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Hi!! I’m obsessed w your graham!sister fics and was wondering if you do requests? If so, I’ve been thinking about how Logan or whoever would react to finding out about the abuse from garret (like in the show) while they are dating graham!reader? Just the whole reaction and angst and comfort from it all
Until Someone Knew
John Logan x Graham!Reader (y/n)
Summary: Garett tells Logan about his dad, which makes Logan realise that y/n, Garett’s sister also had to deal with years of abuse from Phil.
TW: mentions of abuse
Word Count: 2.4K
The house was unusually quiet. No music blasted from Logan’s room. No television. No laughter from the living room. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of rain tapping against the kitchen windows. Logan looked up from the sandwich he was halfway through making when the front door opened. Garrett walked in. One glance was all it took. Something was wrong.
This was different. His shoulders were tense. His eyes looked empty. Logan watched him disappear into the kitchen before following a few seconds later. Garrett stood in front of the sink, staring blankly out the rain-speckled window. He hadn’t moved.
Logan leaned against the counter.
Silence.
Normally he’d fill it. Normally Garrett would. Tonight, neither of them seemed capable.
The clock above the stove ticked loudly.
Finally…
“I gotta tell you something.”
Logan straightened.
Garrett’s voice was flat. Not emotionless. Worse. Like he’d run out of emotions altogether.
“Okay…” Logan said carefully.
Another long silence.
Garrett rubbed both hands over his face and sighed. Seemed like he was preparing to tell something. Logan didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush him. Just waited.
“My dad…” Garrett swallowed. “…used to beat me.”
The words settled heavily between them. Logan felt something tighten painfully in his chest.
He knew Garrett and his father didn’t get along. He knew Phil Graham was an asshole.
But this…
This wasn’t where he’d expected the sentence to go.
Garrett laughed quietly.
“You know what’s funny?”
Logan shook his head.
“I still can’t say it without feeling like I’m lying.”
He stared down at the kitchen tile.
“I keep expecting someone to tell me I’m exaggerating.”
“They won’t.”
Garrett looked over.
Logan’s expression hadn’t changed.
No pity.
No disbelief.
Just complete attention.
Garrett took a shaky breath.
“He wasn’t always angry.” Another pause “That would’ve been easier.”
Logan frowned slightly.
“He’d be normal.” Garrett’s eyes unfocused as memories surfaced. “We’d eat dinner. He’d ask about school. We’d joke. And then I’d have a bad game.”
Silence.
“Or I’d miss a shot.”
“Or I’d mouth off.”
“Or sometimes…”
He laughed bitterly.
“…sometimes nothing happened.”
Logan’s jaw tightened.
Garrett continued quietly.
“You stop trying to figure out why after a while.”
His fingers gripped the edge of the counter.
“You just spend all day wondering if today’s gonna be one of the bad days.”
Logan’s chest hurt.
He could picture little Garrett.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
Coming home after hockey.
Wondering whether opening the front door would end with dinner or bruises.
“I got good at reading him.” Garrett’s voice was almost distant now. “The way he’d close the car door. The way he’d walk into the house. Whether he’d say my name.”
“If he was quiet…” He closed his eyes. “I knew.”
Logan felt sick.
“I started staying at the rink longer.” Garrett shrugged. “Coach thought I was dedicated. Another humorless laugh. “I was just killing time.”
His voice cracked slightly. “Sometimes I’d pray he’d be asleep when I got home.”
The kitchen felt impossibly small.
Logan couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t sound meaningless.
So he stayed quiet.
Garrett seemed grateful for that.
“I got bigger eventually.”
He looked down at his own hands.
“Started hockey training year-round. Started lifting. Dad hit me one night and I …” A pause. “I shoved him back.”
Garrett’s expression was unreadable.
“He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was.”
Another silence.
“That was the last time.”
Logan finally spoke. “You were a kid.”
Garrett gave a tiny nod. “I know.”
“No.” Logan stepped closer. “You were a kid.” The words were firmer now. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
Garrett’s jaw tightened.
“I still think maybe if I’d just…”
“No.”
Logan cut him off immediately. “No ‘if.’”
Garrett blinked.
“You were a child.”
Another pause.
“Kids don’t deserve to get hit because they had a bad game.”
The words hung between them. Garrett looked away quickly. His eyes burned.
“I’ve never told anybody except Hannah”
Logan’s heart twisted.
“None of the guys?”
Garett shook his head.
Logan moved without really thinking. He wrapped one arm around Garrett’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Garrett froze for just a second. Then all the tension he’d been carrying seemed to give way. He leaned forward, forehead pressing against Logan’s shoulder. He didn’t cry. But Logan could feel him shaking.
“It’s over,” Logan said quietly.
Garrett let out a slow breath. “I know.”
“You got out.”
“…Yeah”
“You survived.”
Garrett nodded once. “I guess.”
“No.” Logan pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “I mean it.” His voice was steady “I’m proud of you.”
Garrett actually frowned.“…For what?”
“For surviving something nobody should’ve had to survive.”
Garrett stared at him. Like the thought had genuinely never occurred to him.
The silence stretched again.
Then Logan’s expression slowly shifted.
Something crossed his face.
Confusion.
His brow furrowed.
“…Wait.”
Garrett looked up.
Logan’s stomach suddenly felt heavy.
“Y/N…”
Garrett didn’t move.
Logan’s heartbeat sped up.
“She’s…”
His voice came out quieter now.
“She’s younger than us.”
Garrett looked at the floor.
“Garrett…?”
Nothing.
“Tell me she was too young.”
Silence.
Logan’s pulse pounded in his ears.
“Garrett…. Please…”
Still nothing.
