Top Posts Tagged with #beau maxwell

LOVING TOUCHING SQUEEZING !

pairing : garrett graham john logan dean di laurentis john tucker beau maxwell allie hayes hannah wells x 𝒇 ! reader

𝗢𝗥 𓈒 𓈒 randomly stuffing your face in their neck

contains : established relationship physical touch kissing dean’s could be seen as suggestive gif credits to @alliecathayes 𝘄 ｡ 2902

•18+ Adults Only

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guardian angel

Beau Maxwell x medical student!Reader

Summary (implied spoilers for The Score): you stop on a dark highway for a stranger you have never met. He wakes up days later not knowing your name. What follows is a love story that starts with blood-stained scrubs, a neck brace, and the single worst pickup line ever delivered in an ICU. Aka … the fix-it fic where Beau lives

Warnings: descriptions of a car accident and critical injuries

The night stretches cold and endless along Route 2, the kind of February darkness that settles into your bones. You’re driving on autopilot, your mind still churning through pharmacokinetics and drug interactions, when the world explodes into motion ahead of you.

Metal screeches. Glass shatters. A black SUV careens off the road, spinning once, twice, before slamming into a massive oak with a sound that punches through the quiet night.

Your foot hits the brake before your brain catches up. Your car fishtails slightly on the slick road before coming to a stop thirty feet from the wreckage. For exactly three seconds, you sit there, hands still gripping the steering wheel, heart hammering against your ribs.

Then you’re moving.

#off campus #off campus x reader #off campus fanfic #off campus fanfiction #off campus imagine #off campus x you #off campus fic #beau maxwell #beau maxwell x reader #beau maxwell fic

COULDN'T MAKE IT ANY HARDER

Dean Di Laurentis X Female!reader || WC: 8K

SUMMARY: The five times Dean realizes you're more than just his childhood best friend, and the one time he finally does something about it.

WARNINGS: Friends to eventual lovers, idiots in love, slow burn romance, psychology!student, fluff, slight angst, non-graphic descriptions of an injury, cursing, jealousy, sexual innuendos, domestic bliss (Dean is down bad), rushed ending sorry!

A/N: Happy Fourth of July!! 🇺🇸 I’ve ALWAYS wanted to write one of these fics and inspiration finally struck! Let me know what you guys think, and if you want to see more! Hope y’all enjoy!! Divider by @dividers-are-us <3

➩ main masterlist

➩ dean di laurentis masterlist

1. Garrett’s not so secret feelings

After a brutal Friday in the weight room with Beau, Dean wanted nothing more than to demolish whatever leftovers Tucker had most likely abandoned in the fridge, scrub the sweat and soreness off his skin, and disappear in his room until Monday. The workout had been relentless. His shoulders ached, his legs felt like concrete, and he was fairly certain Beau got some sick enjoyment out of making him suffer.

Long Before We Knew. (gg44)

Pairing: garrett graham x best friend!fem!reader

Summary: when a ridiculously sized water bottle hits you in the back of the head during your first week of college lectures. you never expected the culprit to become your best friend, his roommates to become brothers, and a crowded table to feel like home. everyone knew that what you and garrett had was something special. well, everyone except the both of you.

Warnings: best friends to lovers trope. no mention of y/n, but the nickname Missy is used a lot to refer to the reader. found family. seriously, so much fluff. one kiss. two rather stupid idiots in love.

a/n: i’ve risen and written this as a comeback fic. admittedly, i wrote this in a span of three days, and you can tell when i was hungry while writing it. or the fact cherry coke is my favorite. also my inspiration for the nickname came from an off campus interview where i heard stephen say missy. (let me know your thoughts on this! i would love to hear them:)

Word count: 6.9k

masterlist

Music blared as you walked into the Boys’ house, which was home to Dean Di Laurentis, John Tucker, John Logan, and Garrett Graham. A blur of drunken college students and bodies pushed together in random small spaces that they thought fit for privacy passed by as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink.

You checked in the fridge, knowing there would be a stock of mini cherry Coke cans waiting for you. A grin grew on your face as you reached for one.

“Missy!” you heard someone call from behind. You grabbed a can and turned away from the fridge to the sound of the voice. “Missy, Missy, we were wondering when you were stopping by,” Dean tutted as Beau and Logan were beside him with smugness written across their faces.

“As if I would miss seeing drunk Tucker and Logan,” you joked as you walked towards them. “Maybe we can convince Tucker to make ricotta tortellini for dinner tomorrow. You know he’ll feel bad if he agrees tonight and doesn’t go through with it.”

he leaves for ten minutes

beau maxwell x fem!reader

summary: a night out takes an uncomfortable turn when beau is away for a moment, leaving dean to step in and protect his best friend’s girlfriend

established relationship

warnings: misogynist trying to flirt with/intimidate the reader, reader feels trapped, confrontations, beau and dean are sweethearts though

word count: 5.7k

a/n: based on this request!! i hope this is wat you had in mind :) also, i love protective dean and beau sm

beau maxwell masterlist off campus masterlist

── ᵎᵎ ✦

you should’ve known the night was going too well, though there had been absolutely no reason to think that at the time.

getting the four of you to malone’s had been surprisingly easy. dean and allie had met you and beau there. there had been no argument over where to go, no waiting forty minutes for somebody who claimed they were already on their way, and no last-minute debate about whether malone’s would be too crowded on a friday night.

it was, of course, far too crowded.

by the time you made it through the door, the place was already warm with the press of too many bodies and loud enough that you had to lean close to hear each other properly. music played from somewhere toward the back, nearly swallowed by the noise of overlapping conversations and laughter, while people stood two and three deep around the bar waiting for drinks. every time the front door opened behind you, a brief rush of cold air slipped inside before disappearing almost immediately.

beau’s hand settled against the small of your back before you’d taken more than a few steps.

you hardly noticed it anymore. not because you didn’t like it, but because beau touched you so often that his hand finding you had become as familiar as anything else about him. in crowded places, it was almost guaranteed. his fingers would find yours, or his palm would settle against your back, or he’d hook an arm loosely around your waist while he talked to someone else. sometimes you thought it was less about keeping track of you and more about reassuring himself that you were still there.

you’d never asked him about it. you liked the habit too much to risk making him self-conscious about something he probably didn’t even realize he was doing.

he guided you through the crowd with his hand resting lightly at your waist, glancing back every few steps as though there were any possibility you could’ve disappeared from beneath his palm without him noticing.

“i’m still here,” you said eventually.

beau turned his head toward you, eyebrows pulling together because he hadn’t heard. you leaned closer and repeated yourself, nodding toward the hand at your waist, “you keep checking.”

his expression cleared with understanding. his gaze dropped briefly toward where his palm rested against your side before returning to your face, and for a moment he looked almost sheepish, “people keep pushing past.”

“and?”

“and you’re—” he stopped himself at your raised brows. his mouth opened, then closed again as he apparently reconsidered whatever answer had first occurred to him, “easier to lose in a crowd than me.”

you stared at him for a moment. “that was almost offensive.”

“but it wasn’t.”

“debatable.”

his mouth twitched, but he continued walking, keeping his hand exactly where it had been before. you tried not to smile.

the four of you managed to find a booth tucked against one of the walls near the back of malone’s. it was one of the larger ones, curved around a rectangular table, and for once there was enough space that nobody had to sit half on top of anyone else. allie slid into one side first, dean following her, while you took the opposite side with beau beside you.

you ended up near the wall, which suited you perfectly. beau settled in, stretching one arm along the back of the booth while his knee rested against yours beneath the table. across from you, allie was already shrugging off her jacket while dean attempted to flag down someone for drinks.

the first hour passed easily as conversation wandered without direction. allie told you about something that had happened in one of her classes, dean interrupted often enough that she eventually started ignoring him, and beau spent several minutes pretending not to be interested in the fries someone had ordered before eating more of them than anyone else.

the booth became increasingly cluttered as the night went on, glasses leaving rings of condensation across the table and discarded napkins collecting near the empty basket that had once contained food.

you liked nights like this.

there was something easy about being with the three of them. beau had known dean for so long that half their conversations seemed to rely on context neither you nor allie possessed, while you and allie had become increasingly good at communicating your shared confusion through increasingly expressive looks across the table.

beau stole the lime from your drink and you stared at him as he ate it without the slightest trace of remorse, “that was mine.”

