About me: My name is Christina, I'm 20+, and I love 2000s rom-coms, Halloween, writing, cats...and Taylor Swift more than anything. I'm a creative person at heart and share personality type with Kat Strattford and Wednesday Addams. I've been writing since I read the Twilight books and currently write for Wednesday, HotD, Off Campus, TSITP and more
you can send requests here at any time
☆ Who I currently write for
House of the Dragon/Game of thrones ((Daemon Targaryen + Aemond Targaryen + Aegon II Targaryen + Jacaerys Velaryon + Cregan Stark + Jon Snow) | Masterpost
Off Campus (Dean Di Laurentis, John Logan, Garrett Graham) | Masterpost
The summer I turned pretty (Conrad Fisher + Jeremiah Fisher) | Masterpost
I also have masterpost for: MCU characters (Masterpost), Teen Wolf (Masterpost), Jess Mariano (Masterlist), Marcus Baker (Masterpost), Scream (Masterpost), Tate Langdon (Masterpost), Coriolanus Snow (Masterpost)
REQUESTS RULES
I have the ability to deny and delete any requests I don't want to write
I don’t have a set word count for requests, but I try to keep them between 0.5k - 1k
Do not send me the exact same request you sent to many other writers. If see it, I'll then delete it
Smut is allowed, and welcomed
I WILL NOT WRITE
These NSFW themes — feet fetish, a/b/o, innocent!reader , humiliation/degrading kink, water sport, graphic SA or anything non-con (unless it’s part of a ‘game’)
RPF (real people fiction)
Romanticization of mental health (eating disorders, depression, any type of self harm, etc.)
Anything yandere related
Anything involving someone being sick or periods (that's just boring to me)
Peter x Tony (romantically) or any form of incest (with the exception of GoT and HotD)
Pregnancies / main characters being a parent
male!reader
nb!reader or gn!reader (nothing against it, I just wouldn’t want to write it wrong)
black!reader or plus size!reader (nothing against it, I just would want to offend anyone by writing something I don’t know about)
Saving Jacaerys during the battle of the gullet? I am not ready for this moment
Who else is not ready for this? I have not read the book, but I know it will be a sad day
Warnings: mention of injuries, death of a dragon,
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
—
Arrows were being shot by the fleet of the Triarchy and Jacaerys was making a big mistake making Vermax fly too low, but you were too high in the sky for him to hear your warning.
Time seemed to slow as the inevitable happened: a crossbow bolt struck Vermax in the eye. The dragon let out a pained roar, spiraling uncontrollably before crashing into the sea below. The sight tore at your heart, but there was no time for hesitation.
Wasting no time, you commanded your dragon to go down, diving swiftly and weaving through the storm of arrows with remarkable agility. The salty sea air stung your face as you descended, your mind racing with fear and determination.
The chances that Jacaerys survived such a fall was slim, but you had to know for sure. You had to see for yourself.
As you neared the water, you could see the wreckage of Vermax in the churning waves. His green scales and the red of his wings. A tear fell from your eye.
Please be alive. Please be alive.
Tearing your gaze from Vermax's lifeless form, you scanned the chaotic waters and the fires spreading across the wreckage. Suddenly, a splash of movement caught your eye. Jacaerys had managed to leap free and was now clinging desperately to a piece of wood from a shattered ship. Relief surged through you, mentally thanking the gods.
You turned in his direction, but before you could get to him, an arrow sliced through the air, striking Jacaerys in the shoulder. He cried out in pain, his grip on the makeshift raft faltering as the arrow pierced his flesh.
‘’Dracarys!’’ you commanded, fury fueling your voice.
Your dragon responded instantly, unleashing a torrent of fire upon the ship from which the arrow had been fired. The flames consumed the attackers, their screams lost in the roar of the blaze. Satisfaction filled your blood. Hurt the ones you love, and taste the revenge of the dragon.
You called Jacaerys’ name and he looked up, his face pale with pain and exhaustion. He had a cut on his face and his shoulder was bleeding from the arrow, which was still in his shoulder.
For a moment, relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as a wave crashed over him. He tried to hoist himself back onto the piece of debris but winced as a jolt of pain flared up his arm. His fingers slipped, wet from saltwater, and he fell back into the cold water, gasping for breath as he resurfaced.
Carefully, your dragon hovered just above the surface, and you reached out a hand, tightly holding the handle of your saddle with your other so you wouldn’t fall in the waters too. ‘’Take my hand!’’
