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Long dreamy sigh looking at the most disgusting man you ever did see

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sunnydilaurentis

distance between us | found family au ⋆˚࿔

✩.* found family fics!

✩.* found family masterlist

summary: in which garrett struggles with the quiet ache of feeling shut out by the person he loves most, as y/n seemingly leans on everyone but him.

notes: hi!! ahh my first angst for found family, i hope you all enjoy! thank you so much for this request, it broke my heart to write 🥹

ꪆৎ

it starts slowly. so slowly, garrett almost convinces himself he’s imagining it.

you’ve always had moments of quiet. moments where you disappeared inside your own head for a little while, where your smile softened at the edges and your answers became smaller, less detailed, like you were trying to preserve energy without admitting you were running out of it.

this feels different. this feels like watching you fold yourself smaller each day and pretending nothing is happening.

the first time he notices, you’re at the hockey house on a saturday morning, tucked into the corner of the couch with your laptop balanced on your knees, a half-empty mug of coffee cooling on the table beside you.

everyone else is loud. you’re there, technically, but not really. your eyes keep scanning the same paragraph on your screen, your fingers hover above the keyboard, your mouth pressed into a thin, tired line.

garrett watches you from the kitchen doorway. he has your favourite mug in his hand, the one you always reach for when you’re over.

he doesn’t say anything at first, just crosses the room quietly, setting it down beside your laptop before leaning over the back of the couch.

“you okay?” he asks softly. you blink like you’ve been pulled back from somewhere far away. you look up at him, and your face changes too quickly. smile first, answer second.

“yeah” you say. “just tired.”

garrett studies you. “you sure?”

you nod, already looking back at your laptop. “mhm.”

he doesn’t push because he knows you, sometimes pushing makes you retreat further. he kisses the top of your head instead, lets his hand rest briefly against the side of your neck, thumb brushing once beneath your ear.

“eat something soon,” he murmurs.

you hum. “i will.”

you don’t. he notices that too.

following that day, he notices everything.

garrett notices the texts that come hours later than usual, not absent, never fully absent, you still reply, still send him little updates when something funny happens, still send photos of your coffee, lecture slides, allie asleep in weird positions across your dorm bed.

but something about it feels thinner, as though you’re giving him proof of life instead of what's truly going on. he notices the way you stop coming by after class as often, the way you say you have readings to catch up on, the way you say you’re fine.

fine. fine. fine.

he starts hating the word.

one night, he calls you after practice. you answer on the fourth ring.

“hi,” you say, voice soft, clearly laced with exhaustion.

garrett leans against the wall outside the locker room, one hand still damp from his shower as he presses the phone closer to his ear.

“hey. you sound tired.”

you laugh lightly, too lightly. “rude.”

“not an insult.”

“still rude.”

he smiles faintly, but it fades quickly. there’s a pause, he can hear papers shifting on your end, the quiet hum of your dorm room, the faint sound of allie’s music playing somewhere in the background.

“what are you doing?” he asks.

“nothing.”

garrett’s brows pull together. “nothing with papers?”

you go quiet for half a second too long, then, “just study.”

“want help?”

“with law readings?”

“i can sit there and look pretty.” that gets a real laugh out of you, small, brief, but real. his chest loosens a little.

“tempting,” you say.

“i can also bring food.”

“also tempting.”

“so say yes.” another pause, this one feels worse.

“i think i’m just gonna sleep soon,” you say. garrett looks down at the floor, he knows you’re lying, not about being tired, about sleeping.

“okay,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to do without sounding like he’s accusing you of something.

“call me if you need anything.”

“i will.”

you won’t, he knows that too.

allie notices the shifts more clearly at first, mostly because living with you makes the changes harder to miss. she notices the light under your door staying on past midnight.

then one, then two. then enough that she stops thinking of it as unusual.

she notices the way your laundry piles up in the corner because you keep telling yourself you’ll do it tomorrow. she notices the untouched dinners, the cold coffee, the emails open on your laptop that make your face go blank.

she tries, gently at first. “y/n,” she says one night, leaning against your doorway in one of dean’s hoodies. “when did you last eat something that wasn’t toast?”

you don’t look up from your laptop. “toast counts.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“it was a good answer.”

“it was a concerning answer.”

you sigh, rubbing both hands over your face. “allie.”

her expression softens, not teasing now. “you’re scaring me a little.”

her words make you look up, guilt immediately settling into your chest. “don’t say that.”

“then stop looking like you’re one email away from fully combusting.”

you try to smile, it doesn’t work. allie steps into your room, sitting carefully on the edge of your bed.

“is this legal internship stuff?”

your throat tightens, you look back at your screen. “partly.”

“and exams?”

“partly.”

“and home?”

you don’t answer, that is an answer in itself. allie exhales softly, “does garrett know?”

your fingers go still. “know what?”

“y/n.”

you shut your laptop, not gently. “i’m handling it.”

allie gives you a look. “that wasn’t what i asked.”

“i know.”

“so?”

you stand, suddenly unable to sit still, moving around your tiny dorm room like you have somewhere to go even though there is nowhere. you grab your water bottle, unscrew the lid, screw it back on without drinking.

“he has enough going on.”

allie’s face shifts. “oh, babe.”

you hate that, the softness, the pity. you turn away. “don’t.”

“i’m not doing anything.”

“you’re looking at me like that.”

“like what?”

“like i’m sad.”

allie’s voice is careful. “you are sad, y/n.”

your eyes burn immediately, you hate that even more. “i’m stressed,” you correct, too quickly. “there’s a difference.”

“okay.”

“and i don’t need garrett worrying about me on top of everything else. he has hockey and captain stuff and phil being weird again and-”

“he’s your boyfriend.”

“i know that.”

“do you?”

you turn back to her. “what is that supposed to mean?”

allie lifts her hands slightly. “nothing. i just mean, he would want to know.”

“i know.”

“then tell him.”

your jaw tightens. “i can’t.”

allie’s face softens again. “why not?”

if you tell garrett, really tell him, he’ll look at you like he sees all of it. you don’t know if you can survive being seen that clearly.

if you say it out loud, that you’re overwhelmed, that you feel like you’re failing, that every rejection feels personal, and every conversation at home makes your chest tight, it becomes real.

garrett will care, deeply. somehow that feels like too much, for now.

“i just can’t.”

allie doesn’t push after that, but she remains even more worried.

garrett lasts another week. he tries, he really tries. he tries being patient, he tries being gentle, he tries letting you come to him when you’re ready.

every time he reaches for you, you slip away with a tired smile, a soft apology and a promise that everything is fine. the thing is, garrett knows fine. he knows your fine. he knows the difference between your annoyed fine, your sleepy fine, your 'don’t want to talk about it yet' fine.

this is none of those, this is a locked door, and he is standing on the wrong side of it.

the worst part is that you’re still sweet to him. you still curl into his side when you come over, still kiss him softly, still laugh when he says something dry under his breath, still steal his hoodies and forget to give them back.

but there’s distance, not physical, worse, emotional. you sit beside him and somehow feel incredibly far away.

it comes to a head on a friday night at the hockey house. it isn’t even meant to be a big night, just dinner after practice, everyone gathered around the living room with takeout containers spread across the coffee table and a movie playing in the background that nobody is watching.

you’re tucked beside garrett on the couch, knees drawn up, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. you’ve been quieter than usual. he can feel the tension in you, the way your body never fully relaxes against his, the way you keep checking your phone whenever it lights up, the way your face falls every time you read something before you smooth it over again.

he wants to ask, he has already asked, you have already lied. so he stays quiet.

dean says it. casually, carelessly, with no idea he’s stepping directly into something fragile. “oh,” dean says, pointing his fork towards you. “did you hear back from that firm yet?”

the room keeps moving for half a second, then stops. not dramatically, not all at once, but enough.

allie freezes, sabrina’s eyes flick towards you, logan stops mid-sentence, garrett’s hand stills on your thigh. you feel it immediately, your stomach dropping.

slowly, garrett turns his head towards you. “what firm?”

dean looks between you and garrett, his face changing.

“uh.” you sit up straighter. “dean.”

he lowers his fork. “shit.”

garrett doesn’t look at dean anymore, only you. “what firm?” he repeats. his voice is calm, too calm.

you swallow. “it’s nothing.”

something shifts in garrett’s expression, not anger, not yet, hurt. quiet and immediate. “don’t do that, y/n.”

your cheeks heat. everyone is watching, even though nobody wants to be. you can feel it, you hate it.

“garrett,” you say quietly. he removes his hand from your leg, not harshly, not dramatically, but the absence of it feels like a clear slap.

“you applied for internships?”

your throat tightens. “yes.”