“you were taking too long,” he shrugged.

“i was holding it.”

“exactly.”

you narrowed your eyes before reaching for his drink and taking a deliberately long sip. beau watched you over the rim of the glass, eyebrows slowly lifting, “you have your own.”

you copied his shrug as you took another sip while maintaining eye contact, then set the glass back in front of him.

his mouth twitched, “thief.”

“prove it.”

something warm and amused settled into his expression as he looked at you, and for a second the crowded bar seemed to disappear from his awareness completely. you knew that look. it usually preceded either a kiss or an extremely annoying comment, and judging by the way his gaze briefly dropped to your mouth, you suspected it would be the first.

before he could do either, someone called his name from across the room.

beau glanced over his shoulder, recognition immediately crossing his face. he looked back at you as though considering whether whoever had called him was worth leaving the booth for.

“go,” you said, laughing softly.

“i’ll be right back.”

you nodded, but before he could move away, you caught the front of his shirt and pulled him down far enough to press a quick kiss to his lips.

the smile that appeared was smaller than his usual grin. softer, almost private, despite the fact that you were surrounded by people. his hand briefly squeezed the back of your neck before he straightened and disappeared into the crowd.

you watched him go for a few seconds, following the back of his head until the crowd swallowed him from view. when you turned around again, dean was looking at you from across the table.

you narrowed your eyes. “what?”

“nothing.”

allie glanced at him before looking at you, “he’s judging you.”

“i’m not judging anyone.”

“you have a very judgmental face.”

dean frowned at her, “what does that even mean?”

allie took a sip of her drink rather than answering, and you laughed softly as dean began arguing his case to a girlfriend who had already stopped listening.

the conversation moved on easily after that. you stopped thinking about where beau had gone, knowing he was somewhere nearby and would eventually find his way back to you. he always did.

you were listening to allie tell you something when someone stopped beside the booth.

at first, you assumed he was waiting for somebody to pass. people had been squeezing between the booths and the bar all night, and you barely looked up until a voice interrupted allie halfway through her sentence.

“hey.” the guy standing at the end of the booth looked vaguely familiar, though you couldn’t remember where you’d seen him before. maybe another party, or somewhere on campus. his face was one of those you recognized without being able to attach a name or memory to it.

you gave him a polite smile, “hi.”

he didn’t move. you waited for a moment before turning back toward allie, assuming that was the end of the interaction.

“i know you, don’t i?”

you looked at him again, “i don’t think so.”

“i’ve seen you somewhere.”

you gave a small shrug, “probably around campus.”

he nodded as though that proved something, and the pause that followed lasted a little too long. you became aware of allie watching him from across the table while dean’s attention remained, at least outwardly, on something happening near the bar.

“can i buy you a drink?” the guy asked.

you glanced at beau’s half empty glass sitting in front of you, “i’m good, thanks.”

he followed your gaze. “when you finish that one.”

“still good,” you smiled politely again before turning back toward allie. this time, neither of you immediately resumed your conversation.

the guy remained there, and you could feel it without looking. there was a particular kind of awareness that came with knowing someone was watching you, an uncomfortable pressure between your shoulder blades that made it impossible to return your attention fully to whatever allie had been saying.

after a few seconds, he spoke again, “you got a boyfriend?”

you exhaled quietly through your nose. “yeah.”

“where is he?”

the question irritated you more than it should have. you turned toward him again, one hand still resting around the condensation-slick glass in front of you, “somewhere over there.”

the guy glanced toward the crowded room before looking back at you, “he left you here by yourself?”

you stared at him before looking deliberately across the table at allie and dean, “clearly.”

allie’s mouth twitched, though she quickly hid it behind her glass. the guy didn’t seem to notice, but dean did.

you caught the briefest shift in his expression before he looked away again, and you knew him well enough by now to understand what it meant. he was listening.

that realization didn’t bother you. if anything, it gave you the strange comfort of knowing somebody else had noticed without the annoyance of having them immediately take over.

dean knew you could handle yourself.

you and he had argued enough over the years for him to know that better than most. he had seen you annoyed, furious, stubborn and unreasonable. he had also been on the receiving end of all four often enough to know that stepping into an argument you were perfectly capable of handling would only earn him your irritation as well.

so he stayed where he was, but he listened.

“what’s your name?” the guy asked.

“does it matter?”

his smile faltered slightly, “i’m trying to be friendly.”

“and i’m trying to talk to my friend.” the words came out more sharply than you’d intended, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

something in the guy’s posture changed, “you always this rude?”

you stared at him for a second, “i said no to a drink.”

“i heard you.”

“then i’m not sure what we’re still talking about.”

a silence settled around the booth that had nothing to do with the noise of malone’s. the rest of the bar continued around you, music playing and people laughing only a foot away, but your attention had narrowed to the man standing at the edge of the table.

he looked irritated now. not embarrassed or disappointed, but genuinely irritated, as though you’d broken some unspoken rule by refusing to participate in a conversation you had never asked to have, “you don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

allie’s expression changed immediately. you felt your temper flare before common sense had a chance to catch up, “and you don’t have to still be standing here.”

across the table, dean went very still. he hadn’t said anything, and he wasn’t even looking directly at the guy yet, but the awareness between them was immediate, “you got something to say?” the guy asked.

dean finally looked at him, “no.”

the answer was so simple that the guy seemed almost disappointed by it. you looked back at him, “great. are we done now?”

his attention returned to you, “you think you’re funny?”

“no.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

you frowned, your patience almost entirely gone by then, “what do you want?”

“nothing now.”

“then go.”

that was when something changed.

you saw it before he moved, though later you wouldn’t have been able to explain exactly what you had noticed. maybe it was the tightening of his jaw, or the way his shoulders shifted forward, or the sudden disappearance of whatever thin layer of friendliness he’d been pretending to have.

he stepped closer to the booth and the irritation inside you vanished so quickly it left you cold.

until that moment, you’d been angry and annoyed. completely certain that, however unpleasant the interaction was, it was still only an argument. you’d dealt with men like him before, the kind who treated rejection as the opening of a negotiation rather than the end of a conversation, and you had never particularly struggled to tell them exactly what you thought.

suddenly, you weren’t so sure that was all this was.

you became acutely aware of where you were sitting. against the wall, with the table in front of you and the stranger standing at the only open end of your side of the booth.

for the first time since he’d walked over, you felt trapped.

the realization must have shown on your face. you didn’t know how. maybe your eyes widened slightly, or your shoulders tensed, or you simply stopped arguing. whatever it was, dean saw it.

his reaction was immediate, because he was out of the booth before you fully registered that he’d moved, crossing around the end of the table and stepping directly between the stranger and your side of the booth, “back up.”

his voice was calm, and something about that calmness changed the atmosphere immediately. you’d seen dean loud before. everyone had. he was loud when he was annoyed, competitive, amused, or losing an argument he insisted he was winning.

this was different.

allie knew it too. you could tell from the way she had gone still across the booth, watching him carefully without attempting to interfere. there was no alarm in her expression, only attention. she knew him well enough to recognize that the absence of his usual theatrics meant he was genuinely angry.

the guy scoffed, “we were talking.”

“she’s done talking.”

“she can tell me that.”

dean was silent for a second, “she did.”

there was nothing clever in the response and no attempt to make the moment into something it wasn’t. dean simply stood there, broad shoulders blocking your view of the man almost entirely.

the guy tried to look past him, but dean shifted so he covered you.

“move.”

dean didn’t, “you need to leave.”

the guy laughed under his breath, “or what?”

dean watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable from where you were sitting. the silence stretched for several seconds, though it probably felt longer than it actually was.