With a grimace, Jacaerys stretched out his good arm, and you pulled him up with all your strength, straining against the weight of his soaked clothes and his own weakened state. He settled in the saddle behind you, safely. You felt him shivering behind you, the cold of the water and the blood loss clearly taking its toll.
You needed to get back to Dragonstone quickly before cold would take him. You ascended into the air, wings beating heavily against the wind as you fled the scene, escaping the deadly range of the Triarchy's arrows.
‘’You...you came for me,’’ Jacaerys said, his voice weak from the ordeal.
‘’Of course I came for you,’’ you retorted, your voice a mix of concern and annoyance. What kind of wife would you be if you didn’t come to your husband’s rescue?
Once you landed on Dragonstone, you called out for a maester. Jacaerys’ clothes had dried a little on the journey back, but he was still cold…and bleeding. You asked the servants to fetch him dry clothes and followed Maester Gerardys, who took care of Jacaerys’ wounds. He carefully removed the arrow out and stitched the wound, stopping the bleeding. By the look of pain on Jacaerys’ face, it must not have been pleasant.
The fire in the hearth crackled, slowly warming up the prince. His wet clothes were discarded on the floor and replaced by dry ones before settling into the chair by the fire, his silence deep and heavy, thinking back to everything that just happened.
You gently draped a blanket over his shoulders, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth. ‘’What were you thinking, flying so low?’’
Jacaerys looked down. His lack of battle training and knowledge was what got him into this situation. What caused Vermax's death. A tear rolled down his cheek but he wiped it away.
You sat on the second chair, still in your riding gear. ‘’You need to be more careful, Jace,’’ you scolded gently, concern lacing your words. ‘’You're not some invincible warrior. You're the Prince of Dragonstone, your mother’s heir. Your life is too important to risk like that.’’
Your words came from a good place, but Jacaerys wanted to scream. He was tired of hearing people saying his life was important. He wanted to be on the battlefield and come up with strategies, he wanted to do something to be part of this war.
But hearing the discourse from you felt different. To you, his life was more important than any of his titles.
Jacaerys sighed. ‘’I'm sorry,’’ he said, his voice tinged with pain and regret. ‘’I was just...I guess I was trying to prove myself. I don't want to be known as the prince who sat on Dragonstone and let others die fighting for his mother's throne.’’
You understood where he was coming from, but proving himself to others was not worth jeopardizing his life.
‘’You don't need to prove yourself by being reckless and throw your life away. The Queen would not bear losing another child. I would not bear losing you.’’
Coach Jensen's daughter as assistant coach x Dean. She is older than Brenna but not much
I decided to split this one in parts because it was getting too long
Summary: Coach Jensen’s daughter interns at Briar as the Hawks’s assistant coach.
Warnings: protective!Dean, secret relationship,
—
You were not older than three when you started following your father to the arena. You would sit in the stand and watch him as a dream bloomed in your little child’s head.
‘’I want to be like Daddy.’’
Your father had laughed fondly, but didn’t take your dream seriously. Kids have thousands of dreams. One day they want to be a doctor or even a princess, and the next an astronaut.
But as you got older, you didn’t change your mind. You wanted to be a hockey coach.
Many had laughed and put sticks in your path, telling you it’s not a job for women. Some even suggested you become a sports journalist instead.
Unfortunately, they weren’t speaking to the right person. You had been raised by Clay Jensen. You didn’t let men step on you or take no for an answer. You were strongheaded, stubborn and unyielding in a way that both impressed and terrified people.
So you kept going.
You spent your teenage years studying systems instead of celebrity gossip magazines, scribbling line combinations and defensive formations in the margins of your school notebooks. While other girls hung posters of boy bands on their walls, yours were covered with NHL team charts and whiteboards full of plays your father helped you analyze — and a picture of Sidney Crosby…because he was a great player (or, that’s what you told your dad).
At fourteen, you started helping at kids’ hockey practices. At sixteen, you were already arguing strategy with coaches twice your age. Some hated it. Others were startled when the girl in pink lipgloss pointed out flaws they hadn’t even noticed themselves.
Your father never went easy on you either. On weekends, he made you break down a game tape until you could see the game unfold before it even happened. He taught you hockey wasn’t just talent. It was anticipation. Discipline. Psychology. Reading people before they even realized what they were about to do.