“when?”

you stare down at your hands. “a couple weeks ago.”

his jaw moves once. “a couple weeks.”

you don’t answer. dean looks like he wants the couch to swallow him. “g,” he starts. “i didn’t realise-”

“don’t,” garrett says. not sharp, not loud, just enough to stop him. dean shuts his mouth. garrett stands.

you look up quickly. “where are you going?”

he looks at you for a second, and it is awful. you would almost prefer anger. anger you could fight, anger you could meet with your own defensiveness, pride, hurt.

garrett just looks wounded, like something inside him has gone very still.

“upstairs” he says.

he walks away, the room is silent after him. for one unbearable second, nobody moves. allie says your name softly. you stand before she can say anything else. “i’m fine.”

nobody believes you, you follow him anyway.

garrett’s bedroom door is half open when you get there. he’s standing by the window, one hand braced against the sill, the other pressed to the back of his neck.

his shoulders are tense. you pause in the doorway, for a second, you almost leave. not because you don’t want to fix it, because you know this won’t be easy, you know he’s hurt, you know, deep down, he has every right to be.

you knock lightly, even though he already knows you’re there. garrett doesn’t turn around.

“can i come in?” you ask.

a pause.

“yeah.”

you step inside and close the door behind you. the sound feels too final.

the room is familiar in all the ways that usually comfort you. his hoodie over the desk chair, the water bottle by his bed, the framed photo tucker had taken after a home game, garrett’s arm around your shoulders, your face turned up toward him mid-laugh. you can barely look at it.

“i was going to tell you” you say.

garrett laughs once. it's quiet, empty.

“when?”

you flinch. he turns around then, and his face makes your chest hurt.

he isn’t yelling, he isn’t furious. he just looks tired, hurt.

“i don’t know,” you admit.

he huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “you don’t know.”

“i’ve had a lot going on.”

“yeah,” he says, voice roughening slightly. “i’m starting to get that.”

your arms fold over your chest before you can stop them. defensive, protective. “don’t do that.”

his eyebrows draw together. “do what?”

“make me feel like i’ve done something wrong.”

garrett stares at you. “you don’t think you did?”

your stomach twists. “i didn’t lie to you.”

“you didn’t tell me.”

“that’s not the same thing.”

“it feels the same.”

your mouth closes. garrett drags a hand over his jaw, looking away like he’s trying very hard to keep himself under control.

“do you know how shitty it feels,” he says, quieter now, “hearing about something going on with you from someone else?”

your own hurt rises fast, too fast. you’re embarrassed, overwhelmed.

you already feel like you’re failing, and now even garrett is looking at you like you’ve failed him too.

“i didn’t ask anyone to tell you.”

his head snaps back towards you. “jesus y/n, that’s not the point.”

“then what is?”

“the point is that i’m your boyfriend.” his voice cracks slightly around the word. he takes a breath, trying again. “i’m supposed to be the person you come to.”

your eyes burn. “you are.”

“no,” he says. one word, quiet, devastating.

“i’m not.”

you blink hard. “that’s not fair.”

“isn’t it?”

“no.”

“then tell me what’s going on.”

you look away, garrett’s silence deepens. there it is, the answer. your inability to answer. he nods once, almost to himself, and that hurts worse than anything else.

“right.”

“garrett-”

“no, seriously. tell me.” his voice is still controlled, but there’s something sharper underneath now. something fraying.

“because i’ve been asking for weeks. i’ve asked you if you’re okay, i’ve asked if you need help, i’ve asked if you want me to come over, and every single time, you look me in the face and tell me you’re fine.”

tears prick harder behind your eyes. you hate crying when you’re angry. you hate crying when you’re wrong.

“because i didn’t want to make it a thing.”

“it is a thing.”

“not everything has to be shared.”

garrett goes still. you regret it immediately, you see the words hit him, see his face close off in a way that terrifies you.

“okay,” he says.

your heart drops. “that’s not what i meant.”

“sounds like what you meant.”

“i meant i’m allowed to deal with things privately.”

“of course you are.”

“then why are you angry?”

“because this isn’t fucking private, y/n.” his voice finally rises, not loud enough to be yelling, but enough that the hurt cuts through. “this is you shutting me out.”

you shake your head. “i’m not.”

“you are.”

“i’m overwhelmed, garrett.”

“i know.”

“no, you don’t.”

“because you won’t let me.”

that silences you. he steps closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough that you have to look at him.

“you think i don’t notice?” he asks. “you think i don’t see you barely eating? you think i don’t know when you’re lying about sleeping? you think i don’t notice that you’re sitting right next to me and still somehow not here, not present?”

your breath catches, garrett’s face twists. “i notice everything.”

that is the problem, that is exactly the problem.

you press your lips together, but the tears spill anyway. garrett sees them and softens for half a second, instinctively. at the end of the day, he is garrett. even angry, even hurt, some part of him still wants to move towards you.

he stops himself.

“i wasn’t trying to hurt you,” you whisper. his expression crumples slightly. “i know.”

you breathe out shakily. “then why are you acting like i did this on purpose?”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“i’m acting like it hurt me.”

your chest tightens, garrett swallows, “because it did, y/n. you're killing me here.”

the room goes quiet. you stare at him, he looks away first. not because he doesn’t mean it, he does, but because saying it cost him something.

your voice comes out small. “i didn’t want you to worry.”

he laughs under his breath, but there’s no humour in it. “too late.”

garrett drags a hand over his face, jaw tight, trying to rein himself in before he says the next part. when he speaks again, his voice is lower. rougher.

“do you know what got me?”

you blink. “garrett-”

“dean knew.”

the words land hard. you freeze. garrett shakes his head slightly, like he still can’t quite believe it.

“dean fucking knew.” his voice cracks with frustration now, emotion finally slipping through. “and from the look on everyone else’s faces, they did too.”

his eyes lock onto yours. “i was the only one in that room left in the dark.”

your breath catches, “garrett…”

“and i keep asking myself why.” his voice softens then, somehow worse than when he was angry, hurt, raw.

“because i know you trust dean. i know you tell him things.” he swallows hard. “and of course i’m okay with that, more than okay."

he takes a step closer, but there’s tension in every line of him.

“i love that you have people. i love that you have dean, allie, sabrina, grace and everyone else.” his eyes search yours desperately now. “i don’t need to know every single thought in your head, y/n. i don’t.”

his voice drops.

“but this?”

his chest rises sharply. “something this important. something that’s clearly been eating away at you, something that’s been hurting you." he stops, jaw clenching.

“why didn't you let me in?”

garrett’s voice breaks just slightly. “it makes me feel like you don’t trust me.”

a single tear slips from your eye as you shake your head, trying to defend yourself. “you have so much going on i-"

“don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“decide for me what i can handle.”

your mouth shuts. garrett steps back, running both hands through his hair. “i can't keep watching you fall apart and standing here feeling completely useless because you won’t let me in.”

your tears are falling properly now. you wipe at them quickly, frustrated with yourself. “i can’t afford to fall apart right now, and if i say everything, all of my problems out loud to you, then it becomes even more real.”

the honesty comes out before you can stop it. broken, raw, too much.

garrett freezes. you cover your mouth with one hand, shaking your head like you can take it back, but you can’t. it’s out now, the room feels heavier around it, garrett’s voice is gentler when he says your name, that almost breaks you completely.

“don’t,” you whisper.

he looks pained. “baby-”

“don’t call me that right now.” he stops. you see that hurt him too. you hate yourself for it immediately.

everything in you feels too exposed. too tender, too raw.

“i should go,” you say.

garrett’s face changes. panic, brief and buried.

until pride covers it, hurt covers it. “if that’s what you want.”

it isn’t, that’s the awful part. it is the last thing you want. you want him to cross the room, you want him to pull you in, you want him to forgive you without you having to explain all the ugly parts.

you are too defensive to ask, too scared to stay, too tired to keep standing there with the person you love looking at you like you’ve made him feel alone.

so you nod. “yeah.”

garrett’s jaw tightens. “okay.”

you wait for him to stop you, he doesn’t, you leave. by the time you make it downstairs, allie is standing near the bottom of the steps.

one look at your face and hers falls. “oh, y/n.”

you shake your head quickly. “please don’t.” her mouth closes. behind her, dean is standing in the kitchen, pale with guilt. logan and grace are in the hallway, unusually quiet. tucker and sabrina are frozen near the couch.

you hate that they all know. you hate that they all saw enough to understand. you grab your bag from beside the couch.

allie follows you to the door. “i’m coming with you.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i know.” she grabs her keys anyway, you don’t argue. if you try, you’ll cry harder.

you are already barely holding yourself together.

garrett doesn’t come after you. he hears the front door close, he hears allie’s car start outside, he hears dean swear quietly downstairs.

then nothing.

he sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. he feels sick, not because he thinks he was wrong to be hurt. he was hurt, he is hurt.

he can still see your face when you said it, because if i say it out loud then it becomes more real. the words keep replaying in his head until they start to hurt.

he reaches for his phone, opens your messages, staring at the last text from you.

you: do you want me to bring coffee when i come over? garrett: only if you’re part of the delivery you: gross garrett: romantic you: very debatable

that was two days ago. it feels like longer. he types, i’m sorry, deletes it, types again. are you home safe? deletes that too.

he doesn’t know what he’s apologising for yet, he is sorry, but he is also still hurt.

part of him wants to get in his car and go to you immediately, another part of him remembers how you looked at him and said not everything has to be shared. like loving you was something he had to stand outside of until he was invited in.

a knock sounds at his door. garrett doesn’t answer, the door opens anyway.

dean steps in. garrett looks up.