“you were comfortable enough when it was her sitting there,” he said eventually, his voice still quiet. “now somebody your own size is standing here and you want to make it a fight.”

the guy’s jaw tightened. dean tilted his head slightly, “doesn’t look great.”

the words weren’t particularly threatening. that was probably what made them land. the guy glanced around at the people at nearby booths who had begun to notice, and the attention seemed to drain some of the confidence from his posture.

he muttered something you couldn’t hear before finally stepping away.

dean watched him disappear into the crowd. he waited longer than necessary, eyes fixed in the direction the stranger had gone, before finally turning back toward you.

the change in his expression was immediate. whatever coldness had been there disappeared, “you good?”

you nodded automatically, “yeah.”

dean looked at you for a long moment.

“i’m fine.”

he didn’t call you a liar, though you suspected he wanted to. instead, he looked toward allie, and something passed silently between them, the kind of easy communication that came from knowing someone well enough not to need words for everything.

allie gave a small nod before dean slid into your side of the booth.

you moved closer to the wall to make room, and he settled beside you in the space beau had left behind. across the table, allie stayed where she was, though her attention remained on the two of you for a few seconds longer.

dean didn’t crowd you. he didn’t put an arm around you or ask again whether you were all right. he simply sat beside you, close enough that his shoulder rested lightly against yours, his presence creating a solid barrier between you and the rest of the room.

across the table, allie picked up her drink and looked at you with deliberate casualness, “do you remember what i was saying before?”

you blinked, “something about your professor?”

“close enough,” she continued her story anyway.

you loved her for that. she spoke normally, picking up somewhere in the middle of whatever she’d been telling you before, and after a moment dean added a quiet comment that made her roll her eyes.

neither of them looked at you too closely. neither of them asked if you wanted to leave. they simply gave you time to stop feeling like your heart was beating somewhere in your throat.

you leaned back against the booth and let their voices wash over you. dean’s shoulder remained against yours, the occasional movement reminding you that he was still there without forcing you to acknowledge why.

you’d known him through beau first.

for a long time, that was how you’d thought of him. beau’s friend. beau’s teammate. one of the people who occupied so much space in the stories beau told you that you’d felt like you knew him before the two of you had ever had a proper conversation.

somewhere along the way, that had changed, because dean had become your friend too.

he annoyed you. frequently. he stole food off your plate without asking and disagreed with you on principle whenever he was bored. but he also remembered your coffee order after hearing it once and texted you whenever beau left his phone somewhere stupid. he treated you like someone who belonged in his life rather than somebody he tolerated because you were dating his friend.

you hadn’t really thought about what that meant until now.

dean had known you could handle yourself. he’d waited because he respected that. and then, the second you couldn’t, he’d been there.

a few minutes later, you saw allie’s attention move toward the crowd. her expression softened slightly as her eyes settled on something, “beau’s coming back.”

your stomach tightened.

dean looked toward the crowd, then at you, and you knew from the brief pause that he was waiting to see what you wanted to do. he didn’t ask, though. he simply remained beside you, his shoulder still resting lightly against yours, while allie watched beau make his way through the crowd.

you didn’t have time to decide what expression to put on your face before he reached the booth.

at first, beau looked relaxed. there was still a faint smile on his face from whatever conversation had kept him away for so long. then his eyes found you, moved to dean sitting beside you, and returned immediately to your face.

the smile disappeared and you saw the exact moment he understood that something was wrong, “what happened?” his voice was quiet, but the question came without hesitation. you shook your head almost instinctively, “i’m fine.”

beau’s gaze remained on you for another second before shifting toward dean.

dean didn’t answer for you. instead, he stood. the movement was unhurried, and his hand touched your shoulder briefly as he moved away, an absent gesture you doubted he had consciously thought about. he walked around the table and slid back into the booth beside allie, who shifted closer to the wall to make room for him.

the space beside you was empty again. beau looked at it, then at you, before sliding into the booth.

the moment he sat down, his body angled toward yours as much as the table allowed. one knee pressed against yours beneath it, and his hand settled lightly against your thigh, warm even through the fabric of your clothes.

he didn’t look across the table again, “tell me.”

there was nothing demanding in the words. if anything, the quietness of his voice made the knot in your chest pull tighter.

you looked down at his hand for a moment, gathering your thoughts. the whole interaction had lasted only a few minutes, but trying to explain it now made it feel strangely complicated.

“this guy came over while you were gone,” you began. “he was trying to buy me a drink, and i told him i wasn’t interested.”

beau’s thumb moved once against your thigh, but otherwise he remained completely still.

“he kept talking to me after that. asking where you were and things like that.” you paused, suddenly uncomfortable beneath the weight of beau’s attention, “i told him to leave. he got annoyed.”

you could see beau trying very hard not to interrupt, the effort was written across his face, “how annoyed?”

you hesitated, “he called me a bitch.”

beau’s jaw tightened. you felt the change beneath your hand where it had come to rest over his. the tension that moved through him was subtle, but immediate. across the table, dean leaned back against the booth, watching the two of you without saying anything.

“that’s when dean got up,” you continued. “he made him leave.”

beau’s eyes moved across the table. dean gave a slight shrug, as though the entire thing had been considerably less important than it actually had. “she’s skipping a bit,” he said.

you frowned, “i’m not skipping anything.”

dean looked at you, “you are.”

“i told him what happened.”

“you gave him the edited version.”

you felt beau’s attention shift back to you, “there’s an edited version?”

“no.”

“yes,” dean said at the same time.

you looked across the table at him, “whose side are you on?”

dean’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “not really a sides thing.”

allie rested her chin against her hand, watching the exchange. she had been quiet since beau returned, but you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

you turned back toward beau and found him waiting. a sigh escaped your lips, “i got a little scared. that’s all.”

beau’s expression changed. the anger didn’t disappear, but something else moved over it. concern, quieter and heavier, settling into the crease between his eyebrows.

before he could say anything, dean spoke again, “she couldn’t get out.”

you looked at him, but his expression was no longer teasing, “he was standing at the end of the booth,” he explained, looking at beau now. “table in front of her, wall behind her. when he moved closer, she was boxed in.”

the words made your stomach tighten all over again. hearing it described that plainly was different from remembering it. you had known, in the moment, that there was nowhere for you to go, but you hadn’t put it into words even inside your own head.

beau’s hand stilled beneath yours, “did he touch you?”

“no,” you said immediately, “he didn’t. dean got there before he could,” you added.

something passed across beau’s face at that, too quick for you to identify. his eyes moved toward dean again.

“he wasn’t going to,” dean said, his voice matter-of-fact, “not after i got over there.”

beau looked at him for a moment, before his attention returned to you. his expression softened slightly, though the tension hadn’t left his shoulders.

“it was just for a second, babe,” you tried to reassure him, but you knew he didn’t believe that was the entire truth.

his hand moved from beneath yours. for half a second, you thought he was going to try and find the guy. instead, he reached beneath the table and took your hand properly, threading his fingers through yours. the familiarity of the movement made something inside your chest loosen before you could stop it.

