
“Us.”
“It’s you and me forever, Petal.”
The next week breezed past you before you knew it. The transition to classes was easier than you were expecting. Another thing you thought was going to be difficult was you and Garrett, but really, other than stolen kisses in hidden hallways or late nights in the kitchen. The pair of you hardly had to change anything.
Sure, Garrett was even more affectionate than usual, but it wasn’t overly done where the guys caught on to you two. It kind of felt fun keeping it between you and Garrett. Not that either of you meant to keep a secret. It just hadn’t come up, and anyone who had been around lately either assumed you were already dating or, like the guys, just got used to the fact that you and Garrett were suspiciously close.
Plenty of people on campus just thought that the new transfer student finally locked down the infamous Garrett Graham. Not many knew or cared to find out that you guys knew each other prior. No one found that you had moved in either, not that it was any of their business.
As much as you tried not to let it get to you, the puck bunnies were hard to ignore. Especially with the Briar Hawks having a home game soon, everyone was buzzing around you. From the guys’ endless practices and workout sessions to students’ nonstop chatter about the game and after-parties.
Garrett was quick to assure you that the minute he found out that you were coming to Briar. He hadn’t even thought about another girl since. Not that mattered anyway. It wasn’t like you were a saint in New York. You had your fair share of dates that Garrett, over the years, pretended didn’t bother him when you would call him excitedly to prepare for one.
You could hold your own, but that didn’t stop the irk you would get overhearing the bunnies talk about “whatever” you and Garrett had would never last long before he got bored.
You didn’t doubt your new relationship with Garrett. Even your mothers were rooting for you two to end up together, the second they found out about each other’s pregnancies. Garrett was yours just as much as you were his. It’s been like that since the two of you could walk.
“Baby, I’ll see you and the family later at the game, I got to run to meet with coach. I love you.” was the last thing you heard from Garrett at seven in the morning before he hurriedly pressed a kiss against your forehead before heading out the room. You weren’t even fully coherent enough to reply. Just hummed happily before dozing back off.
You decided that around nine it was time to get up for the day. You had the house empty to yourself. The first time since you moved in. Even with everyone’s hectic schedules, there was usually at least one or two other people home. Not that you minded the company, it let you know the guys better and their habits, which some were admittedly messier than others.
Your feet padded down against the staircase. You found yourself looking for something in the fridge to make for lunch. With the game being later into the night, you had plenty of time to get ready for it. Right now, you chose to make lunch for the guys. You had bought a huge slab of salmon the other day and decided that it was the perfect thing to pair with some rice and steamed vegetables for the guys. Just like your dad’s game day lunch.
Music blasted in the house while you cooked. You set out individual meal prep containers that you hadn’t had the chance to use since you bought them. You portioned out a slice of salmon, rice mixed with quinoa, along with steamed broccoli and cauliflower to each container. It was close to noon, and you knew by the time you got to the arena, it would be perfect timing for lunch.
You hadn’t told anyone that you were planning to stop by to drop off the food. The players were still on the ice when you entered the arena. You stopped to sit down a few rows behind the players’ bench while you waited for them to finish their drills. No one had noticed you yet, except for Coach Jensen.
His brows drew together as he tried to figure out if he recognized you. At first, he assumed you were a bunny trying to sneak into watching practice, but his eyes landed on what seemed to be a thermal food bag.
“Definitely a girlfriend.” He thought to himself.
He saw how you watched the boys with trained eyes. It was as if he could see you mentally noting what some of them could work on. That piqued his interest. “Okay. Let’s head to lunch!” He called out to the players on the ice. “I thought I said no girlfriends during practice.” He threw in right after, causing you to snap your head in his direction and see him already looking back at you.
“I’m just dropping off lunch!” You sheepishly called out. You made your way down, and Garrett was quick on the ice to make it over to you. “Hey, bub.” You smiled, watching him take off his helmet.
“That’s the missus, coach!” Logan hollered from across the ice.
“Angel!” Dean’s voice boomed with the sound of his skates coming to a stop near you and Garrett.
Tucker was the only one out of the four to catch what you told Coach Jensen. “I heard lunch?”
“I hope that’s for us too and not just, G!” Logan called out, making his way over.
“Missus?” Coach Jensen questioned to himself more than anyone in particular.
“Is that the transfer from New York?”
“I want lunch, too.”
“She’s the one G was with when we saw him at Malone’s the other day.”
“I didn’t know bunnies made lunches.”