“not now.”

dean holds both hands up. “i’m not here to lecture.”

“good.”

“or yell.”

“also good.”

dean shuts the door behind him, then stands there awkwardly. garrett stares at him. “what?”

dean grimaces. “i’m sorry.”

garrett looks away. “you didn’t know.”

“yeah, but still.” dean rubs the back of his neck. “i shouldn’t have said anything.”

“it’s not your fault.”

“kind of feels like it.”

“it’s not.”

dean is quiet for a moment. then, carefully, “she’s been pretty bad, g.”

garrett’s chest tightens, he looks back at him. dean seems to regret saying it, but continues anyway. “not bad bad. just… not herself. allie’s really worried.”

garrett laughs once, bitterly. “everyone’s worried.”

dean winces. “yeah.”

garrett looks down at his hands. “everyone knew.”

“i don’t think she meant for it to be like that.”

“doesn’t make it feel any better.”

“i know.” dean leans back against the door. for once, he doesn’t make a joke.

“she does that sometimes.”

garrett’s eyes lift. dean shrugs, uncomfortable with his own sincerity. “acts like if she can keep everyone else from worrying, then nothing’s actually wrong.”

garrett’s throat tightens. “i know.”

“yeah,” dean says softly. “i figured you did.”

silence settles between them for a moment before dean breaks it. “for what it’s worth, i don’t think she was keeping it from you because she doesn’t trust you.”

garrett looks away again, that’s the part that hurts. because logically, he knows that, emotionally, it doesn’t matter.

“then why?”

dean exhales. “because you matter more.”

garrett’s face tightens. dean looks almost apologetic. “i know that sounds backwards.”

garrett says nothing.

“but i think it’s harder with you because she knows you’ll actually see it.”

that lands, quietly. he thinks of your forced smiles, your cold coffee, the way you had kept turning your face away from him lately, like eye contact was dangerous.

dean opens the door. “i’ll leave you alone.”

garrett nods once, before dean steps out, he pauses. “also, if you make her cry again, i’ll be very annoying about it.”

garrett huffs a humourless breath. “she made me cry internally first.”

“yeah, well. do that externally next time. might help.”

dean leaves. garrett sits there alone, phone still in his hand, he doesn’t text.

neither do you.

the next morning is worse. mornings are yours. saturday mornings especially.

usually, you come to the hockey house with allie. usually, garrett has coffee waiting or pulls you into him before you’ve even taken your shoes off. usually, dean makes some comment about how disgusting the two of you are, and you flip him off without looking.

today, you don’t come. allie does, alone.

garrett is in the kitchen when the front door opens. he knows it’s not you before he sees her. no soft footsteps beside allie’s louder ones, no familiar voice, no automatic call of, “where’s my coffee?"

he keeps his eyes on the mug in front of him. logan, sitting at the counter, notices. allie steps into the kitchen, face guarded. garrett looks at her, she looks back.

for a moment, neither of them say anything, then garrett breaks, asking the question he's been dying to know the answer to.

“is she okay?”

allie’s expression softens, however not enough to make him feel better.

“not really.”

his hand tightens around the mug. “did she sleep?”

allie hesitates, which is an answer in itself. garrett nods once, “right.”

allie steps closer. “she’s not trying to hurt you.”

“i know.”

“she just-”

“i know,” he says again, quieter this time. allie stops, studying him for a second before saying, “you’re allowed to be hurt too.”

garrett looks down at his mug of coffee. allie's words almost make it worse, everyone keeps giving him permission to feel something, and all he wants is for none of this to have happened.

logan waits until allie leaves the kitchen before speaking. “you want advice?”

“no.”

“cool. i’m giving it anyway.”

garrett sighs. logan leans back in his chair.

“you’re both doing that thing where you’re waiting for the other person to make it easier.”

garrett gives him a flat look. logan shrugs. “i’m just saying, y/n is stubborn when she’s scared, you’re stubborn when you’re hurt. horrible combination.”

garrett looks away. logan’s voice softens. “she looked awful last night.”

garrett closes his eyes briefly. “i know.”

“you looked pretty awful too.”

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

garrett exhales slowly. “i don’t know what to say to her.”

logan is quiet for a second, "then maybe you should start there."

you spend the day in bed. not sleeping, not studying, not really doing anything.

your laptop sits open beside you, the screen now dark. your phone is face down on the blanket. every few minutes you reach for it, check for a message, then put it down again like you weren’t hoping.

garrett doesn’t text. you tell yourself that’s fair, that he simply needs space and that you were awful to him. then you tell yourself he was unfair, that you were both hurt, and then you cry again.

allie brings you lunch. you take a few bites because she stands there until you do. sabrina texts you a photo of tucker looking sad.

sabrina 💌

he says the hockey house has been off ever since you stopped coming around. apparently your absence is affecting morale (and his appetite).

you almost smile, almost.

dean texts later.

dean

i’m so sorry, y/n. genuinely

i didn't know garrett didn't know

also please be okay, garrett is being weirdly silent and it's freaking everyone out

you stare at the messages for a long time before replying.

not your fault. i'm okay.

dean replies immediately.

love you, y/n

you don’t answer. by evening, your room feels too small. too hot, too quiet.

your chest has been tight all day, a constant pressure beneath your ribs, and the more you try to ignore it, the worse it gets.

you open your laptop, look at your applications, your unfinished cover letter, the rejection email sitting in your inbox, the lecture notes you haven’t caught up on, the email from home you still haven’t responded to.

everything blurs, suddenly, you can’t breathe properly. it isn’t dramatic at first, just one shaky inhale that doesn’t quite work.

then another, then your hands start trembling.

you stand too fast, knocking your water bottle off the bed. it hits the floor and rolls beneath your desk. the sound makes you flinch, your vision blurs. you press a hand to your chest. “no,” you whisper to yourself. “no, no, no.”

you try to breathe in, it catches.

you sit back down on the edge of your bed, then stand again immediately because sitting feels worse. your whole body feels wrong, too hot and too cold all at once.

your phone is on the bed, you stare at it. allie is out with dean getting food. you could call her, you should call her. instead, without letting yourself think, you call garrett. he answers on the second ring.

“y/n?”

his voice alone almost makes you break. you try to speak, nothing comes out. there’s a rustle on his end. he sits up, instantly alert.

“baby?”

you squeeze your eyes shut. the nickname ruins you. a tiny, broken sound leaves your mouth.

garrett’s voice changes completely. “where are you?”

you inhale shakily. “dorm.”

“are you hurt?”

“no.”

“can you breathe?”

you don’t answer fast enough. “okay,” he says, and you can hear movement now. keys, a door, footsteps. “i’m coming.”

you start crying harder. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t.” his voice is firm, but not harsh. “don’t apologise. just stay on the phone with me.”

“i can’t-” you choke. “i can’t calm down.”

“that’s okay.”

“it’s not.”

“it is. listen to me. put your feet on the floor.”

you do. bare feet against the cold ground. “okay,” you whisper.

“good. now tell me five things you can see.”

you cry through them. “my laptop. your hoodie. my lamp. allie’s stupid pink cup. the- the photo on my wall.”

garrett’s breathing is steady through the phone. “good girl. four things you can feel.”

your hand twists in the blanket. “blanket. floor. phone. my shirt.”

“three things you can hear.” you swallow.

“you. my fan. someone outside.”

“good. keep listening to me.”

“garrett.”

“i’m here.”

that makes you cry harder, because he isn’t, not yet. he is still somehow the only thing holding you to the room.

“i didn’t know who else to call,” you admit.

there’s a pause, not long, but you hear it. then garrett says, very quietly, “i’m glad you called me.”

you press the phone harder to your ear. “i’m sorry.”

“we’ll talk about it later.”

“okay.”

“right now, just breathe.”

by the time he gets there, you’re sitting on the floor beside your bed, knees drawn to your chest, phone still clutched in your hand even though the call is connected and he’s already outside your door.

he knocks once. “it’s me.”

you can’t get up. “come in.”

the door opens. garrett steps inside. the second he sees you, everything on his face breaks.

all the hurt. all the anger. all the careful distance. gone.

he closes the door behind him and crosses the room without hesitation, crouching in front of you.