“i’m here now,” he said quietly.

there was anger in his face. you could see it in the tension around his mouth and the way his jaw tightened every few seconds, but he wasn’t making it yours to deal with. he wasn’t demanding a description of the guy or asking why you hadn’t come to find him. he wasn’t telling you what you should have done differently or turning what had happened into a reason for you to comfort him.

he simply held your hand, and as his thumb moved slowly across your knuckles, you found you hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted him back until then.

your shoulders loosened slightly and beau noticed. of course he did.

he let go of your hand to move his arm along the back of the booth behind you, and you shifted toward him before he even had to ask. the moment you leaned into his side, his arm settled around your shoulders and drew you closer.

you rested your head against him, letting yourself sink into the familiar warmth of his side. beau’s arm tightened around your shoulders almost immediately, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you, while beneath the table, his other hand remained wrapped around yours.

for a while, nobody spoke. across the table, dean had settled back beside allie, one arm resting behind her while she leaned into the corner of the booth. beau looked up, and his eyes met dean’s over the table.

the exchange lasted only a few seconds. beau gave a small nod, something quiet and serious passing over his expression, and dean returned it just as subtly. neither of them said anything, but you understood enough anyway.

beau knew exactly what dean had done. and dean, apparently, didn’t think it required discussion.

you closed your eyes briefly as beau’s fingers moved against your shoulder in slow, absent strokes. the adrenaline that had been sitting beneath your skin was beginning to fade now, leaving you tired in its place, and you let yourself concentrate on the small things instead: the warmth of his body beside yours, the weight of his arm around you, the familiar movement of his thumb brushing over your hand beneath the table.

you hadn’t realized how tense you still were until you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax.

after a while, beau lowered his head and pressed his lips to the top of yours. the kiss lingered for a second before he spoke, his voice quiet enough that the words stayed between the two of you despite dean and allie sitting only a few feet away, “i leave for ten minutes.”

the comment was so characteristically him that a soft laugh escaped you before you could stop it. you turned your face slightly into his chest, hiding the small smile that had finally begun to appear, “it was longer than ten minutes.”

you felt him shift beside you, “was it?”

you lifted your head enough to look at him, “mhmm.”

beau seemed to consider that for a moment before his mouth twisted, “shit.”

another laugh slipped out of you, quieter than the first but easier this time. something in beau’s expression softened at the sound, though the concern hadn’t entirely disappeared from his face. it was still there in the slight crease between his eyebrows and the careful way his eyes moved over yours, as though he were checking for something you might not be telling him.

you knew that look, “i’m fine,” you told him.

“i know,” his answer came easily, but his thumb continued moving over the back of your hand.

you studied him for a moment, “really.”

he nodded again, but you didn’t believe him. or, more accurately, you believed that he believed you were fine now. that didn’t mean he had stopped thinking about what had happened before he came back.

the tension in his jaw gave him away. you narrowed your eyes slightly, “you look like you want to kill someone.”

beau’s eyebrows lifted, “i don’t.”

you continued looking at him and he lasted approximately three seconds before sighing, “fine. i’m annoyed.”

“annoyed,” you repeated, unconvinced.

“very annoyed.”

you waited with raised brows. beau looked at your expression and amended, “extremely annoyed.”

“better.” you smiled before you could stop yourself, and some of the remaining tension in his expression finally eased when he saw it. his eyes stayed on your face for another moment before he shook his head slightly and pulled you closer again.

you settled back against his side, and this time the movement came more easily. some of the last tension in your chest went with it.

you though back to the quiet exchange between beau and dean. it was something that made warmth press unexpectedly against the lingering discomfort in your chest.

beau trusted dean.

not just with football or parties or whatever other stupid things they’d gotten into together over the years. with you.

and dean had treated that trust like the most natural thing in the world. not as an obligation, or a favor he would need thanking for. it was just something he did because beau loved you and, somewhere along the way, dean had decided that meant you were his person too.

beau’s thumb continued its slow movement over your shoulder, and you let yourself sit there for another minute before he spoke again. his voice was quieter this time, all traces of humor gone, “do you want to leave?”

you thought about it; you were still shaken. you could admit that to yourself now. every so often, the memory of the stranger stepping closer returned without warning, bringing that same cold feeling into your stomach. but the thought of leaving made the whole thing feel bigger somehow, as though one unpleasant stranger had managed to take the entire night from you.

you shook your head, “not yet.”

beau nodded, his expression giving away nothing but acceptance, “then we’ll stay.”

there was no hesitation and no attempt to change your mind. he simply settled back into the booth and kept his arm around you.

across the table, allie seemed to sense that the moment had passed. she waited another few seconds before starting her story over from the beginning, apparently deciding that none of you had been paying enough attention the first time.

dean frowned, “didn’t you just just tell this story?”

allie looked at him, “nobody was listening.”

“i was.”

“what was i talking about?”

dean opened his mouth, then closed it again.

allie nodded, “exactly.”

a quiet laugh escaped you, and beau’s attention immediately dropped toward you. the corner of his mouth lifted, and his softly squeezed your shoulder once before he turned his attention back to the conversation, though his arm remained securely around you.

you still felt the remnants of adrenaline beneath your skin, and every so often your attention flicked toward the crowd without permission. you caught yourself searching faces you didn’t recognize, checking the spaces between groups of people before you could stop yourself.

each time, beau’s thumb moved gently against your shoulder. you weren’t sure if he noticed you doing it, but you suspected he did.

after a while, dean caught your eye from across the table. you held his gaze for a second, then mouthed a quiet, thank you.

his expression tightened with immediate discomfort, causing you to almost smile. dean had never seemed like somebody who enjoyed sincere emotion being directed at him.

he gave you a brief nod though, and immediately reached for allie’s drink. she moved it out of reach without even looking at him, “no.”

“i didn’t do anything.”

“you were going to.”

“you don’t know that.”

allie finally looked at him, “i absolutely do.”

dean leaned back in the booth, looking unfairly accused.

you looked at beau. he was already looking at you. something passed between you, a flicker of shared amusement that needed no explanation.

the four of you stayed at malone’s for another hour. conversation never returned entirely to what it had been before, but it came close. allie eventually finished her story, dean continued to insist that he had been listening the first time, and beau absentmindedly pushed his glass towards you so you could finish what you’d started.

when you finally left, the cold air outside hit your face hard enough to make you inhale sharply. after the warmth of malone’s, the night felt almost startlingly clear, the sounds of the bar dulling as the door closed behind you.

beau immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the four of you started down the sidewalk. dean and allie walked a few steps ahead. allie slipped her hand into his, and he glanced down at her before adjusting his pace to match hers.

after a minute, dean looked back. his eyes moved over you, then beau. apparently satisfied, he turned forward again and you smiled to yourself.

the night hadn’t gone the way any of you had expected. your heart still beat a little faster when you thought about the moment the stranger’s expression had changed, and you suspected it would take a while before the memory stopped making something unpleasant twist in your stomach.

but beau was beside you, warm and solid, his arm wrapped around you.

a few steps ahead, dean was listening to allie talk, occasionally turning his head toward her as she spoke. she said something that made him laugh, then shoved his shoulder when he apparently responded with the wrong thing.

a couple minutes later, dean glanced back at you one more time. it was only briefly, but you understood then, perhaps more clearly than you had before, why beau loved him like a brother.

it wasn’t because dean was particularly good at saying the right thing. he usually wasn’t. it wasn’t because he made grand gestures or turned friendship into something that needed to be announced.

it was knowing when to stay out of the way and when to step in. it was sitting beside someone without demanding they explain how they felt. it was looking back over your shoulder once, then again, just to make sure the people you cared about were still there.

beau’s thumb moved across your shoulder and when you looked up at him he was already watching you. his eyebrows lifted slightly in a silent question, and this time you didn’t tell him it was nothing. you only moved a little closer and something in his expression softened.

you knew then, that you weren’t alone; you’d never been, and you never would be.

•18+ Adults Only

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caught on thanksgiving | dean di laurentis ✶

summary: in which beau walks in on his younger sister tangled up in dean’s lap moments before thanksgiving dinner, forcing the entire hockey house to endure one painfully awkward meal filled with knowing looks, relentless chirping, and dean very seriously considering transferring schools.

pairing: dean di laurentis x maxwell!reader

note: hello! i hope you're all well. i've got a few exciting things planned so make sure you stay tuned! i hope you enjoy!! <3

ꪆৎ

the late afternoon sunlight filters softly through the thin blinds of dean's bedroom, casting warm golden stripes across it.

dean appreciated the moments he spent over thanksgiving with his friends more than anything. there were times however, when all he wanted was to spend time alone, in the presence of just you.

now, was one of those times.

dean's hand slides slowly along your waist as he shifts closer toward you on the bed, guiding you naturally into his lap without breaking the kiss.

you swiftly reposition yourself so that you're straddling him, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck while his hands remain on either sides of your waist, keeping you steady.

“dean,” you laugh quietly against his mouth.

“hm?”

“everyone’s downstairs.”

“guess we'll just have to be quiet then.”

you pull back slightly, your cheeks turning a crimson red from his words.

“tucker will literally come looking for us.”

dean's lips find your collarbone, lingering at a spot he had learned was your weakness, smiling faintly to himself when he feels you react beneath him.

