Claire ☆

Big note:

This blog is anti-MAGA, anti-ICE, pro Palestine, and stands for the women in Afghanistan and all across the world. Also fuck AI.

General info:

Hello! I'm Claire! I'm new to posting, although I've been writing for a while. I love tv, movies, books, and other forms of media. I'm 18 and starting college soon (pray for me 😭), so I'm hoping to write a lot more and keep posting consistently.

Who I write for:

I love a lot of fandoms, so I'll write for a lot of people. I love Off Campus, Overcompensating, Marvel, DC, The Boys, The Pitt, Invincible, and many other shows/movies. I also love music, and I'll write for celebrities! Some of my favorite artists are Katseye, Djo, Don Toliver, Laufey, and Conan Gray. Just request someone and I'll let you know if I can write for them:)

Rules:

I will not tolerate hate on my page of any kind. If I see someone spreading hate, I have no problem blocking and reporting them. Any hate on the basis of sexuality, gender, religious beliefs, race, interests, or anything else you can think of is not permitted on my blog. Also, I will likely write more stuff with smut. I will mark it to let you guys know. Minors, do NOT interact with anything marked as inappropriate. I will also write things safe for younger people/platonic. I won't write anything that has the following:

CNC, scat/piss, minors, detailed gore, hate speech, or abuse/cruelty.

Note:

Thank you so much for interacting with me! I love writing and I'm so glad that I can share with people who love my work:) If you have any questions for me, you can ask them and I'll answer! Have an amazing day/night!

Masterlist:

Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

pt3!!!

Note: guys I'm so inspired. I want to write at least one more part. as always, let me know what you think!

CW: complex family dynamics, smut, piv, doggystyle, oral, kink shaming (in a funny way), angst, swearing, cliffhanger...?

Minors, absolutely do not interact!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You feel consciousness stroking you awake like a gentle hand, humming a bit in your throat as you stir. You feel a warm buzz of pleasure in your body, specifically between your legs.

Wait-

You sit up on your elbows, pulling your comforter to the side.

Dean is on his belly, his face between your legs as he eats you out with gusto. At your sharp inhale, he looks up, already smiling.

"Good. You're awake. Sit on my face?" he asks, a pout on his wet lips.

You laugh and shake your head. "Dean, I wouldn't even know what to do up there. I'm unexperienced with stuff like that."

He crawls back to the head of the bed, lying down with his head on his pillow. He grabs your hand gently. "All you do is sit on my face, moan a bit, and then cum. Easy. I'm doing the work." he explains softly.

At your hesitant nod, he grins, pulling you up until your knees are on either side of his head. He grabs you by the fat of your ass, pulling you down until you're sitting directly on his face. He inhales deeply. "I love this." he says reverently.

You gasp, instinctively rocking your hips against his mouth. He moans in encouragement, helping you move with his own hands. His tongue, one of your favorite parts of him now, finds your entrance, prodding it gently.

"Oh shit, Dean. Baby. Fuck!" you moan, gripping the headboard to keep yourself upright. You look down at him to make sure you haven't suffocated him.

Judging by the blissed out smile on his face, he's right where he wants to be. His eyes are closed, hips bucking up into the air for any stimulation to ease the ache in his boxers.

His teeth graze your clit gently, his tongue immediately soothing the pain right after.

You gasp into her fist again, feeling the tell-tale churning in your stomach. You rock against his face again, needing to find that release.

When Dean tongue pushes past your entrance, you curse loudly, head thrown back. Your slick, warm and wet, gushes all over his face.

Finally, he lets you down, smiling smugly. "I'm doing that every day from now on." he promises.

At your exasperated laugh, he leans over to kiss you. You're about to go for round two when your mom knocks on the door.

"Sweetie? Are you okay? I know last night was rough."

You sigh, looking at Dean's equally devastated face. "I'm okay, Mom! I'll be down in a bit!" you call out.

Once you finally hear her footsteps leaving, you sit up. Dean smiles at you from his position lying in bed. He winks sultrily. "Let's get back to the sexy stuff."

You roll your eyes and stand, not caring about her nakedness. She ignores his groan as she walks over to her dresser. "What time does our flight leave today?"

He sighs and reaches over to the nightstand for his phone. He looks at it for a minute, then speaks. "Six in the evening."

He stands, walking over to you. "We have two hours of air time to join the mile high club, you know." he murmurs.

You turn, pushing fresh clothes towards him. "Go shower, Casanova. You reek."

He laughs, stealing a kiss before walking out.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"Do you really have to go? You could stay one more night." your mom suggests anxiously, watching you and Dean put your bags into the back of his rental car.

You smile sadly, walking over to your mom. "We have to be at Dean's family's place for dinner tomorrow night."

She sighs and nods, hugging you tightly. "I love you, sweetheart. Please stay safe."

She turns to Dean, smiling softly. "Goodbye, son. I hope I see you again soon." she says, hugging him as well.

He smiles, rubbing her back softly. "You will, Marcia, promise." he says earnestly. She beams up at him and pinches his cheek affectionately.

Finally, you turn to your dad. He stands there stiffly, uncomfortable with emotional moments. You laugh and hug him. He finally relaxes and gives you a big hug back.

After you step back, he shakes hands with Dean one last him. He looks worried. "You'll take care of her?" he asks.

Dean nods, fully serious. "Yes, sir."

Your dad nods and finally steps back. "Have fun, you two. Use protection, please."

When your eyes widen, your mom laughs, slapping her husband's arm. "Oh, stop. They're young and in love."

Dean laughs awkwardly, nodding along to her words.

Finally, you two get into the car and head down the road.

You sigh sadly, causing Dean to look over. "You good?"

You nod, picking at your fingernails. "I going to miss them. I've spent so long avoiding them, that I forgot how much I love them."

Dean nods, understanding your complicated feelings. "Yeah, I get that. Me and my dad have a much better relationship when it's reduced to monthly phone calls."

You laugh, looking over at him. "You call your dad?"

His nose scrunches and he nods. "Yeah? What else did you expect?"

You shrug, laughing softly. "Like, a casual email? Maybe a WhatsApp message."

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "You have really messed up notions of rich people, honey."

You grin, leaning over to press your lips to his cheek. "I'm working on that."

He turns his head to kiss you, moaning against your lips.

You pull back, slapping his arm. "Eyes on the road!"