During your senior year of college, your father offered you an internship at Briar to be the Hawks’ assistant coach, and people immediately started talking. Some accused Coach Jensen of handing his daughter a job she hadn’t earned, while others were far crueler, insisting a woman had no business coaching hockey in the first place. Some players and fans mocked the decision, alumni trashed your name online, and rival teams joked that the Hawks were turning into a circus act.
Tonight was your first away game with the Hawks and you were nervous. You were playing against Harvard, one of Briar’s biggest rivals. There was years of rivalry between the two teams, but some of Harvard’s players had been very loud about their miscontentement of your assistant coach position. One of them had trashed your name on social media and accused you of sleeping with the players. Another even sent you a message on Instagram asking you to blow him if his team wins. Disgusting.
Having enough of reading nasty shit, you turned off your phone and leaned back into your seat. You couldn’t let any of this distract you from the game.
‘’I’m not going to let any asshole from Harvard talk down about you,’’ Garrett promised, sitting across the aisle on the bus. ‘’You’re part of the team.’’
‘’Thanks, G,’’ you returned, giving him a small smile.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
At the hotel, you all went to your assigned rooms. Unfortunately, you were sharing with your father…
‘’Was this necessary, Dad?’’ you sighed, unzipping your bag and pulling out your clothes for the game. They’ll need to be ironed and placed on a hanger. ‘’Why can’t I share a room with one of the girls from the support bus? I’m not twelve anymore.’’
The man in question was already in his Coach Jensen state, barely glanced up from the sheets of paper he was going through. ‘’These girls don’t have a game to coach tomorrow. I need you well rested and alert.’’
‘’Sharing a room with them won’t mean I’m gonna stay up all night. Hannah and Grace are very calm. You know Hannah Wells, right? She tutored Garrett at the start of the semester. She's usually asleep before ten.’’
That was only half true. Hannah was studious, polite, and about as trouble-free as a person could be, but her bedtime definitely wasn’t 10pm — at least not on weekends. Still, if there was one girl who could get on your father’s good side, it was her.
‘’She’s a player’s girlfriend.’’
You frowned. ‘’And?’’
‘’And I don't want you hanging around my players.’’
‘’Dad, Hannah is my friend—’’
‘’She’s dating Graham,’’ he cut in firmly.
Reducing Hannah to being a player’s girlfriend was unfair. She’s been an amazing friend to you since you arrived at Briar. She shut the nasty rumors some players were saying about you — with the help of Garrett —, showed you around campus and even invited you to Malone’s to hang out with her friends. Briar wouldn’t be the same without her. You would never have met Grace or Allie, or tasted Malone’s mac&cheese.
Before you could defend Hannah, your father sighed, putting down his papers on the desk. ‘’You may think I'm being hard on you, but I need you to hear me out. Right now, those players see you as a coach. An authority figure. The moment one of them starts looking at you as anything else, everything you’ve worked for and tried to prove will fall. You will lose any credibility you’ve earned. By being seen with Hannah, who is dating my captain, you’re walking on a tightrope.’’
You swallowed his hard truth.
Jessica Campbell may have paved the way for girls like you who had a dream in a world of men, but hockey was still a very sexist world.
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
Hair slicked back into a ponytail, it swayed as you jogged toward the elevator, trying to catch it before the doors closed. The team was meeting in the lobby before getting into the bus and heading out for dinner.
‘’Wait up!’’
A hand shot out between the doors, stopping them from closing long enough for you to slip inside.
‘’Thanks,’’ you said, slightly out of breath.
The doors slid shut, leaning you alone with Dean.
‘’Cutting it close, Coach.’’
You glanced at him, standing near the back wall in a pair of jeans and his team hoodie. Team merch was mandatory for outings on away games.
‘’I couldn’t find my team jacket,’’ you explained. ‘’I think I left it at home.’’
Dean's gaze drifted over your outfit, lingering on the lace of your bra that was slightly peaking from your half buttoned cardigan. It must have moved during your little jog. ‘’Should’ve shot me a text. You could have borrowed mine.’’ A smirk curved on his lips — the one that everyone folded at.
Players’ jackets had their name and number on them. Your father would have an aneurism if he saw you in the lobby wearing that. Especially Dean’s. Your old man knew about his bunny hopping reputation.
After emptying your whole bag, you settled for a blue ribbon in your hair. It was better than nothing.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened, cutting your conversation short.
Dean motioned for you to go first. ‘’After you, Coach.’’