“tucker’s got bigger priorities right now, most of them involving food.”

you laugh softly again before his face moves closer towards yours, closing the very minimal distance that had been separating the two of you. he cups your cheek before planting a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

his lips were warm and soft, familiar in a way that made your chest loosen instantly. your lips parted slightly as you smiled into the kiss, and he took the opening to deepen it for a brief moment before gently pulling back. his hand stayed cradling your cheek, thumb lingering there as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

"still think it's an issue that everyone's home?" he questions teasingly, watching as you shake your head in response.

the room feels warmer now.

smaller somehow.

your fingers slide through the hair at the nape of his neck and dean lets out the softest exhale against your lips, the sound nearly making your brain stop functioning entirely.

“you have no idea what you do to me, y/n” he murmurs quietly.

your cheeks flush instantly.

“dean.”

“what?” he asks innocently, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth ruins the act completely.

you shake your head, trying to hide your smile while he watches you with obvious amusement.

god, he loved flustering you.

his hands pause briefly at the hem of your top, his gaze flicking up toward yours.

“is this okay?”

there’s something almost unfair about how gentle he sounds when he says it. you nod immediately, fingers curling lightly into the front of his sweater.

“yeah.”

his expression softens slightly at your answer before he slowly lifts your top upwards, careful not to rush you.

the cool air hits your skin instantly once the fabric disappears over your head, leaving you suddenly far more aware of the way dean is looking at you now.

like you’ve completely stolen every coherent thought from his brain.

his eyes drift slowly over you before he exhales quietly through his nose, almost like he forgot how to breathe properly for a second.

“you're beautiful, baby” he murmurs softly.

your cheeks warm immediately.

“stop it,” you laugh quietly, suddenly embarrassed beneath the intensity of his attention.

“what?” he asks innocently, though the awe in his voice is impossible to miss.

“just appreciating my girlfriend.”

his hands settle carefully against your waist again, thumbs brushing lightly against your skin while he leans forward to kiss you once more.

the kiss turns deeper almost instantly.

slower.

warmer.

dean’s fingers slide gently along your back before stopping against the clasp of your bra.

you feel him hesitate slightly.

not nervous exactly.

just careful.

like he always was with you.

“this still okay?” he asks quietly against your lips.

you nod softly, your forehead resting briefly against his.

“yes.”

his lips curve upwards faintly before he presses another soft kiss against your mouth, one hand still resting securely at your waist while the other awkwardly attempts to undo the clasp behind your back.

you feel his fingers fumble slightly before he exhales dramatically.

“who invented these things?” he mutters under his breath.

you laugh softly against his lips.

“struggling there?”

“i’m being set up for failure.”

his fingers brush clumsily against your skin again before he narrows his eyes in concentration.

“seriously,” he mumbles.

"i spend six days a week throwing around hundreds of pounds in the gym, and a tiny clasp is what humbles me."

you grin, shifting slightly to help him.

“maybe because you’re rushing.”

his cheeks flush immediately while a crooked smile appears across his face.

“can you blame me?”

your stomach flips embarrassingly fast at the tone in his voice.

a second later there’s finally a soft click as dean succeeds.

“holy shit,” he breathes quietly, sounding genuinely relieved.

you laugh harder this time as he shakes his head once in disbelief at himself.

“don’t laugh at me,” he says, though he’s smiling too.

his hands slide carefully along your sides afterwards, touch soft and warm as he presses a trail of kisses beneath your jaw again.

“i love you,” he murmurs quietly against your skin.

your heart melts instantly. dean was always like this with you, sweet and gentle in all the ways that mattered most. beneath the confidence, the teasing grin, and the easy charm he showed everyone else, there was this softer side reserved just for you.

your fingers drift beneath the hem of his sweater, tracing lightly along the defined muscles of his stomach and dean exhales quietly at the feeling.

his forehead rests briefly against yours afterwards, cheeks flushed, hair messy beneath your hands. he was completely gone for you.

“you’re staring again,” you whisper teasingly.

“can you blame me?”

his words linger between you before he leans in again, pressing another kiss just beneath your jaw. you close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself sink into the warmth of it, quietly savouring the feeling.

“you’re trouble, di laurentis.”

“yeah", he responds easily, lips brushing your skin again, “but you love me for it.”

before you can respond, the bedroom door suddenly swings open and everything freezes instantly.

“yo tucker said-”

beau stops mid sentence, his jaw falling agape.

silence.

absolute silence.

your eyes widen immediately as you turn toward the doorway while dean goes completely still beneath you. beau stands there holding his phone in one hand, his expression blank with horror.

pure horror.

his eyes flick between you sitting in dean’s lap, dean’s hands still very obviously around your waist, and the fact that neither of you had moved fast enough to make the situation look any better.

your discarded top is somewhere on the other side of the room, leaving you painfully aware that you're still only wearing your bra.

before you can even think of what to say, dean's arm tightens around you, pulling you closer against his chest. one hand slides up between your shoulder blades as he angles his body in front of yours, shielding you from beau's line of sight.

the movement is instinctive.

“oh my god,” beau says flatly.

dean immediately drops his forehead against your shoulder, keeping you tucked against him.

“please leave," dean murmurs, his voice coming out slightly muffled.

"i just watched my best friend practically inhale my sister."

you let out a horrified noise while dean groans louder, his grip on your waist tightening

"beau-" dean says into your shoulder, sounding like he's reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment.

“jesus christ, no-”

beau cuts him off instantly, physically pointing at both of you now.

“absolutely not. don’t talk to me right now.”

you feel your face burning with embarrassment while beau physically turns his head toward the hallway ceiling like he’s asking god for strength.

“i’m actually sick. this is why i don't come over here often” he mutters, more to himself and under his breath than to the both of you.

“you knocked for half a second!” dean argues weakly.

beau looks offended. “because i didn't expect to walk into this!"

"that sounds like a personal mistake" dean taunts.

you bury your face in your hands immediately, unable to face your brother who is still stood in the doorway of your boyfriends room.

dean leans back against the bedhead, dragging a hand down his face dramatically.

“i’m transferring schools.”

“good,” beau replies immediately. “do that.”

despite the awkwardness of the situation, a laugh slips out.

beau looks personally betrayed.

“y/n.”

“i’m sorry!”

“no you’re not.”

beau shakes his head once before backing toward the hallway again.

“dinner’s ready in ten,” he says flatly. “and if either of you make this weird downstairs, i’m telling tucker exactly what i walked in on.”

dean’s eyes widen slightly.

“you wouldn’t.”

beau stares at him.

“watch me.”

then he disappears back into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. silence settles over the room again and dean drops his head back against the wall with a groan.

“we’re never recovering from that.”

you burst into laughter immediately, the awkwardness and humour of the situation finally setting in.

dean points at you accusingly. “this isn’t funny.”

“him saying you inhaled me absolutely was.”

he narrows his eyes before suddenly pulling you closer towards him. you laugh softly as his hands settle back against your waist, familiar and warm.

“still worth it,” he murmurs quietly.

your heart melts embarrassingly fast.

“you’re ridiculous.”

a giddy grin slowly spreads across dean’s face before he shakes his head once.

“your brother is a goddamn cockblock.”

you gasp softly in mock offence before playfully slapping his chest, causing a quiet laugh to fall from his lips.

“dean!”

“what?” he grins. “am i wrong?”

you attempt to slide off his lap again, already knowing if you stayed there any longer you’d never actually make it downstairs, but dean’s hands tighten immediately around your hips, keeping you firmly where you are.

your eyebrows raise slightly at him in confusion before you suddenly feel him shift beneath you.

your breath catches instantly.

dean’s cheeks flush almost immediately as your mouth falls open slightly in realisation.

“dean heyward-di laurentis,” you whisper, horrified and amused all at once. his eyes squeeze shut briefly as he lets out another groan.

“don’t say my full name like that,” he mutters miserably.

“makes me sound guilty.”

“you are guilty.”

“yeah,” he sighs dramatically, glancing up at you again.

