this blog stands with palestine and if you donāt you can get the fuck out. what israel is doing is genocide and i will not tolerate anyone who supports it.
pairing: dean di laurentis x neurodivergent!reader
summary: to help you find the words to accurately describe how you feel for Dean, you create a list. you never intended for anyone to see it, least of all him.
contains: reader has behaviors that reflect those on the spectrum! no use of y/n, pet names (baby, sweetheart), sappy romance fluff, allusions to sex, kissing, cursing, teasing, tickling (sorry :/)
authorās note: apparently iāve got dean on the brain today! this is my sort of sequel to my oblivious fic! i hope u guys like it :))
It felt worth the mention that you had never been in love before.
Had you been, this might not have been an issue. But like most things in your life, you were a little late to the party. You had been in one relationship before Dean, but it hadnāt lasted long enough to create feelings beyond infatuation or mere like. With Dean, it was different, like everything was. You felt out of controlāwhich you didnāt particularly care for, but it felt like a fair trade with how happy he made youāand like there was a constant pull beneath your sternum to be near him at all times.
You liked your solitude, in fact, you needed it most times. People usually drained your social battery; just a simple exchange of pleasantries feeling exhausting some days. It was almost as if Dean had hacked your system and bypassed all the firewalls youād put in place. You never felt drained after being with him, it was actually quite the opposite, you felt energized.
You had turned into one of those girls who giggled and giddily spoke about their boyfriend. These were emotions you previously wouldnāt have reserved for even your most intense passion, let alone a man. You couldnāt understand it. It was as if some chemical had been released and it was changing your genetic makeup.
You thought perhaps the feelings would fade the longer you were together. It was new and exciting and maybe your psyche was just reacting positively to a new stimuli.
A promising theory, however it did not prove to be correct. If anything, your intense feelings grew the longer you were together. You had considered the possibility that you may love Dean, but you werenāt sure. And since he hadnāt mentioned it to you, you thought the risk was too great to venture a guess on your feelings towards him.
You knew the common solution other people might suggest would be asking a friend, but this seemed utterly mortifying to you. And how were you to know whether or not peopleās experiences differ? Were the symptoms universal? And you hadnāt a clue whether popular media, such as romantic comedies, were to be believed and taken as fact. So no, you wouldnāt be seeking the advice of otherās, there were too many āwhat ifās?ā
Hence, the list.
You liked lists. They were functional and proved helpful for various occasions, your current predicament included. You hadnāt intended for anyone to ever see it. It was for you and you alone. A solo experiment you were conducting.
You wanted to both record instances when you felt strong positive feelings towards Dean, and mark down what specifically he had done to warrant that response. Your hope was that after a few entries, you would be able to draw similarities between them and create a solid thesis.
So, alone in your room, you began writing your list in a previously empty notebook in your bedside table.
Dean didnāt do this. Sure, there had been times when he found your āface valueā tendencies to be funny, but it never felt as though he was laughing at you. He had a sort of fondness in his eyes when he looked at you, like he enjoyed the way you saw the world and the people in it.
You never felt left out when Dean was around, either. He and his friends had certain bits they liked to do with each other, and at first you found it hard to pick up on, but when you were alone he would break them down for you. He wouldnāt explain why they were funny, you could understand that, but he was letting you in on the inside joke.
He had told you once that Tuckerās mom had shown them pictures of their young friend dressed up like Mr. Mistoffelees from Cats the musical when she came to help her son move in. Ever since then, the guys had teased him mercilessly about not only enjoying Cats the musical, but dressing up as one of the actors at the age of thirteen.
One afternoon, you and Dean were sitting at the kitchen island while Tucker made breakfast, the three of you discussing the Hawksā latest game, and more specifically Tuckerās success and scored goals.
āWhat can I say? Iām magical.ā
You looked over beside you to find Dean hiding his smile behind his mug filled with coffee.
You spoke before you thought, which was not something you found yourself doing often. āMagical and mystical.ā
āMr. Mistoffelees,ā Dean sung the rest, Tucker immedaitely groaning.
āYou told her?ā He screeched. Dean laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair.
2.) He doesnāt make you stay the night at his place
As much as you loved his friends, you didnāt love spending the night at the hockey house. And it really had nothing to do with the other boys at all. It was more to do withā¦routine.
You had little things. Things most people didnāt see unless they spent the night with you, which was a very few number of people, and you intended to keep it that way.
You hadnāt always felt ashamed of displaying these behaviors that you couldnāt control, but after your last boyfriend broke up with you over them, it became something you thought to hide. Especially from Dean.
For as long as you can remember, you had a routine before bed. You would check the front door lock three times, check all of the stove burners to ensure theyāre off, and unlock and re-lock each of the windows. Once you finished your routine, you could sleep peacefully. If you didnātā¦ you did not sleep.
Your therapist had ensured you this was a behavior that was harming no one, and therefore saw no reason why you should have to stop. Usually, that validation would have been good enough for you, but now you couldnāt help but feel insecure.
Youād tried sleeping at Deanās house on two different occasions, and both left you feeling unrested and unsettled.
It was around the fifth time that you declined his invitation to stay over that he questioned you about it.
āHow come you never wanna stay at my place? Are you uncomfortable there?ā He asked you.
āNo,ā you rush to say. He gives you a look like he knows your lying. āWellā¦yes, but not because of anything youāve done.ā
āOkay,ā he trailed off like he wanted you to continue.
You took a deep breath. āI like my sheets,ā you confess.
āYouā¦like your sheets?ā He repeats like he doesnāt understand.
āYes. I got them because theyāre the perfect texture and yours are itchy. And my toothpaste is here. Yours is the weird charcoal toothpaste and I donāt like the taste, it leaves my tongue feeling dry. And your TV has a broken pixel in the top left corner that I canāt help but get distracted by every time we try to watch a show, and your front door doesnāt have a chain lock like mine does, and your air purifier is too loud, andāā
āOkay, baby.ā He moves to take your hands in his, smiling and laughing lightly at your nervous rambling. āWhy donāt we just stay at yours?ā
You blink at him. You hadnāt known that was an option. It hadnāt been in your last relationship.
āYou would want to?ā
āOf course.ā He laughs incredulously. āI just want to spend time with you, I donāt care where it is.ā
You tackled him onto his bed with a hug, pressing kisses to his face as he laughs and holds you to him like he doesnāt want to let go. You hope he doesnāt.
3.) Soft sweaters
Your list began with the more serious reasons, and at some point over the weeks turned into the smaller stuff that left you feeling warm and gooey like a freshly baked cookie.
Before Dean, you hadnāt really considered the perks of having a richer partner. Yes, obviously having money was nice, but you werenāt sure what benefit it would have specifically for you. You didnāt intend on being financially dependent on your partner; you had dreams of your own.
Then you felt cashmere and the world made sense.
āHey, baby?ā Dean called from inside his closet. You were sat criss-cross on his bed with your physics notes in your lap and your computer open in front of you.
āYeah?ā You call back without looking up.
āDo you have any idea where all my cashmere sweaters might have gone?ā You look up to find him leaning against one of the doors to his closet, his face looking like he knows exactly where all his sweaters went. And you knew too.
āNo,ā you reply in your most innocent voice you can muster. āI have no clue.ā
āHuh.ā He walks towards you, a towel slung low on his hips and his skin still damp from his shower. āThatās so weird, because what youāre wearing right now kind of looks like one.ā
The both of you look down at your top at the same time, your eyes trailing back up to his guiltily.
āItās so soft,ā you whisper your explanation.
āI know,ā he whispers back. āThatās why I bought it.ā
You sigh and then slip the material over your head. You hadnāt been wearing anything underneath, but Dean had seen you naked mulitiple times now, you didnāt think it would affect him as much as it did.
You go back to your notes, but when you notice him still standing beside the bed, the sweater you tossed to him hanging off the tips of his fingers, his eyes alight with something, you ask, āwhat?ā
He throws the sweater over his shoulder and moves to crowd you on the bed. āIt makes it even hotter that you have no idea how much you affect me.ā
4.) Dimples.
Dimples are caused by slight anatomical variations in facial tissue. A separation of muscle. It made absolutely no sense to you why Deanās had the affect on you that they did.
Maybe it was because they didnāt always come out. It was only when he smiled or laughed hard that the indents in his cheeks showed. And you did love his laugh. And his smile.
You were lying in your bed, your skin still slightly tacky from your earlier excursions, and normally that sensation would bother you, but it never did with Dean. You loved to trace over different parts of his body and watch the muscles beneath the skin work, or the goosebumps rise over his flesh and know you caused it.
When you trace over his ribs, you feel his abdomen flex and a strange, high noise leave him in a rush. You look up to him.
āWhat?ā
āNothing,ā he answers, a bit too quickly.
So you do it again, gently tracing your fingers over his ribs, and he squirms a little more intensely.
āAre you ticklish?ā You grin.
āNoā¦ā
You run your fingers over both sides of him this time and youāre rewarded by his real laugh, full and loud, with his dimples digging deep into his cheeks.
You donāt know what makes you do it, but you lean up to kiss them. First, the one closest to you, then the other. Though, they fade into just faint indents with how his smile shrank from wide to small, almost shy.
āI loveā¦ā you watch his irises expand at your words, his chest stalling for a moment like his breath stuttered. āyour dimples.ā
His smile isnāt as wide as before, but you watch the indents grow deeper and feel the divots with the tips of your fingers. You feel like he wants to say something else, but he doesnāt.
5.) The noise he makes when you kiss his neck
Dean made plenty of noises you loved.
You loved his laugh, obviously. You loved the noises he made while working out. But you especially loved the noises he made when you teased him.
In your previous relationship, you hadnāt really enjoyed making out. You couldnāt help but focus on the texture of their saliva or the taste in their mouth. You didnāt understand the appeal until Dean, like many things.
You loved the firm and somehow also soft feel of his lips. You loved the delicate way his tongue would brush over yours. You loved how his hands gripped the flesh of your hips and tangled in your hair.
And you loved the noise he made when your mouth would move from his mouth to his neck.
It was technically his jaw, closer to his ear, but your technical thoughts were inconsequential at the moment. You had no appetite to be contrarian when his hips were moving beneath yours uncontrollably and his mouth was open and panting.
You liked conducting experiments, and you were fairly sure that Dean felt the same. After all, it had been an experiment that resulted in your finding the spot that made him whimper. So you decided to conduct another and see how far you push it before he was begging you to stop.
You bit his skin lightly and then soothed it with your tongue, his breath shuttering in his throat and the sweetest noise surfacing. You smile against his skin.
āBaby,ā he breathlessly spoke. You moved to the other side of his throat, trying to spread your attention evenly. āYou keep doing that, Iām not gonna last.ā
It sounded like a warning, but it wasnāt one you cared to heed. So you hummed against his skin and continued your ministrations. You didnāt even have to take your clothes off to get the response you wanted from him.
6.) The fact that he loves you too
In hindsight, you shouldnāt have left something out that you didnāt want your boyfriend to see who had unrestricted access to your apartment.
You could blame the exhaustion, but it was entirely possible that you had subconsciously left it out for him to potentially find, alleviating you of your obligation to confess your feelings.
Youād come home later than usual to find him lying on your couch with a book in his hand. It wasnāt an unusual sight, but the book made you do a double take once you recognized the leather-bound cover as your journal. Your love list journal, to be exact.
āDean!ā You squeal, diving for the book and completely missing it when he moves it out of your reach, your body falling over his onto the couch.
āI feel honored my dimples made your list, baby. I knew you had a thing for them.ā
āOh my god.ā You cover your face with your hands, feeling like you could potentially throw up from embarrassment. You hear him set the book down on the coffee table and then gently place his hands over yours.
āHey.ā He moves to uncover your face, his eyes gentle as he takes in your undoubtedly red face. āYou know I love you too, right? Because I do. I was just waiting because I didnāt want to move too fast and scare you.ā
āWell thatās dumb,ā you deadpan. He laughs abruptly. āYou wouldnāt have scared me.ā
āYou donāt have the best track record when it comes to being aware of my feelings towards you, sweetheart. You can be a little oblivious sometimes.ā
You smile sadly. āSorry.ā
āNo, donāt apologize. Iām just glad you finally caught up.ā You roll your eyes before he leans in to kiss you, far too quick and chaste for your liking. Then heās speaking again. āAnd to think, all it took was realizing you love when I whimper.ā
āOh my god!ā You hide your face in his chest again and feel it rumble beneath you as he laughs. You refuse to look up to show him, but you canāt help but laugh as well.
Imagine the transfer should have been temporary, that was what Caleb told you six months ago when the reassignment orders first arrived. "Just a different unit." He reassured you softly while standing in your kitchen. "I'll still come home." Home, not your apartment. Home. Because Caleb started calling your place home long before you even got engaged.
Imagine he kept that promised too. No matter how brutal the new schedule became, he still drove back to the city whenever he could. Sometimes arriving past midnight exhuasted out of his mind only to leave again before sunrise. You used to scold him for it constantly. "You need sleep." "I need you more." Ridiculous man. Ridiculously sincere man. That was the problem. Caleb loved you too honestly for this situation to make sense. Which is why the past week had been slowly driving him insane.
Imagine the operation had reached critical stage faster than expected. Months of investigation finally narrowed into something tangible. Dead fleet officers, missing intel, internal corruption, targeted executions disguisedas accidents. At first the unit suspected isolated incidents. Then patterns started emerging. Officers connected to specific classified transport routes kept dying one after another. Some vanished entirely, others were found dead before they could testify. The newest victim finally gave them a lead. A newly married fleet officer murdered in his own home, except his wife survived, barely. She escaped before the shooter fnished clearing the house.
Imagine now she was their only living witness. Which meant she was also a walking target. The problem? The leak was internal. Someone inside the fleet kept feeding information outward. Meaning, nowhere offical was safe. No military housing, no secure holding facilities, no predictable movement. So the witness got moved constantly between trusted personnel, including Caleb.
Imagine he hated it immediately. Not because of the responsibility, but because of you. Because suddenly, the operation stopped being dangerous only for him. Now there was possibility of collateral. And the moment collateral became possible, Caleb's entire perspective changed violently. You became the center of every tactical decision in his head. Could this route expose you? Could this operation lead people toward your apartment? Could someone follow him back home? Could someone use you against him? That last thought alone nearly made him sick.
so Imagine, he started pulling away slightly, not enough for you to notice fully. He tried so hard not to. God, he tried. Because Caleb physically didn't know how to function properly without you anymore. You were woven too deeply into his life, routine, and sanity. After brutal shifts, hearing your voice grunded him. Sleeping beside you kept him human somehow. You were the only place where Colonel Caleb stoppped existing. Where he could just be your fiance instead of someone constantly responsible for life and death.
but Imagine lately, the pressure became unbearable. Every move mattered, every mistake could get people killed. And Caleb was good under pressure, exeptionally good. But not when it involved you. Never you. So yes, he became distaracted. Quieter sometimes, checking his surroundings more often, sleeping lighter, watching doors automatically. You noticed, of course you noticed. You noticed everything about him too. And Caleb hated himself every single time he saw concern flicker across your face before you smiled anyway and kissed him like you trusted him completely. Because you did trust him. That trust became the knife slowly twisting inside his chest all week.
Imagine then tonight happened and everything finally exploded. The witness was sitting quietly in the kitchen when Caleb stepped into the shower. He planned to finished paperwork afterwards then drive back to the city to see you. He missed you so badly it physically ached. The past few days had been hell. He needed you. Needed your voice. Needed your hand in his hair while he pretended the world wasn't collapsing round him. Instead the bathroom door opened and Caleb walked straight into his worst fucking nightmare.
Imagine the way you stood frozen inside his apartment staring at the witness like your entire world had just been ripped out from under you. And fuck, the look on your face. Shock first, then confusion, then heartbreak. Real heartbreak and Caleb felt actual panic slam through him instantly. Not suspicion, not irritation. Panic. Because immediately, he understood exactly what this looked like. The witness was wearing his shirt. Fresh marks still on the witness neck from injuries sustained during the attack days ago. The apartment looked lived in, intimate, domestic. And Caleb himself just walked out looking comfortable as hell inside the environment. Fuck.
"Baby-" Then your expression changed. And Caleb's stomach dropped violently because he recognized it instantly. That look, the moment someone stops feeling safe. You ran. And everything inside him snapped. "Baby!" He sprinted after you immediately, not caring about protocol, not caring about surveillance risks. Because nothing mattered except stopping you before this misunderstanding destroyed everything.
Imagine the apartment hallway blurred around him. Then came a movement, tiny, brief. A red laser dot flickered against the far wall behind you. Gone immediately but Caleb say it. Years of training wired his brain too sharply not to. And suddenly all the blood drained from his body. No. No no no no. They found the apartment. The operation was comprimised. And worst of all, you were here. Exposed, visible, vulnerable. For one horrifying second, Caleb imagined the laser moving slightly upward. Straight to your head. And his chest nearly fucking stopped.
"Baby wait!" You kept running, crying. Completely unaware someone potentially had a scope trained on your body right now. Caleb caught your wrist at the parking lot. Then you hit him, hard. The impact split skin across his cheek instantly. His head snapped across his face. He barely regustered it. Because you looked shattered. And Caleb realized with horrifying clarity, you genuinely thought he betrayed you. "Listen to me." He said immediately, breathing hard. "That's not what it looked like." "Then what is it?" He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Because his brain was screaming too many things at once.