“hey,” he says softly.

you look at him through tears. his eyes move over your face, your shaking hands, the laptop open on your bed, the mess of papers across the floor. “can i touch you?”

you nod immediately. he reaches for you, and you fold into him so fast it almost knocks him off balance.

garrett catches you. of course he does.

one arm wraps around your back, the other hand cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his shoulder and sob. not pretty crying. not quiet tears. the kind that takes over your whole body. weeks of holding it in finally ripping through you all at once.

garrett says nothing for a while, just holds you. solid, warm, there. his hand moves slowly over your hair, again and again. “i’ve got you,” he murmurs. “you’re okay.” you clutch his shirt tighter.

“i’m not.”

his arm tightens around you. “okay,” he whispers. “then you’re not. that’s okay too.”

that makes you cry harder, because nobody says that.

everyone says you’ll be okay.

garrett lets you not be.

eventually, when your breathing starts to slow, he shifts carefully until his back is against the side of your bed and you’re tucked against his chest on the floor between his legs, his arms around you.

his chin rests lightly against the top of your head. neither of you speaks for a long time.

your room is dim now, lit only by your desk lamp. outside, voices pass faintly in the hallway. somewhere down the corridor, someone laughs. it feels strange that the world is still normal. you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jumper.

garrett reaches towards your bedside table, grabs the tissues, and passes them to you without a word.

you take one. then another. then you whisper, “i’m sorry.”

his chest rises behind you. “i know.”

your fingers twist in the tissue. “i should’ve told you.”

garrett is quiet for a second. then, “yeah.”

you close your eyes. “i just didn’t know how.”

his hand moves slowly up and down your arm. “you could’ve started with that.”

your mouth trembles. “i know.”

“i would’ve listened.”

“i know.”

“i wouldn’t have thought less of you.”

your throat closes. you turn slightly, looking up at him. his face is softer now, but still tired, still hurt. that might be the worst part. the fact that being loved by you has hurt him.

“i didn’t think you would,” you whisper.

garrett’s brows pull together. “then why?”

you look down. for once, you try not to run from the answer. it takes a while, garrett lets it.

“because you see me too clearly,” you say eventually. his hand stills. you keep staring at the tissue in your lap.

“and sometimes that feels really safe. and sometimes it feels terrifying.”

garrett says nothing. so you keep going, voice shaking.

“if i told you how bad everything felt, you’d know. and then i couldn’t pretend anymore. and i needed to pretend because i didn’t know what else to do.”

your eyes fill again. “i’m trying so hard, garrett.”

his face changes. you can’t stop now.

“i’m trying so hard and i feel like i’m failing at everything. i feel like i’m behind in classes, and i don’t know if i’m good enough for any of these internships, and every time i open my email i feel sick, and then there’s stuff at home and i don’t want to talk about it because everyone has their own problems, and i just-”

your voice breaks. garrett shifts, turning you more fully toward him.

“y/n.”

you shake your head. “i’m so tired.”

his eyes shine. “come here.”

you fold into him again. he holds you so tightly it almost hurts. in a good way, in a necessary way, like he’s trying to keep all your pieces together through sheer force.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper into his shirt.

his lips press against your hair. "i’m sorry too.”

you pull back just enough to look at him. “you don’t have to be.”

“yeah,” he says quietly. “i do.”

you shake your head. “i hurt you.”

“and i let you leave.”

your chest aches. “i was awful.”

“you were scared.”

“that doesn’t make it okay.”

“no,” he agrees softly. “but it helps me understand.”

you stare at him. he brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his voice lowering. “i wasn’t angry because you were struggling.”

your breath catches, garrett’s throat works. “i was angry because you were struggling alone.” your face crumples, he leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours.

“and because i love you,” he whispers. “and i didn’t know what to do with that when you wouldn’t let me near you.”

you close your eyes. “i’m sorry.”

“i know.”

“i love you.”

his hand slides to the side of your neck, thumb brushing softly beneath your jaw. “i love you too.” for a moment, neither of you move.

you eventually whisper. “are you still mad?”

garrett exhales slowly. “i’m still hurt.”

you nod, fresh tears spilling. “okay.”

“but i’m not going anywhere.”

that breaks you again, quieter this time. you lean into him, and he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“we have to talk about it properly,” he murmurs.

“i know.”

“not tonight.”

you nod. “okay.”

“tonight you’re going to eat something.” a weak laugh slips out of you. garrett pulls back slightly, looking down at you.

“not a joke.”

“i know.”

“and drink water.”

“bossy.”

his mouth twitches, barely. “you missed me.”

you breathe out a tiny laugh, watery and exhausted. “so much.”

his expression softens completely. “yeah?”

you nod. “i kept checking my phone.”

his hand cups your cheek. “me too.”

“why didn’t you text?”

he looks down for a second. “because i didn’t know how to say i was hurt without making you feel worse.”

your chest tightens. “you can tell me when i hurt you.”

his eyes lift back to yours. “same rule for you.”

you nod. “okay.”

“okay.”

the word settles between you. small, not a fix, not completely, but a start. garrett leans in slowly, giving you time to move away, you don’t. his mouth touches yours softly, carefully, not desperate, not heated, just gentle. forgiving.

you make a small sound against him, and his hand slides into your hair, holding you there like he has missed you more than he knows how to say. when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again.

“no more pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i’ll try.”

“that’s all i’m asking.”

you nod. “and no more finding out important things from dean.”

you wince. “fair.”

“because, honestly, devastating source.” that makes you laugh properly, small, but real. garrett smiles a little.

allie comes home twenty minutes later with dean behind her, both of them carrying food. she stops in the doorway when she sees garrett sitting on your bed, you tucked against his side under a blanket, eyes swollen but calmer.

dean almost walks into her back. “why did we stop?”

allie elbows him. then she looks at you. “all okay?”

you nod, embarrassed.

“okay.”

garrett’s arm tightens around your shoulders. dean peers around allie, “am i allowed to speak or is this a hostile environment?”

garrett gives him a look. “depends.”

dean nods seriously. “understood.” then he lifts the bag in his hand. “i brought fries as a peace offering.”

you sniffle. “for me or garrett?”

dean pauses. “both.”

allie rolls her eyes and steps inside. sabrina and grace appear in the doorway fifteen minutes later with tucker and logan, because apparently nobody in this group knows how to give anyone privacy for longer than thirty seconds.

“we heard there were fries,” tucker says. logan looks between you and garrett, assessing quietly, then his face softens.

“you good?”

garrett looks down at you, you look up at him. his thumb brushes once over your shoulder. you nod, “getting there.”

logan nods back. “good enough.”

sabrina climbs onto the bed on your other side without asking, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“you scared us, y/n.”

you lean into her. “sorry.”

“don’t do it again.”

“i’ll try.”

allie sits at the foot of the bed and starts unpacking food. dean leans against your desk, still guilty but trying to hide it. tucker steals a fry and immediately gets slapped by sabrina. logan takes the chair and pretends not to watch everyone with fond amusement.

garrett stays beside you through all of it. steady, quiet.

his hand never leaves you, not in a possessive way, not in a way that demands, just there, a reminder. you don’t have to hold yourself up alone.

later, when everyone has finally left and your room is quiet again, garrett helps you clear the food containers from your bed.

he plugs your phone in, closes your laptop, picks your water bottle up from under the desk and places it on your bedside table.

small things, garrett things. you watch him move around your room with tired eyes. “are you staying?” you ask softly.

he turns, his expression gentle. “do you want me to?”

you nod, "please.” he crosses back to you immediately.

“then i’m staying.”

you shift under the covers as he climbs in beside you, and for the first time in weeks, your body relaxes before you can think yourself out of it. garrett pulls you into his chest, you press your face against his shirt, his hand slides beneath the back of your hoodie, palm warm against your spine.

“i don’t want you to feel shut out.”

his hand stills for half a second, then continues moving slowly. “i don’t want you to feel like you have to be okay all the time.”

you close your eyes. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“we’ll figure it out.”

“what if i mess up?”

“then we talk.”

“what if i do it again?”

his lips press to your forehead. “then i remind you.”

you swallow. “what if you get tired of reminding me?”

garrett pulls back just enough to look at you. his face is serious, tender, a little wounded that you would even ask, but patient with it anyway.

"i’m not going to get tired of loving you, y/n."

your eyes burn again.“garrett.”

“i mean it.” you look at him for a long moment, then nod, because you believe him.

he kisses you once, soft and lingering, then tucks your head back beneath his chin. outside your room, the dorm is still noisy. voices in the hall, doors opening and closing, the faint sound of laughter somewhere far away. inside, everything is quiet. not perfect, not fixed, but honest. for tonight, that is enough.

garrett’s thumb moves slowly along your back. you let yourself breathe. this time, when he murmurs, “you okay?”

you don’t say fine, you don’t pretend, you press closer and whisper, “not really.”

garrett holds you tighter. “okay,” he says softly. “i’m here.”

and for the first time in weeks, you let that be enough.

toonice113

College baby (ch.3) TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!!

Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

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

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ helloo first I wanna say thank you for all the love you're all giving the story, next I want to let you know we're like 2-3 chapters away from entering the show/book timeline and I'm so excited for that! Also so sorry to disappoint but I did decide to close the taglist for those still asking to get added. Enjoy! I also have a Tucker story in plans so if you don't get any college baby for the next few days it is because I'm writing that one (little sneak peak, it's called part of your world and it has some angst)

Oh, and if you send in some ideas of what you want to see I might add them to later parts, I have something sitting in my asks that will for sure be featured in the next part! ◡̈

College Baby masterlist

toonice113

College Baby (ch.1)

Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

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

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ welcome to the series that will hopefully become something! taglist is closed!

College Baby masterlist

iceyngi

On Baby Duty

☄︎ Warnings: Pregnancy mention (for future) ☄︎ Pairing: F!Reader x Dean Di Laurentis ☄︎ Rating/Genre: PG. Fluff. ☄︎ Words: 1372 ☄︎ Summary: You & Dean babysit Tucker & Sabrina's baby Jamie

💭: anon, i hope this is what you imagnined! if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, ask, reblog etc, it means a lot xx

Read the original request here. 〣 Find my Off Campus Masterlist here.

Tucker has been standing in your doorway for the last 10 minutes, giving Dean an impromptu pop quiz that he expected 10/10 on before he was willing to hand his entire life over.

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kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ i've got you.

pairing – garrett graham x nursing student!reader summary – a bad loss, a worse party, and garrett finding out exactly what kind of man used to make someone he cares about feel small. warnings – angst, emotional abuse references, slut-shaming, public humiliation, violence, physical fight, blood, strong language notes from me – i promised garrett would find out about her ex! based on this ask, thank u babe! word count – 6.5k

navigation – masterlist |

The party is technically still a party, in the way a body is technically still alive when it’s lying very still and making everyone else uncomfortable. There’s music coming from the living room speakers, and the kitchen is full, and someone has already knocked over half a case of beer near the back door, but the usual post-game buzz hasn’t properly taken.

The loss has followed the boys home like bad weather, clinging to the sharp set of Garrett’s jaw and the bruise darkening near Logan’s cheekbone and the way Dean keeps drinking. Even Tucker, who can usually make a room feel less like it wants to bite itself, has been standing at the counter for ten minutes making tiny sandwiches with the grim focus of a man assembling evidence.

“Don’t call them tiny sandwiches,” Tucker says, responding to something Logan had said that she'd missed. “They’re dippables.”

There's a beat of silence so beautiful and complete that she almost respects the universe for giving it to them.

Then Dean says, “I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just call them?”

kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ good first impression.

pairing – garrett graham x reader summary – garrett graham shows up with sex on his mind and gets introduced to a six-month-old in a duck onesie instead. warnings – established relationship, fluff, garrett holding a baby, domestic softness, suggestive opening, teasing notes from me – just a little blurb based on this ask!! someone give garrett graham a baby immediately. word count – 3.8k

navigation – masterlist | taglist

The thing about Garrett Graham showing up at her apartment with sex clearly, tragically, heroically on his mind was that he didn’t 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.

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.

kooksandpearls

garrett graham ❄︎ team effort.

pairing – garrett graham x reader summary – everyone keeps asking for too much. garrett has a very simple solution. warnings – fluff, established relationship, people-pleasing, boundary issues, garrett being protective, strong language, alcohol mention notes from me – based on this ask!! so so cute, thank u babe! word count – 2.1k

navigation – masterlist |

Garrett notices it first at Malone’s, which is annoying because Malone’s is loud, sticky, crowded, and absolutely not the sort of place where he should be having emotional realisations over his girlfriend’s inability to say no.

She’s tucked into the booth beside him, one knee pressed against his thigh under the table, her drink sweating a wet ring onto the wood in front of her. The place is packed in the usual Friday-night Briar way, all flushed faces and hockey jackets and girls laughing too loudly over music.

Dean’s somehow acquired a tray of shots no one asked for. Logan’s flirting with a girl at the bar. Tucker sits across from them, calm as ever, eating fries.

Garrett has one arm stretched along the back of the booth behind her shoulders, his fingers idly playing with the ends of her hair.

sunnydilaurentis

fill in the gaps | found family au ⋆˚࿔

summary: in which dean is always the one quietly stepping in whenever garrett can’t, filling the gaps with a kind of friendship that feels safe without ever asking for recognition.

notes: hi! thank you so much for your request! just a few little sweet moments between dean and y/n to establish their 'sibling-styled' relationship. i love seeing how precious dean can be with those around him. i hope you enjoy! 💌💌

✩.* found family fics!

✩.* found family masterlist

ˋ°•*⁀➷ in other words... three times dean steps in when garrett couldn't.

ꪆৎ

1. the morning coffee tradition

the thing about dean and y/n’s coffee tradition is that nobody actually remembers how it started.

one day it just sort of… existed.

wednesday mornings became tradition sometime during your freshman year after dean discovered that you physically could not function before ten in the morning without caffeine, food, and at least twenty minutes of silence.

he’d found you sitting outside one of your lecture halls looking genuinely miserable, curled into yourself on the concrete ledge beneath the windows with an untouched granola bar in your lap.

dean had stopped walking immediately.

“you look dead,” had been his first greeting.

you’d blinked up at him slowly from beneath the hood of your sweatshirt, eyes tired and unfocused in the way they always got when you were overwhelmed.

“i feel dead.”

dean stared at you for another second before glancing down at the granola bar still sitting untouched in your hands.

then he sighed dramatically. “absolutely not.”

you frowned faintly. “…what?”

“c’mon.”

“where?”

“coffee.”

“dean i have class in twenty minutes.”

“and i have concern for you.”

despite all the overwhelming thoughts, you’d laughed quietly at that and dean had felt something oddly victorious settle in his chest. even back then, before the tradition became routine, dean had already started noticing things about you.

you carried stress quietly, too quietly.

you’d smile through exhaustion.

push through headaches.

skip meals when assignments got overwhelming.

tell people you were “fine” in that soft voice that usually meant the exact opposite.

somewhere along the way dean had started catching those things automatically.

not because garrett didn’t, he noticed too.

always.

but garrett loved you loudly, openly. he was constantly touching you, checking on you, looking at you like you'd hung the sun.

dean’s care was quieter than that, woven into little things.

extra coffees, walking on the outside of sidewalks. small things that slowly became permanent.

after that first coffee, wednesday mornings became routine without either of you ever formally discussing it.

same coffee shop just off campus

same booth beside the window.

same sleepy version of you arriving somewhere between five and ten minutes late every single week while dean pretended to be annoyed about it.

same teasing arguments over your coffee order because dean remained personally offended by your commitment to iced coffee in the middle of winter.

“one day,” he tells you, “you’re gonna freeze to death out of stubbornness.”

“you're so dramatic.”

“no, i'm just correct.”

the rest of the guys catch onto the routine pretty quickly, mostly because dean disappears every wednesday morning without fail.

“where are you going?” logan asks one morning from the kitchen while dean searches for his keys.

“coffee.”

“with who?”

dean looks at him blankly like it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard.

“y/n.”

logan pauses mid-bite.

“again?”

dean frowns immediately. “what do you mean again.”

“you guys literally do this every week.”

“and?”

logan exchanges a look with tucker across the kitchen island. “nothing,” tucker says carefully. “it’s just really sweet.”

dean looks horrified. “don’t say that.”

logan grins immediately, “you’re basically her emotional support hockey player.”

“incorrect,” dean says instantly. “i’m her favourite hockey player.”

“that’s actually me,” garrett says as he walks into the kitchen moments later, hair still damp from practice.

dean points at him immediately. “you’re biased.”

garrett snorts softly while reaching for the coffee dean had apparently made him earlier. “she’s literally my girlfriend.”

“exactly. biased.”

garrett just shakes his head with poorly hidden amusement because honestly?

he loves the tradition.

he loves that you have dean.

hockey consumes so much of their lives sometimes. practices, travel, games, media, pressure and expectations all piling endlessly onto them, until exhaustion settles deep into their bones. somehow, dean became the person who quietly made sure you didn't get lost inside all of that.

garrett notices it constantly.

the way dean always pushes your coffee toward you before you even sit down. the way he checks your expression the second you walk into a room. the way he instinctively steps closer anytime you look overwhelmed in crowded places.

it’s never overbearing, just protective in that deeply steady way dean loves people, and garrett trusts him completely.