“but in my defence, look at you.”

your face warms instantly at the sincerity hidden beneath his teasing tone but before you can respond, a loud voice echoes up from downstairs.

“if you idiots don't get down here right now i'm starting dinner without you.”

tucker.

immediately, your eyes widen.

“shit.”

dean drops his forehead against your shoulder dramatically. “ignore him.”

“dean.”

“five more minutes.”

“absolutely not.”

he sends you the most painfully pleading look imaginable, his hands still secure against your waist like he thinks physically holding onto you will somehow convince you to stay.

when it very unfortunately almost works, dean notices instantly. his lips twitch upwards slightly, excitement taking over his features.

“baby,” he says softly, voice lower now, “c’mon.”

you narrow your eyes at him immediately. “don’t baby me right now.”

“that sounded way meaner than i think you intended.”

you laugh quietly and dean realises immediately that you aren’t giving in. he places both hands over his face before tilting his head back against his bed dramatically, letting out the most exaggerated groan imaginable.

you laugh harder at the sight in front of you.

“i’m glad one of us finds this funny,” he mutters, though there’s obvious amusement hidden beneath his embarrassment. he stands up slowly, still holding onto your waist as he pulls you up with him.

your hands naturally slide around the back of his neck while dean rests his forehead lightly against yours.

“i’ll tell them you’re in the bathroom and coming down in a few minutes,” you hum softly before leaning up to place a quick kiss against his cheek.

dean exhales quietly at the feeling before narrowing his eyes slightly.

“you’re so gonna pay for this one day, y/n.”

you smirk immediately. “is that a threat?”

“a promise.”

you laugh softly before turning toward the bedroom door. you barely make it two steps before dean’s hand lands sharply against your ass.

you gasp audibly, spinning around immediately.

“di laurentis!”

he shrugs innocently despite the smirk painted all over his face.

“sorry. couldn’t help myself.”

you roll your eyes, trying and failing not to smile.

“don’t be too long or tucker will rip into you,” you warn teasingly before slipping out into the hallway.

the noise downstairs grows louder the second you descend the staircase. thanksgiving at the hockey house was always chaos in the best possible way.

the kitchen smells overwhelmingly like garlic, rosemary and whatever tucker accidentally burned earlier, despite promising he was following his mother's recipe book, step by step. music plays faintly somewhere near the living room while everyone talks over each other.

logan notices you first, which is unfortunate.

he’s leaning back in one of the dining chairs beside grace when his eyes flick toward you coming down the stairs. immediately, his eyebrows lift knowingly.

oh no.

you suddenly become very aware of the fact that you hadn’t checked yourself in the mirror before leaving dean’s room. you feel your cheeks warm instantly as you quickly move toward the table, silently praying dean hadn’t left any visible marks on your neck.

logan watches you the entire way down, very amused.

you slide into your seat beside hannah while trying your hardest to look normal. logan leans back slightly in his chair across from you, arms folded casually.

“where’s dean?” he asks, feigning innocence.

your eyes narrow immediately.

he knows something...or at least suspects something.

“bathroom,” you answer casually, reaching for your water glass. “he’ll be down in a minute.”

“hm,” logan hums thoughtfully, clearly entertained. beside him, garrett glances between the two of you with immediate suspicion.

“why are you both acting weird?”

“we’re not,” you answer far too quickly.

logan snorts. grace lowers her drink slowly, eyes widening slightly as realisation dawns across her face.

“oh my god.”

your heart drops.

“what?” hannah asks immediately, now invested in the conversation before her.

logan grins lazily. “nothing.”

“logan,” grace says, already laughing slightly, “you totally know something.”

before he can answer, beau walks back into the kitchen holding a drink. the second his eyes land on you sitting at the table, he physically pauses before narrowing his eyes.

oh, absolutely not.

logan catches it instantly.

“why do you look traumatised?” he asks him.

beau grabs a roll off the table aggressively.

“don’t worry about it.”

his response of course only makes everyone more interested.

tucker emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray dramatically. “why does it feel like i missed gossip?”

“you did,” beau mutters darkly.

your face burns immediately.

logan’s grin grows wider.

“oh my god,” hannah says slowly, eyes flicking toward you. “did something happen?”

“nothing happened,” you say quickly.

you hear a laugh from across the table, and garrett points directly at you, “that sounded guilty.”

beau lets out a humourless laugh from across the table. “you have no idea.” before anyone can interrogate him further, dean finally appears at the top of the stairs.

slightly flushed.

sweater sleeves pushed up messily.

hair completely ruined.

logan notices instantly and nearly chokes on his drink.

“holy shit,” he laughs.

dean stops halfway down the stairs. “what?”

“you look insane.”

dean flips him off automatically continuing downstairs. the second he reaches the table, beau looks at him in complete disbelief.

“you came down looking like that voluntarily?”

dean freezes briefly, too briefly.

everyone notices.

tucker’s eyes widen dramatically. “wait.”

“don’t,” dean warns immediately.

“wait,” tucker repeats louder, pointing between the both of you now.

“oh my god.”

“tucker,” you say quickly, your cheeks beginning to flush a deep shade of crimson red.

“no wonder you two disappeared.”

dean drags a hand down his face while logan loses his mind laughing beside grace.

“i hate this house,” dean mutters

“you should,” beau replies immediately. “after what i witnessed.”

silence

then-

hannah gasps loudly and garrett chokes on his drink.

grace physically grabs allie’s arm and tucker slams both hands dramatically against the table.

“YOU WALKED IN ON THEM?”

#off campus #off campus imagines #dean di laurentis #dean di laurentis x reader #dean di laurentis fic #dean di laurentis x you #beau maxwell #beau maxwell x reader #garrett graham #john tucker #john logan

# DEAN DI LAURENTIS — PAYBACK !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✶ dean tries to act unbothered by the growing relationship between you, so you kiss his best friend as payback.

002. WARNINGS !

✶ no actual smut, but some suggestive stuff happens. beau is used but he’s right where he wants to be, don’t feel too bad.

word count : 2,8k

gif by @luke-thompsons

Dean has a problem.

He’s always been good at acting nonchalant. Keeping things casual. Avoiding the emotional side of hookups altogether. Usually, it works out pretty well.

He makes it a point not to get involved with the same girl for too long. Everyone on campus knows about his reputation, and if he suddenly seemed devoted to one person, people would start getting the wrong idea.

#*ੈ✩༄ my works !#dean di laurentis #dean di laurentis x reader #dean di laurentis x you #dean di laurentis x female reader #dean di laurentis fanfic #dean di laurentis fluff #dean di laurentis imagine #dean di laurentis one shot #dean di laurentis angst #off campus #off campus x reader #off campus fanfic #off campus one shot #off campus series #off campus prime #beau maxwell #beau maxwell x reader

Unimpressed ¹

PART 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Summary: Dean Di Laurentis is loud, arrogant, and has a smirk with dimple that makes you want to throw something at his face. You called him a playboy to his face. Now he won't leave you alone. You tell yourself he's just annoying you for fun and you have nothing to do with him. Until one day, you realize you're looking for him in every crowd. And that's when you know you're in trouble.

Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

Tags/warnings: Introvert girl. Enemies to lovers. Slow burn. Hurt/comfort. Hockey romance. Fluff. Mutual pining. Mild language. Suggestive theme. No explicit content. Using the word (Name).

Word count: 3.4k

Author's note: English is not my first language, let me know if there's any mistake. I haven't read the book, so I follow the tv series but not really haha. Btw, today is my birthday! Enjoy my birthday gift! 💗

This was supposed to be a one-shot, but my fingers couldn't stop typing so... here we are 🫰

"Come on, (Name)! I know you're not busy!"

You let out a soft sigh, staring at your roommate, Jules. Reference books for your class were scattered all over the bed around you, your laptop open right in front of you.

"Sorry, Jules, but I have a quiz tomorrow. I need to study," you replied.

"Aren't you bored? Studying all day long. Hey, live a little. Enjoy your college years."

"I am enjoying them." You lazily pointed toward your books with your chin.