Imagine there was the witness, the leak, the fucking laser. Get her out of here. Protect her. Then your voice cracked. "What is it, Caleb?" God, you looked desperate. Not angry yet, just desperate. Like you were begging him to give you something, anything, that would make this make sense. And that almost destroyed him more than the slap because even now, you still wanted to believe him. You still trsuted him enough to ask explanation instead of immediately condeming him. That trsut fucking wrecked him. Because he loved you. Loved you so much it bordered on insanity sometimes.
and Imagine now he was standing here watching that love get twisted into pain because of a mission he couddn't explain. "Tell me." He looked at your face. Then beyond you. The laser flickered briefly again against your car window. Cold rage exploded through him instantly. They were sending a message. Talk. Talk and she dies first. Caleb understood that perfectly. And suddenly, something terrifying woke up inside him. Not fear but murderous rage. Because these people weren't just threatening him anymore. They were threatening you. Using you. Cornering him into hurting you himself.
"Tell me!" You begged now, tears falling harder. "Because right now it looked like you've been lying to my face for weeks hiding another woman in your apartment." Every word hit like a bullet. Because on your perspective? You were right. You had every right to think that. And Caleb hated himself for putting you in this position. "It's not like that." "Then explain it!" "I can't." The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Imagine the way your face collapsed completely. Not dramatic, not explosive, worse. It was quiet devastation. Like your heart physically cracked open in front of him and fuck. Caleb would rather take a bullet. 'I can't' sounded guilty, cowardly, suspicious. He knew that. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you there were armed eyes watching right now? Tell you people died over less information than this? Tell you your life had potentially become collateral damage the second you walked into that apartment? He coudn't risk it. Not with you. Never with you.
Imagine then your voice dropped smaller. "You're hurting me." And there it was, the thing tat finally broke him. Because you weren't screaming. You weren't insulting him. You just sounded hurt, disappointed, heartbroken. Like you couldn't understand why the man who loved you most was suddenly becoming the source of your pain. Caleb's grip loosened slightly around your wrist. His breathing became uneven. Because he knew. God, he knew he was hurting you and worse, he was doing it knowingly. Chosing silence while watching tears run down your face because the alternative could get you killed.
"Please." You whispered desperately. "Just tell me the truth." He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to so badly. Wanted to grab your face and explain everything. Wanted to beg you not to leave him. Wanted to promise this wasn't betrayal. But then the laser appeared again brieflt against the concrete, then to your forehead. And Caleb saw red. Actual red. Something violent surged through him so fast his vision sharpened dangerously. Someone was aiming at you. At you. And suddenly every protective instinct inside him turned monstrous.
"I can't." He repeated hoarsely. You went still, then slowly... You pulled off your enngagement ring. The world stopped. No. No no no. Not that. Anything but that. Caleb genuinely panicked. Real panic. "No- baby, please-" "What am I supposed to do?!" You asked shakily. "Stand there pretending I didn't see another woman wearing your clothes?" He couldn't tell you anything, and that helplessness made rage build hotter inside him. Not at you. Never at you. At the situation, at the operation, at whoever forced him into this impossible corner, at the bastards watching from the shadows while the woman he loved cried in front of him because of their fucking mess. You shoved the ring into his chest. "Get out of my way."
Imagine he stared at the ring in his palm. Your ring. The one he spent months secretly carrying around before proposing because he wanted the perfect moment. The one you cried over while saying yes. Now it's sitting cold and unwated in his hand. Something inside Caleb cracked violently, but he stepped aside anyway. Because keeping you near him tonight suddenly felt more dangerous than losing you. And God, that realization nearly killed him. So he watched you get into the car. Watched your hands shake against the steering wheel. Watched you avoid looking at him directly because if you did, maybe you'd break harder.
Imagine Caleb stood there bleeding from the cheek, engagement ring clenched painfully tight in his fist, feeling completely fucking helpless. You looked at him once before driving away. And the devastation in your eyes would haunt him forever. Because despite everthing, you still loved him. He could see it. Which somehow made this infinitely crueler.
Imagine the second your car disappeared, Caleb snapped, completely. He stormed back upstairs so fast the witness physically recoiled when he entered. "She okay?" She asked quietly. Caleb ignored her and grabbed his phone immediately. The moment the line connected, his voice turned terrifying calm. "We've been compromised." Silence, then movement. "I want every surveillance team active now." "Sir?" "There was a fucking laser sight pointed at my fiancee." The room went dead silent. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Every emotion inside him mutating into something colder, meaner, more dangerous.
"Get covert protection on her immediately. Twenty four hour surveillance." He was silent for a moment. "My family too. I want every possible tail identified before sunrise." "Sir we still need authorization-" "Then authorize it." Caleb snapped viciously. Nobdy argued after that tone. Colonel Caleb angry was dangerous. Colonel Caleb angry over you was catastrophic. "They touched the wrong fucking person." He said coldly. The witness stared silently from the kitchen while listening to the conversation. And honestly? She looked scared of him now. Good. Because Caleb himself felt terrifying right now. Not because he lost control but because he still had it.
Imagine every ounce of rage insdie him became focused, precise, lethal. He wanted names, faces, bodies. He wanted everyone involved in this operation dragged into the light personally. No more patience, no more careful politics. These people made you cry. Made you take off your engagement ring. Made you look at him like he betrayed you. For that alone, Caleb wanted them ruined.
Imagine that night, long after orders were issued and surveillance confirmed you reached home safely, Caleb sat alone on the edge of his bed staring at his phone. The apartment felt unbearably empty now. Tiny traces of you everywhere. And now, he didn't know if he lost you forever. The engagement ring sat beside him. Caleb kept staring at it like maybe if he looked hard enough, tonight would undo itself somehow. His cheek stung where you slapped him. He welcomed the pain. He deserved worse. Slowly, Caleb unlocked his phone.
You: I love you. seen
You: Please trust me. seen
then Imagine, it took him a few more seconds and one message for the message to failed and realized you had blocked him. And for a several seconds, he just stared blankly at the screen. Then he laughed, one horrible breathless laugh. Because of course you blocked him. Of course you did. And somehow the reality of it finally crushed him completely. You, his fiancee thought he betrayed you. The woman he planned his entire future around. The woman he wanted children with. The woman he loved so much it scared him sometimes. And now, you were gone. All because he couldn't protect both the mission and your heart at the same time.
Imagine the way the laugh broke midway. Then Caleb lowered his head into his hands and finally cried. Quietly, violently, completely alone. Because there is nothing could do right now except finish this opertion. But afterwards? Afterwards he was getting you back. Even if it destroyed his pride entirely.
Imagine he would kneel, he would beg, he would crawl if he has to, and he would explain everything. Spend years rebuilding your trust if necessary. Because Caleb knew one terrifying truth with complete certainty now. He woud survive gunfire, war, blood, death. But losing you? That would be the thing that finally fucking killed him.
[ādark-night-hero] 2026Ā°
: if I have typos, just think I can't spell. Cuz maybe i really cant XD
Tags kasi decisions ako sa life: @moltensceptergambit @scoupshushushu @ceceoboro @younghideoutberserker @sleepykittyenergy @spiceandsass @younbeanz @multi-fandom-fanfic ;p
heyyy! Can you write a comedic Aerion x Wife!Reader where his brothers absolutely adore her and are always trying to spend quality time with her while Aerion gets ridiculously possessive and annoyed about it? (sorry if youāve already written something like this and I just havenāt found it yet!)
āWhat are you pouting about?ā Maekar asks his second son when he enters his private solar and finds his son sulking on the sofa. Looking like someone died.
āMy wife.ā Aerion responds dramatically resting his hand on his forehead, like a dramatic maiden. Truly pathetic.
āWhat about her?ā Maekar asks not actually caring but he knows he canāt get anything done until heās dealt with Aerion.
āSheās left me.ā
āNo she hasnāt.ā Maekar say rolling his eyes, knowing that youāre just in the library with Aemon researching healing techniques.
āShe has, sheās spending her time with everyone but me.ā Aerion proclaims, thinking back to how you spent last night reading to his sisters before having a drink with Daeron. āShe doesnāt love me anymore.ā
āYouāve just come back from your second honeymoon.ā Maekar says giving the boy a look. You both coming back from Dorne not even 2 weeks ago.
āExactly weāre newlyweds she should be with me.ā He responds already thinking of when he can take you on a third trip.
āYou married over a year ago.ā Maekar sighs, waiting for you both to give him a grandchild. Now not sure how Aerion will cope with you giving attention to a child.
āAnd?ā
āGo away.ā Maekar tells him sitting down behind his desk, having letters heās got to deal with.
āThatās what she told me.ā Aerion whines almost falling off the sofa when he moves dramatically.
āNo she didnāt.ā His father says, knowing you wouldnāt say that to your husband. You probably just told him to be quiet.
āIt was implied.ā
-
āGo away.ā Aerion tells Rhae, the girl cuddling you in his bed, you reading to her.
āNo, you go away.ā She says snuggling into you.
āSheās my wife.ā Aerion say pushing his youngest sister wanting her to leave so he can cuddle you.
āI was here first!ā Rhae argues having been with you for the past hour, listening to you read.
āI was alive first!ā Aerion argues back wanting you to himself.
āEnough!ā You snap, fed up with the arguing as you have a headache. āAerion if you would like to join us you can, but you have to be nice.ā
-
āCan I have a hug?ā Egg asks having hurt himself in the training yard when he jumped off a wall. Heās perfectly fine he just wants some comfort.
āOf course sweetheart.ā You say going to stand up from where youāre sat with Aerion knitting a blanket.
āNo.ā Aerion says pulling you back into his arms and away from the boy youāre trying to hug.
āAerion! He can have a hug.ā You say trying to get out of your husband clinging hands.
āNo he canāt.ā Aerion says practically wrapping himself around you so you canāt get up. āGet your own wife!ā
āIām 10!ā Egg argues, now wanting the hug even more to upset his brother.
āWhatās that got to do with me?ā Aerion counters pressing kisses all over your face. āNow fuck off.ā
-
āWe should go out tonight.ā Daeron says to you over dinner, the both of you sharing a bottle of wine or two.
āThat would be nice, I heard thereās a play happening outside that tavern we like.ā You say placing your hand over Aerionās as he places his on your thigh.
āWe have to go then.ā Daeron says before getting interrupted by his brother.
āNo.ā
āAerion.ā You say with a sigh, your husband being too dumb to realise he was included in we. Like he is every time.
āNo, youāre my wife not his.ā Aerion whines wanting to watch the play with you. āWhy canāt we go together?ā
āYouāre invited you moron.ā Daeron says giving his brother a look, thinking Aerion jealously is dumb.
.š„ Ż Ė thinking not only about filthy sex with bobbyāsex while high, exhibitionism in the showroom basement, filming and voyeurism, etc.ābut also about sweet lovemaking between the two of you āĖā¹ į°
i just canāt get over the idea of losing your virginity together with pre-backrooms bobby. he disregards the camera to focus on you and the union of your bodies and souls. him being so so gentle with you, and his nervousness as he cautiously slides in is incredibly palpableāitās in the way his jaw clenches and that one muscle juts out, the furrow between his brows, his normally glossy red eyes now precisely trained on where his body enters yours, the way he immediately halts if you let out a mere whisper of a reaction. itās incredibly endearing, and it warms you to be in the spotlight of his gaze as he meticulously catalogues your every reaction and shifts accordingly, as if heās directing your first times with the intent of it becoming his magnum opus.
thinking of heart-achingly tender sex with the man you love. you feel the refreshing cool touch of his chains sandwiched between your chests and his earring against your nape when he dips his head into the crook of your shoulder. the usual confident, cocky bobbyāthe one who knowingly winks at you when his catches you eyeing his exposed midriff, the one who gives you playful, lazy smirks while leaning against your doorway, angling his head such that his earring catches the light just rightāhas crumbled into a vulnerable tangle of limbs and shuddered breaths.
he hides his flustered expression, his hips stuttering because you feel too good and he canāt believe this is actually happening. he even pauses at times to prevent it from ending too quickly, stilling himself inside you even as you twitch under him, begging for the delicious friction he gives. ānot yet baby,ā he sighs into your ear with a low groan, shivering body pressed flushed against yours until heās far away enough from the edge to resume without finishing with a single thrust. once the two of you reach the heights of ecstasy, youāll tilt over the edge and unravel together, his hips thrusting erratically into you, while you drown in him. his lips frantically chase yours, desperately moaning into your mouth, his hands grip your waist with such ferocity so as to ground himself even as heās swept away by the waves of pleasure.
your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat in the immediate aftermath of the coupling, your chest heaving from the exertion, from the way your body involuntarily twisted and arched, coiled and stretched all because he just made you feel so so good. the sight of you tangled in his sheets, giving him an exhausted yet content smile filled wholly with affection is the most beautiful sight heās seen, and if you let him, probably the most beautiful picture heāll ever take.
A/N + tags: hurt/comfort ā lowkey trauma for reader and bobby BUT happy-ish ending ā established relationship ā slight use of y/n (sorry iām a y/n defender) ā pirate clark makes an appearance ā storyline/dialogue will be slightly off, i did watch the movie over a week ago :( ā maybe slight ooc!bobby cuz 1. he didn't make it in the movie :( and 2. i donāt think he would have been this quick witted? idk tho he was quick to get back up that corridor. GOD, it took me ages to figure out how they were gonna get out šĀ ā lowkey for their hug at the end i imagined the hug at then end of the tangled movie š„²
omg omg, my first ever fic!! yay yay!!
tw: blood + injury description/detail?, swearing, brief mentions of smoking, general backrooms stuff
word count: 3.2k
the morning started normal, which was probably the worst part.
you woke up slowly, in bobby and yours shared apartment, the faint smell of weed in the air from the joint you had both shared the evening before. the gentle sunlight slipping through the blinds in your bedroom.
you had woken up before your boyfriend, your limbs tangled together and his chest pressed against your back, an arm draped over your waist as he breaths warmly and quietly against the nape of your neck.
you smile to yourself as you take in the calm morning together.
soon enough you can feel him stir slightly from behind you.
he begins slowly pressing warm kisses to the back of your neck and you can feel his lips form a grin as he continues peppering kisses up and down your neck. āmorning babe,ā he murmurs, and you can fell his warm breath against your neck as he speaks, āyou hungry?ā you turn around so youāre facing him and immediately he pecks at your nose, ānot yet,ā you reply, voice croaking slightly with sleep.
he pulls back and instantly you miss his presence against you, āok, māgonna get some cereal,ā he says quietly while sitting up and getting out of bed. you promptly take note of his topless figure and smirk to yourself as he pads out the bedroom barefoot, headed for the kitchen.
you slowly get out of bed and make your way to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and begin to undress, not a long task as you are only wearing some grey sleep shorts and one of bobbyās old, oversized shirts.
you begin changing out of your shorts and into some jeans, youāre about to take your t-shirt off when a loud pounding at the door makes you jump. ābobby can you get that?!ā you call out to your boyfriend and hear a muffled, āsure,ā in response.
youāre still trying to pick out a top when you hear bobby calling out for you, quiet and first and then more clipped as his patience wavers. you huff and pick out an orange graphic tee before making your way to the front door, bobby is standing by the open door talking to someone, he turns around as he hears you approach.
you make your way to the door and spot your boss, clark, outside, ābabe, clarkās asked us to come in today, he wants us to doā¦ā bobby trails off, turning back to look at clark, a confused expression on his face.
āresearch,ā clark finishes slowly, seemingly unsure himself. you look between your boyfriend and clark, nodding your head with a sigh, āfine, what time?ā you question pinching the bridge of your nose, eyes shut as you prepare to take in the answer from clark.
bobby turns from clark towards you and you can feel his annoyance radiating off of him at the notion of coming into work on your day off.
āone pm?ā clark questions but it comes out more as a statement, reluctantly bobby nods his head stepping back to shut the door.
clark stops the door with his palm adding, āoh and i need you to bring your camcorder.ā
after clark leaves bobby lets out a loud sigh and turns back towards you.
āwhat research do you think heās talking about?ā he asks you, brows furrowed in confusion. you walk towards him, āknowing clark, anything.ā he lets out an amused huff at you comment.
you stop directly in front of him, placing your hands on his bare chest and stepping up onto your tiptoes, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.
his hard expression visibly diminishes at your actions as he pulls you into a more passionate kiss.
you smile into it before pulling yourself away by his shoulders, ācome on, lets grab some food before we leave.ā you walk off to the kitchen and hear him walk after you, āsure baby.ā
you smirk at the nickname, grabbing your own bowl from a drawer and pouring yourself some cereal, leaning with your back against the counter, āhey maybe we should call kat? let her know some overtime money is on the line?ā
bobby, turns around and leans against the counter opposite you, digging into his own bowl of cereal, āyeah sure, iāll call her and let her know.ā
you finish your cereal and get ready together before swinging round to katsā and making your way to Capān Clarks.
as soon as you enter the shop it feels off.
not a tangible feeling, itās deeper than that. itās unsettling and you can feel it in your bones. you glance at bobby who grants you a worried look in return. kat comes in tow behind you and your boyfriend.
she immediately takes note of clarkās erratic behaviour, as he briskly makes his way to the stairs that lead to the basement, āok, whatās going on, clark?ā she asks wearily, crossing her arms.
clark turns around, now facing you all, ānothing..just come with me, i need you for researchā¦ā his answer is breathy, as if he doesnāt understand whatās happening himself.
you all glance at eachother before following clark to the basement.
your eyes widen at the state of the right wall, blue tape in the shape of a rectangle covers a part of the wall, beside it is a whiteboard with markings and maps scrawled messily onto it.
āwhat the fuck..ā kat whispers from behind you and bobby; the fear and confusion in her voice evident.
