dean di laurentis x shy!reader
summary: dean didn’t notice you at first but overtime, that’s what makes him like you
The first time Dean Di Laurentis saw you, he didn’t actually see you.
Not because you weren’t there, but because you were the kind of person who naturally blended into the background.
You sat in the third row of Professor Jensen’s sports psychology class, always arriving five minutes early, always leaving before anyone else had packed their bags. You wore oversized sweaters that swallowed your frame, tucked your headphones away the second class started, and never raised your hand unless the professor directly called on you.
Dean noticed loud people. The hockey team. The girls who flirted with him after class. The friends waving him over.
You weren’t any of those things.
So for the first month of the semester, you were simply just there.
Dean looked up from his phone. Professor Jensen was staring at him.
“Since you’re clearly done taking notes, why don’t you pair with…” He glanced around the room before pointing. “…her.”
Dean followed his finger, “Who?”
Professor Jensen sighed, “The woman who’s been sitting three seats away from you for four weeks.”
Heat crawled up Dean’s neck.
You looked up from your notebook, clearly surprised anyone had spoken to you.
“Oh,” you echoed quietly.
Dean grabbed his backpack and moved over, “Hey.”
That was it. Just one word.
You didn’t smile much. You didn’t look him in the eyes for longer than a second. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and waited for him to speak first.
Dean figured you’d probably think he was an idiot.
“So…” he said. “Guess we’re partners.”
The assignment was supposed to take twenty minutes.
Instead, Dean did almost all the talking.
You hesitated, “I think… maybe… motivation changes depending on whether someone plays for themselves or for other people.”
Dean blinked, “That’s actually really good.”
Your cheeks immediately turned pink, “Oh.”
“You should write that down.”
“I… okay.” You scribbled it into the worksheet.
For the rest of class, Dean started noticing little things.
Every time he complimented an idea, you looked genuinely surprised. Every time someone laughed loudly nearby, you shrank into yourself.
Whenever he accidentally made eye contact with you, you smiled. Just a tiny one. Barely there. But it completely changed your face.
After class, Dean caught up to Garrett.
Garrett looked over, “What?”
“Who’s the girl in my psych class?”
Garrett frowned, “Helpful.”
Garrett laughed, “Oh! Her.”
“Exactly.” Garrett shrugged, “She’s nice. Tutors people in the library. Never goes to parties. Always studies.”
Dean looked back toward the building. You were already gone.
The next week, Dean found himself looking toward your usual seat before class.
Then, two minutes later, you hurried through the door carrying three books, looking mildly panicked.
Dean didn’t even think, “You can sit here.”
He tapped the empty chair beside him.
Your eyes widened, “Really?”
You gave him a tiny smile, “Thank you.”
For some reason, that tiny smile made his chest feel weird.
It became routine after that. He’d save the seat. You’d quietly thank him. You’d compare notes after class. He’d talk. You’d listen.
Until, slowly, you started talking more.
“I like your sweatshirt.”
You looked down, “This old thing?”
Dean grinned, “It’s ugly.”
You gasped dramatically, “I know.”
Then, you laughed too. Not politely. Not quietly. Actually laughed.
Dean stared, “You laugh.”
You immediately covered your face, “Oh my God.”
Dean smiled to himself the rest of the day.
One afternoon he walked into the library looking for a quiet place to finish an assignment.
Instead, he found you, sitting cross-legged in one of the corner chairs and you were completely surrounded by books.
Your glasses had slipped down your nose. You were chewing absentmindedly on the end of your pencil while highlighting something. Dean stood there longer than he should have.
You looked, comfortable. Happy, even. Like this tiny corner of the library was your entire world.
He sat across from you, “You live here?”
You smiled, “Pretty much.”
“I’ve never met someone who carries this many books voluntarily.”
You looked down shyly, “I like reading.”
You hesitated, “Romance.”
Your face immediately turned red, “You asked.”
From then on, Dean started finding reasons to study with you.
At first it was because you were smart. Then because you explained things patiently.
Then it was because he genuinely liked being around you.
You never interrupted him. You remembered tiny details he’d forgotten telling you. You laughed at his stupid jokes. You listened. Really listened.
Most people saw Dean as the loud hockey captain. You asked him questions nobody else did.
“What made you start hockey?”
“Were you always confident?”
“Do you ever get nervous before games?”
Questions that made him stop and think. Questions nobody else cared enough to ask.
One evening you were studying together when he noticed your hands shaking slightly.
You stared at your notebook, “I have to present tomorrow.”
You continued quietly, “I don’t really… like people looking at me.”
Dean leaned forward, “You know…”
“I don’t think you’re quiet because you have nothing to say.”
“I think…” He smiled gently, “you spend so much time thinking about everyone else that you forget your own voice deserves space too.”
Your eyes immediately filled with tears.
Dean panicked, “Oh my God.”
You laughed through your tears, “No.”
“No one’s ever…” You wiped your eyes, “…noticed.”
After that, something changed. Not overnight. You were still shy. Still quiet. Still preferred libraries over parties.
But around Dean, you relaxed. You interrupted him sometimes. You teased him. You rolled your eyes when he was dramatic.
One afternoon Garrett walked by and stopped dead.
You looked confused, “What?”
“I’ve never heard you say this many words.”
You lightly shoved Garrett’s shoulder, “Very funny.”
Garrett looked between the two of you, “Holy crap.”
“You have a personality.”
Dean laughed even harder.
You hid your face in your hands, “I liked him better before he spoke.”
The hockey team eventually met you.
Logan adored you immediately, “You actually laugh at Dean?”
Dean grinned smugly, “Hear that?”
Logan gagged, “You’ve created a monster.”
One night after practice, Dean found you sitting alone in the empty arena. You were reading while waiting for him.
He walked over quietly, “You know…”
“I almost never noticed you.”
You smiled softly, “I know.”
You tilted your head, “Why?”
Dean sat beside you, “Because I almost missed knowing my favorite person.”
Your eyes widened. Neither of you spoke. The arena was silent except for the hum of the lights overhead.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ve been trying to figure out when this happened.”
“When you became the first person I look for.”
“When I have a good day, I want to tell you. When I have a bad day, I want you. When I walk into class, I don’t even notice anyone else until I know you’re there.”
Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
“You don’t have to be loud,” he continued softly. “You don’t have to compete with anyone. You don’t have to change.”
“I like…” He smiled. “…exactly the girl everyone else accidentally overlooked.”
You swallowed, “I don’t know what to say.”
You looked down at your hands before gathering every ounce of courage you had, “I’ve liked you since the day Professor Jensen made us partners.”
Dean blinked, “Seriously?”
You nodded, “I just…” A nervous laugh escaped you, “…never thought someone like you would notice someone like me.”
Dean reached over slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.
Instead, you slipped your hand into his.
His smile was softer than any you’d ever seen, “I guess I was looking in the wrong direction.” He intertwined your fingers, “And once I finally looked…” He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles, “I couldn’t stop.”
You smiled. Not the tiny, hesitant smile he’d fallen for months ago. A real one. Bright enough that Dean couldn’t believe he’d ever managed to miss it.
He leaned in, giving you plenty of time to move away. You didn’t. The kiss was gentle. Slow. Sweet.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.
“Can I officially steal your library study sessions forever?”
You laughed, “They weren’t yours to steal.”
“Mhm, and if anyone wants to talk to my girlfriend while she’s studying…” He shrugged dramatically “They’re gonna have to get through me.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt, “You’re ridiculous.”
Dean kissed your forehead, “And you’re still the best thing I almost didn’t notice.”