Jules groaned in boredom. Then, out of nowhere, they flashed you a suspicious, knowing smile. You recognized that look instantly.

It was the exact expression Jules wore whenever their inner 'the fifth line social media admin' persona took over. They would do absolutely anything to get the latest hot campus gossip. Anything.

"Jules. No."

Jules chuckled. "(Name), yes."

Thirty minutes later, you were standing outside the Maxwell family summer home.

"This is a terrible idea, Jules. I should go back."

You started to turn away from the yard, but Jules grabbed your arm, holding you back.

"Hey, it's about time you got out of your room. You need to enjoy life, (Name). Don't waste your college years locked up in your room with books and mind-numbing course materials. You need a stress reliever." Jules went on a long rant, which you met with an equally long sigh.

"This isn't my scene, Jules. I don't like this kind of stuff, and you know it."

"Well, I promise you it'll be fun and nothing like you think."

"Oh, really?" You shot Jules a lazy, skeptical look.

"Just trust me, okay? It's time for you to make some new friends."

"I have friend—" you cut in, feeling defensive.

"I know, I know. But name just five friends from a different major. Someone who isn't a classmate, or your roommate—which is me." Jules challenged.

You closed your eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I'm only staying for a bit. If the party sucks, I'm leaving immediately."

"Deal. Let's go!" Jules linked their arm through yours, pulling you excitedly into the house.

You looked around the moment you stepped into the Maxwell summer house. It was crowded. Packed. Loud. A 'fun' kind of chaos was unfolding everywhere.

If Jules hadn't been with you, you probably would have turned right around and headed back to your quiet, cozy room. But Jules had zero intention of letting you go. They dragged you toward the living room, which connected straight to the kitchen. People were chatting, joking, playing games, and some were heavily making out. You instantly averted your eyes. That was a bit much for someone like you, who had never dated or even been close to a guy.

"Hey, you actually made it?"

A voice ahead made you look up.

"What does it look like?" Jules shot back sarcastically.

"Why so harsh on your own brother, Jules?"

The guy was John Logan. He's one of the star hockey players on campus, and also Jules's brother.

Of course you knew who he was from Jules's endless stories. Jules constantly gave you campus updates, even when you didn't ask for them.

"Wait, is this (Name)?"

You blinked in surprise when Logan mentioned your name. You had never spoken to him before, so how—oh, forget it. You were positive this was Jules's doing. But why on earth were they talking about you to Logan?

"Yep. Finally, after all this time, I managed to drag her out of her cave to enjoy life."

"Hey!" You glared at Jules, offended.

Logan laughed. "That's great. Hey, (Name), I'm Logan. Jules talks about you all the time. It's an honor to finally meet the legend who scolds this little brat whenever they skip class for their gossip account."

Jules rolled their eyes in annoyance.

You offered a small smile. "Hi, Logan. Nice to meet you. Jules talks about you a lot, too."

Logan shot his sibling a playful, curious look. "Oh, really? I hope it's good stuff." He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a mock whisper. "You know, they tend to exaggerate sometimes."

"I can hear you, dumbass," Jules snapped, looking irritated.

That made both you and Logan burst out laughing.

Gradually, the atmosphere began to feel more comfortable. Logan was warm, friendly, and easy to talk to. You no longer felt awkward or out of place.

Suddenly, the kitchen counter grew loud as two figures dressed in matching Top Gun uniforms appeared. From where you stood, you watched them effortlessly command the room's attention. Dean Di Laurentis and Beau Maxwell. Two best friends who shared the same birthday and the exact same level of fame. The star defenseman for the hockey team, and the starting quarterback for the football team.

From what you gathered, Dean seemed to be the more famous of the two, purely because he was a Briar hockey star with an endless supply of charm. Even though you didn't care about campus celebrities like Dean or Beau, you knew all about them because your classmates constantly gossiped about Dean's supposed perfection. Sitting behind them in lecture meant you could never actually focus on the professor.

Dean the handsome, Dean the sweet, the ultimate ladykiller, the perfect gentleman, and so on. Some called him a playboy and a certified heartbreaker, but his charm was undeniable.

Sometimes you wondered how these girls fell for him so easily, worshiping him like some sort of god. They completely ignored his flaws just because of his pretty face and his shamelessly flirty attitude around any woman in sight.

You, however, saw things differently. Sure, you weren't a hypocrite; you could admit Dean was gorgeous and practically flawless on the outside. But his playboy lifestyle, his lack of commitment, the casual hookups, and the endless partying? Total red flags.

People probably thought you were old-fashioned or had impossibly high standards, especially given your single status and lack of dating experience.

But you made a conscious effort to stay far away from guys like Dean or another famous players.

So, when the music pumped louder and the crowd swarmed the living room to dance, you immediately slipped away to find a quieter spot. Logan and Jules had already wandered off when some friends approached them. Though Jules originally wanted you to come along, you turned them down, promising to wait right there.

Thud!

And now, you deeply regretted it. You had found a safe haven to remain invisible—sitting on the bottom steps of the staircase—only for someone with zero situational awareness to trip right over your feet.

Actually, make that two someone.

Dean and a girl were so busy making out that they didn't even look where they were going. They're crashed right in front of you because he hadn't noticed you while trying to guide her up the stairs.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Let me help you." Dean looked down at the girl with a soft, apologetic gaze, kissing her gently after pulling her to her feet.

You were just about to apologize, feeling a bit guilty that your extended legs had caused them to trip.

"What, were you so jealous that you had to trip her? Hm... I haven't seen you around before."

That accusation swallowed your apology whole, replaced instantly by a wave of pure anger.

"First of all, use your eyes to look where you're going. I've been sitting here the entire time. Second of all, I'm not jealous. And third, lose the massive ego because you're nothing but a playboy who uses women, lacks commitment, and only cares about a good time and sex. So don't flat-out assume every single girl is just going to fall easily into your lap! You arrogant jerk!"

You stood up, deliberately brushing your shoulder against his as you stormed out. You were absolutely furious and deeply insulted.The guy didn't even know you, yet he had the nerve to accuse you of being jealous enough to hurt the girl he was with. Unbelievable. It made your blood boil.

"According to the course plan I presented at the beginning of the semester, we will be dividing into groups for the midterm project. The class representative will organize the groups. Once finalized, please submit the roster by this afternoon."

"Yes, sir."

Krieeet!

Every head turned toward the classroom door.

"Oh, look, our favorite athlete has finally decided to join us."

"Sorry, Professor. Practice ran late." Dean Di Laurentis walked in, wearing a completely unapologetic smirk.

"Remind me again, why did you transfer into my class?" your History professor asked dryly.

"Because... I was told to find a class schedule that didn't conflict with hockey practice?" Dean replied, his tone teasingly inquisitive.

"And why are you late today, Mr. Di Laurentis? Just because you are one of the campus's star athletes, do not expect special treatment for your lack of discipline in my classroom."

"Um... my bad, Prof. Won't happen again." Dean smiled, giving a playful mock salute.

Having been checked out the second you heard his voice, you chose to focus entirely on the group assignments the class rep was dropping into the group chat.

Wait.

Your eyes snapped over to the class representative sitting behind you, your jaw dropping in disbelief. The groups had been generated randomly, and by some cruel twist of cosmic fate, you were paired with the exact guy who had sent your temper flaring just two days ago.

"Hey, I need to switch groups," you whispered urgently to your classmate.

"Sorry, (Name), but I ran a randomizer to keep it fair. And... honestly, you shouldn't switch. Every other girl in here is practically dying of jealousy right now."

You lowered your voice to a harsh whisper. "Exactly. That's why I want out. Anyone can take my spot."

"Can't do it, (Name). I already emailed the roster to the professor."

"You are evil." You stared at your friend-slash-class-rep with pure betrayal.

She just let out a quiet giggle. "What's the big deal anyway? Come on... shouldn't you be thrilled? It's not every day you get a free pass to talk to Briar's star hockey player."

"Don't mock me. You know I can't stand drama, especially the kind that follows Di Laurentis around."

"Did you miss me? Is that why you keep saying my name?"