ācome onā clark hisses, gesturing to the rectangle created on the wall as he slowly makes his way over.
you donāt fully understand it at first, one minute clark is stood away from you three, gesturing wildly to follow him through a solid wall, next heās disappeared, seemingly having walked through the wall.
āholy shit!ā you hear your boyfriend exclaim, although it comes out breathy and full of curiosity.
āholy shit, holy shit, y/n did you see that?ā he repeats, walking closer to the wall while simultaneously turning his camcorder on and pressing record.
he begins to press his hand to the wall, but it passes straight through, as if the wall were an illusion or not even there at all.
āwhat..ā he mutters, turning back around to face you and kat. you both share the same concerned expression.
ācome on you three!ā itās odd, you can hear clark but you cannot see him anywhere in the basement.
āoh my god, weāre high,ā you gasp, placing a hand on your head, trying to find any possible explanation for what is going on.
but before you can fully fathom whatās happening, bobby has stepped through the āwall.ā
āshit bobby! where are you?ā you shout, stepping up to the āwallā. you hear a familiar voice answer your cry, ābabe, come through the wallā
āwhat?!ā you gasp, turning to kat who bears a similar confused expression.
āhere,ā he calls, and you see a hand emerge from the āwallā. you go to reach for it but kat grabs your shoulder pulling you back, āwhat are you doing?ā she whispers, clearly uncomfortable with the growing uneasiness of the situation.
you look back, bobbyās hand is still outstretched. āitāll be fine, come on,ā you state before grabbing his hand and walking straight through the āsolid wallā
at first, you canāt quite grasp what you can see in front of you: a stack of mangled furniture, all bunched and melded together in a large pile, it seems to be an office space. itās adorned with sickly yellow wallpaper and fluorescent lights that hum and buzz too loudly. walls that are stained with god knows what and an underlying smell of damp and mould hangs in the air.
bobby pans the camera to you, then behind you. you turn around and see that kat has followed you both through the wall, it takes her a moment to grasp what sheās seeing and you can immediately see the fear on her face as she understands the reality of what happened.
āthis way,ā clark instructs, gesturing for you three to follow him into the depths of the endless corridors of office spaces youāve found yourselves in.
āso..ā you begin, not really aiming your words at anyone, just trying to stop the confusion and make sense of the situation youāve found yourself in. āis this the āresearchā you meant earlier?ā you question, adding sarcasm over your words to account for the strange change turn of your day.
āyes,ā clark replies quickly as her makes a sharp turn around a corner and halts. āi need one of you to go down there..ā he gestures vaguely to a hole in the wall beside you, āand record what you find.ā he then turns to a bed that you hadnāt noticed was beside you and grabs some rope that had been placed over the blankets.
āare we tying ourselves up?ā bobby asks, a hint of amusement to his voice.
āno, iām tying one of you up.ā clark replyās, āwho wants to go down there?ā he asks to you three and you all freeze.
āwhat are you talking about?!ā kat exclaims. clearly distressed with how your situation has escalated.
thereās a beat of silence.
then, āiāll go.ā your voice wavers slightly, but your expression is hard and set. bobby turns towards you, camcorder in hand, his breath catches in his throat at your words. but he sees your face, he knows that expression, and he knows it well; itās the one you wear when your decision cannot be swayed.
āwhat?ā he tries to reason, placing the camcorder down on the bed and taking your face in his hands. āitās my camera, iāll go, baby.ā you stare at him for a moment before a shaky, āno,ā passes your lips. āanyway, you and kat hesitated and i donāt mind, iām not scared if thatās what you think.ā you rest your forehead against his, itās clear your mind is made up and so bobby tilts his face back up, placing a kiss on your forehead, a small smile on his face at your obvious attempt to mask your fear though a quippy comment. turning back to the bed, he picks up his camcorder again while kat takes the rope from clark, tying a tight knot around your waist.
kat gives you an apologetic look before taking the camcorder from bobby and putting it into your arms. ābe careful,ā your boyfriend warns from beside kat before you descend down the sloped corridor.
āwhat am i looking for exactly?ā you call out to clark as you slowly make your way down the corridor.
āiām uh, not sure,ā clark answers, ājust record what you see, look around a bitā he clarifies.
āgot it!ā you call back, turning back to clark as a reflex while replying, before losing your footing and sliding down the rest of the way, dropping the camera on your way down.
āshit, y/n! you ok?ā kat calls from the top of the corridor.
āiām good,ā you reply, standing up and grabbing the camcorder from where it fell onto the floor.
you gag loudly at the smell of the space surrounding you, piles of clothes are dotted all around the small room, smudges of black goo oozing out from each pile and splattering onto the walls.
you make sure to pan the camera over the entire room before slowly gaining enough courage to walk further into the space. you pan the camera upwards at a large entrance in the ceiling, you cannot see the end as it only ascends into darkness. a wave of unease passes through you, fear rooting itself in your core but youāre too smug to turn back now.
you walk over to one of the laundry piles and you could swear youāve seen your boyfriend in one of these shirtsā¦
you turn back and make your way further into the room before you hear a quiet murmur in the far left corner.
āhey, give me some more rope!ā you turn and call back up the corridor.
āthatās the end of the line, y/n/n,ā you hear bobby call back.
āok,ā you mutter, āmāgonna take it off!ā you yell up the corridor.
as soon as you pulled the rope down and off your legs you walk further into the room, the smell so rancid you let out another gag. you make your way over to the area you heard the noise from.
something moves from in front of you and you scream. loud.
āshit!ā before kat could grab his arm, bobby has slid down the corridor after you.
a large figure emerges from behind the corner of the room and lunges for you.
you manage to turn around and spot bobby standing up from the floor. before you can run to him, the creature grabs at the collar of your shirt, pulling you back and onto the ground with a thud, you wheeze, the wind having been knocked out of you.
before bobby can make sense of the situation, the creature has grabbed your leg and hauled you through a trap door at the end of the room, you had no breath left to scream for him.
you eyes are half-lidded at the pain throbbing at the back of your skull, but you manage to open them wider to take in your surroundings.
the āthingā is still dragging you across the damp floors of where ever the *hell *****you are, but you can see it more clearly now. it seems to have the same pirate outfit clark wears when he tires to shoot videoās with bobbyās camcorder, trying but failing to successfully promote the god awful furniture shop you all work at.
except, it is actually clark?
āclark?ā you murmur, voice croaky from your growing fatigue.
the figure turns, sharply and inhuman. you can finally see its face ā *not* clark. well, technically you do see clark, but he looks different, as if created from a memory of the silly costumes he would wear, but this clarksā eyes were too big, comical even if the situation was different and it seems that he cannot speak, only grunting and murmuring as he drags you further into the depths of whatever basement youāve entered.
suddenly, you hear the familiar scuffling of trainers behind you. you manage to tilt your head up and back, spotting your boyfriend quietly traveling behind you, a finger to his lips, gesturing for you to say silent.
you manage a nod, careful not to alert the creature dragging you further into the strange office space.
suddenly, the creature stops and your legs drop to the ground with a thud, the creature turns and you hope that your boyfriend managed to hide before it could spot him.
it slowly shuffles towards you and itās here that you notice one of its legs is made entirely of wood, like the fake pirate leg clark would wear with his stupid costume.
it begins to claw at you, like a cat toying with a mouse before it kills it. you feel your head pound as the realisation of dying creeps into your mind, your sight becomes blurry, tears threatening to spill as you try to hold back your sobs. it works for a while, but the creature only comes closer, making you sob loudly, āplease, please no,ā you chant over and over, hoping it might sense your fear and feel some sort of pity.
but no. this thing was hungry and you were its easiest, closest meal.
it begins to lean down, hovering over your body; you are shaking to such a degree it looks like your vibrating with fear. it claws at your arms, leaving scratch marks. you begin to scream and cry out, āplease, please I canātā¦donāt please!ā you scream, voice wheezing as the fight drains out of you.
it leans its head further down, mouth opening with a grunt as it prepares to bite at your shoulder, before it can fully clamp down it lets out a pained groan and you look up to find bobby holding a metal pipe. the creature falls onto your body, winding you and locking you in place on the rough carpeted floor. your boyfriend acts quickly, kicking it off you before grabbing your hand and hauling you to your feet.
you sway at the rapid movements, āwhoah baby, youāre ok,ā bobby pulls you into him, rubbing up and down your back with a gentle hand.
āwe need to get out of here,ā you whisper, breathy with fear and adrenaline coursing through you, grasping onto bobbyās shoulder to steady yourself.
āok uhmā¦ā your boyfriend grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and looking around the room for an exit. he manages to spot a space just big enough for you to both crawl through and he pulls you towards it, his pace quickening with anxiety of never leaving this stupid yellow walledā basement.
he waits for you to go first, making sure the coast is clear before crawling through after you.
he keeps whispering encouragingly as you make your way through the dark passage, youāre doing great baby, just a little further.you finally see light at the end of the stupidly narrow tunnel and crawl through the end. you crawl out and sit at the side of the exit, waiting for bobby, as he stands up he turns and sees you. immediately he crouches in front of you, grabbing your face in his hands. you lean into his touch, needing the comfort. he eyes move over your body, assessing all the injuries he can see before he mutters, āiām gonna get us out of here, pretty girl, i promise you,ā he places a kiss to your forehead before grabbing your hands and helping you stand.
suddenly, you hear rushed footsteps and to your surprise, kat and clark make a sharp turn around the corner, kat stops as soon as she spots your bloodied figure.
āfuck, y/n/n, oh my god!ā she rushes over to you, embracing you in a firm hug, āi thought you died,ā she whispers. you smile as you hug her back, ānot yet,ā you let out a half laugh, half groan as the severity of your situation sinks in.
āwait,ā clark holds up a hand gesturing in front of him, āitās the stop sign, from near the exit.ā you look at the sign, then back to bobby who has placed your arm over his shoulder, āfuck, yes!ā he cries out.
you all make a run for the exit, following clark who seems to know where heās going.
you turn a corner and there it is, that stupid melded pile of chairs, drawers and other stupid pieces of furniture.
you spot the taped out rectangle and almost collapse from the sheer relief of getting out of this stupid office.
bobby senses your growing tiredness and whispers to you, ājust a little further, baby.ā
clark and kat are ahead of you both and they make their way through exit first.
as you reach the āexitā you practically throw yourself into it, collapsing onto the floor beside bobby who went down with you.
you sit up, frantically pulling bobby into you. youāre shaking with sobs, blood all over your shoulder and arms and even some in your hair. you hug him tightly, sobbing into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.
āi got you baby, weāre safe now.ā he whispers into your hair.
you go limp against him with relief. finally, no more fluorescent hum. no more damp, musty carpets and no more stupid yellow walls. you had escaped, and you were NEVER going back.
Part 2 to When another girl tries threatening the relationship between a yandere and his darling
Tw: death, blood and it is described a bit
Part 1
āāāāāāāāāāāāāā
You could only stare up at him in horror from what he said. You could still hear her. Choking on her blood, her trying to cough it out so she could breathe but you knew no matter what you did there was no hope in saving her. She would soon die from how deep her wounds were and how she was loosing blood.
āN-no.. we canāt..ā You started to shake your head as you slowly came out of the shock. You tried pulling away from him but his grip only tightened. Tugging you back to him as he looked at you with faux concern.
āShh shh.. shh.. itās okay. No one will find out.ā He whispered softly. As if someone finding out was the only concern there was about all of this. His hand on your cheek moved up a bit, wiping at the tears starting to fall.
When did you start crying?
You didnāt even know when the tears started to spill or how shallow your breath was now. You felt yourself now on the verge of a panic attack.
Hearing her gurgles as she stared to drown on her blood. Feeling his blood stain hands on you and the guilt that you couldāve been the cause of this. It was all too much. Just a few hours ago you were laughing about some stupid joke with him. Now youāre here with him like this.
āN-no..! You just killed her!ā You suddenly snapped at him, trying once more to push him away but he barely budged. Instead he looked at you as if you were the crazy one, like what he did wasnāt a literal crime. As though taking away a life was nothing to him.
āMy love.. she was in the way. Who knows what she might have done if I was no longer around.ā He spoke to so softly. Trying to justify his actions, as if something like this could be justified.
āShe wasnāt in the way. You just couldnāt keep your temper in!ā You exclaimed. Forcing yourself to look up at him with a glare.
His eyes narrowed a little before he softened his expression once more. He didnāt like how you sided with her. After everything she did, how she had hurt you and tried to separate the two of yall.
But you were just a bit emotional. Maybe even tired from work that it was the reason you were now saying nonsense. He could let what you said go for now but his patience was running thin.
āYouāre just tired. Iām sure after some sleep you will see what I was doing.ā He said calmly, a bit too softly and tried to usher you to the parking lot so yall could leave.
āNo! Iām not just tired..! Let me go-!ā You yelled once more and tried to pull your arm away from him this time. But that was the final straw. Next thing you know your back was pressed against the wall and pinning you against it.
Harshly grabbing your chin he tilted your head up, forcing you to look up at him.
āNo you stop.ā He growled and you couldnāt help but freeze. Heās never been this harsh, this mean that you couldnāt help but feel a little afraid.
Though when he saw the scared look in your eyes the anger he felt immediately vanished. He didnāt like that, he didnāt like seeing you scared of him when you should feel protected in his presence.
āFuckā¦ no im sorry i didnāt mean to scare you. You just arenāt listening..ā He said softly this time. His grip on you loosened but you were afraid to try to run. Knowing he could easily catch you and what he would do if you did.
āIām so sorry, love.. please donāt be scared.ā His hand was now cupping your cheek. His touch so gentle as if he was holding something fragile.
A soft gasp left your lips feeling something poke at your skin. You glanced down to see a needle piercing into your thigh. Looking back up at him in disbelief and betrayal.
āI only want whatās best for you. Youāll see, I only want to care for you.ā He whispered and immediately caught you as you started to stumble. Barely having any strength to stay standing up. Things were starting to get dizzy and you tried to blink away the darkness that tried to overcome you.
āH-howā¦ could you..?ā Your voice was weak and but slurred as you weakly cling onto him before he threw the needle away and effortlessly picked you up. You have no more strength in you to fight back.
Walking straight to the parking lot with you in his arms he knew he would have to figure out a cover story fast. He wasnāt letting you go so easily again. He would make sure that this time, there would be no way yall could be separated. No matter what it takes.
āāāāāāāāāāāāāāāā
Please no putting my writing in any AI chat, bot etc. And also no reposting as your own. Thank you for reading (ć¤ĖįµĖ)ć¤āøā”
It was her first day on the job and she already had everything planned out. Become the sweet and dependable employee that everyone in the office loves. Make an outlasting impression that would lead to promotions and finally find her true love.
It was so simple and perfectly planned that she had no doubt it would work. If she was able to get through 6 years at a high pristine university at the top of her class, she could easily get through an office job that she was overly qualified for.
Everything was going well at first. Praises left and right and even catching the eye of a few people in the office. But no one had compared to him.
He caught her eye instantly when she first came in. Opening the door for her, holding his hand out as he gave her that charming smile and introducing himself. Saying how excited they he was to have her on the team. But there was one problem, not about him no- it was you. They way you cling onto him like second skin and followed him around like a loss puppy. She even wondered how you got the job in the first place if he had to keep fixing every mistake you made.
āāāāā
You and Wyn were an unstoppable duo. Itās like one couldnāt exist without the other from how attached yall were. He kept you level headed so you didnāt spiral out of control from unnecessary thoughts. And you made sure he stayed on top of his work.
Everyone, even him, referred to yall as āwork spousesā. From how often he flirted with you and how you banter with him, it was almost gross how cute yall were.
And while you were excited about having a new girl on the team he couldnāt care less about her. Sure he had to be nice and introduce himself, told her how āhappyā they were to have her. But he hated every second of it. Having to be polite, to compliment her and then touch her?
His hands only belong on you, his sweet personality was reserved for you and you alone. He had to resist the urge to run to the restroom to clean his hands from her touch before going to you to make sure he was fully cleanse of her and only had traces of you left on him.
But he couldnāt find it in himself to shut down the conversation. So he let you yap his ear off as held one of your hands. A win-win in his book since he got to hear your voice and feel your touch while you got the chance to say what was on your mind.
But then she came over, interjecting to āask for his helpā. It took everything in him to not cringe when he heard her high pitched voice. And when she looked up at him with a pout? God he wanted to bleach his eyes from the sight. Her bottom lip jutting out and her already big eyes looking impossibly bigger as she tried to look ācute and helplessā by giving him sad puppy eyes, but instead looked like a badly drawn anime character.
You could only watch as she moved closer to him and tried placing her hand on his arm but he quickly pulled it back like she burned her. He tried to laugh it off and make an excuse on how he wasnāt big on physical touch. Which was ironic since he was still holding your hand and had you close against him.
āOh her clinginess must be really annoying then.ā Shannon laughed. Trying to make a sly comment towards you while hopefully getting his approval. His jaw clenched and he could feel how you seemed to deflate a little from her words. Insecurity written over you even though you tried to hide it. He felt you tried to pull your hand away but he instantly tightened his grip to prevent you from doing so.
āWeāre done here.ā He didnāt give her the chance to say anything else before pulling you with him and away from her. He didnāt care about his ānice guyā persona if it meant keeping you away from people like her. He could tell you were shock from how he responded since you kept looking back at her and tried telling him how rude that was.
But he kept walking, gently pushing you into the elevator as he made an excuse about needing your help getting some paperwork from another department.
As much as he tried to keep his distance they somehow kept crossing paths. His frustration was quickly growing throughout the week from how often she kept trying to get close to him. His patience was slowly slipping and it didnāt help how she tried to act like you. Clinging onto him, following him around and talking nonsense that wasnāt even related to work.