“Did she also…” Logan couldn’t even finish off the sentence. “Did Phil…”
Garrett’s eyes filled with something Logan had never seen before.
Guilt.
The kind that consumed a person from the inside out.
Then Garrett gave the smallest nod.
Once. Barely noticeable.
It was enough.
Logan felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him.
“Oh…”
Logan closed his eyes.
“…Jesus Christ.”
The word left him as little more than air.
His mind raced through every memory he had of Y/N.
Her laugh.
The way she always smiled before anyone else did.
The way she’d apologize for interrupting conversations she hadn’t interrupted.
The way she’d tense whenever someone raised their voice.
Things he’d never questioned.
Things that suddenly fit together in a way that made him feel sick.
—
Logan sat in his car for almost twenty minutes. The engine had gone cold. Rain tapped steadily against the windshield, but he barely noticed.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Garrett standing in that kitchen.
“My dad used to beat me.”
Then… that tiny nod.
The one that had answered everything Logan couldn’t bear to ask.
Y/N.
His girlfriend.
Garrett’s little sister.
How many times had he looked at her and missed it?
How many times had she smiled at him while carrying something no one should ever have to carry?
His phone buzzed.
Y/N: You still coming over? I made pasta :)
Logan stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
Then he started the car.
—
Y/N answered the door wearing one of his sweatshirts.
His sweatshirt.
Her hair was tied into a messy bun, and she smiled the second she saw him.
“There you are.”
She stepped aside.
“I was about to eat without you.”
Logan couldn’t smile back. The expression slipped from y/n’s face almost instantly.
“…Logan?”
He walked inside.
She closed the door.
“Is everything okay?”
He looked at her.
Really looked.
There was a tiny scar near her wrist he’d never asked about.
God.
How had he never…
“Logan?”
She took a small step toward him.
“You look pale.”
He let out a slow breath.
“I talked to Garrett.”
She froze.
“He…”Logan tries to stop his thoughts from rushing. “He told me about your dad.”
Everything inside her stopped.
For a long moment, she simply stared at him.
“…He what?”
“He told me.”
Silence.
“No.”
The word escaped before she could stop it.
“He wouldn’t.”
“He did.”
“No.”
She shook her head faster.
Logan’s stomach twisted.
“You know.” She covered her mouth with one hand. Tears immediately filled her eyes.
“No, no, no…”
She turned away.
Logan stepped forward.
“Y/N…”
Her breathing became uneven.
“How can you look at me right now?” It was more like a cry of pain than a question targeted at Logan. But Logan still answered with the words he found to fit best.
“I won’t look at you differently.”
“You will! You are!”
“No”
“You do!”
She spun around so quickly it startled both of them.
Her voice cracked.
“You know now!”
The apartment fell silent.
Logan stared.
Y/N immediately regretted yelling.
She stepped backward.
“I’m sorry.”
Another step.
“I’m sorry.”
Logan frowned.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I yelled.”
“So?”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“So?”
“I just…”
She wrapped both arms around herself.
“I shouldn’t have.”
Logan’s chest ached.
“You don’t have to apologize for raising your voice.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“I do.”
“No.” His own voice rose without him meaning to. “You don’t.”
She flinched.
Hard.
Like she’d been struck.
The second Logan saw it, all the anger drained from his face.
“…Oh, God.” His voice became barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Y/N couldn’t look at him anymore. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You yelled.”
“I…” Logan stopped.
Because she wasn’t hearing him. She was hearing someone else. Someone years older. Someone much crueler.
He took one slow step backward. Then another. Giving her space.
“I’m angry,” he said quietly. “But not at you, never at you sweetie.”
Silence.
“I’m angry because someone hurt you.”
“I’m angry because I love you.”
Her breathing hitched.
“And someone made you think this…” He gestured helplessly between them. “…was your fault.”
Tears slid silently down her face. Logan wanted nothing more than to hold her. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
She whispered so quietly he almost missed it. “I’m “I’m trying not to be.”
His heart broke.
—
Several minutes passed before either of them spoke again.
It was Y/N.
“He stopped.”
Logan looked up.
“My dad.”
She wiped her face.
“He stopped.”
“When?”
She hesitated.
“A while ago.”
“How long is ‘a while’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Months?”
“…Yeah.”
“A year?”
She looked away.
Logan noticed.
Immediately.
“…Y/N.”
She stayed quiet.
His pulse quickened.
“When?”
Another silence.
“After Garrett left he continued…”
The words were barely audible.
Logan closed his eyes.
Fuck.
She continued before he could say anything.
“It wasn’t every day.”
His eyes snapped open. She said it so automatically. Like she thought it made things better. “It wasn’t every week either.”
Another automatic explanation.
“It depended.”
Logan stared at her.
She kept going.
“If I stayed out of the house…If skating competitions went well… If I….”
“Stop.” His voice cracked.
She blinked.
“You don’t have to justify it.”
“I wasn’t…”
“You were.”
Silence.
“You just listed reasons.”
She looked confused.
Logan spoke softly. “There aren’t any justifications for what he did.”
“I always thought maybe if I was just…” She searched for the word. “…better.”
“No.”
“…Quieter.”
“No.”
“…More careful.”
“No.”
His voice was firm now.
“There was never a version of you that deserved that.”
The sentence seemed to hit something deep inside her. Because suddenly she looked exhausted.
“I don’t know how to believe that.”
Logan’s eyes watered.
“I know.”
—
Another long silence.
Then Logan asked the question that had been burning inside him since he’d left Garrett.
“I need you to tell me something.”
She nodded weakly.
“Did he really stop?”
She frowned.
“What?”
“Your dad.”