You and your friend looked up to find Dean standing right over your desk, leaning down with a cocky grin.

"In your dreams. I wouldn't even waste a nightmare on you," you shot back coldly.

"Ouch. You're breaking my heart, you know. But it's fine, I know you're actually crazy about me and just trying to play hard to get." Dean smirked, radiating pure, unadulterated confidence.

The sheer audacity left you completely speechless. The guy in front of you was clearly delusional, his ego skyrocketing past the atmosphere.

Then, without waiting for an invitation, Dean slid into the empty seat right next to you. "So, it's (Name), right? Destined to be partners. Wait, did you request to be in my group? Wow, you move fast quietly, don't you?"

You could only stare at him like he was an alien, actively suppressing the urge to curse him out or strangle him right then and there.

Dean unlocked his phone and slid it across your desk. You looked from his face to the screen and back again.

Dean chuckled, his deep dimples showing on full display. "We need to discuss this group project, don't we? So, give me your number."

You stared at it for a few seconds before finally picking up his phone and typing something out.

"An email address?" Dean looked at you, utterly bewildered.

"Are you so busy playing hockey and partying that you don't know what an email is?" you asked sarcastically.

"Of course I know. But—"

"If you need to reach me, use that. Or don't. I don't care." You packed your things at lightning speed just as the professor dismissed the class, and swept out the door without looking back.

- - - -

"Thanks, Logan. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"No, no way. You went out of your way to fix the plumbing in Jules' and my room. A simple thank you definitely isn't enough." You watched Logan as he packed away his tools.

"Seriously, (Name), it's fine. I'm just helping out Jules and their roommate."

You sighed. "Fine. But in that case, you have to let me buy you lunch."

Logan looked up at you and laughed. "Okay, deal. But I get to pick the place."

"Good. Let's go!"

True to his word, Logan brought you straight to Malone's.

"Hey, Allie!"

"Hey, (Name)! Wow, look at you, actually out with a friend for once." Allie, who was working her shift as a waitress, grinned at you and then at Logan, who was walking right behind you.

You laughed. "This is Logan, my roommate's older brother. Oh, by the way, we're ready to order."

Allie handed you a couple of menus. "Just call me whenever you guys are ready."

"Okay, thanks Allie."

"Wait... are you Hannah's friend?" Logan asked Allie suddenly, making you freeze just as you were about to look for a table.

"Yeah. Why?" Allie asked.

"I just wanted to make sure if Hannah already talked to the owner about using this place for the charity fundraiser."

"Oh, yeah, Hannah already brought it up. Our boss gave the green light. We just need to confirm the exact date and time."

Logan smiled in relief. "Awesome. I'll let Hannah know later. Thanks a lot."

"What's the fundraiser for?" you asked once the two of you had taken a seat at a table, waiting for your food.

"It's a charity fundraiser for youth ice hockey scholarships. It helps buy gear, rent ice time, stuff like that," Logan explained.

You nodded. "Wow, that's really great. I hope it turns out to be a huge success."

"You should come, (Name). It's going to be a blast. We're planning to hire a band, so there'll be live requests." Logan looked at you enthusiastically.

You smiled softly. "If you need any help, just let me know. But I'm not sure if I can actually make it to the event. My assignment load this week is brutal, and I really need to review some course materials I'm struggling with."

Logan nodded understandingly. "No pressure at all. The hockey guys are handling everything anyway. If you find some free time, you can just stop by. Jules definitely going to be there too."

"Haha, okay."

Truthfully, you really wanted to show up and support Logan. But between your hectic workload and your absolute desperation to avoid running into Dean, you ultimately decided against it.

The afternoon atmosphere at Malone's was pretty relaxed. There were only a few students chatting casually and enjoying their lunch. A couple of people were moving back and forth, setting up decorations on the mini stage for the hockey charity event tonight.

Meanwhile, you were buried in your laptop and a stack of printed drafts for your History group project. Every now and then, you anxiously glanced toward the entrance, which you had intentionally sat with your back to. You were waiting for your classmate, who had suggested meeting up here to discuss the project. Because you felt bad turning him down— especially since Malone's was the closest spot to his part-time job, so you ended up agreeing. Even though, ever since Logan’s invitation a few days ago, you had actively tried to avoid this place. You didn't want to risk running into Dean.

But here you were. In the exact place you were supposed to stay away from, surrounded by hockey players busy prepping for their charity event.

Because of that, your anxiety had been on high alert. You kept praying your partner would show up quickly so you could wrap up the project discussion and leave before Dean could ever cross your path.

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting. So, what about Dean?" Leon arrived, sliding into the seat across from you.

You breathed a massive sigh of relief that your group partner had finally made it, even if his opening question was one you'd rather completely ignore.

"I have no idea."

"He didn't contact you?" he asked.

You shook your head. Even though you hadn't expected Dean to actually shoot you an email, you had still found yourself checking your inbox every single day. And yep, just as predicted, absolutely nothing.

"Forget about him. He's probably too busy with his hockey schedule. We shouldn't hold our breath waiting for him to contribute. It's better if we just focus on our own parts so we can get this done quickly." You opened up your printouts and began mapping out the project with Leon.

Before you knew it, over twenty minutes had flown by. Leon was incredibly easy to work with, thanks to his friendly personality. He even cracked a few jokes, making your lingering headache vanish for a moment.

"Well, well, look who we have here. No wonder my email never got a response. Turns out you're on a 'study date', huh?"

The baseless accusation instantly wiped the smile right off your face. Dean was standing right by your table, looking down at you with a mocking, arrogant smirk.

"Uh, no, I'm Leon. We're in the same History group. We're just going over the project draft," Leon spoke up.

Dean sat down right next to Leon, forcing him to awkwardly scoot over to make room. "Oh, the History group? That's great. Guess that means I don't have to do a single thing, right? Since you two are clearly smart enough to handle it." Dean looked back and forth between you and Leon.

You fixed Dean with an ice-cold glare. "If you're not going to help, then stop bothering us. Go help your hockey buddies instead. They actually need it."

"Well, they can survive without me for a bit. Right now, I want to hang out with my History group. This is still my group, isn't it? Even if I was completely left in the dark?" Dean asked, flashing a wide, infuriating grin.

Leon looked between you and Dean, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "We were waiting for you to contact (Name). But you never did."

Dean let out a sharp, amused laugh, looking straight at you. "You were waiting for me? Aww... why didn't you just say so? I thought you were just playing hard to get, which is why you only gave me an email address."

You stared at him sharply. "I am not an object to be pursued. So stop talking shit like that."

"Or what?" Dean challenged, a smirk spreading across his face that made you want to punch him right then.

You clenched your fists tightly under the table, forcing down the fiery rage that was threatening to boil over. You refused to cause a massive scene inside Malone's, especially in front of Leon and others people.

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, you closed your laptop and gathered your printed drafts, stacking them against the table with a sharp thud. You shoved them into your bag and stood up.

"Or nothing," you answered, your voice dropping into a cold, utterly disgusted tone. "I don't have time to entertain a validation-starved toddler. Honestly, even a toddler has better manners than you."

The arrogant smirk on Dean's face visibly faltered the second he registered the venom in your voice.

You turned your attention to Leon, who had been wincing awkwardly throughout the entire exchange. "Leon, sorry. The atmosphere here isn't conducive anymore. Let's finish discussing this over text tonight. I'm heading out."

"Uh... yeah, sure, (Name). Get home safe," Leon stammered quickly, feeling deeply apologetic that you were driven out like this.

Without wasting another second or even throwing a single glance back at Dean, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stormed out of Malone's, leaving the booth behind.

Meanwhile, Dean sat frozen in his seat, the annoying smirk completely wiped from his face. He was entirely used to girls flirting back or getting playfully mad at him, but the look you just gave him... it was pure, unadulterated disgust.

"Wow, you seriously crossed the line there," Leon muttered quietly, shaking his head. Dean snapped his head toward him, his brow furrowed. "She stayed up all night pulling our project draft together. She was actually in a great mood today, and you just came in and completely ruined it."

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