At least when you did it he enjoyed it, love it actually. Whereas with her he wanted to rip his ears off so he wouldnāt have to hear her voice a second longer. To scrub any piece of skin she managed to touch raw to ensure nothing of her was left on him.
If it werenāt for the risk of losing his job and having you hate him he wouldāve grabbed her right then and there, throw her out to the busy highway that was by the office in hopes she gets injured or better yet dead.
It was the end of the week and he was exhausted. From running around trying to avoid her and to catch up with you it was absolute hell. It was like you were popular all of sudden from how many people would come up and pull you away any time he tried to come up to you. And out of āpure coincidenceā she would pop up, ready to make conversation like they were buddies.
By the end of the day he was done, ready to give up and just go home without the usual conversation with you. Without your touch that he so desperately craves.
āHey-ā He felt the hand on his back and without hesitation quickly sat back up as he slap it away. He looked over expecting it to be Shannon, ready to tell her off once and for all but was shocked to see it was you.
It was the first time heās ever pushed your hand away and so roughly at that. You looked back at him with shock and he swore his heart broke seeing the hurt that flashed through your eyes before you quickly collected yourself.
āI.. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You seem a bit out of it today.ā He almost dropped to his knees and beg for forgiveness seeing how you were still caring for him after what he did. It wasnāt even that big of a deal but to him he felt like he deserved the death penalty after unintentionally hurting you.
āY-yes..! Iām fine..!ā He quickly exclaimed but hated himself more when you seemed taken aback from his outburst. He cleared his throat, trying to calm down before grabbing one your hands to pull you closer to him.
āIām sorry.. Itās just been a long day, but Iām doing better now that you are here.ā He smiled at you. His voice was so soft and sweet that you couldnāt help but smile a little. Even though you felt bad seeing how disheveled and stressed he looked.
āIf youāre free right now we could-ā You couldnāt even finish your sentence from the sudden screech of his name. Shannon running over with paperwork and looking distraught.
āWyn! Please I need your help!ā Quickly pushing you out of the way to get to him. He swear he saw red seeing you stumble back and having the grab the wall of his cubicle in order to not fall. He immediately stood up but Shannon was faster than that. Standing in his way to prevent him from going to you and looking up at him with that same āsadā look.
āWynn please-ā She started to whine, trying to seem pitiful.
āShut it. Just shut up and go to someone else.ā He finally snapped. After all week of her bothering him, the patience he desperately tried to hold onto snapped seeing you almost get hurt because of her.
Both of yall looked at him in shock. But whereas you were concerned for him, Shannonās face turn red from anger and being embarrassed in front of you. Her hands shaking and balled at her side.
āWhy? So you could go back to tending to her?ā She scowled at him. He didnāt know why that was any of her business.
āShe canāt even do a simple task by herself! And she is such a leech-ā Before she could even finish what she was saying he grabbed her arm. His grip tightening and bruising as he pulled her close, not caring if he was hurting her. He was hoping he did
āI said Shut. Up. Unless you want a similar āaccidentā to happen to you, I suggest you leave.ā His voice was low but threatening. Thankfully she was smart enough to not try and test him again.
Quickly nodding her head she hurriedly ran off the moment he left her go. You didnāt know what to do, just looking at him in shock since it was the first time you saw him like this.
He has never been so rough, so mean that it felt like he was another person. She did deserve to be told off, there was no doubt about it but you saw how roughly he grabbed her. And wouldnāt be surprised if she had bruises from it.
Before he could say anything you lied saying how you had somewhere to be. Quickly leaving just like her and he watched as you did. Trembling with both anger and frustration.
You were here. You were so close and was going to ask him out until she ruined it. He tried to keep his breath steady but he knew she needed to go. There was no way in hell he would let this happen again.
It was way later than you would have liked by the time you could leave the office. It seemed like Shannon had reported Wyn for what he did so you were held back to fill out some paperwork because you were the only other person to see what happened. It also didnāt help that you still had your own work to do so by the time you were able to leave it was already dark out.
Almost everyone had gone home already. The only people left was security and could janitors.
But once you stepped out and started walking you could hear faint whimpers coming from the back of the building. You stilled as multiple things ran through your head. What if there was a hurt animal back there? What if it was someone that was hurt? And if it was then what? It wasnāt like you were strong or knowledgeable enough to help them out.
Letting out a shaky breath you slowly started to walk over. Your curiosity getting the better of you as you held your keys tightly in your hands and taking quiet steps.
But when you peaked around the corner the last thing you expected was this.
A broken bloody bottle in one hand while the other was placed over Shannonās mouth to keep her quiet. A small gasp left your lips before you could stop it and you felt your blood go cold seeing the attacker was Wyn.
He easily spotted you and looked panicked at getting caught. He thought you left already. He couldāve sworn he heard from others that you went home early but here you are. Looking at him terrified and like you were ready to run.
He quickly got off of Shannon, not caring about her anymore more as got up and tried to wipe his bloody hands on his suit. That had splatter blood all over it. He took slow cautious steps as if he was worried you would run if he walked too fast.
When he got to you he was quick to grab your wrist. Holding it in a gentle grasp as his other hand went to cup your cheek. You almost cringed knowing some of her blood was now on you.
āI-I had no choice. She was going to ruin everything. I almost lost you and my position. If that were to happen there would be no way I could be around you anymore. That i could keep my eyes on you.ā His voice got deeper at the end, darker as if the thought of being away from you was the worst thing that could happen.
His grip had tightened but when he saw you wince he immediately loosened his hold. Pulling that same hand up to kiss it as he murmured an apology against your skin.
āBut we donāt have to worry about that anymore..ā He mumbled once more before moving your hand down a little.
āSheās gone now, for good. And things could go back to how they were.ā He smiled but it no longer looked sweet or charming. Instead it looked sinister and dangerous, one that sent a chill up your spine.
summary: you don't do parties. and you don't do hockey players. Dean Di Laurentis is the last person your anxious brain would ever want to talk to. But when he becomes the only thing that can quiet the noise in your head, it becomes harder to stay away.
wc: 1.3k
warnings: 18+ , panic attack, drugs and alcohol
a/n: this is my first time writing off campus and I'm really hoping I did ok! would love to continue this one if enough people are interested so lmk if you like it! I have some ideas for these two.
banner by: @/issysh3ll
You didnāt do noise. You didnāt do crowds. But your roommate, Britt, had gotten an invite to a party at the hockey house. And at Briar, nobody passed up an invite to the hockey house. So, despite your discomfort, you sucked it up so she wouldnāt have to go alone.
It was easy to go through the motions: hair, makeup, outfit. The hard part was walking through the front door. The party was already packed, students spilling out onto the porch, bass vibrating the ground. You gripped Brittās hand like a lifeline as she dragged you into the chaos.
Off to one side, a game of beer pong was underway, a crowd cheering them on. On the other, a group was doing shots. In the middle was a makeshift dancefloor with girls in the cutest outfits shaking their hips rhythmically to the music. You make note of the only other exit, a door near the pool table that someone was just heading out of.
Everyone around you was everything you wished you were: confident, excited, having fun. Instead, your brain was torturing you. The noise, the low lights, the crowd: everything was danger. You could feel your pulse spiking already, sweat beading across your forehead.
āThanks for coming with me. Couldnāt have done this without you.ā Britt offers you a smile as she tries to speak over the noise. Even though she was much more social than you, she was also introverted. But unlike you, she hated being alone. For you, being alone was solace. Comfort. Peace.
āOf course!ā You force a smile back as best you can. āDo you see John?ā
āNot yet.ā She answers, her brown eyes searching the crowd. āOh! Heās in the kitchen.ā Dropping your hand, she waves at him until he notices. You follow Britt into the other room, trying to take some deep breaths in a way that you hope doesnāt make you look insane. Britt introduces you, and to your relief, John greets you nicely. In a way that makes you feel like heās trying to remember your name.
Yet, the moment he starts talking to Britt, itās like you donāt exist to either of them anymore. In a way, itās nice. You donāt have to keep up with the conversation or pretend to be having fun. But now you need to find something to do other than disassociate and breathe manually. Grabbing a red solo cup, you it up with beer and take a small sip.
That moment is when Garrett Graham descends down the stairs of the hockey house. Heās the star hockey player, so of course people notice. Heads turn. Multiple people call out to him. And somehow it makes the house feel louder, stuffier, and more overwhelming. You shift on your feet, trying to find somewhere that feels a little less crowded, when someone slams into you.
āShit, sorry!ā The manās voice echoes in your ear as your beer sloshes out of the cup.
āNice job, Di Laurentis.ā John deadpans.
āMy bad.ā The man laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his blonde hair. Itās Dean. The other hockey star. Somehow, that makes it worse. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your ears starting to ring. He says something to you that your brain wonāt process, his voice sounding far away. Your only clue is him pointing at your drink. Shaking your head quickly, you mutter something about not needing another one before walking away.
Tunnel vision is your next clue things are going downhill. And then it feels like you donāt know how to swallow. Throat too tight to breathe. Hands going numb. Legs going numb. You needed to get some air. Let it pass. Not in front of all these people. The back exit is your target.
Deep breath in. Out. In. Out.
You make it outside, relief slowly blooming as the cold air hit your skin and the noise muffled when the door slams closed. No one else was out here. Just you. Crouching down on the worldās smallest deck, you keep your head low and try to breathe through it.
In. Out. In. Out.
All too quickly, the door creaks open. Your head whips around, eyes wide, heart rate picking up again.
Britt?
John?
Nope. Dean.
Shit.
āDamn, ās freezing out here.ā He announces to no one in particular, lighting up a joint. Once he takes a drag, his blue eyes lazily scan the deck, landing on you. āShit, itās you. Sorry again, for spilling your drink.ā The way he chuckles is so easygoing it makes you jealous. You wanted to have fun, to be casual. Your brain always had other plans.
āItās fine.ā You grit out, fists clenching so your nails dug into your palms.
āWhoa,ā Dean finally takes in your demeanor. āYou sick?ā His attention makes your skin prickle.
āI said Iām fine.ā Your voice gets harsher, hoping heāll take the hint and leave.
āYou donāt look fine.ā Thereās an edge of concern in his voice. That sends a new wave of panic. Dean was, based on rumors and the fact that you had eyes, the kind of person always the center of attention. The last thing you needed was someone like that focused on you.
āIām good, Iāve got it handled.ā You try to sound better than you feel.
āSure.ā Dean drawls, unconvinced.
āDonāt you want to go back to your friends?ā You ask, nodding back at the door.
āIāve got a joint to smoke. Donāt you want to go back to your friends?ā He counters.
āI just need a minute.ā You admit. Truthfully, he was providing the tiniest distraction. Which let feeling come back to your hands and legs. But the song playing inside changes, and the new, louder bass thump makes you flinch. Dean notices it, because of course he does.
āToo much?ā He guesses. You can only nod, hoping thatās enough of an explanation to get him to drop it. Heās quit for a minute, and you think that thatās it. āBe right back.ā He promises, the door slamming shut behind him.
You exhale fully now that youāre finally alone. Trying to convince yourself that youāre safe. Itās just a party. Thereās no danger. But the door opens again way too quickly, and Deanās standing next to you, one hand with a joint and the other extending a dark blue, large pair of headphones.
āPut these on.ā He offers, shaking them slightly for emphasis. It felt wrong to refuse someone trying to help, and you didnāt have the strength to argue. You grab the headphones, placing them over your ears.
Immediately, the world quieted slightly. You could still feel the bass of the music. But all the noise from the party fully faded. It was a subtle change, but somehow enough to bring much needed relief. And your expression probably showed that, because Dean was smiling down at you.
āI use those before my games. Help me block out distractions and shit.ā He tells you, his voice much quieter through the headphones. As he continues to smoke, looking out across campus, you let your panic pass. Your body, as it always does, starts to calm down. In the moment, it always felt catastrophic. Like you were dying. And when it passed, it felt like you were dramatic for no reason.
Once you feel steady enough, you stand slowly. Dean is tall enough that you have to look up at him. When you take off the headphones, you hand them back with a hint of a smile.
āThose are expensive, okay? Be careful with āem.ā He chides with a grin.
āOh, no.ā You deadpan, pretending to drop them. His reflexes are quick, his warm, large hands covering yours as he takes the headphones back. You flush again, not from anxiety this time, but from how nice it felt. And how good he looked. And that he bothered to do something nice.
āWhatās your name, trouble?ā He winks, seeming to like that he helped you relax. You tell him, and he repeats it a few times as if to commit it to his crossfaded memory.
āThank you.ā You say honestly, ready to make your way back inside before Britt really noticed you werenāt there.
āAnytime.ā He replies in a way that makes you feel like he means it.
Summary: Dean realizes heās fallen in love with his best friend. The problem is that he figures it out just as the guy from her music class asks her to be his partner for the festival performance. She has a small crush on him, and what starts as innocent excitement soon becomes something more complicated. But when an unexpected discovery comes to light, buried feelings begin to surface, forcing both of them to face emotions that may have been there all along.
OFF CAMPUS
Ps: itās my first Dean story so be gentle with me pleaseee. And this has a part 2
Part 2
The hockey house was loud as usual.
Music blasted from the speakers in the living room while the party was wild around us
Dean was sat sprawled across the couch with a beer in his hand, pretending to listen to whatever Garrett was talking about.
Pretending is the key word.
Because his attention was currently somewhere else.
More specificallyā¦
On Y/N.
She was standing in the kitchen with Allie, laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
Dean smiled without realizing it.
Again.
Garrett caught it immediately.
āJesus Christ man.ā Dean frowned.
āWhat?ā Garrett pointed across the room.
āThat.ā
Dean followed his finger.
āWhat about it?ā
āThe fact that youāve been staring at her with heat eyes for five straight minutes.ā
āI have not.ā
āYou absolutely have.ā Logan nearly choked on his drink.
āOh my God. He has.ā
Tucker looked up from his phone.
āDean, buddyā¦ā
āNo.ā
āYou didnāt even let me finish.ā
āBecause I know where this is going.ā
Beau grinned.
āStraight to denial.ā Dean rolled his eyes.
āYou guys are insane.ā
The boys exchanged looks.
The kind of looks that immediately made him nervous.
Garrett leaned forward.
āCan I ask a question?ā
āNo.ā
āIām going to anyway.ā
Dean groaned.
Garrett pointed between him and Y/N.
āWhen was the last time you two acted like normal friends?ā
ā¢ ā . Ā° .ā¢ Ā° . ā Garrett Graham and his sleeping gf
He does not want to get up.
Despite practice starting in thirty minutes, he really, really does not want to get up. Because Garrettās sweet, clingy girlfriend is still wrapped up next to him.
Your arms are around his waist, head tucked close to his neck, and youāre adorably dead to the world- unless he moves right now.
Which he has to.
But Garrett Graham does not want to.
He lets out a pained sigh, and slowly starts to move his hands to yours so he could gently pry you away. Unfortunately, you stir, and his chest immediately tightens at the small grumble you make, followed by a mumbled, āNoooā¦ā
āBaby.ā He mutters, lips twitching up in exasperation. āI have practice.ā
You pout, and Garrett has to fight the urge to accept his fate and lie back down, but he continues, āI need to go, babe.ā
āNooooooā¦.ā You whine, but you loosen your grip on him, enough for Garrett to slip away and get up. āHow long again?ā You slur in your half-asleep daze, and Garrett glances over at you, a soft smile growing on his face as he takes your disheveled, sleepy state.
āAn hour or two.ā
āMki,ā You mumble, and he watches you instead grab his pillow and hug it to your chest as you basically curl back to sleep. How you could get even more adorable, he doesnāt know, but he also knows if he stays any longer, he really would be missing practice.
Garrett laughs under his breath, and before you slip into dreamworld, he presses a kiss to your temple. āSee you later, baby.ā
You make a sound between a hum and a jumble of words, and Garrett smiles, before you hear the door of his bedroom click shut.
pairing ā garrett graham x reader
summary ā garrett graham shows up with sex on his mind and gets introduced to a six-month-old in a duck onesie instead.
warnings ā established relationship, fluff, garrett holding a baby, domestic softness, suggestive opening, teasing
notes from me ā just a little blurb based on this ask!! someone give garrett graham a baby immediately.
word count ā 3.8k
navigation ā masterlist | taglist
The thing about Garrett Graham showing up at her apartment with sex clearly, tragically, heroically on his mind was that he didnāt know how to be subtle about it.
He thought he did. He thought turning up in grey sweats and a Briar hockey hoodie with his curls still damp from a shower and that one shoulder leaned into her doorframe counted as casual.Ā
He thought the lazy grin, the lowered voice, the slow drag of his eyes down her body before he even got a full hello out, were all normal boyfriend behaviours and not, in fact, the sort of entrance that made her immediately aware of every inch of her own skin beneath leggings and an old sweatshirt with spit-up already drying near the shoulder.
He had texted twenty minutes ago. you home?
She had said yes.
He had sent back, good.
Which, in Garrett language, meant one of two things. Either he was hungry and about to arrive with enough takeout for three people, or he was in one of those post-practice moods where his body had not quite left the ice yet and all that leftover adrenaline needed somewhere to go.Ā
Judging by the way he looked at her when she opened the door, hair messy, mouth curved, one hand already reaching for her waist like the rest of the evening had been mutually agreed upon by fate and grey sweatpants, it was very much the second.
āHey, baby,ā he said, warm and low, stepping inside before she could fully decide whether to warn him.
āHi,ā she said, and shifted the baby higher on her hip.