He grins, turning back reluctantly.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

After your 3 hour flight to NYC, you both finally get to his family’s penthouse.

And it's... lavish, to say the least.

Dean laughs when he sees your open-mouthed awe at his home. He leans over and kisses your cheek softly. "Let's go." he murmurs.

You guys grab your bags, head inside, and check in with the concierge. At the top floor, Dean grabs your hand.

"My family is... tough," he admits, looking over at you. He looks worried, that familiar crease in between his brows prominent.

You nod, squeezing his hand gently. "We got this. Let not fight this time, though."

He laughs and nods as well, leaning over to kiss you.

When you lean into the kiss, he presses you back against the elevator bay wall, cupping your hip with a large hand.

Finally, you pull away, eyes half-lidded from making out. "Dean, we're about to meet your family." you remind him.

He sighs, his head dropping down to rest against your shoulder. He kisses your collarbone briefly before looking up. "Okay, yeah. Let's go."

At the door to the actual family quarters, he knocks twice.

The door swings open, his father standing there in black slacks and a white button up. He looks like a much older version of Dean, with blonde hair streaked with grey and lines around his eyes.

"Hi, Dad. I'm... here." Dean says lamely. When you clear your throat expectantly, he sighs and introduces you to his dad. "This is my girlfriend. I told you about her."

His father nods, looking down at you. He offers a smile, so you offer one as well.

Finally, he steps back. "Well, come in." he says.

When you guys walk inside, Summer, Dean's sister, shrieks and throws herself into Dean's arms. He laughs, hugging her back. "Hey!"

Summer finally looks up, catching sight of you. She looks at Dean and raises her eyebrows. "Who is this? Your flavor of the week?"

Dean rolls his eyes, setting her down. "No. This is my girlfriend."

Summer's eyebrows raise. "I thought you were joking about that," she admits, walking over to you. "She's sorta plain."

You immediately look at Dean and mouth to him. What the fuck?

He sighs and wraps an arm around your waist. "She's beautiful. And you should be nicer to your future sister-in-law."

Summer snorts, rolling her own eyes as she walks towards the living room. "Sure, Dean. I'll see how long she lasts."

Once she's out of earshot, you turn to Dean. "Is she always that unpleasant? I didn't even say anything to her."

He nods, leaning over to kiss your forehead in apology. "She's not very fond of outsiders in our family," he says a sigh.

You sigh as well, steeling yourself to be around this family for three whole days.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"Fuck! Dean!"

He laughs, kissing down your neck as he thrusts into you, his elbows holding him up above you. He bites your collarbone, groaning into the skin as you clench around him.

His bed, a giant monstrosity with thousands of pillows, trembles with the force of his movements.

One of your hands is on his shoulder, gripping the muscles tightly. The other is clenched in his sheets as you try not to come.

He drags his lips up your neck, over your jaw, all the way to your mouth. He doesn't kiss yet, just rests there. "Fuck, pretty. Come for me?" he pleads, his movements speeding up.

You whine, back arching, when he hits that spot inside you.

He suddenly pulls out with a pop, causing you to gasp. "Dean?"

He is panting, looking down at your naked body with pure admiration. He reaches down and manhandles you onto your hands and knees.

He groans at the curve of your ass in his hands, his palms tracing your skin. "So pretty, baby. My pretty girl," he croons, kissing your lower back.

He slaps your ass once, chuckling at the sound you let out.

Finally, he nudges his tip back to the entrance of your hole, taking a deep breath before he pushes in. The immediate tightness makes him moan, teeth clenching so he doesn't come prematurely.

He starts out slow, letting you get used to the new angle. When you start to moan in earnest, he speeds up, his hips smacking against your ass.

He holds onto your waist with both hands while he pounds into you, panting and groaning your name.

He reaches up and grabs your hair, pulling towards him firmly. At your gasp, he pulls a little tighter.

Finally, he can't hold back. He leans over your body, his chest to your back, and pounds you harshly.

You scream into his pillow, your hips squirming uselessly.

When he feels you cum, he lets go as well. He stills, moaning your name desperately as he pulses and leaks inside you. "Fuck yes. Fuckkk... baby..."

When he pulls out, you slump into the mattress, dead to the world. He grins at his handiwork, pulling his boxers on. He goes to get you a damp rag.

Once he's cleaned you up, he lies in bed next to you. When you rest your chin on his chest, he looks down at you lazily. "Hm?"

You kiss his chest, mustering up the courage to ask your question. "Would you... be opposed to me calling you daddy in bed?"

Dean immediately laughs, his nose scrunching. "Ew? Daddy kink? Baby, no."

When you pout, embarrassed, he sighs in resignation. "Fine. But only if I can call you mommy."

You laugh, lying down on your side. "Okay, fine. I see how it's weird."

He grins too, leaning over to kiss you. "We're made for each other, cringy kinks and all," he murmurs.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The next evening is Christmas Eve, which means a Di Laurentis family dinner. And more glares from Summer.

You're eating your food, mostly trying to stay out of conversation. Dean's dad is telling you all an anecdote about this Wall Street tycoon he met, who played terrible tennis. It's almost as boring as listening to Victoria yap about wedding plans.

Almost.

Finally, Dean's mom turns to you. "So, tell us about your major. Philosophy, right? Deanie told us on the phone."

You nod, setting your fork down. "Uh, yeah. Philosophy is basically just asking the why behind things. Like thinking about why we think the color red is red. It's a bit confusing."

She nods, chewing thoughtfully. After she swallows, she asks another question. "What sorts of jobs are in the market with a philosophy degree?"

You pause, wincing. "None. Your best bet is to either go to law school or get your PhD. I chose the former."

She looks impressed. "Really? What were you thinking? Harvard or Columbia?"

You shake your head, finally interested in talking about yourself. "Chicago, actually."

Summer scoffs, looking down at her phone. "Seriously? Dean, I hope you actually get a job."

You set your fork down firmly. "Excuse me?"

She looks up, glaring. "You heard me. Chicago is basically a community college in law school terms. You're better off working for a non-profit."

You stand, your chair scooting back. "Okay, I'm finished."

Dean's mom sighs at Summer. "You're so unpleasant," she says before looking back at you. "Please stay for dessert. We really like you."

At Dean's pleading gaze, you nod and sit back down, avoiding Summer's glare.