He swallowed.
“I need to know.”
She looked confused.
“I just told you he stopped.”
“I know.”
His breathing became uneven.
“But you’re smaller than Garrett.”
She stared.
“You couldn’t fight back.” He hated how shaky his own voice sounded. “So I need to know…” He rubbed both hands over his face “…I need to know you’re safe.”
Y/N’s expression changed instantly. She heard something completely different.
“So now I need protecting?”
“What?”
“You think I’m helpless.”
“No.”
“You think I’m broken.”
“No.”
“You pity me.”
Logan stared at her.
“Y/N.”
“You think I can’t take care of myself.”
“I think someone failed to take care of you.”
She went quiet.
He stepped closer.
Slowly.
“So now…” His voice softened. “…I just want to know you’re okay.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then whispered, “No one’s ever asked me that.”
Logan’s throat tightened.
“What?”
“No one asks if I’m okay.”
Another tear escaped.
“They ask if I’m over it.”
“If I’m fine.”
“If I’ve moved on.”
She laughed bitterly.
“They never ask if I’m okay.”
Logan closed the distance between them.
This time she didn’t step away.
He reached up carefully.
Not touching her.
Just giving her the choice.
She looked at his hand.
Then took it herself.
The moment their fingers intertwined, she started crying again.
Logan immediately pulled her into his arms. Slowly. Giving her every opportunity to pull away. Instead she buried her face agains this chest.
“I was so scared,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I thought if you found out…” A shaky breath escaped her lips, “…you’d leave.”
Logan rested his cheek against the top of her head.
“I am scared of your past.”
His arms tightened around her just a little.
“I am scared of how alone you carried it.”
She cried harder. Not because his words fixed anything. They didn’t. Years of fear don’t disappear in one night. But for the first time since she was a little girl… Someone knew. The whole truth. And instead of turning away, Logan held her even closer.
After a long while, he kissed the top of her head.
“So here’s what’s going to happen.”
She sniffled against his chest.
“What?”
“You don’t carry this by yourself anymore.”
A tiny, watery laugh escaped her.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I absolutely do.” She tilted her head up just enough to look at him.
A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
“I’m dating a Graham.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You people are unbelievably stubborn.”
Despite everything, she let out a quiet laugh.
“There she is,” Logan murmured, relieved to hear it.
She looked at him uncertainly. “You still want me?”
He blinked.
Then, with all the sincerity he could muster, answered, “Y/N, I wanted you before I knew. I want you now that I know. The only thing that’s changed is this: now I know there were nights you needed someone, and I wasn’t there.”
His voice cracked.
“I can’t change those nights.”
He rested his forehead against hers.
“But if you’ll let me…”
His thumb gently brushed away another tear.
“…I can be here for the next ones.”
For the first time that evening, Y/N didn’t apologize.
She simply nodded.
And let herself be held.
Note: Thank you for the support. I’ve been wanting to write about Logan x Graham!Reader, where Logan finds out about Phil, but never got to it. This request finally made me do so. Thanks for the request 🤍
warnings: 18+ (mdni) + the jersey stays on + jewelry with initials
a/n: a little thing before i work on fluffier stuff!
logan likes it when you make it known you’re his in small ways.
this results in the fact that his jersey stays on. stays on you, specifically, when you’re sprawled out underneath him, eyelashes fluttering coyly because you were all proud and satisfied as you waited for logan to get home. there you were, sitting on his bed in nothing but his deep blue jersey.
he wasted no time in manhandling you on your hands and knees.
“fuck, look at you,” logan now croons from above you. well, not like you can see him. you’re currently pressed down into his soft bed, the rough material of his hockey jersey loosely hanging over your figure.
his own name stares back at him in bold, white letters, but with your hair sprawled over your shoulders, your cute heart-shaped ass jutting out from under, shiny slick coating your inner thighs.
“my girl with my name on her back.” logan continues, his eyes low and voice slow, but still with a small grin on his face. his heavy hand presses down your lower back, making you curve your back into a deeper arch.
“‘m proud of you for knowin’, gorgeous,” he mumbles, nosing the side of your neck from behind. “for knowing you’re my baby.”
or when logan pushes your legs over his shoulders as he feeds you fast, long strokes of his cock. the anklet with the “J” and “L” charms clinking right next to his ear.
your latest addition— you just had to surprise your boyfriend with it. and logan being logan, couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
mixed with the sounds of your pretty moans, logan swears he’s in warm paradise. “know i’m big, honey— know you can take it,” he coos, a hint of reassurance evident in his deep voice. he presses a chaste kiss to your anklet-covered ankle. “such a good, competent girl for johnny.”
he delivers one sharp, hard thrust, your pussy squelching, sucking him further into your narrow tunnel. “prettiest girl on the planet.” he says profoundly, his gaze warm and sweet like a treacle as he watches you take him with glassy eyes and puffy lips.
it’s also the way he loves fucking up into you from under, loving to see the thick tip of his dick move under the thin skin of your belly. his flannel is wrapped around your naked frame, your tits lightly bouncing as you swirl your hips down his cock.
“y’love being mine, huh?” logan teases slightly as he slides his large hands over the curve of your hip. he pulls you closer to his face by your necklace, adorned with a dainty charm of his ‘69 camaro, a subtle hint you’re logan’s. “‘m aaall over you.”
you continue to push yourself further down his soppy dick, whining and nodding. “yes—” you whimper, placing your hands on top of his own on your hips, “i’m yours— i’m yours.”
“yes, you are,” logan takes over, guiding you up and down as you feel your climax milk out of you. small tears from pleasure well up in your eyes, your legs all tingly and soft as you ride out your orgasm.