You shot him a look over your shoulder. ‘’Such a gentleman.’’
His smirk deepened. ‘’Only when Coach Jensen around.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
The Girls
Gracie: I have a favor to ask. Do you think you can save us a spot close to the bench for the game? I don’t want to sit with the bunnies…
Hannah: The bunnies are not the issue. It’s Hollis’ girl
Gracie: She’s not Hollis’s girl. She’s obsessed with him! It’s different
Hannah: That’s a bit far fetched, Grace…
You: Hollis has a girl? Since when? 👀
Gracie: She’s not!
Hannah: Garrett said they went on a date last week
Gracie: What?! 😲
Gracie: Is he looking to end up on a true crime podcast?
Hannah: Rupi is a freshman girl who’s ‘in love’ with a hockey player. She’s not the next Jodi Arias
You: Can someone catch me up? I’m not following
Gracie: There’s this girl named Rupi and she’s obsessed with Mike Hollis. She sat next to me at the last game and she had a shirt with his name and kept asking questions about him. I love weird, but this is too weird for me to handle…
You: And Hollis went on a date with her?
Hannah: According to Garrett
You were mid typing when your phone screen changed to an incoming video call from Dean. A shirtless Dean. He was laying on his bed, his blond hair splayed on the pillow.
‘’Have you lost your fucking mind?!’’ you whispered, trying to not wake your father in the other bed.
He gave you his signature grin. ‘’Is the big bad wolf sleeping yet?’’
You glared at him. ‘’Don’t call him that.’’
Dean’s grin only widened at your glare, like a golden retriever who knew exactly how much trouble he was in but didn’t care one bit. The camera shook slightly as he adjusted it, propping his phone on the pillow beside him so you could see all of him: bare chest glistening from his shower, that infuriatingly perfect jawline, and those stupidly blue eyes full of mischief.
‘’Relax,’’ he whispered back at you, voice low and teasing like he always did when he knew your father might hear.
If he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t be relaxed. You may be an adult, but mingling with the players outside the ice was strictly forbidden. It was work etiquette. If your father caught you talking to Dean, it would be over for your internship.
‘’What do you want?’’
You tried to not look too happy to see him, but in reality all you wanted to do was run down the hallway to his room and kiss him.
Dean lifted one arm above his head in a lazy stretch, the kind that showed off biceps and shoulders like they were part of an ad campaign for hockey muscle. ‘’I’m just bored. Birdy is sleeping already. And snoring. Can you hear?’’
A soft laugh left your lips. Even through the phone, you could hear the faint rumble in the background. The guy really did snore like a bull.
You carefully pushed the blankets off your legs and sat up, glancing toward the other bed. Your father hadn't moved an inch.
Good.
Cradling your phone against your chest, you slipped out of bed and padded quietly across the hotel room. The carpet muffled your footsteps as you made your way to the bathroom. You eased the door shut behind you and clicked on the vanity light, bathing the small space in a warm yellow glow.
‘’You coming over tomorrow? The game is early so we won’t be home late.’’ His voice softened slightly, like the question mattered more than he wanted to admit.
‘’We’ll see how many goals you score,’’ you replied, sitting on the edge of the tub.
Dean's eyebrows shot up. ‘’I need to score goals to get you now?’’
You hummed. ‘’My time has a price, Playboy.’’
He let out a dramatic sigh and dropped his head back against the pillow. ‘’Two goals.’’
‘’Three.’’
His eyes narrowed. ‘’Three? You drive a hard bargain.’’
‘’Sounds like a skill issue.’’
Dean barked out a laugh. ‘’Fine.’’
· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·
With your head held high, you walked down the tunnel beside your father and toward the bench as the boys spilled onto the ice for warmups. The arena buzzed with the energy of students and fans filling the stands and the sharp sound of skates cutting across fresh ice.
You could feel pairs of eyes watching — judging —, but you kept your expression calm and composed. You belonged here just as much as anyone else behind that bench.
‘’Show them whose blood runs in your veins,’’ your father had said before the game.
You set your clipboard down beside the stack of water bottles, your gaze automatically sweeping across the ice. The boys were already in motion, circling through their warmup drills with the familiar mix of focus and show off that came with being college athletes.
‘’Tucker’s late,’’ you noted.
Your father glanced toward the tunnel, seeing the latter. ‘’By thirty seconds.’’
‘’Still late.’’