“you’re late.”

you slide into the booth exactly seven minutes behind schedule one snowy wednesday morning, scarf wrapped around the lower half of your face while cold air clings to your coat.

dean’s already sitting across from you nursing his coffee.

“good morning to you too.”

“i thought you died.”

“that’s sweet.”

“it would’ve ruined my morning.”

you laugh softly under your breath while shrugging your coat off, your cheeks a crimson red from the cold outside.

the café glows warm around you, windows fogged slightly from the winter air. soft music hums somewhere overhead while students crowd small tables scattered throughout the room.

dean pushes your usual order across the table before you even ask.

your coffee. your breakfast sandwich, and an extra hash brown because dean’s somehow convinced you, “don’t eat enough.”

“thank you,” you mumble quietly.

“mhm.”

you take your first sip and physically relax against the booth. you feel your shoulders loosen and your eyes close briefly, almost as if your soul had just re-entered your body. dean watches the entire thing happen with visible satisfaction.

“there we go” he says.

you crack one eye open. “what?”

“the human version of yourself, she's here."

you point accusingly at him over the rim of your coffee cup, “you’re mean to me every single week.”

a glint of amusement settles into his eyes, “and yet you still show up.”

“free breakfast goes a long way di laurentis.”

dean snorts softly into his coffee before his expression shifts slightly, softening around the edges the way it always does when he really looks at you.

“you okay?”

the question comes every week. always casual, always genuine, never forced. sometimes the answer’s easy but other times it turns into an hour-long conversation about stress, homesickness or overthinking.

sometimes dean talks instead, letting anxiety off about the pressure he feels from jensen, about how tired he is of feeling like everyone has it all mapped out but him.

these wednesday mornings had quickly become the one place neither of you felt pressured to pretend.

today you just sigh quietly while pulling your sleeves over your hands.

“busy week.”

dean hums knowingly.

“you’ve been studying too much.”

“i’m in college, dean.”

“yeah, but normal people sleep occasionally.”

you laugh softly. “garrett says the same thing.”

dean immediately points at you. “see? that’s because your boyfriend and i are the only people around here with common sense.”

“that's debatable.”

“no it's not.”

your smile grows slightly while snow continues drifting softly past the windows outside, for a moment neither of you say anything.

a comfortable silence settles easily between the two of you, and maybe that’s part of why these mornings matter so much. dean never demands anything from you. you don’t have to be funny or energetic, you can just exist quietly with him while the world wakes up outside.

then eventually your expression softens around the edges.

“thank you,” you say quietly.

dean glances up from his coffee.

“for?”

“this.”

you gesture vaguely between the two of you. “the coffees, the checking in. you're always making sure i’m okay. i know i have garrett and the girls, but it really means a lot to have someone else too."

for a second dean just looks at you like he doesn’t understand why that would need thanking, before he leans back slightly against the booth with the faintest shrug.

“you’re one of my favourite people, y/n" he says simply.

the words hit harder than they should, because dean says things honestly, and there’s something incredibly safe about being cared for by someone like that.

you smile softly down into your coffee. “don’t tell garrett you said that.”

dean scoffs immediately. “please. that man already knows.”

you chuckle briefly and dean’s grin appears instantly at the sound, that’s another thing about this coffee tradition. dean quietly measures the success of every wednesday morning by whether he can make you laugh before ten am.

somehow, without anybody really noticing when it happened, these mornings became one of the steadiest parts of both your lives.

ꪆৎ

2. insecurity; everyone wants garrett graham

it’s nearly twelve am when dean hears the front door open quietly.

the hockey house is mostly asleep now after an away game. the bus got back almost forty minutes ago, everyone exhausted and cold and half-dead after six straight hours of travel.

empty gatorade bottles litter the kitchen counter, an abandoned duffle bag sits by the stairs. the whole house smells faintly like sweat, detergent, and post-game exhaustion.

dean’s downstairs on the couch pretending to study while eating cereal straight from the box when you walk in.

his eyes lift immediately.

you’re wearing garrett’s jacket over your outfit from earlier, sleeves hanging over your hands, your makeup slightly smudged beneath your eyes.

you look tired, not upset exactly, just emotionally wrung out.

dean frowns immediately. “where’s garrett?”

“still at briar,” you murmur softly while shutting the door behind you. “coach jensen wanted to talk to him after everyone had left."

dean nods once because that makes sense.

captain stuff. probably game strategy or travel schedules.

you walk further into the living room before dropping onto the couch beside him with a small exhausted sigh.

“weren’t you supposed to drive back together?” dean asks after a second.

you nod, curling slightly beneath the blanket abandoned beside him. “yeah, we were.”

your mouth softens faintly afterward. “but he knew i was tired and didn’t wanna make me wait around at the rink. i think he's getting a ride home with jensen".

dean can practically hear the rest of the conversation without needing details. garrett standing beside the bus still carrying half his equipment, one hand rested on your waist telling you softly to go home and sleep while he finished talking to jensen. probably kissing your forehead before forcing his car keys into your hands.

dean huffs quietly to himself.

hopelessly in love, the both of you.

“he made me promise to text when i got home,” you mumble.

“obviously.”

you smile faintly at that before leaning your head back against the couch cushions. dean studies your face for another second.

“you okay?”

you hesitate for a second before shrugging lightly. “just got in my own head a little tonight.”

dean turns to face you immediately. “about what?”

you debate brushing it off. normally you would, but dean’s always been easy to talk to. calm and patient. never making you feel silly for the thoughts your brain turns into bigger problems.

“there were these girls at the game tonight.”

dean’s expression shifts slightly, not tense yet, just attentive.

“okay…”

“they were sitting a few rows behind us,” you explain softly. “all wearing graham jerseys and talking about garrett.”

dean already knows where this is going before you even finish the sentence and you watch as his jaw tightens slightly.

“what were they saying?”

you shrug again, but this one feels smaller.

“just that he was hot. that they wished he’d notice them. one of them literally said she’d do anything to be with him.”

dean’s face immediately darkens with annoyance.

not at you.

never at you.

at them.

because people always seem to forget there’s an actual person attached to situations like that.

“they were saying it right there?” he asks carefully.

you nod once, slightly pulling on the ends of garrett's sweater in search of something grounding.

“like i wasn’t even there.”

something in dean’s chest twists at that, because you and garrett aren’t subtle. maybe not publicly public, but enough.

enough that anyone paying attention should notice the way garrett’s attention constantly gravitates toward you without even thinking about it.

yet, apparently these girls didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

you had convinced yourself it was the latter.

“and i know it’s dumb,” you continue quickly before dean can speak, voice quieter now, “because i trust him. i do. garrett handled it immediately when one of them tried talking to him after the game and he was perfect about it, it’s not even him.”

dean remains quiet, letting you get it out.

“it's just…” you laugh softly, but there’s no humour in it. “sometimes i think about the fact that he could genuinely have anyone he wanted.”

dean’s expression softens instantly.

“y/n-”

“no, seriously,” you interrupt gently. “he’s attractive, he’s good at hockey, everyone loves him already and he's not even playing in the nhl yet. once that happens it’s only going to be worse.”

your eyes stay fixed somewhere on the floor now.

“and those girls were all wearing his jersey and cheering for him and i realised i don’t even own one.”

dean blinks slightly. “what?”

you shrug helplessly, “i don’t know. it just made me feel stupid for some reason.”

dean places his hand on your shoulder reassuringly. “you know why those girls were talking about him like that?”

you frown slightly.

“because they don’t know him.”

your expression falters a little and dean continues talking before you can argue.

“they know hockey garrett. public garrett. they know the version they see for three hours on the ice.” his voice stays calm and certain.

“you know the guy who drives across town at two in the morning because you mentioned wanting fries once.”

your lips twitch faintly, a small smile threatening to grace your features.

“you know the guy who physically cannot relax if he thinks you’re upset" dean adds quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting as he gives your shoulder a brief squeeze. warm, steady, familiar.

“the guy who looks for you first in every room without even realising he’s doing it.”

your chest tightens quietly at his words.

“those girls wanting him doesn’t mean they actually have him, y/n.”

dean’s voice softens slightly then.

“you do.”

he lets his hand fall away gently from your shoulder before adding, quieter now, "and for the record, garrett would rather lose playoffs for the rest of his life than have you feel even slightly replaceable."

you snort softly. “that feels dramatic.”

“he’s dramatic,” dean replies immediately, earning a real laugh from you this time. he smiles faintly at the sound.

“also,” he adds, “the jersey thing is fixable. honestly kind of offended he hasn’t already forced one onto you himself.”

you smile at his words, your hand finding his shoulder as you squeeze gently.

"thank you", you say softly.

he nods his head in quiet understanding, then after a second, nudges the cereal box towards you.

“you hungry?”

you laugh softly. “yes.”