That was the chatter that was amongst some of the other players.
Garrett tuned them out and honed his attention to just focus on you. “You didn’t have to bring lunch for me, Petal.”
“Great! Because I didn’t make it just for you.” Your voice was loud enough for Logan to hear, resulting in him whooping out a cheer. You brought the bag to your front and shook it ever so slightly at the four. “If your coach is okay with me bringing food to feed some of his players…” You trailed off, glancing back at Coach Jensen, who simply was amused by this whole interaction. Never in his life had he seen his star player/captain turn so soft in a matter of seconds, or give any girl the time of day on a game day.
“Whatcha got to feed these hooligans?” He walked over. You opened the bag for him to take a peek in. He could see the stack of meals you prepared for the guys. His eyes spotted how you made sure to take into account protein and grains along with the vegetables. “Not too bad.”
“Approved?” you said hopefully.
“Just make sure they get back to me after lunch is over.” He winked at you in approval before making his way to the locker room.
“Give us a bit, Petal. We’re going to take off the gear, and we’ll come back out. Make yourself comfy on the bench.” Garrett pressed a kiss against your cheek before skating off the ice.
The other three saluted you as they passed by, following Garrett to the locker room. It didn’t take them long to find their way back to you. By the time they returned. They noticed the four containers neatly laid out with a fork sitting on top of each lid, with a napkin placed underneath it.
Dean whistled out, “Angel, you’re my favorite.” He started to pass around a container, so each one of them had one.
Tucker had been the first to open it and see what you made. “Smells delicious, Angel. Is that rice mixed with quinoa? Oh, you’re good.” He complimented, blowing you a kiss.
“Our savior,” Logan greeted you with a side hug and a kiss against the top of your head. Before grabbing a container of his own and taking a seat. “Oh, TIGS.”
“Dude, what does that even mean?” Dean questioned him. “This is good shit?”
“No. This is god sent.”
“Thanks, baby,” Garrett murmured to you in appreciation. He had found his place at your side. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Yeah, it’s dad’s game day lunch.” You two were sat pressed next to one another. Your eyes scanned over to the other guys. A satisfied smile wreathed your lips.
Dean closed his eyes, letting out a blissful sigh as he swallowed. “G, you’re evil for not introducing us to Angel sooner.”
Tucker paused to chew, pointing his fork at the salmon. “This is delectable. Thank you, Angel.”
Logan mumbled, his mouth still half-full. “Angel, where were you the past three years on game days? This is so good.”
Garrett just laughed at the three’s antics. “And this is why you didn’t meet them until now.”
“We heard that,” Dean called out.
“How are you guys feeling about tonight?” you asked them, shifting the conversation.
“We got to make sure we win your first Briar hockey game,” Logan affirmed.
“Not her first Briar game,” Garrett corrected before taking another bite of the food. The remark made the other three pause mid-bite/chew.
“She’s been to one before?” Logan raised a brow at him
“Angel, we could’ve known each other much sooner!” Dean yelped dramatically.
“Not the first hockey game, but my first official home game,” you explained.
“When did you see one?” Tucker asked you.
“I’ve been to a few,” you admitted. “My first one was Garrett’s first game playing because how could I ever miss that? Then I’ve been to a couple away games you guys had when it was close to New York. Most recently before the transfer, I went to Garrett’s first game as captain.”
“Hold on a minute,” Dean said. “You’ve been to all these games, and we never knew?”
“Never needed to bring it up,” Garrett shrugged.
“Wait, is that you got so weird at some of the away games? I always thought you were nervous or some shit,” Logan said in an epiphany. He snapped at Garrett’s direction, “I knew it was weird when you didn’t come out with us after.”
“Like that Clovers game! I just figured you were meeting up with a bunny–” Dean was cut off.
“No, I took Petal to dinner after the game.”
“Oh, that was the nice Italian place!” You recalled it in your memory.
“We don’t get taken to dinners after games,” Logan scoffed playfully.
“We’ll take you to dinner tonight, Angel,” Dean offered with a grin.
“Even better, I’ll cook you dinner, Angel.” Tucker winked.
“Sorry, boys. Not tonight. Gare’s got the family coming in to see this game. I’m sure Gramps will want dinner together tonight.”
“Your family is coming tonight? Like actually? I thought that was just like a joke your dad was making.” Logan gaped. “And your grandfather wants dinner?”
“Not with you shitheads,” Garrett snickered.