A corner of his mouth twitched.
‘’Sorry, Coach. Someone took the laces off my skates…’’ the curly haired left wing explained before getting on the ice.
Across the ice, the opposing team skated out to a chorus of cheers from their home crowd. The energy in the building immediately shifted. Harvard wasn’t the Hawks’ biggest rival, but their goalie was skilled. You’ve seen him in action on videos and it was pretty impressive. Their center, however, had an Achilles heel: he got frustrated easily.
Most players were good at hiding it. He wasn’t. The moment a game stopped going his way, his discipline slipped. He chased hits he didn’t need to make, took unnecessary risks with the puck, and started jawing at opponents instead of focusing on the play. It wasn’t enough to get him thrown out of games, but it was enough to throw him off.
And tonight, you intended to exploit it.
You flipped through the notes on your clipboard one last time as the siren went off and the boys gathered behind the bench. Coach had already explained their game plan in the locker room, but you wanted to add one thing.
‘’Keep pressure on twenty-one all night,’’ you said.
Several players glanced your way.
‘’Finish your checks. Nothing dirty. Nothing stupid. Just make him work for every inch of ice.’’
Erm...Rhaena, what the hell was that, girl?! Taking an untrained wild dragon to battle.... I understand that you wanted to help, but we all knew it was a shit idea
Dean's long distance girlfriend is at Briar for a game
Another little blurb
Summary: Dean's New York girlfriend is at Briar to see a Hawks game
When you and Dean became official over the summer, his friends didn’t believe he was in a relationship. To their eyes, it was impossible that Dean Di Laurentis, the man who never hooked up with the same girl twice, the man who once had twin sisters coming out of his room at 3am, had settled for a girl. One girl.
They had one hell of a surprise when they walked inside Malone’s one Thursday night and saw their defenseman sitting at a booth with a girl that visibly didn’t go to Briar. You stood out like a sore thumb in your luxury sweater and Dior handbag.
Living hours away in New York, you didn’t get to watch Dean play very often, which made nights like this all the more special. No matter how many games you streamed from your dorm room, nothing compared to seeing him on the ice. He moved with a speed that seemed effortless, weaving through defenders as if they were standing still. And then there was the confidence. Dean loved showing off and shoving people against the boards. Players hated to see him coming their way.
‘’Go Dean!’’ you shouted beside Hannah, following him with your eyes as he stole the puck from the opposing team, his skates carving sharp lines into the ice as he charged straight toward the net.
Dean crossed the blue line, keeping the puck just out of reach of a desperate stick check. The goalie squared up in the crease, knees bent and glove raised, tracking his every movement.
Your heart pounded against your ribs.
‘’Come on, baby. Come on.’’
He pulled the puck to his backhand, forcing the goalie to commit, then snapped it back to his forehand in one fluid motion. For a split second, the top corner of the net was wide open.
He fired.
The puck rocketed off his stick.
The red light flashed — goal.
You jumped from your seat with a proud grin, nearly spilling your drink as Hannah grabbed your arm and shook it excitedly.
On the ice, Dean disappeared beneath a pile of teammates near the boards, their gloves pounding against his helmet and shoulder as they celebrated. Then, as the noise continued to roar around you, he lifted his head and looked toward the crowd — toward you — and winked.
You blew him a kiss in return, the dainty gold bracelet he had gifted you glimmering in the light. It had a small ‘D’ pendant that matched the one around his neck with your initial. A simple, yet meaningful jewelry.
A few seats below you, some of the puck bunnies were squealing and jumping, thinking he had winked at them. You chose to ignore them. After all, you were the one who got to kiss him at the end of the day.
The game ended 5 to 2, adding another win to the Hawks’ streak.
You and Hannah gathered your things, making sure you had your bag and jacket, and went down the stands as the players were stepping out of the rink and leaving down the tunnel. Dean was impossible to miss, taller than everyone…and causing a little chaos. He tapped gloves with teammates, giving a playful shove to Tucker — as always — and laughed at something Birdie said.
When his eyes found you waiting by the boards, he made his way over. His cheeks were flushed from the game, blond hair damp beneath his helmet. He lifted the cage up, a lazy smile spread across his face.
‘’Good game,’’ you congratulated, leaning in for a kiss.
You intended to make it quick, but Dean had other plans.
He slipped his tongue in and cupped your face, standing a little over a foot above you in his skates. He kissed you slow and unhurried, not caring that you were being watched by people. Behind him, some guys from the team wolf-whistled, but Dean didn't care.