Garrettās hand stopped halfway to her waist. His eyes dropped. For one perfect second, the great Garrett Graham, Briarās captain, top-line centre, walking highlight reel, man who could read a defenderās shoulder from half a rink away and decide how to ruin his life in under two seconds, stared at the tiny six-month-old baby in her arms with the blank, careful horror of someone who had walked into an exam for the wrong subject.
The baby stared back. She had one fist shoved in her mouth, cheeks round and flushed from her bottle, dark lashes blinking slow and judgmental like she, too, had expected better situational awareness from him.
Garrettās gaze flicked from the baby to her face. Then back to the baby. Then back to her. āUh,ā he said.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
His brows pulled together. āDid Iā¦ miss something?ā
That broke her. A laugh came out before she could make it pretty, bright and helpless enough that Pippa startled, then smiled around her wet little fist like laughter was a game she had just invented and expected royalties from.
āNo, idiot.ā She bounced the baby once when Pippaās legs kicked happily against her stomach. āThis is my niece. Pippa.ā
Garrett blinked. āYour niece.ā
āYes.ā
āRight.ā He nodded too many times, visibly reorganising the entire evening in his head. The door clicked shut behind him with his heel. āYeah. Obviously. I knew that.ā
āYou absolutely didnāt.ā
āI did.ā His eyes dropped to Pippa again, his mouth doing something strange, not quite a grin yet, like he was afraid any sudden facial expression might commit him to childcare. āI just didnāt know she was gonna beā¦ here.ā
āShe lives a very busy life.ā
āLooks like it.ā He leaned a little closer, cautious in a way she had literally never seen from him. Garrett Graham had taken hits from men built like refrigerators and grinned blood off his teeth. But faced with one damp, sleepy baby in a yellow onesie covered in tiny ducks, he suddenly looked like he was approaching an unexploded device. āHi, Pippa,ā he said, voice dropping into this awkward, overly polite register. āNice toā¦ meet you.ā
Pippa took her fist out of her mouth with a soft pop and blew a bubble at him.
Garrettās eyebrows lifted. āYeah. Cool.ā
She laughed again, softer this time, because he looked so stupidly sincere about the whole thing. āGarrett, sheās a baby.ā
āOkay, sorry Iām being respectful.ā He shot her a look, then glanced back at Pippa, who had started patting her own chest with one open palm like she was applauding the conversation. āI donāt know her yet. Iām making a good first impression.ā
āYou came over to hook up and now youāre networking with an infant.ā
āIām versatile.ā
āYouāre scared.ā
His head snapped up. āIām not scared.ā
āBabe.ā
āIām not.ā He straightened a little, like the accusation had challenged his captaincy. āIām just being careful. Sheās tiny.ā
Pippa made a happy little shriek at the exact same moment, startling herself so badly her eyes went huge. Garrett froze. She immediately shoved her fist back into her mouth and drooled down her wrist with the calm recovery of someone who had no idea she had just almost sent a six-foot-two hockey player into cardiac arrest.
Her whole chest went warm. Garrett standing in her entryway, still built for sex and hockey, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands because there was a baby in the room and the baby was looking at him like he might be interesting if he proved himself.
She shifted Pippa higher, the babyās warm little body settling against her side, one socked foot digging into her thigh. āMy sisterās anniversary dinner ran late. She asked if I could take her for a few hours.ā
Garrett nodded, still watching Pippa like she might evolve in real time. āRight. Cool. Yeah. Thatās cool.ā
āYou can go, you know,ā she said, amused, because it was easier than admitting how weirdly sweet he looked standing there trying to adjust. āI know this probably isnāt what you had planned.ā
His eyes lifted to hers at once, and the grin finally arrived, crooked and familiar and much easier to recognise. āDepends. Is she gonna be here the whole time?ā
She stared at him. He lifted both hands. āI meant for hanging out. Jesus. Donāt look at me like that.ā
āYou had exactly one thought when you walked in.ā
āIām a man of focus.ā
āYouāre a man of grey sweatpants and bad timing.ā
His grin widened. āYou noticed the sweatpants.ā
āI have eyes.ā
He sucked at his bottom lip. āGood ones.ā
āDonāt flirt with me in front of my niece.ā
āShe doesnāt know.ā
Pippa squealed again, louder this time, and slapped her hand against the front of her sweatshirt hard enough to leave a damp little print.
Garrett looked at her. āOkay, maybe she knows.ā
āSheās very advanced.ā
āClearly.ā
She moved toward the living room, and Garrett followed, slower than usual, his bag dropped near the door, hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie like he did not trust them unsupervised. Her apartment had been fully taken over in the last hour by things that were not hers.Ā
A soft blanket on the rug. A half-collapsed baby gym with dangling animals in colours nature had never intended. A bottle cooling on the coffee table. A diaper bag open on the couch, packed with enough wipes, tiny clothes, and unidentified pastel objects to suggest Pippa was planning a weekend away rather than a three-hour visit.
Garrett stopped beside the play mat and looked down at it. āShe comes with gear.ā
āShe does.ā
Pippa watched him over her fist, drool shining on her chin. Garrett watched her back. His mouth twitched. āSheās kind of staring me down.ā
āSheās deciding if she likes you.ā
āImportant process. I respect it.ā
āShe usually likes everyone.ā
His head turned toward her, offended. āDonāt say that. I wanna earn it.ā
That got her again, the laugh catching lower this time, softer around the edges. She set Pippa down carefully on the blanket, one hand supporting the back of her head until she was settled on her tummy. Pippa made a small grunt of effort, immediately kicked both legs, and then began the serious business of trying to eat a cloth giraffe.
Garrett crouched beside the mat, forearms resting loosely on his knees, the size of him absurd next to all that baby softness. Big hands. Broad shoulders. Hoodie stretched over muscle. Hair falling slightly over his forehead. He looked like someone had dropped a golden retriever into a nursery and told it to act natural.
Pippa lifted her head, saw him closer, and smiled so wide her whole face folded into it. Garrett went still. āOh,ā he said, quieter.
She felt the sound more than heard it, tucked under the faint hum of the dishwasher and the cartoonish crinkle of the giraffe toy. His face had changed. His eyes had gone a little softer, caught on this tiny person who had decided that he wasnāt a threat and maybe even funny-looking enough to enjoy.
āShe smiled at me,ā he said.
āShe did.ā
āLike, on purpose?ā
āProbably.ā
āOkay.ā He nodded, trying very hard to look normal about this development and failing badly. āYeah. Sheās smart.ā
āShe likes the ceiling fan too, so donāt get cocky.ā
Pippa drooled onto the giraffe. Garrett pointed. āIs thatā¦ fine?ā
āThatās fine.ā
āSheās eating it.ā
āSheās gumming it. Itās made for babies.ā
āOh.ā He looked down at the giraffe again, then at Pippa. āCarry on, then.ā
She lasted maybe eight more minutes before Pippa decided the play mat was a cruel prison and began making the small, offended little sounds that meant she wanted to be upright, involved, and possibly worshipped.Ā
She picked her up first, mostly on instinct, rubbing a hand over Pippaās back while the baby huffed against her shoulder, warm cheek pressed to the collar of her sweatshirt. Garrett watched from the couch, elbows on his knees now, all that earlier awkwardness hidden under interest he was clearly trying to pretend was casual.
āYou wanna hold her?ā
The question hit him like a puck to the sternum. His eyes lifted. āMe?ā
āNo, the other enormous hockey captain in my living room.ā
He looked at Pippa, then at his own hands, like he was reassessing whether thumbs were enough. āI mean. Yeah. I can.ā
āYou donāt have to.ā
āI didnāt say I donāt want to.ā
āYou look like I just asked you to defuse a bomb.ā
āThatās dramatic.ā He sat up straighter, shoulders squaring. āGive me the baby.ā
She paused. āNever say it like that again.ā
He rolled his eyes, but there was a nervous edge under it that made her smile before she could stop herself. āOkay, fine. May I please hold Pippa, the baby, respectfully?ā
āBetter.ā She stepped between his knees and shifted Pippa carefully in her arms. āOkay, put your arm like this.ā
Garrettās hands came up, big and hesitant. He had beautiful hands, which was an annoying thing to think right now, but also true. Hands that knew sticks and steering wheels and the back of her neck in the dark. Hands that could be careless with his own body but were suddenly so careful around Pippa that her throat did something strange.
āSupport her head,ā she said softly, guiding his palm under the babyās neck. āYeah. Like that. And this arm under her bum. There you go.ā
Pippa transferred over in a warm, squirming little bundle, and Garrettās whole body went rigid. Alert. The way he got before a faceoff, only if the puck had chubby thighs and one sock sliding off.
āOh my God,ā he said under his breath.
She laughed, one hand still hovering near Pippaās back. āYouāre fine.ā
āSheās moving.ā
āShe does that.ā
āCool. Great.ā Garrett stared down at the baby now nestled against the crook of his arm, his voice lowering like volume itself could destabilise her. āHey, Pippa. Weāre good, right? You and me?ā
Pippa stared up at him, serious for one second, then reached out with one damp fist and grabbed the string of his hoodie.Ā
Garrett looked at her. āStrong grip.ā
āShe likes strings.ā
āShe canāt have it if itās dangerous, right?ā
āRight.ā
He immediately tucked the other string away with his free hand, jaw set in concentration. āNo choking hazards. I know that.ā
āLook at you.ā
He glanced up at her, smugness making a brave return despite the fact that he was still holding Pippa like she was made of glass and university liability. āTold you I got this.ā
āYouāre sweating.ā
āIām post-practice.ā
He carefully adjusted Pippa higher, the movement clumsy for half a second before his instincts caught up and his hold settled into something sturdier. The babyās cheek turned into his hoodie. Her little fist stayed locked around the fabric near his chest, and Garrett looked down at her with such focused, faintly stunned attention that the joke waiting on her tongue dissolved before it could leave her mouth.
Pippa made a sleepy sound and rubbed her face into his chest.
Garrettās eyes lifted to hers, quieter now. āIs she okay?ā
āYeah.ā Her voice came out softer than she meant it to. She cleared her throat. āShe likes you.ā
His mouth curved. āYeah?ā
āMhm.ā
āSmart girl.ā
āShe also likes licking table legs.ā
āStill smart.ā
She shook her head, smiling, and sat beside him on the couch, close enough that her thigh pressed into his. Garrett didnāt move away. If anything, he tilted slightly toward her, careful not to jostle Pippa, letting the babyās weight settle between them like something neither of them had expected and both of them were, in their own ways, trying not to overreact to.
The TV was on low, some episode of a show neither of them was watching moving blue light across the room. The apartment smelled faintly like baby lotion and Garrettās soap and the pasta sheād eaten standing at the counter before Pippaās bottle because babysitting had made time weird and dinner had become whatever she could fork into her mouth while bouncing a tiny person with opinions.Ā
Somewhere outside, a car rolled down the street with music thudding faintly through closed windows. Normal stuff. Little stuff. The kind of evening that would not have felt dangerous at all if Garrett didnāt look so unexpectedly right with a baby tucked into his arm.
She hated that, a little. The sweetness of it. The way it slipped under her skin without asking. Garrett glanced over and caught her staring.
His grin appeared immediately, soft and unbearable. āWhat?ā
āNothing.ā
āThatās not a nothing face.ā
āIām just watching you panic.ā
āIām not panicking. Iām thriving.ā
She laughed and leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, careful of Pippa between them. Garrettās cheek tipped down for half a second, brushing the top of her hair. It was so absent, so automatic, that it made her chest tighten more than if heād said something sweet on purpose.
Pippaās eyelids started to droop. Her fist loosened in Garrettās hoodie, fingers uncurling one by one. He noticed before she did. āSheās doing something.ā
āSheās getting sleepy.ā
His voice dropped even lower. āOh.ā
āYou can breathe, babe.ā
āI am breathing.ā
Pippa sighed then, a full-body little sound that ended with her mouth falling slightly open against Garrettās chest. Garrett went still again, but differently this time. Less fear. More wonder trying very hard not to show up as wonder because he was still a twenty-one-year-old hockey player in grey sweats who had come over intending to get laid and had instead been promoted, temporarily, to furniture for a sleeping infant.
His hand shifted carefully over Pippaās back, one broad palm almost covering the whole of her. He rubbed once, slow, then looked at her for confirmation.
She nodded. āThatās good.ā
āYeah?ā
āYeah.ā
His mouth softened. He looked back down at the baby. āSheās tiny.ā
āSheās actually chunky for her age.ā
āSheās tiny,ā he repeated, like this wasnāt up for debate, and there was something in his voice that made her stop teasing.
For a second, she wondered if he was thinking about his own family. Sometimes, when something gentle entered the room too suddenly, she could see the way he didnāt quite know where to put his hands around it. Like softness needed instructions. Like if he held it wrong, someone might blow a whistle somewhere only he could hear.
So she didnāt say anything too big. She only reached over and fixed Pippaās fallen sock, tugging it back over one tiny heel, and let her fingers brush Garrettās thigh on the way back. āYouāre doing good,ā she said.
His eyes came to her face. For once, he didnāt grin immediately. āYeah?ā
āMhm. Natural.ā
That made him huff. āLiar.ā
āA little,ā she admitted, smiling. āBut youāre cute, and very brave.ā
She laughed softly, and Pippa stirred against him, face scrunching. Both of them froze. The baby sighed and settled again. Garrett exhaled through his nose, triumphant and silent, like heād just won a championship in not waking up infants. She had to press her lips together to keep from laughing again.
He looked at her, eyes bright. āDid you see that?ā
āI saw.ā
āHandled.ā
āYou did.ā
āCaptain material.ā
She leaned into him a little more, her shoulder tucked against his arm, the warmth of him spreading through the old sweatshirt she was wearing. His body was still keyed underneath the stillness, all coiled athlete forced into gentleness, but his breathing had slowed.Ā
Pippaās small back rose and fell beneath his hand. The room seemed to soften around the three of them, domestic in a way she didnāt want to name because naming it would make it too real and maybe too much.
Garrett was quiet for a while. He didnāt rush to fill the space with some joke about her baby-trapping him or ask if this meant his original plans were permanently cancelled or make one of the million stupid comments he could have made to rescue himself from looking soft. He just held Pippa and let his thumb move, once, twice, barely there over the babyās back. Then, very quietly, he said, āShe smells good.ā
She looked at him.
He glanced back. āWhat?ā
āNothing.ā
His brow furrowed slightly. āDonāt make it weird.ā
āI didnāt say anything.ā
āYou were thinking something.ā
She smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. āI was thinking you just discovered babies smell nice.ā
āWell, I didnāt know.ā He looked down again, faintly defensive. āI donāt hang out with a lot of babies.ā
āYour loss.ā
āClearly. Pippa and I are boys now.ā
āSheās a girl.ā
āYou know what I mean.ā
āDo I?ā
He nudged her knee with his. āDonāt start.ā
She smiled down at Pippa, asleep against the big Briar captain like this was a perfectly reasonable place for a nap. Her cheek was squished into the soft cotton of Garrettās hoodie, one hand curled near his collar, one sock already trying to escape again. Garrett followed her gaze and, with great seriousness, adjusted the sock before it could fall.
Her stomach did something deeply stupid. His eyes flicked to her face, and the grin that spread this time was slow. Warm. A little cocky around the edges, because Garrett Graham could hold a baby for ten minutes and immediately become insufferable about it.
āWhat?ā he asked.
āYou look very pleased with yourself.ā
āI am.ā
āBecause youāre holding a sleeping baby?ā
āBecause Iām good at it.ā
āYou were shaking when I handed her to you.ā
āYeah, and now look at me.ā He nodded down at Pippa with all the confidence of a man who had survived one diaper-free interaction and was ready to write a parenting manual. āGrowth.ā
āSheās asleep. Thatās mostly her doing.ā
āTeam effort.ā
āSure.ā
His grin widened, then softened again when Pippa moved, tiny mouth working against the fabric of his hoodie. Garrettās eyes dropped, and his hand stilled until she settled. He looked ridiculous. Gorgeous and too big for the couch and smug over the smallest possible achievement, with a baby asleep in his arms and his original plans for the night lying somewhere dead in the entryway beside his gym bag.
She leaned up and kissed the corner of his jaw.
Garrettās eyes cut to hers, interested immediately despite Pippa, because he was still Garrett and there were some instincts not even a sleeping infant could fully neutralise. āCareful.ā
She smiled against his skin. āWhat?ā
āYou start kissing me while Iām holding a baby, and I canāt do anything about it.ā
āThatās tragic for you.ā
āThatās cruel.ā
āItās one kiss.ā
āYeah, thatās how it starts.ā
She laughed under her breath, and Pippa didnāt wake this time, only snuggled closer into Garrettās chest like she had decided he was acceptable and possibly permanent.Ā
Garrett watched her for a second, then looked back at the girl beside him, his mouth softer than his voice when he spoke. āSo,ā he said. āHow long until your sister gets back?ā
She narrowed her eyes. āGarrett.ā
āWhat?ā He looked almost offended, except his grin was doing too much damage. āIām asking because I care about Pippaās schedule.ā
āYou are so full of shit.ā
āIām deeply invested in her routine.ā
āHer routine is bottle, nap, diaper, maybe scream at a lamp for no reason.ā
āSounds like Dean.ā
She pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle the laugh, and Garrett smiled down at her, his hand still steady over Pippaās back. For a while, they stayed like that. Pippa asleep. Garrett pretending not to be proud. Her tucked into his side with one hand resting lightly on his thigh, feeling the warmth of his body, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the tiny rise and fall of the baby between them. The evening hadnāt gone where he wanted. Not even close.
But when her phone buzzed twenty minutes later with a text from her sister saying they were on their way, Garrett looked down at Pippa, then at her, and frowned. āAlready?ā
She stared at him.