“that was a big one, huh, baby? did s’good for me.”
summary ! you clean up john's hand after he beats up your ex
warnings ! mild wound descriptions, fluff.
wc ! 1k
author's note ! off campus as my comeback hell yeah !!
to be added to my taglist.
In the six months you'd known John Logan, you'd known him to be rational. His anger was taken out on the ice, his head stayed cool, and his fists stayed by his side. That's the type of man John Logan was. He didn't punch first and ask questions later.
So why then, did Tucker call you at ten at night to tell you that Logan had his fists in your ex's face?
You weren't sure. All you knew was that you needed to figure it out. Set it straight. Understand why Logan lost his cool so hard.
He'd never done that before, and something in you was worried.
So, you put shoes on and headed out the door, not even bothering to change out of your pjs as you got in the car and headed to the hockey house. The ride there was deafeningly silent. No music, no mumbling or humming or anything from you. Just the rumble of your car and the worry in your brain.
When you pulled up, you paused for a second, breath hitching. You weren't entirely sure what you were doing here. In reality, what could you do to help? But...you had to be there. You had to be.
If Logan was pissed off over your ex, you felt responsible.
So you got out of the car and headed up to the house in your slides and pjs, not bothering to knock as you opened the door. Tucker and Dean were in the living room, and Dean pointed upstairs wordlessly.
You didn't give him a second glance as you headed upstairs and to Logan's room. No knocking, no waiting, you just barged in, closing the door behind you. Logan was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing and knuckles busted open.
You swallowed. "What happened?" you asked, your voice suddenly quiet.
It was like he hadn't even realized you were there, not until now. His eyes shot up to you, a mix of confusion and anger still lingering, but there was something else too. Something...different. His jaw worked, his lips pressing together.
Then, he shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like this entire thing didn't happen.
You scoffed. "Nothing? Logan, look at your knuckles."
Logan looked down, his eyes glancing over his bloody knuckles, and he inhaled shakily, like he was seeing them for the first time. He brought a hand up, running it over his face. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about it?" You sounded offended. You were offended. How could he tell you that? You huffed, turning around and leaving his room. You went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, getting it wet with warm water and then adding some soap.
You walked back into Logan's room, and his eyes shot up again, surprise in them like he didn't expect you to come back. You walked over to me, dropping to your knees down in front of him and grabbing his hand gently.
"You don't have to—"
"Shut up," you mumbled, dabbing the rugged skin lightly. Logan hissed, hand tightening in yours, and you let him. Silence encompassed the room for a few seconds as you cleaned his knuckles, but curiosity got the best of you. "Why'd you do it?"
Your eyes met his. He swallowed. "He pissed me off."
You shook your head. "It's more than that. It has to be. You don't just beat up people because they piss you off, John."
The use of his first name seemed to get him. You only called him that when it was serious, and this was serious. You had to understand what was so special about your ex that he threw fists.
He sighed, throat bobbing as he swallowed once more. "He deserved it," he deflected again.
You weren't having it. "That's not what I asked."
He inhaled through his nose, squeezing your hand slightly tighter as you hit a sensitive spot with the washcloth. "He called you a slut," he grumbled out through gritted teeth.
You paused, eyes flickering up to his. You let out a shaky breath. You knew your ex had been saying shit about you, but it didn't make it affect you any less hearing it come from Logan. He scoffed softly, shaking your head. "So you beat his ass for that?"
"Of course I beat his ass for that, angel. Why the hell wouldn't I?"
Angel.
He only called you that on rare occasions. When he was really drunk or when it was really late and you were sleeping over. So to hear it now, in this moment? It struck your chest and made your stomach erupt with butterflies.
"It wasn't worth it," you mumbled, finishing up his knuckles. "It's just words."
You stood up, tossing the washcloth in his dirty hamper. "It's not just words, and it was worth it. It was worth it to me." He stood up then, hovering over you, his body inches from yours. "No one gets to talk about you like that."
You swallowed, shaking your head. "Why is it such a big deal to you?"
He tilted his head, eyes searching yours like the question was ridiculous to even ask. "Are you kidding me?" You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. "Angel..." His hands came down to your hips, gripping gently and pulling you closer.
Your breath hitched. "Everything about you is a big deal to me," he whispered, a small smile on his face.
You smiled slightly, confusedly, trying to come to terms with what you knew he was saying. "I don't-" You paused. "I mean...you- you still shouldn't have hit him."
He chuckled, breathlessly and softly, like this was all funny. "Yeah, I should've." He leaned in, kissing you softly. Your breath was taken away, his lips soft and sure against yours. It took you a few seconds, but you caught up.
Your hands went to his hair and he pulled you even closer, the kiss deepening as he did so. The kiss lasted as long as it could before you both had to pull back, and you were smiling so hard it almost hurt. You'd never been kissed like that before.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "You are..." You sighed, leaning in and resting your forehead against his. "Something else, John Logan."
He laughed, hand caressing your hair. You hadn't expected this to ever happen, let alone like this, but it felt right. Messy and a little quick to process, but right. Like the pieces were finally put together.
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I actually, I wanna give an honorable mention 'cause it was the perfect button on the whole episode. The scene where Nathan and Haley are getting in bed and he just starts to laugh and she goes, what? And, and through laughter he goes, your family's crazy. It was just a perfect little button on the episode because in a way Nathan got to be the audience being like, what the fuck was that? Yeah. And I thought it was a very, very great little device of comedy. So hats off to Mike and David for that. -Sophia
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.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings: fluff, Boyfriend!John Logan loves his girlfriend to death, must I say more?
summary: in which Boyfriend!John Logan dropped off a care package for his girlfriend who’s been working so hard in the library
wc: 767
a/n: I’m sitting at a cafe, writing this, and have just been watching all these couples take care of each other for the upcoming uni semester. This is for my academically inclined readers who strive for the best (I wish) xx
Finals were only two weeks away, and the grind had truly begun.