You smacked his arm lightly. “Be nice. They can come if they want to.”
“Family dinner with hockey royalty,” Dean said, a bit starstruck.
“G, how are you not shitting in your pants?” Tucker said, baffled.
“Her dad is okay with her living with us, right?” Logan brought up.
“More importantly, he knows that you guys are sharing a bed?” Dean added.
Garrett put down the now empty container. “Guys.”
“Yes, my dad is perfectly fine with my living situation. He knows that we’re together, and he trusts Garrett. Well, I think the entire family has had a bet going on since we were conceived.”
“Ma, definitely had one with Mom. You remember when we went to Vancouver for vacation?”
“That was what? When we were ten?”
“Yeah, Ma slid over twenty bucks to Mom during dinner when I was cutting your steak–”
“YOU GUYS ARE TOGETHER?” Dean yelled out the second it clicked in his head.
“Honestly, quicker than I expected,” Tucker claimed.
“Let’s not kid ourselves. They were always together.” Logan retorted.
You tore your eyes from Garrett’s and looked back at the guys. You felt heat flush your face, realizing what you casually said. “Yeah, we’re together.” You couldn’t help the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth.
“Since when?” Tucker questioned.
“The day we brought back the blue blanket from the couch.”
“Oh, I love that blanket,” Logan noted.
“I know, it’s so soft!” You happily clapped your hands together.
“It’s really warm, too,” Logan added.
“You didn’t tell us sooner?” Dean wondered.
Garrett kept his eyes on you. How you animatedly expressed your love of the blanket. The way your eyes lit up when you talked. “Honestly, just slipped my mind. I mean, it’s just so natural being with her.”
“You talking about little old me?” You playfully fluttered your eyelashes at him. “I love being with you, too, love.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, pulling away with a gentle smile.
By the time warm-ups began, the arena was already loud. Student sections were filling with painted faces and homemade signs. Lots of 44 were seen around the arena. The pep band was halfway through the fight song.
Garrett tapped his stick against the boards before skating another lap, absently scanning the stands. He always looked. Even when there wasn’t anyone to find.
But tonight was different. Halfway up behind the home bench sat you, your parents, and grandparents. Your dad had a custom Garrett 44 hat, with your mom sporting 44 on her cheek. You spotted him almost immediately and stood, waving both hands over your head.
Garrett couldn’t help but smile. You were wearing his jersey. His actual jersey. Not one you’d buy from a gift shop. One he’d given you the second you started talking about wanting to plan your outfit.
You gestured to your parents excitedly. Garrett came to a stop, and he scanned the seats next to you. His pause was noticed by Logan. He lifted his stick toward the stands.
“What a night,” Logan looked over in its direction.
Dean nearly skated into Logan. “Man, what are you looking at?” Then he saw them too.
Tucker answered before anyone else. “That’s the family.” His eyes looked over two seats next to you, and rest assured, your grandfather sat there with the quiet confidence of someone who’d once stood behind an NHL bench for nearly twenty seasons.
Dean examined your grandfather. He looked older now compared to clips from his coaching days. The former head coach of the New York Rangers. A living legend. Not to mention your father, who sat next to you. Dean looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. “They came for him.”
Your grandfather looked down toward the ice. He spotted Garrett and raised one hand. Garrett’s smile widened even more. He lifted his glove and waved back. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Logan stared.
You laughed from the stands and leaned over to say something to your dad. He smiled, then cupped his hand around his mouth. “ATTABOY, SON!” The words echoed faintly across the ice. Garrett let out a laugh, then tapped his stick twice against the glass in front of them.
The announcer interrupted, “Ladies and gentlemen.” Warm-ups were over.
The game was fast and physical. Two teams were fighting to lead the conference. By the end of the first period, it was tied one to one.
Logan threw a huge hit that brought the crowd to its feet. Dean blocked a shot that probably should’ve gone in. Garrett had two chances and saved both. Every time he returned to the bench, his eyes drifted toward your section.
To the same five people who always cheered him on and like how they always would.
Late in the third period, it was still a tie game with only three minutes left. The arena buzzed with nervous energy. Coach Jensen leaned over the boards. “One more shift.”
Garrett nodded, and the puck dropped. Tucker won it clean, and it was back to Dean, then across Logan, who’d carried through center before slipping it wide. Garrett caught it in a stride. There was one defender. Garrett cut inside and the defender bit. Open lane. For the smallest fraction of a second, everything went quiet. He had snapped the puck.