As they bring out dessert, tiny cakes with carefully piped frosting, you wonder if you signed up for more than you could handle.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"I just adore your dress. It's very... middle-class fancy." Dean's aunt says, looking at your black cocktail dress with barely-hidden judgement.

You sigh, looking around the party for your fake boyfriend. As soon as the first guests started arriving for the Christmas party, he had gone to network.

You finally catch sight of his blonde locks. He is chatting with a group of older men, laughing as one of them talks expressively.

You walk over, taking his arm so he'll notice you. When he looks down, you smile sweetly. "Hey."

He smiles too, a soft one, murmuring back to you. "Hey."

He introduces you to the men, watching them all shake your hand. He proudly wraps an arm around your waist, watching you melt into his warmth.

From this angle, he can see down your dress, at the cleavage that he knows well by now.

Last night, after all of Summer's insults, you hadn't been in the mood. He can feel the unresolved tension building up now.

He slowly leans over, his lips brushing your ear. "Let's go upstairs?"

When you nod, he grins and gently takes your hand, leading you to the stairs.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"That was amazing." you sigh, your naked body against his.

He grins down at you, admiring your breasts that he had practically been glued to during your love making.

"I agree. You're amazing." he says reverently.

You laugh, blushing a bit. "Shut up."

He laughs as well, shaking his head. "No, I mean it. I... I love you."

You freeze, looking at his face. You sit up slowly, pulling his comforter up to cover your chest. "What?"

He swallows nervously but doesn't back down. "I love you. Like, in a genuine way."

You shake your head in disbelief. "Dean, this... this isn't real."

His eyes go wide, a bit glassy as tears gather. "Baby. We've been having sex-"

"Yeah, sex. Because we both like sex. You're Dean Di Laurentis. You don't fall in love," you say, repeating what you've heard for four years straight on campus.

"I did. I love you. What will it take for you to believe me?" he asks desperately.

"Nothing. Because I don't. And I don't want to. I..." you falter, unsure if you want to lie. But what other choice do you have? You don't want to get your heart broken. "I don't love you. I barely tolerated you a week ago."

The tears that had been gathering in his eyes fell then, streaking down his face in little rivers of devastation. You wince, looking down at your hands.

"I'm gonna go. I'll book a hotel room and then fly back to Boston tomorrow. Tell your family that, I don't know, Summer drove me away." you say, finally.

He nods mutely, still too devastated to even speak.

You get off the bed, pulling on shorts and a t-shirt from your bag. You pack everything else up, making sure you grabbed your toothbrush and mascara.

You manage to sneak downstairs without the partygoers seeing you. At the door, you hesitate, torn between your common sense and your feelings for the guy upstairs.

Finally, you slip out into the hallway, choosing the coward's way, leaving behind the man you love and the future you had been building.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

~3k words

Note: I went through a bit of a rut this chapter, if I'm being honest. I apologize for posting so late! Regardless, I enjoyed writing it once I got more inspiration. There will only be one more chapter, and then I'm going to start working on other projects. I hope you guys liked this one, and as always let me know!

xo, claire

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me too anon trust 😭🙏🏼

i was lowk getting mad as i wrote the scene where the mom laughs at Victoria’s “joke.” 😅

I honestly think that her mom is the main person who enables Victoria to act that way, but I wouldn’t judge the mom too much yet…

Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

Pt. 2!!!

Note: thank you so much for the support 🥹🫶🏼 I didn't expect my post to be so successful! I appreciate all of you so much! let me know if you like this part. your encouragement gives me motivation to keep writing:)

CW: cheating/betrayal, family issues, smut, piv, fingering, oral, hair pulling, angst, a fight

MDNI please!

Pt3 is available!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"So you're telling me that you went to surprise this guy, found him screwing your sister, and still tried to fix things?"

Dean is gaping at you from across the table, a piece of toast in his hand. As soon as you two had sat down at Malones, he had begged to hear about how your sister had stolen your boyfriend.

"He wasn't screwing her. Don't be crude. They were making out." you mutter, stirring your oatmeal.

He sighs and pats your hand comfortingly. "It's okay. You've got me now."

You laugh, looking up. "That's... great. Thanks."

He grins and winks, taking a bite of his toast. "So..." he starts, swallowing, "what are the rules you made up?"

You nod, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You tap on your notes app, pulling up the list you had compiled after you got home last night.

"Rule one, this is a one time deal." you say, watching him nod thoughtfully. "Rule two, absolutely no one can know that this is fake. It's embarrassing.

He scrunches his nose up in offense. "Hey-"

"Rule three," you interrupt, "no sex between us."

He sighs and nods. "There goes one of my plans to assert my dominance." he says, feigning sadness.

You snort and shake your head, setting your phone down.

He grins, dimples flashing, when he hears your snort. "Cute." he remarks, resting his chin on his hand as he looks at you.

You shake your head, blushing a bit at his gaze. "Anyways, whose car are we taking? We have to go from Boston to Wisconsin to New York. That's a lot of driving." you say, already dreading it. The ride from Boston to Stockholm alone is almost a full day.

He pulls a face. "We aren't. I booked us both tickets to Minneapolis for two, and we can drive from there. It's only like two hours away from your family's house. We'll pull up in time for dinner." he says nonchalantly, like he didn't just single-handedly bankroll your entire trip.

You blink at him, spoon hovering in the air near your mouth. "You mean to tell me that you're having money troubles but you just so happened to drop four hundred dollars on plane tickets?" you ask, setting your spoon down.

He shrugs, smirking a bit. "Three hundred, technically. And I'm just investing in our relationship, baby. I expect a huge return once my dad sees how well I treat you." he says, winking.

You fake gag, laughing a bit. "Please don't ever try to flirt with me again." you quip playfully.

"Anyways, I'll meet you at the airport after my last final. I have one of the latest classes, so I get out at twelve. We can get airport lunch or something." you assert, grabbing your bag.

He nods eagerly and stands, setting down two twenties on the table. You set down your own ten. "I got myself." you say, watching him pout.

"Absolutely not. Keep your money." he demands, taking your hand. He puts the ten in your open palm, closing your fingers around it.

You both look up, eyes locking. He smiles at you softly. "Pretty..."

You laugh again, breaking the moment, stepping back. "Okay. I'll see you in five days. You have my number, right?"

He nods, closing his wallet. "Yeah, I got Hannah to send it to me. She had it from a study group you guys were in."

You nod, turning to walk away. His voice stops you.

"No kiss goodbye?" he teases, half expecting you to flip him off.