Almost every uni student had claimed a spot in the libraries surrounding Briar, turning the hunt for a comfortable seat into a daily battle where the winners earned the privilege of studying for hours without being disturbed.
You'd settled into the main library, tucked away in the perfect corner where the rest of the world seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but your notes, textbooks, and the looming final exams demanding every ounce of your attention.
You'd maintained high distinctions throughout the year and planned to carry that momentum through finals.
When you and Logan first started talking, you'd quietly worry that he wouldn't understand. The endless hours, the discipline, the relentless drive to be the best. It was how you'd been raised, to chase excellence and never settle for anything less than your full potential. As it turned out, he understood better than anyone. As long as you remembered to eat, take breaks, and send him the occasional message whenever you had a spare moment, he was more than happy to cheer you on from the sidelines.
Besides, every night ended the same way. Logan would drive you back to the Hockey House, where you'd crawl into his bed together, never once falling asleep before stealing a proper cuddle with your boyfriend.
The memory of this morning crept into your mind, leaving you smiling like an idiot over a physics textbook.
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, warming your face just enough to coax you awake.
Still half asleep, you reached across the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of Logan beside you, only for your fingers to meet nothing but cold sheets.
A slight frown settled on your face as you pushed yourself upright, your eyes wandering around the room in search of him, only to realise he was nowhere to be found.
The bedroom door sat slightly ajar and the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears before it slowly creaked open, Logan carefully slipping inside as quietly as possible, balancing a breakfast tray in both hands in an attempt not to wake you.
"You’re awake." He grinned, making his way over to the bed. “Good morning, baby.”
Your heart squeezed painfully at the sight. Logan never failed to make you feel appreciated, especially during the times when stress threatened to consume you, always finding little ways to remind you that you never had to carry it all alone.
You were convinced the Gods themselves had blessed you with a man who instinctively knew how to love you properly. The only arguments you ever seemed to have were over missing each other too much.
Your phone buzzed against the table, pulling you back to reality.
You picked it up and glanced at the notification.
Johnny Boy: wya cutie
A smile tugged at your lips as you checked the time. It was already lunchtime, and your stomach was beginning to remind you that surviving on caffeine alone wasn't exactly sustainable before another marathon study session.
You: library, but I lowk need to grab some food so I'll be at the campus cafe in a bit
His reply appeared almost instantly.
Johnny Boy: don't worry, I'm walking in now
You frowned at the message, wondering what he meant by don't worry, only for the library doors to swing open moments later.
Logan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you, immediately lighting up as the biggest grin spread across his face.
He lifted a plastic takeaway bag in one hand before making his way over to your table.
"Got you some food, baby. Thought you might need a little care package."
He set the bag down before carefully unpacking everything inside.
Your heart clenched all over again, a grateful smile spreading across your face as you fought the very real urge to cry right there in the corner of the library. You honestly didn't know what you'd done to deserve a boyfriend this thoughtful.
He lined everything up neatly in front of you. A container of Chinese takeaway, an iced vanilla latte, and the block of chocolate you were constantly talking about whenever you needed something sweet after studying.
You were genuinely going to die from happiness.
He stood back with his hands resting on his hips, admiring his work with a grin that practically screamed how proud he was of himself for taking care of his girl.
Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.
Garrett had been trying very hard not to be that guy.
The guy who called too much. The guy who got clingy on the road. The guy who acted like one night away from home was somehow the same as being stranded at sea without a life raft.
He had been gone for six days.
Six days of airports, buses, hotel rooms, and team dinners where everyone was loud until they got tired and then suddenly weirdly sentimental in the dark. Garrett had done his best to stay distracted. He had called his mom. He had texted Tucker. He had even tried to focus on a ridiculous movie on hotel TV for an hour and a half before giving up because the only thing he could think about was you.
He stared at his phone at 12:47 a.m. like it had personally insulted him.
The room was dark except for the small lamp on the desk. One of his teammates was asleep in the bed across the room, the kind of deep, careless sleep Garrett envied with a deep sense of betrayal. He rolled onto his back and held the phone above his face, thumb hovering over your contact.
He should not call.
It was late.
You were probably asleep.
You had class tomorrow. Work maybe. A thousand normal things that did not involve Garrett Graham spiraling in a hotel room because he had discovered he missed your voice so much it felt physical.
He set the phone down.
Then picked it back up.
Then stared at it again.
Finally, with the grim determination of a man about to do something embarrassing, he hit call.
It rang twice.
Three times.
Garrett immediately regretted everything.
Then your sleepy voice came through the line.
“Hello?”
His entire chest loosened all at once.
He closed his eyes. “Hey.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then you sounded more awake, more alert. “Garrett? What’s wrong?”
He frowned into the dark. “Why does something have to be wrong?”
“Because it’s almost one in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
“Garrett.”
He smiled despite himself, the sound of your voice already doing things to his brain. “You answer like that like you know me.”
A tired little breath of amusement came through the phone. “I do know you.”
That nearly ruined him.
He sat up and leaned back against the headboard, dragging a hand over his face. “Okay. Fine. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sound weird.”
“I’m not weird.”
“You are absolutely weird.”
He laughed quietly, then went a little more serious because there was no reason to keep pretending. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Silence.
Not bad silence. Just the kind that shifted when something honest landed between two people and neither one of them wanted to step on it.
You finally said, softer now, “You called just for that?”