He shrugged, defensive. āWhat? We were hanging out.ā
āUh-huh.ā
āDonāt say it like that.ā
āYou like her.ā
āShe likes me.ā
āSheās asleep.ā
āExactly. Trust.ā
She smiled so hard she had to look away. His knee knocked gently into hers, and when she looked back, he was watching her with that soft, stupid, dangerous warmth that always made her feel like sheād missed a step coming down stairs.
āWhat?ā she asked, quieter.
He shook his head once, eyes dropping briefly to Pippa before coming back to her. āNothing.ā
āThatās not a nothing face.ā
āYeah,ā he said, and leaned in carefully, Pippa still asleep between them, to kiss her once. Soft. Quick. Warm enough to make her toes curl against the edge of the rug. āBut you like it.ā
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling when he pulled back, and Garrett, holding her sleeping niece like heād been trusted with the Stanley Cup and maybe something more important, looked far too pleased to be proven right.
pairing ā garrett graham x reader
summary ā garrett's girlfriend is drunk, freezing, and extremely loyal. so loyal, in fact, that she refuses his water, his jacket, and his flirting because sheās waiting forā¦ garrett graham.
warnings ā fluff, drunk antics, alcohol, post-game party, protective boyfriend garrett, reader doesn't recognise him for most of the fic
notes from me ā part of my 1k celebrations!! & based on this request!! thank u anon, such a cute idea š„¹
word count ā 4.4k
navigation ā masterlist | taglist
There was two versions of Garrett Graham. The version people got in the rink, all sharp focus and captain voice and that very specific game-day intensity that made even strangers in the stands start sitting a little straighter when he skated past.Ā
Then there was the version people got after heād won, showered, changed, and been handed exactly two beers at a party by Logan, who had called it recovery hydration with the confidence of a man who had never once been trusted by medical professionals.
That Garrett was looser. Warmer. Still tired in the shoulders, still carrying the ache of a hard check somewhere along his ribs, but smiling more easily now, head tipped back while Tucker said something dry beside him and Dean yelled over the music from the kitchen like volume could make a story better.Ā
His hair was still damp at the edges from his post-game shower, curling slightly where heād shoved his hand through it too many times, and the dark blue Briar letterman jacket had stayed on for maybe twelve minutes before the house got too hot and he dumped it over the back of a chair.
He was, by every reasonable standard, doing great. His girlfriend was not. His girlfriend had arrived at the party with Allie and a plan that had included one drink, maybe two, and absolutely no consideration for the fact that girls pouring vodka cranberries in hockey houses tended to treat measurements as a loose concept.Ā
Garrett had been across the living room when sheād taken the first one. Heād been in the kitchen with Tucker when sheād finished the second. By the time he saw her again, she was standing near the bottom of the stairs with one hand wrapped around a red cup, smiling at something Allie said with the bright, floaty concentration of a girl whose whole body had started operating on a two-second delay.
He could notice a winger drifting out of formation from half a rink away with two guys trying to take his head off. He could absolutely notice his girlfriend blinking too slowly under the hallway light, her cheeks warm from alcohol and the heat of too many bodies packed into the house, her mouth glossy and parted slightly like she kept forgetting whether she was meant to be talking or laughing.Ā
She looked happy, which helped. Loose and giggly and pleased. But she also kept shifting her weight like the floor had become more wobbly than usual, and Garrett had not fought for his life against Harvardās second line that afternoon just to let his girlfriend get taken out by hardwood.
So he left Logan mid-sentence. Logan didnāt even pretend to be offended. He just followed Garrettās line of sight, saw her trying to drink from the cup and missing her mouth by half an inch, and winced. āOh, buddy.ā
Garrett pointed at him without looking back. āDonāt.ā
āI didnāt say anything.ā
āYou were about to.ā
āI was gonna say she looks graceful.ā
āDie.ā
Garrett crossed the room with the easy confidence of someone everyone automatically moved for, red cup of water in hand because Tucker, thank God, had seen the situation unfolding and passed it over like a medic on a battlefield.Ā
She didnāt see Garrett coming. She was too busy nodding very seriously at Allie, who was holding both her hands and saying something that involved the words no, babe, Iām so serious and eyebrow blindness.
Garrett stepped into her space, close enough that his knee brushed hers. āHey, baby.ā
She turned toward him. For one beautiful second, her face went blank. Then her entire expression rearranged itself into scandalised horror.
āExcuse you,ā she said, pulling herself up to her full height, which was less effective than usual because she swayed slightly at the top and had to catch Allieās wrist. āI have a boyfriend.ā
Garrett blinked.
Allie made a noise like sheād swallowed a firework. Garrett looked at his girlfriend. His girlfriend looked back at him with genuine, drunken offence, like heād approached her in a bar wearing a leather bracelet and too much confidence.
āUh huh,ā he said slowly, because there were moments in life that required leadership and moments that required not laughing directly in the face of the girl you loved while she was doing her best. āThatās great.ā
āIt is great,ā she said, lifting her chin. āHeās very tall.ā
Garrettās mouth twitched. āGood for him.ā
āAnd he plays hockey.ā
āNo shit?ā
āAnd heās, like, really good at it.ā
Allie had turned away now, one hand clamped over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Garrett refused to look at her because if he did, he was going to lose it, and that felt like the sort of thing his girlfriend would interpret as disrespect from a strange man at a party, which apparently he was now.
He held out the cup. āCan you drink some water for me?ā
Her eyes narrowed. Suspicious. Wobbly. Deeply loyal to the absent boyfriend currently standing less than a foot in front of her. āWhy?ā
āBecause youāre drunk.ā
āIām not drunk.ā
āBaby.ā
Her mouth dropped open. āDonāt call me baby.ā
āRight. Sorry.ā He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, nodding with a level of solemnity he absolutely did not feel. āMy bad.ā
āMy boyfriend calls me baby.ā
āDoes he?ā
āYes.ā
āSounds annoying.ā
āHeās not annoying.ā She frowned at him with such force that it seemed to briefly take all her balance with it. Garrettās free hand shot out to her waist before she could tip sideways into Allie. She looked down at it, then back up at him, appalled. āDonāt touch my waist.ā
Garrett removed his hand at once, palms lifting. āAlright.ā
Allie, still dying, leaned in and said, āBabe, maybe just drink the water.ā
She looked betrayed. āYouāre taking his side?ā
āIām taking hydrationās side.ā
Garrett offered the cup again. āJust a couple sips.ā
She stared at him for another second, clearly weighing the moral implications of accepting water from a man who looked suspiciously like her boyfriend but who she had, for reasons unclear to everyone except the vodka, decided was not.Ā
Finally, she took the cup with great caution, like he might use the transfer to propose something criminal, and drank.
Garrett watched her swallow three obedient little sips, then nodded. āGood girl.ā
The look she gave him could have killed a weaker man. āNope.ā
āRight. Yep. Forgot.ā
āMy boyfriend says that.ā
āBet he does,ā Garrett muttered.
āWhat?ā
āNothing.ā
She handed the cup back, pleased with herself and still indignant, and then immediately turned toward Allie like the conversation had been handled.
Garrett stood there for half a second, holding the water, staring at the side of her face.
Dean appeared beside him like he had been summoned by humiliation itself. āHey, man.ā
Garrett didnāt look over. āDo not.ā
Deanās grin was audible. āShe knows youāre her boyfriend, right?ā
āSheās drunk.ā
āShe just told you she has a boyfriend.ā
āYeah, Dean, I was here.ā
Dean leaned around him to look at her, delighted. āThis is the best thing thatās ever happened to me.ā
Garrett finally turned his head and gave him a flat look. āThatās sad.ā
āNo, whatās sad is getting rejected by your own girlfriend.ā Dean clapped him once on the shoulder and immediately stepped out of reach. āTough shift, captain.ā
Garrett pointed at him. āI will put you through a wall.ā
āWow.ā Dean called over his shoulder, already retreating. āHer boyfriend would never.ā
Garrett took a slow breath through his nose and looked back at her. She was laughing at something Allie said now, one hand pressed to her own chest, head tipping forward so her hair fell around her face.Ā
She looked ridiculous. Beautiful and unsteady and way too warm in the cheeks, standing under the hallway light like the world had gone pleasantly fuzzy and she trusted it not to hurt her because she hadnāt yet noticed Garrett had been replaced by some guy bothering her with cups.
His annoyance softened before it could become anything real. Fine. He could work with this.
For the next twenty minutes, Garrett kept orbiting. That was the only word for it. He didnāt hover, because hovering would get him accused of being controlling by Dean, and probably by her if she remembered how to form an argument.Ā
He orbited. Close enough to keep an eye on her, far enough that she didnāt look up and accuse him of trying to steal girlfriend privileges from Garrett Graham, who was both beloved and missing.
She danced with Allie in the living room, mostly from the waist up because her coordination had started giving its two weeksā notice.Ā
She complimented Tuckerās shirt with extreme sincerity even though Tucker was wearing the same plain black t-shirt he wore to every party.Ā
She told Logan he looked so tall tonight, which made Logan look down at himself like height might have happened recently and without his permission.
Garrett found her again near the back door, rubbing both hands over her bare arms.
The house was hot, but the door kept swinging open whenever someone stepped out to smoke or yell into the yard, letting in cold spring air that slipped over her skin and made her shoulders inch up toward her ears.Ā
Garrett saw the little shiver move through her before she did. He grabbed his letterman jacket off the chair and came up behind her, careful this time, no hands first. Just the jacket, warm from the room and heavy with him, settled over her shoulders.
āThere,ā he said, low near her ear. āYouāre cold.ā
She froze.
Garrett closed his eyes for one second. āPlease donāt.ā
She shrugged the jacket off so fast it nearly hit the floor. Garrett caught it by the collar.
āNope,ā she said.
āBaby.ā
Her head snapped around. āI said no.ā
Garrett looked at the ceiling. The ceiling offered no help. āYouāre shivering.ā
āI only wear my boyfriendās jacket.ā
āThis is your boyfriendās jacket.ā
āNo, itās not.ā
āIt literally has my name on it.ā
She squinted at the embroidered Graham on the chest like letters were a personal challenge. āLots of people are named Graham.ā
āNot on this team.ā
āYou donāt know that.ā
āI do, actually. Iām the captain.ā
Her face twisted with immediate doubt, like that was exactly the sort of lie a jacket predator would tell at a party. āYouāre the captain?ā
Garrett stared at her. āOh my God.ā
From the couch, Logan made a strangled sound into his beer.
She pointed at Garrettās chest, very serious now. āMy boyfriend is the captain.ā
āYeah, Iāve heard great things.ā
āHeās very hot.ā
āIs he?ā
āSo hot,ā she said, and then sighed, soft and dramatic and so genuinely fond that Garrettās irritation had nowhere to land. āLike, stupid hot. Itās actually kind of annoying.ā
Garrettās face moved before he could stop it, warmth pulling at his mouth. āYeah?ā
She nodded. āAnd he has really nice hands.ā
Logan choked.
Garrett didnāt look away from her. āGood hands are important.ā
āThey are,ā she agreed solemnly. āAnd heās not some random guy trying to give girls jackets.ā
āRight.ā He held up the jacket between them, helpless now. āCan I justāā
āNo thank you.ā
āYouāre gonna freeze.ā
āIāll wait for Garrett.ā
āYou do that,ā he said, because love was standing in a hockey house holding your own jacket while your drunk girlfriend faithfully rejected you on your own behalf. āSounds like a plan.ā
She smiled at him then, bright and polite. āThank you for understanding.ā
Garrett looked at her for a long moment, then at the jacket, then back at her. āAnytime.ā
He walked away to the sound of Logan losing the fight against laughter so badly he had to bend over his own knees.
āYouāre not helping,ā Garrett said.
Logan wiped under one eye. āIām sorry, man, but sheās loyal as hell.ā
āShe thinks Iām a stranger.ā
āShe thinks youāre a stranger with bad intentions. Thereās a difference.ā
āGreat. That makes it better.ā
Tucker came up beside them, looking far too amused for somebody usually committed to being the reasonable one. āYou know, technically, this is a very good sign for your relationship.ā
Garrett gave him a look. āDonāt start.ā
āSheās hammered and still refusing men for you.ā
āShe refused me.ā
āExactly. Nobody is safe.ā
Dean reappeared then, because joy, unfortunately, had a way of finding him. āI just heard she wouldnāt wear your jacket.ā
Garrettās jaw tightened. āYou heard wrong.ā
Dean grinned. āDid I?ā
āIām gonna kill you before playoffs.ā
āNo, youāre not. Youāre too busy getting friend-zoned by your girlfriend.ā
Garrett shoved him in the chest. Dean laughed all the way into the kitchen.
By the time Garrett found her again, she had somehow migrated to the old armchair near the stairs, sitting sideways with her knees tucked up and Dean perched on the arm like some kind of terrible emotional support animal.Ā
Her bare arms were folded tight over her chest now, because she was still cold and still deeply committed to jacket monogamy. Her face had changed too. Gone softer around the edges, bottom lip pushed out, all the earlier moral outrage curdled into something wounded and grumpy.
Garrett stopped a few feet away. Dean saw him first and his grin turned wicked. āOh, thank God.ā
She frowned up at Dean. āWhat?ā
āNothing.ā Dean patted the top of the chair. āYour nightās about to improve.ā
She slumped deeper into the cushion, still looking at Dean. āI havenāt seen Garrett all night.ā
Garrett blinked.
Dean pressed his lips together so hard his whole face went strange.
She kept going, mournful now, eyes glossy from alcohol and the kind of drama that only really existed after midnight in a crowded house. āHeās, like, disappeared.ā
Garrett slowly looked at Dean.
āHe had a game,ā she said, to no one in particular, or maybe to Deanās knee. āAnd I wanted to tell him he played really good.ā
āHe knows,ā Dean said, voice suspiciously tight.
āNo, but I wanted to tell him.ā She rubbed at one eye with the heel of her hand, then stopped halfway as if remembering makeup existed. āAnd thereās this guy who keeps talking to me.ā
Garrettās eyebrows went up.
Dean made direct eye contact with him and looked like he might actually pass away.
āHe keeps calling me baby,ā she muttered. āAnd trying to make me drink water.ā
Garrett bit the inside of his cheek.
āSounds awful,ā Dean managed.
āSo annoying,ā she said. āLike, okay, hydration police. I have a boyfriend.ā
Garrett stepped closer then, because there were only so many times a man could be called the hydration police by the love of his life before he had to intervene. āHey, baby.ā
Her head lifted. The transformation was immediate and almost violent. Her whole face opened, bright and relieved and suddenly so happy to see him that it genuinely knocked the joke sideways in his chest. āGarrett!ā
He froze. āHi?ā
āBaby!ā She reached both arms out toward him from the chair, nearly tipping herself forward in the process. Garrett crossed the last step fast and caught her by the hands before she could slide off the cushion. āHi.ā
āHi,ā he said again, slower this time, looking down at her. āYou recognise me now?ā
She frowned like heād said something deeply strange. āWhat are you talking about?ā
Dean made a sound that might have been a cough if he had not immediately turned away with his shoulders shaking.
Garrett stared at her. āNothing.ā
She squeezed his face, delighted and fully unaware of the damage sheād caused him tonight. āI missed you.ā
His mouth softened despite himself. āYeah?ā
āYes.ā She tugged at him, needy and uncoordinated, until he stepped properly between her legs where sheād moved to sit properly in the chair. Her knees bracketed his thighs, her fingers curling in the front of his shirt like now that she had found him, she intended to physically prevent further abandonment. āYou were gone for so long.ā
Garrett looked at her for one second, then over her head at Dean, who was wiping tears out of the corner of his eye. āI was around.ā
She shook her head, very firm. āNo.ā
āNo?ā
āNo. There was just this guy.ā
Garrett nodded, face serious. āRight. The water guy.ā
She gasped softly, looking up at him with genuine alarm. āYou saw him?ā
Dean slid off the arm of the chair. āI need to go tell Logan something immediately.ā
Garrett didnāt even try to stop him. His hands had settled at her waist now, thumbs pressing lightly over the fabric of her top because she was still swaying in tiny increments even while sitting down. āYeah, baby, I saw him.ā
āYou should talk to him.ā
āOh, I should?ā
āYes.ā Her voice dropped into a whisper that wasnāt remotely quiet. āHe was flirting with me.ā
Garrettās eyes flicked over her face. āWas he?ā
āHe kept calling me baby.ā
āThatās crazy.ā
āAnd he tried to give me his jacket.ā
āWhat a dick.ā
She nodded, relieved that he understood the severity. āI know.ā
Garrettās grin finally broke free, slow and helpless. He stepped closer until her forehead could tip against his stomach, and when it did, she sighed like the entire night had been restored to its proper axis by the smell of his shirt.Ā
He looked down at the crown of her head, at the way her hands had found the hem of his t-shirt and held on loosely, and brushed his fingers once over the back of her hair.
She had rejected him all night. She had accused him of being a stranger, declined his water on principle, refused his jacket with the ferocity of a woman defending a sacred oath, and still somehow the inside of him went soft at the way she leaned into him now, trusting and warm and gone enough to be ridiculous but not gone enough to forget where she wanted to end up.
āBaby,ā he murmured.