You grin and turn, walking over to him. Your arms go around his neck, fingers threading through his blonde locks. You pull him down, your lips brushing his lightly.

When you pull back, his lips instinctively chase yours. He opens his eyes, lips still puckered. He laughs slightly when he sees your face.

"Fuck. I need to stay away from you." he murmurs, watching you pull away.

You wink, copying his earlier gesture, and walk away. "Good luck with that, boyfriend." you call out as you open the door.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Dean hates airport fries. Soggy, overpriced, unsalted. Yuck. He's just about to chuck his tray into the nearest garbage can when he spots you.

Shit. He needs to get a grip. He can't be sexually attracted to his fake girlfriend.

He grins at you, leaning back in his seat appreciatively. "Damn. Fashionably late." he murmurs, looking at your body clad in a cream sweater and a pair of jeans.

He grins when you brush off his compliment with an eye roll, sitting beside him with two slices of deli pizza in your hand. You offer him one. "I hope you brought drinks."

He nods and pulls two bottles of Dr. Pepper from his bag, handing you one. You two sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating your pizza before it gets cold.

Finally, Dean stands, crumpling his napkin up. "I'm gonna go check us in. Do you have your tags?" he asks. When you nod and hand them over, he smiles handsomely. "I'll be back, sweetheart." he says before be leaves.

He smiles to himself, a tiny one, as he hears you scoff behind his back.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

20 minutes.

20 minutes have passed since Dean went to check you two in. You've never been to an airport before, but you're pretty sure it doesn't take that long.

Maybe there's a line, you think as you stand, grabbing your carry on bag. You head in the direction that you saw him walk in.

You get to the front desk of your terminal, looking around for a familiar head of blonde hair. You spot him standing by the wall, head tilted down as he talks to someone.

Someone who happens to be a girl. A pretty one.

She smiles up at him, eyes shining with the look of someone currently falling into Dean's charms.

You feel your heart clench, a pit forming in your stomach. The feeling is odd, considering he technically isn't your boyfriend, but you can't ignore it.

You walk over to the pair, watching as the girl's eyes flick to you. Dean follows her gaze, and his eyes widen.

You wrap your arm around his waist, smiling up at him. "Who's this? New friend?" you ask casually, looking over at the girl.

She smiles awkwardly, glaring at Dean. She makes a random excuse about being late and slips away.

Dean looks down at you, brow furrowed. "Wow. That was cold, baby." he says, trying to be teasing.

You pull away, turning to the desk. "Don't call me that."

His smile fades and he follows you. "I'm sorry. She started talking to me, asked me for my Snap-"

You turn on him. "And you just can't help yourself, Dean. Don't worry, I expected nothing else." you snap at him.

His eyes, so big and blue, widen even more. He pouts a bit at your tone. "I'm sorry. Really."

You sigh at his words, rubbing your hand over your face. "It's fine. I don't care. Just... don't do that when we land, okay?"

He nods, expression brightening. He reaches for your hand, tugging you towards the front desk. "C'mon, we'll be late for boarding. Wisconsin here we come!"

You laugh quietly at his antics, your bruised ego already healing.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Three hours on a plane and two hours in the car later, you're pulling up to your parents' house. It's seven in the evening, already dark outside.

Dean helps you with your bags, carrying both of your large duffels. You laugh when he nearly trips on a rock in the dark. "Idiot."

He limps dramatically up the steps of the patio, pouting at your words. You join him, watching as he examines his shoe in the dim porch light.

"You do realize that shoes aren't meant to be sterile, right? It's okay if you got some mud on them." you tease, ringing the doorbell.

He looks up, grinning. "Hey, sue me for wanting to look good for your folks. Do you want me to impress them or not?" he asks, leaning in.

Your noses brush, smiles on both of your faces. You're seconds away from making the biggest mistake of your life and closing the distance.

The front door opens, your mom catching you two in the middle of... whatever the hell this is.

Both of you turn suddenly to face her, eyes wide, breath coming in short pants.

She smiles, looking between you both. "Wow. Hello, come in! It's cold out here."

Once you're inside, the warmth of your childhood home warming your bones, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Despite all of the shitty sister drama, you love your family.

Dean walks in behind you, carefully nudging his shoes off in the foyer. He smiles at your mom. "Where can I set these down?" he asks politely.

She waves her hand wildly. "Oh, anywhere. Luke will take them up to you two's room. Wait, are you two sharing a room? One of you can use Victoria's room." she rambles excitedly.

"It's fine, mom. We'll share." you say, not too keen on your fake boyfriend sleeping in your sister's old bedroom. Dean smirks at you and you flip him off behind your mom's back.

Dean sets the bags down beside the doorway to the living room. As soon as he straightens back up, your mom crushes him into a hug. He stumbles a big, his arms wrapping around her noticeably smaller frame.

You smile at the sight. It's sweet, almost makes you wish this were real. No, that's a terrible thought. Dangerous, even. Dean doesn't do relationships. Hell, he hardly repeats hook ups.

You're snapped out of your overthinking when your mom turns her affections onto you. After more hugs, she sets you guys at the table while she whips up some chicken noodle soup.

The backyard door slides open as your dad comes in. He smiles at the sight of his youngest girl, ruffling your hair affectionately. "Hey bug. How was the trip?" he asks.

"Good. Dad, this is Dean. The guy I told you about? He's my... boyfriend." you say, standing as you introduce the two.

Dean also stands, offering your dad his hand to shake. "Hello, sir. It's nice to meet you." he says politely.

Your dad shakes his hand, smiling kindly. The crows feet in the corners of his eyes wrinkle with the movement. "Call me Luke, please. Sir makes me feel as old as I am." he jokes.

Dean laughs, looking over at you fondly. He clearly loves your parents, and they love him already.

Your mom sets two steaming bowls of soup on the table, smiling at you two. "Eat. You two need to sleep, I know you're exhausted."

You nod, sitting back down. Your parents sit down at the other two spots as you both eat gratefully.

Dean catches your eye across the table. You feel electricity rush through you at his heavy gaze.

How are you supposed to spend two weeks with him without falling for his charm?

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Dean stands in your small bathroom, toweling his hair dry after his shower. He pulls on a pair of pajama pants over his briefs.

He exits the bathroom, walking down the short hallway to your bedroom. When he opens the door, you're sitting on the bed in a random t-shirt and sleep shorts. You look up from your phone, gaze zeroing in on his shirtless chest.