Garrett looked at the ceiling and let out a breath through his nose. “Yeah.”
Your voice changed instantly. He could hear the smile in it. “You miss me?”
That question did him in more than the confession had.
He groaned and flopped back against the bed. “Don’t make it sound like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you already know the answer.”
You laughed, quietly so you would not wake anybody. “Do I?”
He stared up at the ceiling for a second and then said, much more honestly, “Yeah.”
There was another pause.
When you spoke again, your voice was softer. “I miss you too.”
Garrett shut his eyes.
That should not have made his chest feel so full.
He exhaled a long breath and rolled onto his side, phone pressed to his ear while the dark hotel room suddenly felt less empty. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though I’m being annoying from three states away?”
You made a sleepy little humming sound. “Especially then.”
That made him smile. He could hear it in his own voice when he said, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You say that now, but I know for a fact I’ve been driving you crazy.”
“No, you haven’t.”
He opened his eyes and frowned at the darkness like he could challenge the claim directly. “You’re way too nice to me.”
“Someone has to be.”
Garrett laughed softly. “That’s true.”
There was some noise on your end then, faint and muffled. Maybe blankets. Maybe your pillow shifting. Maybe you reaching for a better position now that you were properly awake. He could picture it too clearly and that made missing you worse in a very specific way.
He swallowed and spoke before he could overthink it. “What are you doing?”
“Lying in bed.”
His chest tightened.
“Alone?” he asked, too casually and not casually enough at all.
You snorted softly. “Why? Are you worried?”
“Yes.”
That answer was immediate enough to make you go quiet for half a second.
Then, gently: “Garrett.”
He knew that tone. It was the one you used when he got too obvious and needed to be reined in before he embarrassed himself too hard.
He sighed and covered his face with his free hand. “I know. I’m being stupid.”
“You’re not being stupid.”
“I’m calling you in the middle of the night because I miss you.”
“That’s not stupid.”
“It’s pretty close.”
You laughed softly, and he relaxed immediately at the sound. There was no fixing the way your voice settled him. No pretending it was normal that one sleepy hello from you could make him feel human again.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, phone tucked to his ear.
“Tell me something,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Anything.”
You went quiet for a second, then said, “I had the worst coffee today.”
Garrett blinked. “That’s your big story?”
“That was the first thing that came to mind.”
He smiled. “You’re adorable.”
“You’re calling because you miss me and I’m adorable?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re being very obvious.”
He laughed. “I know.”
You let out a tiny breath and then, after a beat, asked, “Are you tired?”
“A little.”
“Then why are you still talking?”
Because I don’t want to hang up, he thought.
Instead he said, “Because I like listening to you.”
Your voice softened further. “Garrett.”
“What?”
“You’re making me want to get sappy.”
He smiled into the dark. “Good.”
“Good?”
“I’m not the only one who misses somebody.”
That earned him a quiet laugh, and he immediately pictured you curled under your blanket, smiling into the dark with your eyes half closed. The image hit him so hard he had to close his own eyes for a second.
He heard your breathing on the other end and realized you had gotten quiet again too.
Then you asked, very softly, “Did you really just call because you wanted to hear my voice?”
Garrett answered without hesitation. “Yeah.”
You hummed. “That’s kind of sweet.”
“I know.”
You laughed under your breath. “You are insufferable.”
“Still sweet.”
“Barely.”
That made him grin.
Then he heard you shift and the sound of your blanket rustling. “Wait,” you said.
“What?”
“Hold on.”
He frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting something.”
There was a pause while he heard movement, the faint sound of a drawer opening, then your voice came back a little brighter. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
A beat.
Then: “I’m calling you from my bed too.”
Garrett went still.
“What?”
“I figured if you were going to be pathetic about missing me, I could at least be pathetic in return.”
He laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from waking the teammate across the room. “You did not just say that.”
“I absolutely did.”
He smiled into the pillow. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You called me.”
“That is fair.”
You both went quiet again after that, but it was different now. Softer. Close. Like the distance between hotel room and apartment had shrunk into something manageable for the first time all week.
Garrett stared at the ceiling and let the sound of your breathing settle over him.
Then he murmured, “I’m coming home soon.”
Your voice was sleepy again when you replied. “I know.”
“You better be there.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
He smiled a little and closed his eyes. “Good.”
There was one more quiet pause before you said, almost under your breath, “Call me again tomorrow?”
Garrett’s chest felt strange and warm all at once.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll call.”
And because it was late and he was exhausted and he had finally given up pretending he was not completely gone for you, he added, “Probably before one in the morning this time.”
You laughed softly. “I’d hope so.”
He smiled in the dark, listening to the sound of you breathing on the other end of the line, and for the first time all week the road did not feel so far from home.
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𑣲 featuring — dean di laurentis x fem!reader
𑣲 contains — reader being roommates with allie and hannah ; reader being an overthinker
𑣲 author's note — i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing it!!
It was a Saturday morning and you were still in bed, the sun gently peaking through your window blinds. You eventually yawned, sitting up and stretching your back. Then you heard your phone buzz, which was unusual for you, especially during weekends. Maybe it was either Hannah or Allie texting you that breakfast was ready, but everyone knew that the three of you were too lazy to have a proper meal to begin your day. And your intuition proved you right: it was a text from an unknown number.
What the hell. It would have been believable, except you spent your Friday night with your roommates binge-watching Love Island while lazily snacking. And also, you literally never give your number to people you just met. You give the stranger a genuine reply.
You scoffed, instantly typing back.
You see three dots appearing in the conversation before they disappear. Then they reappear. It seemed you caught that stranger off guard.