āMhm?ā
āYou wanna get outta here?ā
Her head lifted at once. āYes, please.ā
āYeah?ā He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, watching the way her eyes followed his face now with no suspicion at all. āYou done?ā
āSo done.ā She nodded, then winced faintly at the motion like her brain had moved one direction and her skull another. āCan we go home?ā
āYeah, we can go home.ā
āAnd maybe get McDonaldās?ā
Garrett laughed under his breath, and the sound made her smile like sheād won something. āSure, baby.ā
āReally?ā
āYeah. But you gotta stand up first.ā
She looked down at her own legs with sudden doubt. āOkay.ā
āConfident.ā
āI can do it.ā
āI know you can.ā He took both her hands and backed up half a step, giving her room. āCome on. Up we go.ā
She stood with the intense focus of someone attempting a field sobriety test on a ship. Garrettās hands went to her waist at once, steadying her as her knees straightened and her body tipped forward into his.Ā
He didnāt make a show of it. Didnāt laugh when she grabbed his forearms and blinked hard at the room. He only held her until she found the floor again, fingers spread warm and firm at her sides.
āThere we go,ā he said softly. āYou good?ā
She nodded, then thought about it. āMostly.ā
āMostly works.ā He leaned around her just enough to grab his letterman jacket from the back of the chair āCan I put this on you now, or are we still being loyal to your boyfriend?ā
She looked at the jacket. Then up at him. Then back at the jacket.
āThatās yours,ā she said, like he was the one struggling to keep up.
Garrett pressed his lips together. āYeah.ā
She smiled, sweet and pleased. āOkay.ā
He slid it over her shoulders. This time she pushed her arms into the sleeves with immediate enthusiasm, even though they swallowed her hands completely.Ā
Garrett zipped it halfway because she was too busy smelling the collar with a happy little hum that did absolutely nothing for his ability to remain normal.
āYou smell good,ā she told him.
āThanks.ā
āLike Garrett.ā
āCrazy coincidence.ā
She nodded, accepting that, and slipped her hand into his when he offered it. Her fingers were warm and clumsy between his, squeezing twice like she was checking he was real. He squeezed back once and started guiding her through the house.
The party kept moving around them. Someone called his name from the kitchen and Garrett lifted his free hand without stopping. Logan appeared near the doorway, took one look at them, and grinned.
āShe found you,ā he said.
Garrett pointed at him. āNot a word.ā
She turned toward Logan, solemn and slightly off-balance. āThere was a guy bothering me all night.ā
Loganās mouth opened. Closed. He looked at Garrett, then back at her. āNo way.ā
She nodded. āWay.ā
Garrett kept walking. āLetās go.ā
Behind them, Logan said, āHope your boyfriend handles that.ā
She turned around while still moving, which forced Garrett to catch her by the waist and redirect her like a shopping cart with a bad wheel. āHe will!ā
āIām sure he will,ā Logan called, voice cracking around laughter.
Outside, the cold hit her properly. She shrank into the jacket at once, shoulders rising, Garrettās hand still wrapped around hers while they moved down the front steps and along the path toward his car.Ā
The night was damp and dark around the edges, grass glittering faintly under the porch light, the music dulling behind the shut door until it became a pulse more than a song. She walked close to him, not quite straight, occasionally bumping into his side and then apologising to his arm.
āBaby,ā she said halfway down the walk.
āYeah?ā
āThat guy was so annoying.ā
Garrett glanced down at her. āStill thinkinā about him?ā
āHe was talking to me all night.ā
āSounds like a loser.ā
āHe was kind of hot, though.ā
Garrett stopped walking.
She stopped too, delayed, then looked back at him with wide innocent eyes. āWhat?ā
He stared at her. āHot?ā
She nodded, very serious. āBut not as hot as you.ā
āUh huh.ā
āAnd he had your jacket.ā
āMy jacket?ā
āYeah.ā Her brows pulled together. āActually, that was weird.ā
Garrett looked up at the sky for patience. āSo weird.ā
āYou should talk to him, baby. Iām serious.ā
āOh, I will.ā
āGood.ā She nodded once, satisfied, and started walking again. āDonāt fight him though. You had a game.ā
His mouth twitched. āRight. Wouldnāt wanna overdo it.ā
āAnd you already won.ā
āI did.ā
āYou were really good,ā she said, and the words came out softer now, slipping under the joke with no warning at all. Her fingers tightened around his. āI forgot to tell you.ā
Garrettās steps slowed by a fraction. He looked down at her, at her messy hair and flushed cheeks and his too-big jacket hanging off her shoulders, at the careful way she was watching the pavement. āYeah?ā
āMhm. You did that thing.ā She lifted their joined hands vaguely, as if the thing might be available in the air somewhere. āWhere you went really fast and then the other guy was stupid.ā
Garrett laughed, warm and surprised. āThat was my favourite play.ā
āIt was good. Iām real proud of you.ā
āThanks, baby.ā
She leaned into his arm, pleased. āYouāre welcome.ā
At the car, he opened the passenger door and turned her gently by the hips before she could attempt entry at a dangerous angle. āAlright. Watch your head.ā
āI always watch my head.ā
āYou donāt.ā
āI have one.ā
āHaving one and watching it are different.ā
She ducked into the car with exaggerated care, one hand on the roof, one hand still gripping his. Garrett waited until she was seated, then crouched slightly and drew the seatbelt across her.Ā
She looked down at him while he clicked it into place, her expression suddenly soft and sleepy. āBaby.ā
āYeah?ā
āIām so glad I found you.ā
His hand paused on the belt for half a second.
She sighed, sinking back into the seat, eyes half-lidded now that the carās quiet had started wrapping around her. āI missed you tonight.ā
Garrett looked at her in the blue dashboard glow, and something in his chest pulled tight and fond and a little ridiculous. āMissed you too.ā
āThere was this guyāā
āI heard.ā
āāand he kept trying to give me water.ā
āSo rude.ā
āExactly.ā Her head tipped against the seat, eyes closing for one beat before opening again. āCan you get me nuggets?ā
Garrett smiled and brushed his thumb over her knee before standing. āYeah, babe. Iāll get you nuggets.ā
āAnd fries.ā
āObviously.ā
āAnd a Sprite.ā
āYou need water.ā
She made a face. āThe guy said that too.ā
Garrett leaned one arm on the open door and looked down at her, trying very hard not to smile too much because she would see it and accuse him of something. āThe guy sounds smart.ā
She frowned. āDonāt compliment him.ā
āMy bad.ā
āYouāre my boyfriend.ā
āI am.ā
āAnd I love you.ā
The words came out simple and softened by vodka and sleepiness and the warm cocoon of his jacket around her, but real enough that Garrett felt them land under his ribs.
He bent and kissed her forehead. āI love you too.ā
She smiled, eyes closed now. āGood.ā
āGood,ā he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face before shutting the door.Ā
He walked around the front of the car with a grin he couldnāt quite get rid of, hearing the muffled thump of the party behind him and the faint sound of her shifting around in the passenger seat like she was trying to get comfortable in sleeves three sizes too big.Ā
When he got in, she was already curled toward his side, cheek against the seat, looking at him with heavy eyes and total, trusting recognition.
Garrett started the car. She reached blindly for his hand. He gave it to her.
For a minute they sat there in the dim quiet before he pulled away from the curb, her fingers woven through his, his thumb moving once over her knuckles. Then she inhaled like she had remembered something important.
āBabe?ā
āYeah?ā
āYouāre gonna talk to that guy, right?ā
Garrett smiled at the road, the house falling behind them, McDonaldās glowing somewhere ahead like a drunken little lighthouse.
āYeah,ā he said. āIāll give him a stern talking-to.ā
āGood,ā she mumbled, already drifting. āTell him I have a boyfriend.ā
His grin widened.
āTrust me, baby,ā Garrett said, squeezing her hand once as he turned out onto the street. āHe knows.ā
Summary: At barely nineteen, you had to not only support your boyfriend in F1 but also survive a man who kept trying to get to you.
Your relationship with Kimi never had the chance to be private. Your first kiss got filmed and went viral on social media for weeks after. Barely seventeen, you and Kimi just accepted that you could not be a secret, and that privacy was not a luxury you could afford.
Without a PR team to help you out, you were stuck fighting every false rumor yourself to try and protect whatever dignity you still had and the effort didnāt go unnoticed by Kimi who always tried to cheer you up whenever it got too much.
So imagine the shock when Kimi got his contract into F1 and you got called into a meeting without your boyfriend.
A meeting full of expensive suits and shiny shoes while you were freshly eighteen and in your boyfriend hoodie. They set out strict rules on what you could say or post and whatever else that was strictly off limits.
They spoke about your security and the fact that you couldnāt walk alone anywhere anymore. You needed guidance and help which only made you feel like a child over again. You didnāt need a bodyguard yet but they said it was coming quickly. You didnāt know if you liked it or if it just gave more reason to your anxiety.
ā--
The first time you entered the F1 paddock was a nightmare for you.
Walking hand in hand with Kimi was usually peaceful but it felt more like putting on a show for millions to watch.
āYou need to breathe, itās just cameras.ā Kimi said, circling his thumb on your hand. Trying to find a way to calm you down.
āI know, I just need some adaptation Kimi.ā You say, looking ahead to avoid his eyes wishing he wouldn't notice.
He didnāt.
ā--
You only felt relief when his first season ended but kept that to yourself. You didnāt want to be a problem, you werenāt the important one, the driver. You were just a teenage girl.
The end meant staying in Monaco for a while, avoiding any camera and paparazzi which Kimi did without questioning you once.
The start of the 2026 season came with excitement but a ton of anxiety. Australia went very well and a podium was worth celebrating. The sudden joy almost made you excited for the rest. Maybe the hyped around you had finally calmed down ?
Until you opened your Instagram DMās and saw hundreds of photos of you in the paddock from the same account. All were slightly different, some normal, some clearly focusing on your body and looks.
You stared at them for so long, Kimi took your phone frustrated you didnāt give him attention anymore.
āJust lay your head on me, Bella, Iāll take care of you.ā He said, pushing your head down so you could sleep.
You hummed softly and closed your eyes but your brain never stopped working.
ā--
The practice and sprint in China went very well, you watched Kimi drive beside Toto and dined with George and Carmen. You were starting to settle in with the fame, the attention but also the Mercedes family.
Your mind forgot about the pictures for a while, until you saw the man. You saw him between Q1 and Q2, you were strolling around looking for food when you stopped dead in your tracks.
You slowly turned around and your eyes immediately found the unfamiliar yet terrifying face. The man didnāt move, didnāt speak but just smiled at you.
You turned and ran back to the Mercedes garage, arriving out of breath from the speed you had trying to escape the vision you had.
āEverything okay ?ā Toto asks you as he walks closer to you and your now red face.
āJust saw someone I knew and didnāt like much, you know.ā You say, trying to create a genuine laugh that wasnāt full of anxiety. āThe usual.ā
āWell if you see him again, come to me.ā He says with that protective fatherly voice that always brought you so much comfort. āIāll take care of it.ā
You nodded because even when you were terrified, Toto had a way to calm your nerve the way your father did during your childhood.
ā--
The Japan Grand Prix went for the better. A win for your boyfriend and no sign of the mystery man for you. You were both watching a movie while laying on the hotel bed.
Your legs were tangled in his, seeking his comfort more than usual. Seeking his touch anytime you could.
āAre you okay ?ā He asks, looking at you with his doe eyes. āYouāre not usually this quiet.ā
āHmm, Iām good.ā You say sitting up a little more so you could properly see his face. āI think the constant attention is getting to me a little.ā
He nods quietly as his hand finds your hair, slowly scratching your head in a way that makes your eyes roll. āWell if you need a break, tell me baby, Iāll take care of it no question asked.ā
āI know you would.ā
You fall asleep a few minutes later and Kimi contemplates opening your phone to understand whatās going on in your mind but doesnāt.
You would tell him if anything was happening, right ?
ā--
The heat in Miami finally made you tan a little but also smile a little as you arrived early for the Grand Prix this weekend. Your boyfriend went early to the paddock for race day but you were shopping a little before.
Passing security was easy and you walked around with your pass around your neck like it belonged there. You were speedwalking through the first few garages, not caring to look for anyone other than Kimi as your body collided with someone else.
You stumbled back a few steps before a hand steadied you by the waist.
You blushed crimson red. āOh ! Iām so sorry, I didnāt even see you there.ā You spoke, and lifted your eyes up to see his face.
Your smile never drops so fast as you see the mystery man. The man who keeps trying to call your personal number. The man who keeps sending you pictures of you walking around the paddock or even your house. The man who now had his filthy hands on your waist.
You never turned around so fast as you ran, never looking back. The man didnāt follow you but his presence did and people noticed.
Toto asked you if you were sick or Carmen forcing you to drink water. Kimi didnāt notice. He was so happy about his win, so proud to be leading the championship in points that he didnāt notice you were drowning.
You werenāt better, never speaking of your issue with anyone. Scared to look dumb, scared to be taken unseriously. You kept your mouth shut and Kimi never noticed you had a problem in the first place.
You thought it would pass, you thought the man would give up.
ā--
Canada was your favorite Grand Prix. You loved Montreal city and you knew Kimi would be able to perform well.
Practice went well, qualifications went better. Kimi would start P2 and you couldnāt be prouder. As soon as he came back in the garage, you ran to him and hug him.
āKimi, baby, Iām so so proud of you.ā You say, kissing his cheek to try and keep some intimacy for you.
āThank you for being here, amore.ā He whispers in your ear and cups your face to properly kiss you. He didnāt care about the media, he needed his girl.
You giggle in the kiss, as your cheeks become bright red. āAlways.ā
You celebrated in your own ways back at the hotel. You felt safer now, you had not seen the mystery man at all in Canada.
The next morning, you arrived at the paddock earlier than usual and sadly, you had to walk in alone. You had a beautiful long white skirt with Kimiās Mercedes jacket.
The Canadian fans always had some respect when it came to drivers and WAGS which was the only reason you had the guts to drive over there alone.
You were barely able to see Kimi before the race since he had so many meetings and last minute check ups. You kissed his helmet before he entered the car and you went to sit down next to Toto and Carmen as you put the headset on your head.
āReady to watch him race ?ā Toto asks you as you turn to face him and nod your head.
āI hope he wins.ā You explain. āHe puts so much pressure on him.ā
āI know, donāt worry though. He can drive.ā
ā--
Kimi won and you hugged every engineer you knew as your smile reached your eyes. Seeing your boyfriend being successful healed something in you that you didnāt know was broken.
You slowly walked across the paddock to find a nice spot to watch the podium ceremony and take cute pictures. You tried to short cut through the Mercedes office but got stopped when a hand grabbed your wrist.
The hand was too big to be Kimiās and you tried to push it away because if it wasnāt Kimi, no one is supposed to grip your wrist.
āStop moving you little girlā He said, gripping your wrist so tightly, you were sure it would bruise.
āLet me go !ā You screamed, trashing around. You were too young to die, you thought.
His free hand clamped your mouth to shut you up quickly. Your back was pressed against his chest but he quickly pressed you against the wall violently which made you bang your head on the wall.
You tried to bite his hand which didnāt work, and your tears were falling with no shame down your face. He started choking you against the wall and your hands flew to his arms, trying to lower them down.
Both of his hands were now pressing your throat as you tried to breathe through your nose. āPlease, I I didnāt do anything.ā Your words were barely hearable as you were coughing intensely.
Your eyes closed and your body felt weaker than ever before.
āHey ! Stop that right now.ā
You would've normally recognized the voice but you were far too deep into death for your brain to function.
Your body crumbled on the floor when his hands dropped and you immediately started coughing blood all over the floor.
Toto didnāt hesitate to kneel by your side as his shaking hands went to the phone and called Kimi who didnāt answer. āHey, hey, itās okay. Iām here now.ā
You simply kept coughing blood all over the place, apologizing over and over for the drama, the mess you just created.
Your breathing was uneven, filled with anxiety. You simply tried to find comfort anywhere and right now, that was by hiding your face in Totoās shirt and crying.
He pulled you in, not caring for the fact that you were wetting his shirt. He rubbed your back until you passed out of exhaustion. The bruises on your neck were bright red, turning purple quickly and his eyes filled with water.
The teenage girl he protected like his daughter was passed out in his arms, body full of bruises and marks.
He very carefully lifted you up in his arms, as he walked silently until he entered Kimi driverās room and laid you down on the couch.
He called Kimi again without ever removing his eyes from you in some kind of fear that you would disappear.
āKimi, please come to your room.ā He said, trying to keep a neutral tone to not scare the teenage boy. āSomething happened to Y/N.ā
Kimi hung up and ran directly to the room and entered it in full panic. āWhere is she ? Oh god.ā
His eyes went to your bruised neck and your marked wrist. Toto hugged Kimi who was now crying. āWeāll protect her from now on, okay ?ā
And Kimi nodded his head, feeling as if he had failed you completely. He slower lower himself to cuddle you, trying to bring comfort and heat to your sleeping body.
Toto watched the whole scene knowing something had to change in the Mercedes garage and its security.
ā--
The physical pain was gone in a couple of weeks and your bruises were finally invisible. The story didnāt go public by incredible effort from Toto and Kimi but people still talked.
Kimi got you a bodyguard that followed you everywhere even when you already had friends around. You didnāt love the idea but since the accident, Kimi had been restless on you and if a bodyguard following you around would ease up his mind, you could tolerate it.
No one spoke directly to you about it even if fans asked questions about the bruises on your neck and the way that Kimi bolted away from the podium celebration.
The only interview in which it was mentioned was a question thrown at Toto in Monaco.
āThe security in the Mercedes garage got upgraded and people canāt help but notice how you are always protecting Kimiās girlfriend. Has anything happened to her lately ?ā
The journalist was clearly feeling proud of himself but people were judging him. It was like a silent rule to not ask questions about the partner of a driver and even more to their bosses.