He tosses his dirty clothes into your hamper, crawling into the bed beside you. He looks over just as you throw a shirt at him. He peels it off of his face, looking at the fabric, then at you. "The hell?"

You scowl at him. "You're half naked! In my bed!"

He scoffs, looking down at his body. "So? I'm sleeping, not going to town or something. It's fine."

You shake your head, pointing at the shirt. "On. Or you're on the floor. I'm being gracious enough as it is." you command.

He huffs, shaking his head. "You really are bossy." he mutters, pulling his shirt on. He lays down, adjusting your pillow.

You lay down as well, turning your lamp out. The room is blanketed in darkness, the only source of light being the moon through your gauze curtains.

Dean turns to face you. Your back is to him. He hesitantly scoots closer, watching your body for any cues. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

When you don't stiffen, he scoots the tiniest bit closer, his hand finding your hip.

"What are you dong, Dean?" you ask, looking over your shoulder.

He smiles softly and leans up to kiss you. When you don't pull away, he deepens the kiss, his tongue running over your bottom lip.

You moan softly, your hands carding through his hair gently. Your hips tilt up into his touch, craving his affections.

He laughs lowly, pulling away a bit. "You're so fucking beautiful." he murmurs, kissing your jaw, then your neck.

You inhale sharply when he tugs at your shirt, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. Pretty, you think.

At your nod, he tugs the pesky garment up, over your head. His mouth dries out at the sight of your breasts. He leans down, his lips kissing the swell of one.

When you shudder, his lips quickly wrap around your nipple, his tongue laving expertly over the taut bud. He quickly moves to the other one, sucking greedily, soaking in all of your noises. His free hand, the one not currently kneading the fat of your hip, drifts down to his pajama pants, palming his erection.

Finally, he kisses down your body, grinning when you shiver at the pecks.

His lips finally stop at the edge of your panties. He laughs, looking down at the yellow fabric decorated with bananas. He grins devilishly at you. "Cute." he teases.

At your scowl, he laughs again, lowering his head. He kisses your clothed mound, listening to the way your breathing picks up. Perfect.

He places a few more kisses before shifting to take them off. "As much as I would love to tease you for hours, I've dying to taste this pretty pussy since I met you." he murmurs hotly, spreading your thighs. "There she is... so pretty. Look at how she's leaking for me." he says, groaning.

His thumbs spread your labia, his mouth watering at the sight before him. He lowers his mouth and licks you once, teasing.

You moan, looking down at him. "Fuck, Dean. Please." you whimper, panting. When he doesn't lower his head, you grip his hair roughly, nothing like your gentle touches earlier. You shove his head down, between your thighs.

He whimpers, his fingers tightening on your thighs as his lips are pressed to your cunt. He sucks immediately, craving every ounce of your fluids.

His hips rock as he grinds his cock against your mattress, trying to relieve the ache.

Your back arches as you feel his tongue wiggling near your clit. You sit up on your elbows, looking down at him. "Dean, I'm going to cum." you warn.

He looks up briefly, his mouth smeared with your slick. "Yeah? That's sort of the point, baby." he teases, spitting onto your folds before diving in again.

You groan, your head falling back onto your pillows. You pull a plushie, reminiscent of your childhood, over your face as you moan.

Finally, you cum, whimpering his name as he sucks hard.

He leans back up, crawling over your body. His lips, jaw, and cheeks are covered in your cum. He lowers his head, kissing you, smearing it all over your own lips. You don't even care, surprisingly.

When he starts to take his pants off, you place a hand on his chest. "I... I don't know if I want to do... that." you say, embarrassed.

He blinks, nodding immediately. "Of course, baby. Let's just cuddle?" he asks, handing you your discarded shirt.

You accept it gratefully, pulling it on over your chest. "I'm sorry. I don't want to blue ball you... I just haven't done that in a while." you admit.

He smiles softly, wiping his face. "Don't worry. When you're ready, I'm gonna fuck you so good." he promises.

At your laugh, he laughs as well. You both lay down, kissing softly. He lays on his back, watching you doze. He looks down at the tent in his pants, then back at you.

"Hey?" he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes Dean?" you murmur.

"Can I jerk off?"

Your answering kick makes him laugh as he sits up, heading to the bathroom to take care of himself

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You wake up the next morning, pleasantly sore. You look over at the bed beside you, half expecting to see Dean gone. Fuck and chuck.

Except there he is, snoring with his mouth half open, his face buried into your teddy bear.

Much like you were doing last night while he ate you out. You blush at the memory, remembering how good it felt. It isn't surprising, given the amount of practice he's had.

You smile at him softly before elbowing him in the ribs. When he sputters awake, you sit up. "We have to help my parents prepare for dinner tonight. They always go overboard for Christmas."

Dean glares up at you, wiping drool from his chin. "You couldn't have, I don't know, shaken me awake? Maybe kissed me or something?"

You snort. "I'm your girlfriend, not your mommy." you say, standing.

When his eyes track down, you realize that you never actually put your underwear back on last night. You quickly pull your shirt down. "Creep." you mutter.

He laughs, sitting up, watching you waddle to your nightstand. "I literally ate you out last night." he reminds you.

You pull a fresh pair of panties out, along with a maroon sweater and black leggings. As you head to the bathroom, he wolf whistles, winking when you glare at him.

This is going to be a long day.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Nine hours later, the house is ready for Christmas.

You're wearing a nice dress, red with some lace detail. You have on a pair of low, black heels, your hair curled.

Dean has on a sweater, casual jeans, with loafers. Fucking loafers.

You snort at him as he walks into your room.

He frowns, walking over to you. "What? I look good." he says, his hands framing your hips. He ducks his head to kiss your neck, smiling when you shiver.

You look over at him, eyes tracking his face. "You look... posh." you admit, as close to a compliment as you'll give him.

The smile that he gives you makes it sound like you just compared him to a Leonardo DaVinci painting or something. He kisses you softly. "That means a lot, coming from you." he murmurs against your lips.

You're about to reply when the doorbell rings downstairs. You sigh. "That would be her. The devil on earth."

He straightens, kissing you once more. "We got this, baby."

You smile when he laces his fingers with yours, walking you downstairs.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"-And I just love vintage and retro china! It's to die for!"

Vintage and retro mean the same fucking thing, you want to tell your sister, watching her gesticulate wildly as she talks about her wedding.