Top corner. Bar down. Ping. The sound rang through the arena. The red light exploded with the building erupting. Goal.
Students leapt to their feet, and the bench emptied over the boards. Logan tackled Garrett first. Dean nearly knocked both of them over. Tucker arrived a heartbeat later. The arena shook with applause. You were already screaming with both hands over your mouth and tears filling your eyes.
Your dad was on his feet, clapping so hard that his palms had turned visibly red. Your grandfather stood beside him, grinning with unmistakable pride. The television camera caught them easily. “Hockey royalty celebrating that goal,” one commentator laughed. “Looks like they approve.”
The final horn sounded moments later. Briar Hawks won.
When Garrett stepped off the ice, an arena attendant waved him over. “They’re waiting.” He didn’t need to ask who. The family entrance hallway smelled faintly of popcorn and fresh ice.
The moment that Garret rounded the corner, “There he is!” you ran to him. He caught you before you even reached full speed, lifting you clean off the floor as you wrapped yourself around him. “I almost lost my voice!”
He laughed into your hair. “I heard.”
You pulled back just enough to kiss him. Like it belonged there with such ease. When you stepped aside, your dad opened his arms. “Come over here, son.” Garrett didn’t hesitate and hugged him tightly.
“Good game, Pop.”
“You kidding?” Your dad squeezed his shoulder. “That release would’ve beaten me.”
“You don’t have to say that,” Garrett attempted to be modest.
“I know,” your dad brushed Garrett’s hair back from his face. “But I mean it.”
Next came your mom. She cupped his face in both hands before pulling him into a hug. “You look exhausted.”
“I feel exhausted,” Garrett admitted.
“You eating enough?” Your mom tapped his cheek.
“Ma.”
“I asked a question.” She persisted.
“Yes, Ma.” Your grandfather stood, waiting with his hand tucked into his coat pocket. Garrett stopped in front of him. “Hey, Gramps.”
The older man looked over him for a long second and nodded, “I’m proud of you.”
Garrett swallowed hard, “Thanks.”
“You earned that one.” The former coach clapped him firmly on the shoulder. “Now stop standing around me and go stand next to Petal.” You immediately slid back to Garrett’s side. Your grandfather pointed between you two, “Took you long enough.”
Your mom laughed. “I was beginning to think I should’ve agreed to a betrothal that your mom and I talked about once.”
Your dad shrugged, “I would have given them another year.”
Garrett rubbed the back of his neck. “It was obvious?” Every member of the family stared at him. He sighed, “Never mind?”
“Hey!” Another familiar voice echoed down the hallway. Dean, Logan, and Tucker rounded the corner, still carrying pieces of their gear. They stopped the second they saw your family. Every single one of the three stood a little straighter.
Dean whispered, “Oh my God.”
Logan elbowed him, “Be normal.”
“I’m trying,” Dean told him.
Tucker quietly failed to hide his awe.
You laughed, “You guys! Come over here!” You motioned them over. “This is Dean, Logan, and Tucker,” you introduced them to your family. The three hockey players suddenly looked like nervous freshmen again.
Your father smiled first and shook each of their hands, “Good game, boys.”
Dean looked as though he might frame the handshake. “Sir, I watched your highlights growing up.”
Your father laughed. “Now I feel old.”
“You are old,” Your grandfather commented.
“I walked right into that one,” Your dad admitted.
The former head Rangers coach shook hands with each of them too. “I like watching your line.” The three roommates collectively forgot how words worked.
“Thank you, sir,” Logan managed.
“That means a lot,” Tucker remarked.
Your grandfather smiled, “You boys play the game the right way.”
Dean quietly leaned toward Garrett and you, “I’m never washing this hand.”
Garrett snorted, and you laughed, leaning into his side, “I figured.”
Your mom looked around the group. “So, who’s hungry?” Every hand went up, and she laughed, “Perfect, go get changed and let’s head out.”
The players immediately obeyed. Garrett kissed the side of your head. “I’ll be back out.”
As the guys started walking together, Dean drifted beside Garrett. “So…”
“What?” Garrett glanced over at him.
“They really are your family.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He looked back to the group waiting for them. At the people that had supported him through everything. Then looked back at the guys, the friends who had become brothers. Then back to you, watching as you shooed him to hurry along.
i don’t go here but this is some good food!!!! i was legit smiling this entire time reading this fic this is so so cute!!!! i love loveeeeeeeeeee <3333
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