“good,” dean says. “because your boyfriend left strict instructions to feed you if you came home tired.”

your smile appears instantly. “did he actually?”

dean grabs his phone before tossing it into your lap. a text from garrett glows across the screen.

garrett

make sure y/n eats something please. she looked exhausted when i was with her

another one sits directly underneath it.

garrett

and don’t let her say she’s fine if she goes quiet

your chest aches immediately, because garrett knows you so completely it still catches you off guard sometimes.

dean notices your expression soften while reading the messages and immediately points at you accusingly. “don’t get emotional over texts right now.”

you laugh quietly, “shut up.”

he gets up a second later to make you actual food instead of letting you survive off cereal and when garrett finally gets home twenty minutes later, still wearing his briar hockey hoodie with damp hair from the cold outside, his eyes find you instantly.

you’re curled beneath the blanket half-asleep with dean beside you. garrett’s entire expression softens the second he sees you safe and warm on the couch.

“hey, baby.”

you look up sleepily.

“hi.”

he leans down immediately, kissing your forehead while one hand slides gently along your cheek.

“you okay?”

you nod softly.

“mhm.”

garrett glances toward dean who lifts both hands up defensively.

“she ate.”

garrett snorts quietly. “thanks, dean.”

he shrugs like it’s nothing, like he wouldn’t do it every single time.

ꪆৎ

3. quietly looked after

briar’s hockey house is always chaos after a friday night win, loud with music and crowded with teammates spilling throughout, their drinks carefully balanced in their hands.

someone’s yelling over beer pong in the dining room, logan and tucker are arguing about a goal replay near the tv and allie, sabrina and grace are all laughing so hard in the corner they can barely breathe.

everything feels hazy with warmth and noise and post-game adrenaline.

garrett’s across the kitchen talking to a couple alumni players who’d shown up after the game, still half in hockey mode despite the hoodie he’d changed into. every few seconds his eyes flick back toward you, like some invisible string keeps tugging his attention in your direction despite who he’s talking to.

and every time you drift close enough, his hand finds you instinctively.

your waist, your lower back.

your fingers for half a second before somebody pulls him into another conversation.

touching you has become second nature for him at this point.

you’ve been awake since six that morning. an early lecture, library study session, two assignments you forgot were due, then the game.

now you found yourself at the afterparty that allie had begged you to stay at for “at least one hour, because you’re literally dating the captain, and leaving early is bad for morale.”

that was nearly three hours ago.

you’re sitting on one of the kitchen bar stools slowly losing a fight against exhaustion, cheek pressed heavily into your palm while your eyes blink slower every couple minutes.

you’re still trying to be social, nodding along when people talk, smiling faintly at conversations happening around you, however, it’s the kind of tired where your whole body starts going soft around the edges.

dean walks into the kitchen beside logan mid-conversation, laughing at something over his shoulder, before his gaze lands on you and he stops immediately.

his eyes narrow, because dean knows your tired face.

there’s regular tired and then there’s this.

the heavy blinking, slumped shoulders. the way your fingers loosen around your drink because you’re too exhausted to hold it properly anymore.

“why do you look sedated?”

you lift one finger weakly without moving your head. “that’s offensive.”

“you’re falling asleep sitting upright, y/n".

“i'm multitasking.”

logan snorts loudly. dean just shakes his head before moving automatically toward the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and twisting the cap open before pressing it into your hands.

“drink that.”

you squint up at him sleepily. “you’re so bossy.”

“and yet somehow i'm always right.”

he leans against the counter beside you afterward, arms folding loosely over his chest while you obediently sip the water despite glaring at him about it.

dean glances across the room, right as garrett looks over.

the second your boyfriends eyes properly land on you, his expression shifts instantly.

it softens first before sharpening slightly with concern, because now that he’s looking closely, he notices everything at once.

the way your head keeps dipping, the tiredness in your eyes.

he excuses himself from the conversation almost immediately before crossing the kitchen toward you. dean steps aside without a word, not because garrett needs help noticing, just because he was filling the space until he got there.

garrett slides easily between your knees, hands settling automatically against your waist while he tilts his head slightly trying to catch your eyes.

“baby,” he murmurs softly. “you tired?”

your forehead drops dramatically against his shoulder. “so tired.”

garrett laughs quietly beneath his breath, one hand sliding slowly up your back.

“yeah, i can tell.”

“m’awake.”

“you almost fell asleep drinking water.”

“lies.”

dean points immediately. “not lies.”

you weakly lift a hand toward him without moving from garrett’s shoulder. “i dislike you.”

“no you don’t.”

garrett’s smile presses briefly against your hair before he presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head.

“c’mon,” he murmurs softly. “let’s get you upstairs.”

“but allie said we have to socialise.”

garrett's hand shifts from your waist to capture your face gently in his hand. “you’ve been socialising for three straight hours, y/n.”

you make a sleepy noise of agreement.

garrett laughs again quietly before helping you down from the stool carefully, one arm wrapping around your waist the second you sway slightly from standing too fast.

his hand immediately tightens, protective instinct.

you lean into him without thinking and dean watches the interaction from beside the fridge with the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

because that’s the thing, garrett always notices.

always.

he notices when your smile feels forced, when your hands get cold, when you go too quiet in crowded rooms, when you stop stealing bites of his food because you’re stressed.

dean just catches some things first sometimes because garrett’s constantly being pulled in six different directions at once.

captain.

friend.

teammate.

leader.

boyfriend.

dean’s usually standing slightly outside the chaos watching all of it unfold, so he's able to step in automatically.

not because garrett doesn’t care enough, but because dean cares too. just differently. like the brother you never had. like family.

alierecss

Ruin the friendship | John Logan

Summary: Falling for your brother’s best friend is already a terrible idea. Falling for John Logan, while Garrett Graham watches the two of you like a security threat, is even worse.

Pairing: John Logan x Graham!Reader

A/N: hii! this is actually the first thing i’ve ever published, which is both exciting and terrifying honestly 😭 i’ve always been more of a reader than a writer, so this is very new to me, but i had so much fun writing it.

if you end up reading, please let me know what you think! i’d really love to hear your thoughts.

also, im taking requests, so if you have any requests you can send it to me

okay bye, hope you enjoy <3

Garrett and you were born three minutes apart. Only three. You've done the math a thousand times, turned it over like a coin, trying to understand how three minutes could possibly account for the way he acts. The only explanation you've ever landed on is that Garrett must have gone through some Interstellar type of thing on his way out, where those three minutes stretched into three decades, aging him into the world's most exhausting older brother before he even took his first breath.

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biglychee

Carnations & Sweet Pea

$ log - you receive a token of appreciation from steve rogers! $ warn --sfw --fluff $ wc -w 1k $ cd masterlist $ echo "reader back at her corporate j*b" > authors-note.txt $ echo "might write up an nsfw version of this later" > authors-note.txt

The bouquet wasn't subtle.

You spotted it from the doorway - hard not to, really, given it was occupying a third of your desk and radiating the kind of quiet opulence that made two of your colleagues stop walking and stare. Blush carnations and ivory sweet pea, layered so densely they seemed almost architectural, wrapped in thick craft paper and tied with a ribbon that had clearly been done by someone who what they were doing. There was a small card tucked into the stems.

You stood there for a moment. Then you walked over, picked up the card and read it.

Much appreciated. - S. Rogers

You set it down, looked at the bouquet again, and the card.

Around you, the office had developed a faint but unmistakeable energy - the specific frequency of people pretending not to be watching. Someone behind you murmured something and someone else laughed, hushed and delighted.

"Oooooh," said your colleague Layla, appearing at your shoulder with a coffee mug and absolutely no shame. "Who's S. Rogers?"

"Nobody."

"That's a nobody bouquet to you?"

You picked up the bouquet, set it more firmly on the corner of your desk, and sat down. "Go away, Layla."

Layla didn't go away, instead she leaned against the partition and smiled into her coffee. "You've got a secret admirer."

"I don't."

"Those are sweet peas. Someone did research-"

"Layla."

She went away with another amused giggle.

justalover-gurl

A BURNING GIFT.

Summary : As a new Avenger (2012 Avengers), you decide to give a gift to Steve, the Cap, who recruited you. Except... You forget that your gifts can burn.

Pairing : Steve Rogers x avenger!reader

W/c : idk maybe 3k

Warning tags : fluff, a little bit angsty, Black! reader, reader has powers like Wanda but can burn people too, comfort, soft intimacy, vague description of burning wounds. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

The first time Steve Rogers sees your powers up close, he thinks they look beautiful.

Not dangerous.

Not unnatural.

Beautiful.

Purple energy curls around your fingers like smoke kissed by starlight, glowing softly beneath the dim lights of the training room. It moves differently than other people's magic : less chaotic, more fluid. Like velvet dragged through water.