It's all she's been talking about, really. Flowers and dessert and music and all stuff that you would rather stab yourself with a fork than hear.

By the bored look on Dean's face, you can tell that he feels the same.

Your mother interrupts Victoria, smiling gently. "Sweetheart, aren't you going to ask your sister about her new boyfriend? He's a hockey player." she says, winking at Dean. You almost burst out laughing from the way that he blushes.

Victoria's smiles fades a bit. "Mommy, this is my wedding. She's just dating him. Do we actually think he'll be here long? Honestly, no offense sis, but he'll probably be moved on by next Christmas." she says, voice saccharine and innocent.

Your mom laughs like Victoria just told a joke, trying to ease the tension. Mark looks vaguely sick, trying to catch your eye from across the table without Victoria seeing.

You look down at your plate, pushing food around with your fork. You can't cry, because then you'll look like a drama queen.

A warm hand on your thigh brings you out of your head, Dean's voice cutting through the silence.

"Actually, we've been going pretty strong. Who knows, maybe you won't be the only bride-to-be..." he says, smiling firmly at Victoria.

You watch her jaw clench, eyes flashing with annoyance. "Well... that's... great. Anyways, do you guys like my cranberry sauce? It's homemade. I'm trying to practice for when Mark and I host Christmas in our home."

Dean nods, your mother and father nodding as well. It honestly tastes like stale jello, but you don't say anything. Not until Dean does.

"It's great. Where did you steal the recipe from? Hm?"

Victoria's mouth pops open, Mark choking on his wine. Your mom looks between them and Dean, who is staring at Victoria with an icy calm that you only see when he's facing an opponent in the rink.

When he turns to face you, his breath hitches as you lean up kiss him chastely. You whisper in his ear. "Thank you."

He pulls back and smiles warmly. "I've got you. Always."

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

After you, your mom, and Victoria clean up, you find yourself sitting at your outside fireplace.

You hear footsteps behind you and turn. "That was amazing-"

You cut yourself off when you see Mark standing there instead of Dean. You frown and stub your cigarette out. "What do you want?"

He sighs and looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to apologize for Vic. She's been... difficult." he says sheepishly.

You laugh humorlessly, shaking your head. "She's being a bitch. She always has been." you say spitefully.

He huffs out a laugh and looks up, walking closer. He looks down at you, brown hair in his eyes like when you were kids and in love. "You look good. Happy." he says softly.

You nod, looking down. "I am. Dean is... amazing." you admit softly.

He nods as well, swallowing. "I miss you. A lot. I miss my best friend."

You look up sharply. "Don't say that. You don't get to miss me. Not when I spent two years chasing you while you fucked my sister and led me on." you snap.

His eyes widen, tears filling them. "I'm so sorry." he says, breath catching. "I-"

A hand landing on his shoulder cuts him off. Dean smiles, not politely, at him. "Hey, man. Are you taking my girl hostage?"

Mark steps back, scowling. "No. I can talk to her. She's my-"

"She isn't your anything. You lost that right years ago." he retorts, slipping an arm around your waist.

You look up at him, watching the way his jaw clenches. "Dean, baby, let's go upstairs, yeah? I'm tired." you murmur.

He looks down at you, the tense lines around his eyes softening. "Yeah? Okay. Let's go." he agrees, taking your hand as you start to lead him away.

Mark's voice cuts through the air, sharp and bitter. "I've fucked her too, you know. You aren't special, man. I'm actually surprised she's waited this long before jumping on the nearest guy."

Dean stops, back stiffening. One second, his hand is in yours, the next he's on top of Mark, punching him over and over again.

You run over to the pair, grabbing Dean by the wrist. "STOP! DEAN!" you yell, tugging.

He doesn't, continuing his wrestling with Mark.

The backyard door slides open, your dad rushing out. Victoria and your mom stand on the porch, yelling.

Luke rips Dean off of Mark, yelling for him to stop. Dean finally lets go, immediately searching for you. His lip is bleeding, a long scratch on his cheek oozing blood as well. He already has a bruise forming on his jaw.

You gently cup his face when he walks over to you. "Dean..." you whisper, still shell shocked.

Victoria storms over to you, grabbing Dean by the arm with her nails. "You crazy motherfucker!" she screeches.

Fuck this. She's done too much shit. You tackle her, slapping and hair pulling. She screams, kicking violently.

Dean lets you beat her ass for another few seconds before he gently lifts you up. "Good job, baby. C'mon, let's go clean up." he murmurs, carrying you inside.

When you get into the upstairs bathroom, he deposits you on the toilet, smiling as you touch your own split lip. "First fight?" he asks, gently holding a damp rag to your mouth. When you nod, he laughs again and presses a kiss between your eyebrows. "You did good." he remarks.

After your lip stops bleeding, you make him switch places, tending to his own wounds. You put some hydrogen peroxide onto a rag, pressing it to his cheek. He hisses in pain.

"Don't be a pussy, Dean." you mutter. He pinches your hip lightly in retaliation.

Finally, you look at him. He looks up at you sheepishly. "Did I fuck our holiday up?" he asks.

You smile and shake your head, cupping his face in both of your hands. "Nobody has ever fought like that for me." you admit, your thumbs gently rubbing circles against his skin.

He turns his head to kiss your palm, eyes closing. When he opens them, they're filled with tears.

Your breath catches as he presses his face into your belly. "Oh... Dean..." you murmur, fingers carding through his hair.

He shudders, his hands coming up to grip your hips. He finally looks up just enough to see you. "I... I would fight him a thousand times if it meant protecting you..." he confesses.

You inhale sharply. Then you pull his head away from your shirt. "Let's lay down." you say firmly.

He nods and follows you.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

When he lays you down this time, it isn't desperate or frenzied like the previous night. It's sweet and slow. He kisses you, his hand on your cheek to bring you closer.

His other hand snakes down to your upper thigh, trailing back up under your dress. When his fingers make contact with your soaked panties, he groans lowly.

He pulls back and looks at you intently. "I don't want you to do this out of obligation. I need to know if you actually want this or not." he says.

You nod, leaning up for another kiss.

He gently stops you. "Words, baby. Verbal consent."

You swear you stop breathing. Then you nod again. "Yes, Dean. Yes."

He smiles softly and nods in turn, gently laying you back down.