‘’You’re blocking the way, Di Laurentis!’’ someone called at him.
Instead of stepping away, he lifted you clean off your feet with one arm, causing a startled laugh to escape you, and headed down the tunnel.
‘’Dean, put me down,’’ you demanded, clinging to his neck despite knowing he would never drop you. As you did, you noticed the matching pendant around his neck peeking out from beneath his gear, making you smile.
Dean has gone m.i.a. since Joanna’s call. The next time you see him is at Beau’s funerals
Blueberry pancakes
Dean wakes up to you making pancakes for the house. Breakfast turns into making out in the kitchen…and Logan and Tucker are not having it
The call | Maxwell!Reader * (part 2)
You and Dean were together when you got the call
Drunk karaoke Graham!Reader
Garrett’s sister makes questionable decisions during karaoke night and sort of exposes her and Dean’s secret
Favorite crime
Dean gets arrested after punching Hunter Davenport at Malone's
Running back to you
You and Dean broke up. You get in another relationship in the hope of getting over him, but when The Fifth Line announce that Dean gets injured at a game, you run to him
Womanizer | Maxwell!Reader * (part 1)
Dean finds out what song you set as his ringtone
John Logan
Cat Daddy Logan
You have car problems and call Logan to your rescue
I'm gonna get you back | Ice skater!Reader
You broke up with Logan...but you want him back
Winning goal reward *
Logan gets a reward after scoring the winning goal
This one is on the shorter side, but bite size can be fun too
Summary: Garrett’s sister makes questionable decisions during karaoke night and sort of exposes her and Dean’s secret
Warnings: drunk!reader, secret situationship
After an hour, the three raspberry margaritas you had chained with Allie were starting to hit and the karaoke stage was calling your name. You debated for a long time which song to pick. Ariana Grande was calling your name, but you didn’t master the whistle note. You almost chose something from Taylor Swift’s immense catalogue, but went for the latter’s Eras Tour first act instead.
Hannah and Allie cheered as Jules announced you as the next performer.
You walked up the small stage, trying to not stumble on the way, and took the mic. The music quickly began and you had to suppress your giggles.
‘’I get wet at the thought of you,’’ you sang, the first line echoing in the diner. ‘’Being a responsible guy. Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs.’’
You continued singing and fully committing to your flirty little act as you searched for Dean in the crowd. He hadn’t called you in over a week, so you wanted to remind him of what he was missing. It was much easier than to call him first.
Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected that. One second he was watching some sophomore butcher a classic rock song on karaoke. The next, you were up there in your figure hugging corset top, mic in hand, and singing like Madona’s Just like a prayer music video.
His pants may have tightened the moment those first lyrics left your lips.
‘’A little respect for women can get you very, very far. Remembering how to use your phone gets me oh so, oh so, oh so hot. Considering I have feelings, I'm like, "Why are my clothes still on?". Offering to do anything, I'm like, "Oh my God".’’ You bit your finger in a flirty way as you locked eyes with Dean, then flipped your hair.
It was a blessing that Garrett had left for the bathroom because he would not have liked your performance. At all. Especially who it was intended for.
‘’I get wet at the thought of you.’’ You pointed at Dean who was shaking his head amusedly, flirting right at him through every line like an open challenge wrapped in sugar and sass. ‘’Being a responsible guy. Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs.’’
You kept your gaze on him through the chorus, swaying dramatically to the music.
‘’I get wet at the thought of you. Being a responsible guy. Treating me like you're supposed to do. Tears run down my thighs…dancebreak.’’
And you really did take a dance break, taking Allie’s hand and dancing with her and then moving to Hannah, the two girls equally tipsy.
Logan whistled low under his breath beside Dean, his eyes following your moves. ‘’Damn. Didn’t know little Graham had it in her.’’
Tucker hit Logan’s shoulder. ‘’Don’t let G hear that if you want to stay in the team. You know what he said about her.’’
Davenport vs Dean fight and his girlfriend's reaction
I changed a bit of the backstory between Hunter Davenport, reader and Dean so it would fit the story better
Enter your name here if you want to be on the TAGLIST
Summary: Dean gets arrested after punching Hunter at Malone's
Warnings: violence,
Dean had an arm around you, his hand dangerously grazing the lower part of your stomach just above your skirt, as he drank his beer and listened to Beau recalling his two goals at tonight’s game. He may not have scored the winning goal — that one was all Logan —, but his best friend made him sound like he was the greatest player on that ice.