Toto Wolff's smile dropped as he stared ahead. āYeah, something really dangerous happened and we are just trying to protect her right now.ā
His tone was distant and his eyes were speaking for him saying donāt ask me anymore questions.
āBut sheās not a driver or an employee, spending money on her is just wasting it.ā Everyone looked shocked at the journalist who still had a grin on his face.
āSpending money to protect a teenager who I see and treat like my daughter is never a waste. And I donāt want other questions about her, the subject is close.ā He says, rising up from his chair to leave the room even if the interview was not done yet.
ā--
The next day, Toto walked into his office way too early and saw the pink gift on top of his desk.
He slowly opened it to reveal chocolate chip cookies with blue cupcakes. His eyes found the note quickly as he read it outloud.
Thanks Toto for the help and then for defending me and Kimi honor in front of everyone. I hope those sweets will ease your mind after all the stress Iāve given you. Love, Y/N.
He smiled and immediately bit into his favorite cookies.
Hello! Can you one where you are together with lando and you feel like you arenāt good enough for him and that you live totally different lives/ have different lifestyles and that you arenāt wag material and like the girls he has dated before. Max and Pietra especially always told you that thy havenāt seen Lando so happy like he is with you and so in love and are glad that he has you. You had a rough week and it takes a toll on you and you are in Monaco at Lando and you told him with tears running down your face that maybe itās best if you break up and he is having none of it and doesnāt want to let you leave and you are sobbing louder and he takes you in his arms and tries to calm you down and ofc you donāt want to break up as you love him so much and you havenāt been this happy ever. He tries to get you to talk as he senses that is something more to it and you tell him everything and how you feel and he tries to reassure you that none of that itās true and that he loves you sm and you are it for him and he only wants you and to not leave him and give up on you. You ended up staying and talk a lot more and he is so touchy with you and kisses you and tries to make you smile and you end up cuddling close to him ā¤ļø thank you
The anchor in the storm
Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader (y/n)
Warnings: heavy angst, crying/sobbing, deep insecurities, thoughts of breaking up, emotional breakdown, comfort, fluff at the end
Summary: Overwhelmed by the glamorous F1 lifestyle and deep insecurities, you try to break up with Lando in Monaco, feeling you aren't "WAG material." Heartbroken and desperate, Lando refuses to let you go, holding you close and reassuring you that you are the only one he truly wants.
Requested: Yes/ anon
Word count: 3364
Author's note: I really hope you like this one! Itās a bit of an emotional rollercoaster but our boy Lando handles it perfectly. Let me know what you think in the comments, love you all! xx
Masterlist
The ambient hum of Monaco during the early summer was a sound that usually brought a sense of awe, but lately, it only served as a sterile background noise to the rising panic in your chest. The Mediterranean sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in deep bruises of purple and burnt orange, casting long, dramatic shadows across the polished hardwood floors of Landoās apartment. It was a beautiful space, clean, modern, minimalist, yet filled with the expensive clutter of a world champion caliber athlete. A racing simulator dominated one corner of the living room, carbon fiber trophies gleamed from custom-built shelving, and various pieces of designer clothing were carelessly draped over the back of a pristine white sofa.
You sat on the edge of that very sofa, your hands tucked between your knees, feeling entirely small and out of place.
The past week had been a slow, agonizing accumulation of weight. Back home, your regular life had been demanding, a relentless cycle of long hours, exhausting routines, and the mundane stressors of a normal job that felt increasingly insignificant whenever you stepped into Landoās orbit. But it wasn't just your job that had worn you down. It was the crushing realization of the stark contrast between your world and his. You had spent the last few days scrolling through social media, an unhealthy habit you knew you should break, watching the paddock culture unfold from afar before flying into Nice. You saw the glamorous women who inhabited that world, the effortless WAGs, wives and girlfriends, who looked like they belonged on Italian runways or in luxury fashion campaigns. They were polished, they possessed an innate understanding of the high-stakes, high-glamour lifestyle, and they moved through the exclusive circles of Formula One with a practiced, elegant grace.
Then there was you. You were someone who worried about grocery budgets, someone who got flustered when paparazzi flashed cameras in your face at airport terminals, someone who felt like an imposter every time you put on a pass and walked into the McLaren hospitality suite. You had never felt like "WAG material," a term that felt almost mocking when applied to your reflection in the mirror. You were a girl from a totally different life, possessing a completely different lifestyle, and the chasm between your reality and Landoās felt wider than ever.
The front door clicked open, the sound echoing lightly through the quiet apartment. The familiar rustle of keys being thrown into the ceramic dish by the entryway followed, along with the soft thud of a kit bag being dropped onto the floor.
"Y/N, babe? I'm home," Landoās voice called out, tired but instantly lighter the moment he spoke your name.
You didn't answer immediately, your throat tightening so fiercely it felt like swallowing glass. You swallowed hard, trying to blink away the hot tears that had been prickling behind your eyelids for the past hour. You heard his footsteps approaching, the soft patter of his socks on the wood floor, and then he appeared in the archway of the living room. He looked exhausted, his hair a bit wild from a long day of meetings and physical training, dark circles faint beneath his blue-green eyes, but the second his gaze landed on you, his entire face softened into a warm, genuine smile.
"There you are," he murmured, walking over to you with his arms already opening slightly, expecting the usual routine where you would jump up and bury your face in his neck.
But you didn't move. You stayed anchored to the edge of the sofa, your shoulders hunched, your eyes fixed firmly on your own lap.
Lando stopped a few feet away, his smile faltering, his intuitive nature instantly picking up on the heavy, fractured energy in the room. "Hey, whatās wrong? Are you okay?" He dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his large, warm hands on your thighs, his touch gentle and grounding. "Babe, look at me."
When you finally lifted your head, a single tear escaped, cutting a hot path down your cheek. Your breath hitched, a ragged, broken sound escaping your lips.
Landoās expression shifted instantly from mild concern to absolute panic. His hands moved up to cup your face, his thumbs gently brushing at the moisture on your skin. "Y/N, talk to me. What happened? Did someone say something to you? Are you hurt?"
"Lando, I can't do this anymore," you whispered, your voice trembling so violently the words were barely audible.
He frowned, his eyes searching yours frantically, desperate to decode the sudden wall you had built up. "Can't do what? What do you mean?"
"This," you said, gesturing weakly to the space between you, to the apartment, to the invisible web of his massive, public life. Tears were flowing freely now, a steady stream that stained your cheeks and blurred your vision. "Us. I think, I think maybe itās best if we break up."
The words hung in the air, cold and devastating.
Lando froze, his entire body stiffening as if he had just taken a physical blow to the chest. His hands dropped from your face, hovering in the air for a fraction of a second before he gripped your wrists, not painfully, but with a fierce, unyielding intensity. His face paled, the color draining from his cheeks as his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
"What?" he breathed, his voice cracking, a sudden, sharp edge of desperation cutting through his tone. "No. No, what are you talking about? Break up? Where is this coming from?"
"Itās not working, Lando, itās just not," you sobbed, the dam completely breaking as the pent-up emotion of the entire week washed over you. You tried to pull your hands back, intending to stand up, to find your suitcase, to flee back to the safety of your ordinary life where you didn't feel like you were constantly failing an invisible exam. "Please, just let me go. I need to leave."
"No, I'm having none of it," Lando said, his voice rising, thick with a sudden, fierce panic. He didn't let go of your wrists, instead using his grip to gently guide himself up onto the sofa beside you, trapping you in his space. "I am absolutely not letting you leave. You can't just walk in here and say that to me, Y/N. Iām not letting you go."
"Lando, please," you cried, your chest heaving as a loud, guttural sob ripped from your throat. The pain of what you were doing was tearing you apart from the inside out, because the absolute truth was that you loved him with every single fiber of your being. You had never been happier than you were in the quiet moments with him, when the world faded away and it was just Lando, the boy who loved gaming, who made terrible jokes, who held you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. But the insecurity had grown into a monster too large to contain.
As your sobbing grew louder, your body shaking violently with the force of your grief, Landoās fierce resistance softened into pure, protective instinct. He stopped pulling away, stopped arguing, and simply gathered you into his arms. He pulled you against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and shoulders, burying his face in your hair.
"Shh, I've got you, I've got you, please, Y/N, calm down," he murmured frantically, his own voice thick with unshed tears. He rocked you gently, his hands tracing broad, soothing circles on your back as you collapsed against him, your face hidden in the crook of his neck, your tears soaking through his t-shirt. "Just breathe, babe. Please just breathe for me. Iām right here. Iām not going anywhere, and you arenāt going anywhere either."
You held onto him tightly, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you were drowning and he was the only anchor in a stormy sea. You didn't want to break up, god, you didn't want to leave him. The thought of a life without his laughter, without his warmth, without his constant, reassuring presence was a desolate, terrifying landscape. You loved him so deeply it frightened you, and this past year with him had been the happiest, most fulfilling period of your entire life. Yet, the voice in your head kept screaming that you were a burden, an anomaly in his perfect, high-profile world.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the apartment were your heavy, ragged sobs and Landoās soft, continuous murmurs of comfort. He kept kissing the top of your head, his chin resting against your hair, holding you so tightly that there was no physical way for you to pull away even if you wanted to. Slowly, under the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, your breathing began to slow, the violent shaking subsiding into occasional, trembling gasps.
Lando sensed the shift. He didn't release his hold on you, but he shifted slightly, tilting his head down so he could try to look into your face. "Are you with me?" he whispered, his thumb wiping away a fresh tear that had gathered at the corner of your eye. "Are you back with me a little bit?"
You gave a small, pathetic nod, your eyes red and swollen, looking everywhere but at him.
"Good," Lando said softly, though his voice still carried a residual tremor of the panic that had seized him moments before. "Now, you need to talk to me, Y/N. I can feel that thereās so much more to this. You don't just walk in and try to end everything we have out of nowhere. What is going on in that beautiful head of yours? Please, tell me everything. I need to understand."
You squeezed your eyes shut, a fresh wave of shame washing over you. "Itās stupid, Lando. Itās just, itās everything."
"Itās not stupid if it makes you cry like this," he countered gently, his fingers moving to stroke your jawline, forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him. His blue-green eyes were bright with worry, utterly sincere and entirely focused on you. "Talk to me, please."
You took a deep, shuddering breath, staring at the collar of his shirt because looking into his eyes made your heart ache too much. "I just feel like I don't belong here, Lando. I look at your life, at your world, and itās so massive, so glamorous, and Iām just, me. We live totally different lives. We have completely different lifestyles. When you're away, you're flying around the world, racing in front of millions of people, attending these massive events, and I'm just at home, doing my normal, boring routine. I feel like an anchor dragging you down."
Lando opened his mouth to interrupt, but you quickly shook your head, the words tumbling out of you now like a broken dam, unstoppable.
"No, let me finish, please, because if I don't say it now, I never will," you pleaded, your voice cracking. "Iām not WAG material, Lando. Iām not like the girls youāve dated before. I don't know how to dress for these high-profile dinners, I don't know how to act around the media, and I look at the women in the paddock and they are so beautiful, so poised, so perfectly suited for this lifestyle. And then there's me. I feel like an imposter every time Iām with you at a track. This week, everything just piled up, the stress from work, the comments online, seeing pictures of you with people who actually fit into your world. I just started thinking that you deserve someone who matches your life, someone who can run at your pace, and that I'm just holding you back from what your life is supposed to look like."
You finally looked up at him, expecting to see a flicker of agreement, or perhaps a realization in his eyes that you were right.
Instead, you saw a profound, deep-seated sorrow, mixed with a fierce, burning intensity. Lando looked as if your words had physically wounded him. He let out a long, shaky breath, his forehead dropping against yours for a second before he pulled back just enough to look you dead in the eye.
"Are you finished?" he asked, his voice incredibly soft but carrying a weight that made you shiver.
You nodded numbly.
"Good, because none of that, absolutely none of it, is true," Lando said, his grip on your waist tightening as if to emphasize his words. "Y/N, look at me. Truly look at me. Do you really think I care about any of that fake, glamorous bullshit? Do you think I choose who I want to be with based on whether they know how to pose for a camera or what brand of clothing they wear?"
"Lando, itās not just about that, itās about the lifestyle," you whispered.
"I don't give a shit about the lifestyle when I'm at home," Lando said, his voice rising slightly with a desperate passion. "The lifestyle is exhausting, Y/N. The paddock is loud, it's political, it's full of people who only want a piece of me because of what I do, not who I am. The girls I might have dated in the past, or the world you think I belong in, none of that matters to me. Do you know why? Because none of it is real."
He took your hands in his, pressing them against his chest, right over his heart, which was beating in a rapid, frantic rhythm.
"You are real," Lando said, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity so raw it took your breath away. "You are the only part of my life that feels entirely grounded and completely mine. I don't want a girl who fits into the paddock perfectly, I don't want someone who is obsessed with the lifestyle. I want you. I love your normal life, I love hearing about your day, I love that when Iām with you, I can just be Lando, the idiot who plays video games and makes a mess in the kitchen. You think you're holding me back? Y/N, you are the only thing keeping me together."
A small, choked sound escaped your lips, and Lando immediately leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead, then to each of your eyelids, catching the remaining moisture there.
"Do you remember what Max and Pietra told you?" Lando murmured against your skin, his hands moving back to cradle your face. "Max literally came up to me last week and told me that if I ever let you go, heād kick my ass. He and Pietra both told you, didn't they? They said theyāve never seen me this happy. And theyāre right. I haven't been this happy, ever. Before you, I was stressed, I was lonely even when surrounded by thousands of people, and I felt like I had to constantly keep up an act. With you, I am completely, entirely happy. You are it for me, Y/N. I only want you."
"But Lando," you started, your voice weak, though the crushing weight in your chest was beginning to fracture under the sheer force of his declarations.
"No buts," Lando interrupted, his tone fierce but incredibly tender. "I am not letting you give up on us, and I am certainly not letting you give up on yourself. We can figure out the lifestyle stuff. If you don't want to come to races, you don't have to. If the media is too much, we will shut them out completely. I will do whatever it takes to make you feel safe and comfortable, but do not tell me I deserve someone else. The only person I want, the only person I need, is sitting right here in front of me."
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. "Please don't leave me, Y/N. Please don't give up on what we have."
Looking at him, seeing the vulnerability and the absolute terror of losing you written across his features, the last of your defenses crumbled. The realization that you were truly loved, not for a persona you could project, but for exactly who you were, washed over you in a warm, healing wave. The insecurity didn't vanish entirely, but it suddenly felt incredibly small compared to the magnitude of his love.
"I don't want to leave," you confessed, a fresh, completely different kind of tear slipping down your cheek. "I love you so much, Lando. I was just so scared."
Lando let out a massive, shuddering sigh of relief, his entire body going limp against yours as if a death sentence had just been overturned. He buried his face in your neck again, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, but it was a pain you welcomed gladly. "Thank god," he breathed, his voice muffled against your skin. "Don't scare me like that ever again, please."
"I'm sorry," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck, finally holding him back with the same intensity he had shown you.
"Don't be sorry," Lando said, pulling back just enough to look at you. A small, tentative smile was beginning to form on his lips, the familiar, boyish charm returning to his face. "Just promise me you'll talk to me before it gets this bad next time. No keeping secrets, no scrolling through social media until you convince yourself I'm some sort of unapproachable alien. Deal?"
"Deal," you agreed, a small watery smile finally breaking through your tears.
Seeing your smile, Landoās face lit up completely. He became instantly touchy, his hands moving over your shoulders, your back, your hair, as if he needed to continuously assure himself that you were still there, that you hadn't vanished. He leaned in and kissed you, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of salt and desperation, but quickly melted into something incredibly sweet and reassuring. His lips were soft, moving against yours with a gentle possessiveness that made your heart flutter.
When he pulled away, he didn't move far, keeping his lips brushed against yours as he spoke. "I mean it, Y/N. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Pietra and Max aren't lying. I've never been so in love, and I'm not letting this go."
He kissed you again, a quick, playful nip to your bottom lip that made you giggle, the sound a stark, beautiful contrast to the heavy silence that had filled the room earlier. Lando smiled against your mouth, clearly thrilled to have brought a smile back to your face.
"Now," Lando said, shifting his weight and pulling you along with him as he rearranged his long legs on the sofa. "We are going to spend the rest of the evening doing exactly what you want to do. No talking about racing, no checking phones, just us."
He pulled you down so that you were lying lengthwise on the sofa, your back pressed against his chest, his front curving perfectly to match your spine. He wrapped one large arm around your waist, pulling you securely against him, while his other hand moved to play with your fingers, intertwining them with his own. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.
"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice dropping into a sleepy, content register. "You fit perfectly right here."
You shifted slightly, pressing yourself closer into his warmth, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against your shoulder blades. The storm had passed, the anxiety that had felt so insurmountable just an hour ago now reduced to a fading memory in the face of his overwhelming certainty. You were safe here, in his arms, in his apartment, in his life.
Lando pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his fingers gently stroking the back of your hand. "I love you, Y/N."
"I love you too, Lando," you whispered, closing your eyes as a profound sense of peace finally settled over you, knowing that whatever differences lay between your worlds, the love you shared was more than enough to bridge the gap.
summary: texts they send when you thirst over the off campus boys.
drivers: charles leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris and max verstappen. (fem!reader)
warnings: use of y/n, cursing, jealousy (not toxic), mentions of garret graham and dean di laurentis (š«¦). i think that's pretty much it but lmk if you find something else!
a/n: hi my loves, i was supposed to post this on monday or tuesday but stuff happened lol. anyways here it is! enjoy ;) also: watch off campus if you haven't cause it's really good.
annaxmalina
pixelskylines
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jacobvanloon
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