He takes his time getting you undressed, savoring every inch of your body. He takes his own clothes off too. When you reach for his briefs, he stops you. "Wait a second." he murmurs. "Wanna do something."

He grabs a throw pillow, helping you lift your hips before you props them up with the pillow. Then he kisses you again as his fingers find your soaked cunt, the tips of them just barely tracing your mound.

At your moan of encouragement, two of his fingers gently prod your entrance, slowly sinking in.

You gasp in pleasure, gripping his shoulders hard with your hands. You inhale sharply when this thumb rubs your clit.

He moans softly, fingering you like his life depends on it. "So fucking tight. Is this all for me? What did I do to deserve this?" he says into your ear. "Hm? Don't you know how much I fucking love your pussy?" he asks, fingers going faster now.

When he hears your breathy moans hitching, he knows you're close. His thumb rubs your clit again, fingers speeding up.

When you come, he covers your sounds up with his own mouth, swallowing them into your kiss.

Finally, he pulls his fingers out, immediately shoving them into his mouth. He laughs when you look disgusted. "What? My girl tastes good." he says teasingly.

You sit up, pushing him to lay down on your bed.

He grins up at you. "Oh?"

You nod, climbing on top of him. "Is this... okay?"

He nods feverishly, already moaning. "Yeah, fuck baby. So okay. More than okay."

You nod as well, your hand drifting down to lead his cock to your entrance.

He watches you, biting his lip to stave off his groans. "Have you... done this before?" he asks.

You nod. "Once. Years ago." you admit.

He winces. "You should go slow, baby. Make sure you can take it all-oh fuck!"

His advice is cut off as you take him all in one drop. You gasp in pain and pleasure, mixed in a cocktail of bliss.

He glares at you, panting. "I almost came just then. I hope you know that."

You laugh, already rocking slightly. "You're so easy, Di Laurentis."

He helps you move up and down, slowing you down so you can both enjoy it.

"Feel good?" he asks, making sure you aren't in too much pain. At your nod, he moans.

Finally, you get a good rhythm going. You lean up to kiss him as he thrusts up into your movements.

You gasp in pure pleasure when the tip of his cock kisses your cervix.

At the sudden tightness around him, he groans and spills inside you, which triggers your own orgasm.

He hugs your sweaty body to his own as you both come down from your highs.

Finally, he pulls away, laughing at your fucked out expression. "Shit, sweetie. I really did a number on you." he says, cocky as ever.

You muster the energy to glare up at him, which elicits another laugh as he cleans you up.

Once you're clean, have peed, and are somewhat dressed, he lays beside you. He smiles at you softly.

"You're so pretty." he murmurs, kissing your cheek. "Goodnight, girlfriend." he says before he conks out.

You stare up at the ceiling, humming noncommittally.

You're overthinking again. Except this time it's one thought.

I think I'm in love with Dean Di Laurentis.

Fuck.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

5k words

OML i love how this turned out 😭 as always, let me know your thoughts! There is going to be pt.3 soon, which will probably be a lot of smut:)

also, I have a list of info about me/rules in my pinned post, so check that out if you're interested!

if you want to be in my taglist for pt3, let me know! everyone who was in this taglist will automatically be added into the one for pt3, unless they ask me to remove them.

thank you to all of the people who support this series! love you all!

xo, claire

(ps, i apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. i was too lazy to proofread haha).

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@corpsebride25

@batmanssssss

@fentyqloss

@dearmy-diary

@tinyceasarsalad

@jorden1189

@magslikesdaisies

@powellssaturn

@outpostsworld

@myhipsterparadise-blog1

@jchameleon

Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader

Synopsis: Going home for Christmas to celebrate your sister's engagement is one thing. When the man she's marrying just happens to be the boyfriend she stole, and your parents are already worried about you being "perpetually alone," it becomes your own version of hell.

Dean needs more money. He used his college allowance already. 500,000 dollars really wasn't enough considering he bankrolls most of the parties on campus. His father, however, is sick of his shenanigans. He tells Dean that he has to prove he's responsible in order to get more money. Problem is, there isn't a responsible bone in Dean's body.

When you both meet at a party, you strike up a deal. Dean will pretend to be your boyfriend at your family's Christmas party in exchange for you pretending to be his girlfriend at his own family gathering. But what happens when things get too real?

CW: swearing, cheating, terrible family relationships, mentions of anxiety.

There will eventually be smut, so I'm going to go ahead and say MDNI!!!

Multiple parts, more than likely.

Pt2 is now here!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

You're pretty sure you woke up in an alternate reality. It would explain the awful headache you got the second that you opened your eyes, or the fact that you ran out of coffee grounds on today, of all days. It would also explain why you just got a text from your mom asking you to come home for winter break so that you can congratulate your sister on her engagement to Mark.

Mark. Ugh. The name itself puts a roiling pit in the bottom of your stomach. He had been your first everything. Then college had happened. You went off to Boston to pursue your philosophy degree. He stayed in Stockholm, your hometown in Wisconsin. When you came home for your first break in freshman year, you had found him with his tongue down your sister's throat in his garage.

Yeah, obviously you don't want to go back home to watch them practically hump each other on your parents' couch.

You set your phone down, determined not to bother with it right now. You have to focus on your epistemology final. In one hour, you'll be taking one of the most important tests of your life. Not really, but still, focus.

After eating a quick breakfast of toast and an over easy egg, no coffee because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, you get showered and dressed. You have to look good to feel good, so you take time to curl your hair and actually put more than mascara and lip gloss on.

By the time you walk out the door, the day already seems better. After your test, you can go to that little cafe you like to enjoy a coffee and maybe a sandwich. Maybe you can watch a movie with Phoebe-

SPLASH

You look down at your shirt, now stained brown with coffee, and gape. You look up sharply at the idiot who crashed into you. Your glare immediately sharpens.

Dean motherfucking Di Laurentis. Of course.

He scoffs at you, looking at his now crushed cup of coffee. He looks like he's searching for where the liquid inside went, the liquid currently all over your shirt.

"Are you fucking serious?" you ask, trying to fan your shirt to dry it. You blow on the fabric, hoping for any chance that you can save it.

"You ran into me, dude." he quips back, dropping his cup into a nearby trash can. "Did you forget how to look out for other people?"

You look up, laughing at the audacity of this boy. "Me? You were on your phone! While walking! Are you seriously blaming me because you were too busy sexting your girl of the day to actually walk?"