This is when you decide to ignore your phone: either way, that stranger went silent. You decide to get up, open your window blinds, brush your hair and finally throw on an oversized sweater over your pyjama top. You leave your room, finding Hannah and Allie on the couch, already watching Love Island again.
"Without me? Girls! I literally just woke up."
Allie turns to face you, a Cheeto hanging out of her mouth. You theatrically gasp when Hannah mimics her, a Cheeto also shoved in her mouth.
"In my defense, Hannah totally insisted we should rewatch yesterday's episodes to judge the fashion."
"I did not!"
All three of you giggle and you eventually join them on the couch, finding yourself munching on Cheetos too. This is exactly when your phone buzzes against your lap. You ignore it, but it vibrates again ten seconds later. Hannah glances down at your lap while Allie is too focused on the TV. You lazily unlock your phone to open the conversation with the mysterious stranger.
And then a picture follows. You don't even have the time to look at it that Hannah lets out the quietest gasp. But it was enough for Allie to turn towards Hannah because of the noise, and they both looked down at your phone screen.
"Is that Dean Di Laurentis?" They both excitedly say in perfect sync.
"Is it?"
You finally stare down at your phone. You take some time to look at the picture. Firstly, you see a pair of defined and glistening abs. Then your gaze trails up towards the face tied to it. Well, that face was recognizable everywhere. It was indeed Dean fucking Di Laurentis.
"Holy shit." You breathe out.
"Are you sexting him?" Allie quickly adds, instantly pausing the show.
"Are we talking about the same person? She doesn't do sexting." Hannah continues.
"Well if it isn't sexting, then she's definitely onto something."
"We all know she keeps hating on hockey guys. It's basically a sacred rule here."
"What about Garrett, uh?" Allie smirks.
"Not the topic!" Hannah shoots back.
"So, what's the tea girl?"
You helplessly look at Allie when she asks the question. Excellent question. There is no tea, considering this is just a misunderstanding with a really, really handsome guy. You simply showed them the conversation, telling them you had no interest in maintaining it, and they both agreed. Dean seemed like trouble and you tend to stay out of it anyway. Allie resumed Love Island and you didn't hear from Dean anymore.
Well, for someone wanting to stay out of trouble, you failed successfully. Truth is, you were overthinking the situation. You felt bad about leaving his text unanswered, so you eventually replied to his picture the same day, late at night. You sent Dean a selfie, eventually proving to him you guys were strangers. When you thought the conversation would stop after the misunderstanding was solved, you didn't expect him to keep texting you.
It has now been a month and the daily texting was a part of your routine. Friendly texts turned into banter, and banter turned into serious flirting. You couldn't even believe it yourself. You even nicknamed him "Prince Charming" no, not the Disney one. The one from Shrek. Same hairstyle, same person right?
This felt weird because the two of you had never met on campus. Not that the idea revulsed you, you simply feared it wouldn't be the same. Texting was easy, flawless and it gave you the time to think about a reply that just felt right. Hiding behind a screen was always easier to communicate your feelings: when you were in front of people, your thoughts were too tangled and you had a hard time speaking up. Well, except when you were around trusted people like Allie and Hannah.
You obviously trusted Dean too, but something about him felt intimidating. Something about a popular hockey player and some random campus girl was intimidating. What would the others think? And also, why are you overthinking this now? You guys are literally not a couple. Just good friends. Who happen to flirt most of the time. But the current situation was perfect for you: just a bunch of texts, away from the public eye, away from other people prying.
But you could feel that Dean yearned for more: he yearned to hang out with you in person. Every once in a while, he would ask you to come to a hockey game or come to a party. You always declined. He was never vexed, but you started feeling bad about pushing him away. Again, it is not that you didn't want to meet him. Your brain was just scared and imagined a thousand scenarios about how this could go wrong.
You feel a shiver running down your spine. Was this going to be the whole "I love you, I can't stop thinking about you" talk? Oh God. Please no. This is too soon. You don't reply and Dean keeps texting.
And yet, you are still mortified. You stare at the three moving dots, biting your lower lip as you expect literally anything. Mostly something negative, but you don't know. Then his message pops up.
You gulp. Well, that was straightforward, but that was less horrible than what you were expecting. You still take a few minutes to think. This might be the only opening you're gonna have, because there is no way you will willingly talk about it ever again. Dean is offering you his hand and you are wondering if you should take it. You take a few deep breaths before finally typing back. It takes you a few minutes to submit your answer.
You wish you could stop typing. But you can't. The fact that he is reading your texts as you send them is stressing you out.
You wait a few minutes. Dean read your messages, but he wasn't replying to them. A million thoughts crossed your mind: maybe he would block you, or maybe he would give you a humble thumbs-up reaction, or maybe he was showing the text to his friends. You sigh, burying your face in your pillow, lifting your head to check your phone every ten seconds.
You read his text once. Twice. Thrice. Many, many times. You couldn't believe it, it was like he ticked all the boxes on the "How to reassure an overthinker" list. Your heart eventually stopped racing and you found your body relaxing to his reply. This is exactly what you needed to hear. It was in the way he paid attention to everything you said, not trying to minimize your feelings, or telling you you would be okay. You also notice how his spelling became more serious, as if he genuinely were valuing the moment.
The two of you conclude that you will meet this exact Friday at your place. You would only have to tell Hannah and Allie to leave for the night, but that would be no trouble. You knew these two would have your back anyway. Actually, this was a good time to call for a girls' meeting. You text the group chat you had with them.
It was finally Friday. Hannah and Allie became your personal advisers since you shared the whole Dean "thing" a few days ago. They would playfully mention him every single time just to catch you blushing. Holy shit, you liked him more than you thought. Allie classified this as your first date, so you obviously had to make a killer first impression. So here you were in Allie's room, getting a complete makeover while Hannah sat in the back with her guitar and her notes.