‘’It’s mostly talent,’’ Dean explained, speaking like he was doing an interview. ‘’But I also have to thank my beautiful good luck charm in the stands.’’ He kissed your cheek and rubbed your skin absentmindedly with his thumb. ‘’Doesn’t she look fucking hot wearing my number?’’
You laughed softly at his antics.
Many girls had worn his number during games. It was nothing new. But seeing you wearing it felt different. You were his girl. And this was his away-game jersey, not some Hawks merch everyone could buy. When Dean saw you wearing it in the stands, his brain short-circuited and he promised himself that he would fuck you in only that jersey later tonight.
Malone’s bell door chimed and a guy with dark hair walked in. He nodded at a few guys he must have recognized as he peeled off his jacket, revealing a long sleeve polo shirt. Needless to say, his preppy style stood out in the diner.
Your hand tightened around your drink when you saw him smiling flirtaciously at a girl who walked by. ‘’Oh shit.’’
Feeling the shift in your attitude, Dean pivoted in the direction you were looking at, his eyes landing on Hunter Davenport.
‘’Isn’t that—’’ Beau began, but Dean was already moving before he could finish his question.
This was not good.
You went after him, knowing Dean would start shit.
Hunter and you went out for a short time in the summer. What you didn’t know was that he and Dean used to play on the same hockey team in high school, and therefore knew each other. So when Dean saw you were tagged in a picture with Davenport, he felt territorial. Because even though you weren’t exclusive at the time, you were his girl.
‘’The fuck are you doing here?’’ Dean asked, standing like he owned the place.
Hunter gave him a cocky smile. ‘’I heard your team needs saving.’’
You reached for Dean’s arm, trying to guide him away, but he didn’t budge.
‘’Get the fuck out of here. We don’t need you.’’
Hunter turned to Logan, who was sitting at a small table close by. ‘’Hey, Logan. You said this was his idea.’’
Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, outrage flaring in his veins. ‘’You said what?!’’
‘’Hey, what the hell is going on?’’ Garrett intervened, standing up from the booth he was sitting with Hannah and coming to see what had Dean riled up.
‘’Uh, you weren’t there,’’ Logan explained simply. ‘’I had to make a call.’’
‘’I’m not skating with this prick!’’ Dean said firmly, pointing a finger at Hunter.
‘’Aw, you’re scared I’m gonna dust your ass again?’’ Hunter taunted, adding fuel to the fire that was about to catch.
Dean turned back to him. ‘’You want to try?’’ His tone was cocky and challenging, which only meant trouble.
You glanced at Beau, begging him with your eyes to do something.
‘’Yeah, I do.’’
Dean shoved him first. ‘’I’d like to see you fucking try.’’
‘’Get out of my face.’’ Hunter shoved him back.
Then, Dean charged at him.
The impact sent both of them crashing into a nearby table. Bottles rattled and hit the floor, glass breaking and beer spilling. Hunter swung first, landing a solid punch against Dean’s jaw that snapped his head to the side. The latter barely reacted. Playing on defense, he was used to getting roughed up on the ice.
In retaliation, Dean grabbed Hunter by the front of his shirt and drove him backward into the wall. The picture frame hanging there fell with a crash.
‘’Dean!’’ you shouted.
People were gathering around them, watching and cheering and filming with their phones. This fight was going to get Dean in major trouble…
Hunter recovered fast and swung. His fist connected with Dean’s jaw.
The room went silent.
‘’Come on,’’ Dean spat. ‘’That all you got?’’
The next few seconds were a blur of swinging fists and crashing furniture. Hunter managed to get several hits in — one to Dean’s jaw, another to his shoulder — but every punch seemed to make Dean angrier.
Dean landed a brutal shot to Hunter’s stomach that doubled him over. Before Hunter could straighten, Dean grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall again.
‘’Jesus Christ,’’ Beau muttered, standing with the rest of the crowd and watching as Logan and Tucker tried to hold back Dean.
Garrett went to Hunter, trying to break the fight, but Dean was giving his two teammates a run for their money, escaping their grip and throwing another at Hunter.
Someone was screaming for them to break it up — probably one of the employees —, but it fell on deaf ears.
The front door suddenly burst open and two officers came in, taking the situation to a whole other level of trouble.