Everyone else in the room keeps their distance when your powers come out.

Steve notices that too.

cinebration

Walls to Scale (Tommy Conlon x Reader) [Request]

Gif Source: dicapriho

The only women who ever showed up at Colt’s were the girlfriends of whatever bruisers were inside duking it out. Tommy stayed well away from them, not simply because of this fact, but because they never interested him. They all seemed to be the same type, variants of each other and yet still working from the same base model.

So when you walked in, he found himself staring. You carried yourself differently, navigated the room as though you knew it. The man at your side, a middleweight contender, seemed disinterested in you.

What really caught Tommy’s attention was when the man stepped into the ring. You watched for a few minutes before you started calling out corrections to him, telling him what he was doing wrong.

Like a manager.

Keep reading

sprigsofhazel

Cricket

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: pure sweet fluff, meet-cute, affectionate dialogue, implied sexual activity (non-explicit), age gap, older man x younger woman, soft!Joel

Word Count: 1.1k

Notes: Enjoy! If you enjoyed it, please like, reblog or comment, I’d love to hear from you. <3 I've got many more stories in the works! Masterlist ~ AO3 ~ Fic Recs

You stood there looking down at the joint compound in your left hand & the wall spackle in your right, trying to decipher the difference. Not noticing the older man down at the end of the aisle you were in.

A few minutes went by with your brows furrowed & you were still no closer to making a choice between the two as you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Something I can help you with, darlin’?” A voice said a few feet away from you.

You turned, startled but smiling. “I, uh—yeah, actually—” You looked up, expecting to see a man donning an employee vest. “—you work here?” you asked, noticing he was just in a plain T-shirt & jeans, holding a few items in his hands.

“No,” he said, with a kindness in his eyes. “Just saw you looked a little… perplexed.”

You huffed out a small laugh. “Oh, well… would you possibly be able to tell me the difference between these?” you asked, holding both tubs out towards him.

He stepped closer, squinting down at what you held. “Spackle & joint compound, huh?” He took the one from your left hand.

“They’ll both patch holes, but this one—” he lifted the joint compound slightly—“is what you want if you’re fixin’ somethin’ bigger. Dries smoother, sands easier.”

You nodded, pretending that made perfect sense while your eyes trailed up the line of his arm to where his sleeve strained against his bicep. “Right. Smoother. Easier,” you repeated, slightly distracted.

You thanked him, but instead of walking away, you kept talking. About how you’d watched three different YouTube videos on patching drywall & were still convinced you were going to end up with a wall that looked like paper mache. About how you’d already been to the store twice that week & somehow forgotten the same thing both times. And about how all you wanted was to hang a few photos, not renovate the damn place.

You could hear yourself rambling, words tripping over each other, but you couldn’t seem to stop. Every nervous habit you had decided to show up all at once. Your laugh was too loud & your hands moved too much.

Meanwhile, he just stood there, calm & unbothered, with a small grin on his face, listening to you fill the silence.

By the time you finally stopped talking, you weren’t entirely sure what you’d said, or if any of it had made sense. He told you everything you’d need for the job that you had explained to him earlier during your meandering, and then gave you a few helpful tips. You thanked him again, & when you finally walked away, your cheeks hurt from smiling.

As you exited the building, walking out into the parking lot, your purchase swaying in the bag you held, a voice called out from behind you.

“Hey—”

You turned, already halfway to your car. He was standing just outside the automatic doors, then began walking toward you the moment your eyes met.

“Uh,” he started, a quiet laugh under his breath. “I’s wonderin’ if I could, maybe take you out to dinner sometime.”

You looked at him, the words taking a moment to register. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice softer now, like he wasn’t sure if he was stepping over a line.

He was older than you, by more than a couple of handful of years & he looked so unsure of himself that it made your heart ache a little… the way his hand circled his own wrist, thumb dragging a nervous path along the tendon there.

For all the confidence he’d had inside the store, there was a shyness to him now, one you hadn’t noticed before. But then again, maybe it’d been there all along, hidden beneath the sound of your own blathering.

“Dinner,” you repeated again, mostly to buy yourself another moment. Your heartbeat skipping ahead, eager to meet whatever was coming.

His brow furrowed, looking at you as he started, but then down at the ground. “Ain’t gotta be dinner if you’d rather not. Could be lunch, or coffee, or—uh, actually just forget I asked.”

You shook your head, smiling softly, trying to put him at ease. “No, no—dinner’s good.”

That made him look up again, made his grin come back.

“But,” you added, stepping closer, “you gotta help me.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Help you?”

“Yep,” you said, holding up the bag in your hand. “You take me to dinner, & afterward you have to help me patch up my wall.”

He chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart.”

“Is that a yes?” you smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back. “It’s a yes.”

_______

Now, a few months later, you still couldn’t believe how easy it was to be with him. Because with Joel, everything was different. He was older, yeah & gruffer, sometimes. But dating him hadn’t been messy & confusing the way it had been with other people. With Joel, it was steady, straightforward & his words lined up with his actions.

He was also maddeningly handsome, & the sex was earth-shattering. You’d never experienced anything like it. No one had ever made you feel so known & undone all at once. And ever since that first time, neither of you had been able to get enough.

One evening, you were on your back, stretched out on the couch, with your head in his lap, talking away about the day you’d had, when you finally took a breath & closed your mouth.

“Never met anyone who talks as much as you do,” he teased, running his fingers lazily through your hair.

You opened your eyes to look up at him, catching him grinning down at you.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Didn’t say it was bad. Just sayin’... kinda like the first time I met you, you wouldn’t stop chirpin’.”

“Chirpin’?” you echoed, laughing.

“Yeah. Like a little cricket.” His thumb brushed along your temple. “Couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

Your eyes widened as you came to the realization. “That’s why you call me Cricket?”

“Mm-hmm, I ‘member standin’ there just listenin’ to you chirpin’ away, all bright-eyed. Thought to myself, there goes my peace & quiet.”

You grinned, still looking up at him. “And yet, you still ran after me & asked me to dinner.”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, hand drifting down to trace the curve of your jaw. “Yeah, I sure did.”

Tilting your head towards his body, cheek resting against his thigh, you closed your eyes, then asked, “You miss the peace & quiet you had before me?”

His fingers slipped back into your hair, starting at your temple, combing through the soft strands just past your ear before curling back out, tracing the same path again & again.

“Nah, I didn’t know what I was really missin’ till you showed up, Cricket. I’d take ‘ur chirpin’ over peace & quiet any day.”

If you enjoyed, please like, reblog or comment, I’d love to hear from you. <3

spidey-d00d

Always wanted it to be him

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: You always wanted it to be him, The only problem: he lied.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: angst, a whole lot of it, lying, cursing, navy inaccuracies, toxic relationship, gaslighting, anything else i missed

A/N: This is the first piece of work i’ve done in a long while so please bear with me if it is bad! Also this doesn't have a happy ending, or well I think it does but it depends on how you view it haha. I don’t have much else to say besides enjoy and I hope to have more out soon! Requests are open!

NOT MY GIF

•18+ Adults Only

Watch Anya Live on Cam

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.

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spidey-d00d

Like I Was Yours

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x reader / Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: You and Jake were explosive. Fuel to each other's fire, but you were each others’. Until you weren’t. Bradley was the rain, cool and collected. He was a constant that you always failed to notice. Until you did.

Word Count: 5.1K

Trigger warnings: Cursing, fights, gaslighting, toxic relationship, Navy inaccuracies, anything else I missed, I'm sorry! No use of Y/N!

A/N: I'm kind of on a roll with these, they are just kind of flowing rn. I'm sorry all I'm writing is angst and hurt but like that's what I'm good at, I tried my best at some fluffy stuff towards the end so tell me how I did! I have more planned coming up soon but if there is something y'all want to see, send in a request!!

NOT MY GIF

spidey-d00d

In Time

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 8.6k

Summary: They called you Bear—fierce, loyal, impossible to ignore. Flying was freedom. Family. Fire.

But the sky takes as much as it gives. And Jake Seresin learns that some ghosts don’t let go.

Trigger Warnings: Character death, aviation accidents, grief, self-destructive behavior, PTSD, survivor’s guilt, mental health, alcohol, cursing, anger, violence (?) death mentions, Navy inaccuracies, funeral, so much angst, very unedited!

A/N: It’s been a little bit so I had to come back full force obviously. Thank you for sticking around while I figured out my life lol. I recently went through a death of a good friend and it kind of inspired this very loosely. This one made me tear up a little bit so I'm sorry! I think my next work is going to be a bit more happy so stay tuned for that one. I honestly pull a lot of my life to get ideas for a lot of my fics so I gotta be having a good time to get a happier fic out and lately life's been looking up so hope it continues! @littlebitb

[NOT MY GIF]

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