"Are we sure this is okay?"
You say, worrying about the way your reflection looked. You weren't a huge makeup fan, but Allie made sure she gave you the tiniest makeover ever: just enough to enhance your natural features without transforming them. Hannah gives you a big thumbs-up while Allie frowns.
"Girl, you shouldn't doubt my makeup skills."
"I'm not! I'm just worried this isn't... Me, you know?"
"You look gorgeous. Trust me."
You give her a nod, biting your inner cheek while staring at your face. It'll be alright. Do men even notice makeup anyway? You feel your gaze drift away as Allie fixes your hair with hairspray. She puts her hands on your shoulders, whispering in your ear.
"Dean already loves you, trust me. Now go get dressed."
You come back a few minutes later, awkwardly standing in Allie's doorway. Although you picked an outfit you are used to wearing, you suddenly felt self-conscious. Pampering yourself for a boy was something you never did before, and you were worrying that you either did too much or not enough. Before you could let your thoughts sink in, Hannah speaks up.
"You're so pretty. How are you feeling?"
"I'm gonna shit myself." You blurt out with a chuckle.
"Then make sure you do it before he gets here." Allie laughs.
"Remember to try and communicate your feelings. From what you told us, it looks like Dean only wants you to feel comfortable. Don't worry about him being upset if you are nervous. If it doesn't go well, text us, alright?"
You shyly nod and before you can think further, there's a knock on your door.
"Special delivery's here!" Allie rushes out of her bedroom.
You can see her opening the door while you exit her room, Hannah following. There he is. Dean Di Laurentis. Even more impressive in real life, you had to admit. He casually stands in the doorway, brushing his hand through his hair while he holds a takeaway bag.
"Hey." He says, addressing everyone in the room, but he is looking at you.
"Hi." You reply.
In the meantime, Allie and Hannah are leaving the place. They sneak past the doorway and give you a wink behind Dean's back. You invite him in and you already feel more than awkward. This is when he speaks up.
"As your humble Prince Charming, I made sure to deliver you your favorite meal." His smirk brightens as he looks at you.
"Oh, my prince, you shouldn't have. I'm flattered." You mimic him, inviting him to sit on the couch.
He sets the bag down on the coffee table, opening it to set the food and drinks on it. You can't help but look at him, look at the way his movements are slow and gentle. He also picked your favorite drink, which you probably only mentioned once. You stay silent a bit too long, considering Dean speaks up.
"Are you okay?"
"Nervous." You instantly reply, almost cutting him.
"I think I have the solution. Can I use your TV?"
You nod, giving him the remote control. His fingers brush yours, such an innocent but also deliberate gesture. Your skin is almost tingling from the contact. Dean opens Netflix and puts the Shrek movie on. It gets a giggle out of you.
"You might be onto something, Prince Charming."
"I know I am."
This is when Dean catches you off guard. As you sip on your drink, you can hear him starting to sing along to All Star. Your head darts in his direction as he seriously keeps singing, a smile beaming on his face. He doesn't stop here. He stands up. Grabs the TV remote. Uses it as a fake microphone and you can't help but look at him, moving your head to the song's rhythm.
This interaction was strangely comforting, because even if to most people this would have been considered ridiculous, it was actually endearing. This was Dean's own way to tell you: "Hey, let's be weird together." And it worked. When the chorus finally arrives, you stand up too. You steal his makeshift mic and start singing along, his voice joining yours as the two of you parade around the room, ending your tour on the couch as the song ends and the movie continues. It somehow felt so natural and easy to be yourself around him.
"How are you feeling now?"
"Amazing." You admit, a shy smile forming on your face.
By the time the two of you finish your takeaway dinner, you snuggle next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. As the movie goes on, you feel Dean's arm wrapping around your shoulder, your eyelids getting heavier. You don't even try to fight it: your body is slowly relaxing next to his, promising you a power nap. The last thing you hear is his laugh.
You eventually wake up in your bed, immediately finding Dean sitting at the edge of it, watching you slowly come back to the living world. You squint your eyes, a yawn escaping your lips as you sit up.
"Did I fall asleep? I'm sor-"
"No, no more apologizing for things that aren't your fault." He says it with a playful tone, although he genuinely means it.
"No promises."
There is a comfortable silence between the two of you. He just looks at you and you stare back at him, lost in the moment. Was this it? Was this the end of your night? But you didn't want it to end, not when everything felt this right.
"By the way, someone drooling on my shoulder is a first for me."
"Hey!" You playfully hit him in the shoulder.
"I really enjoyed our date, though. I mean it."
"Me too. I don't know how you did it, but you managed to help me relax so quickly, so thank you."
"I was just being amazing. As usual." He rolls his eyes, anticipating another hit from you by blocking it.
"Can I see you again?" You ask, biting your inner cheek. There are little chances he will say no, but your brain is always making you doubt.
"I won't let you go." Dean tilts your chin up, making sure your eyes are locked with his. "I promise."
The sudden proximity makes your heart faint and your cheeks blush. You couldn't help but look at his lips until your thoughts escaped your mind before you could stop them.
"I think I really want to kiss you."
"I think I would love that."
Hand still on your chin, Dean closes the gap by sealing his lips with yours. Your arms naturally wrap around his neck, inviting him closer. This kiss is slow, gentle and warm, everything you ever wished for.
𑣲 dividers — @/cursed-carmine
𑣲 author's note — thoughts about the way i set the texts? figured it would be more immersive, but i don't really know tbh so any opinion is welcome tyy