His eyebrows raise and he laughs at your heated words. "Wow. Okay. Big feelings. You definitely haven't filled up your kindness bucket today."

At your unamused glare, he laughs and softens. "I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do? I could pay for your dry cleaning. Which cleaner do you use? I'll send them the money."

You shake your head and put your hand up to stop him. "I don't use a fucking dry cleaner. I'm not a rich prick like you. Also, I don't have time for this, I have to go." you snap, picking your bag back up from where you had dropped it.

Dean frowns, nodding. "Fine. Whatever. Okay." he says, stepping around you. "Sorry again." he calls out, walking away.

You frown at yourself. Why are you such a bitch? Usually you would've accepted a bit of help. You groan and look back down at your shirt. No time to ponder on why this person specifically irritates you. You could go back home and change, but that would just make you late to your test. Nope, you can't do that. Professor Jones is strict on being punctual on exam days.

You sigh deeply, steel yourself, and soldier on to class. Hopefully you won't be penalized for smelling like a caramel macchiato.

Seriously, who the hell drinks those?

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

"Man, fuck Benjamin Franklin. Like, honestly, I hate that bald bastard." Dean says, scowling at the flashcards in Tucker's hand.

Tucker laughs, flipping to another card. "I don't think he was even bald, dude." he says, watching Dean take another sip of his beer.

Dean frowns, head tilting in thought. "I thought they all were." he says, confusion writing all over his face.

"Reinforcing societal stereotypes before noon is a new low, even for you, Dean." Logan says as he enters the kitchen. He laughs as Dean flips him off. "Somebody didn't get his morning coffee."

"No, I literally didn't. Some chick with a stick up her ass bumped into me. I felt bad, though. Her shirt was white, and I basically ruined it." Dean says, sighing as he sets his beer down. "Fuck this. I'm failing U.S. History anyways. I need to get laid."

Dean walks over to the living room, flopping onto the couch as he opens his phone. Countless Snapchat notifications pop up. Almost all girls, with the exception of Garrett. Dean grins when he sees his favorite hook up, Kelcey, start typing.

Kelcey: We should study together.

Dean: For sure. Come over? I can kick the guys out.

Tucker walks past Dean, on his way up to his room. He looks at the smirk on Dean's face and laughs. "I know you aren't actually inviting someone over here. We have class in three hours!"

Dean sighs and looks over at Tucker. "It's scientifically proven that stress relief before a final increases your score. I'm just trying to do my best, man."

Tucker rolls his eyes. "What study is this? The Dickhead Daily? Get off your ass and go study those flashcards."

Dean groans and stands, giving his messages with Kelcey one last, longing glance. He texts her and tells her that he's busy and then puts his phone in his pocket.

"Whatever, Tuck. Just say that you get no play." he mutters as he trudges up the stairs.

The only answer he gets is a laugh as he closes his door.

Dick.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

The party, much like the ones before it, is a sweaty mess of alcohol, smoke, and sex.

Basically everything you can't stand right now.

Not only had your professor sneered at you when he caught sight of your ruined shirt, you had promptly forgot everything on your test. All because Dean Di Laurentis hadn't watched where he was going.

You sulk near the door, watching Phoebe, your best friend and old roommate, chat up a sophomore. She turns to smile at you, urging you to come over with a hand gesture. You shake your head with a soft smile, content to watch the party pass you by.

Half an hour later, Phoebe is long gone upstairs with her victim. You decide to head outside, tired of smelling weed and sweat. As you make your way, you notice John Logan. He's smiling with Garrett Graham and Hannah Wells, a couple you know from the Fifth Line drama Jules posts constantly. Your eyes roam appreciatively over Logan's well-built arms and chest, clad in a thin Henley shirt.

If only you dated hockey boys.

You finally step outside, breathing in the fresh air. It's cold, sharp in your nose. Perfect. You head to the side of the house, a blunt in your hand. You had nicked it from Phoebe before she went on her conquest. You lean against the wall, head tilted back to look at the stars as you flick your lighter on.

That's when your ears pick up a sound. A wet smack, followed by a breathy giggle. You choke on your own spit, already making you way back to the porch.

The giggles stop abruptly, hushed whispers following you as you ascend up the wooden steps. A girl runs out from around the corner of the house, ten feet away from where you had been. She is flushed, pulling the straps of her tank top back onto her shoulders. She shoots you a look as she pushes past you, heading into the house.

You're about to brush it off, considering you had been the one to cockblock, when a familiar voice sounds behind you.

"Oh hell no. You again? Why does this always happen to me?" Dean whines. He strides over to you, peering up at your face from his position at the bottom of the steps.

He looks damn good, a fitted grey shirt on with a pair of black jeans, his hair tousled. He is half-scowling, obviously too drunk to actually be pissed.

You smirk, sitting on the steps as you finally light your joint. "I didn't do anything to you. It's not my fault that you chose to hook up with someone outside."

Dean laughs and walks up the steps, sitting next to you. "You act like there was a crowd or something. We were clearly having a private moment." he quips back. "And anyways, why are you out here? The party is inside." he asks, watching you take a hit off of your blunt. He holds his hand out.

You had him the blunt hesitantly, figuring the least you can do is share. "I got overstimulated. These parties are always terrible." you explain, looking up at the night sky. You feel his gaze turn to you as he exhales.

"Anxiety? I get that." he says comfortingly, laying his own head back.

You snort, looking over. "When do you ever get anxious? Isn't that your whole thing? Big bad frat boy who doesn't give a fuck?"

He laughs, turning his own gaze to you. Your faces are separated by inches. "For the record, I give lots of fucks. I just pretend I don't, because I have a reputation to uphold." he says, taking another hit. He laughs as you swipe the joint from his hand, scowling. He blows the smoke out, smiling faintly. "And I do get anxious. Before games or tests. Or when I'm talking to pretty girls..." he trails off, eyes flicking down to your lips,

You snort, turning back to the sky. "Wow. That was good. Did you, I don't know, use ChatGPT to generate pick-up lines?" you ask.

He scrunches up his nose, shaking his head. "Hell no. Fuck AI." he says, offended.

You raise your eyebrows, looking over. "Shit. Dean Di Laurentis actually cares about the planet? I didn't figure you had such strong opinions on AI." you say, genuinely impressed. Usually when you make fun of people for using AI, they get offended and tell you off. Dean just openly admitted to hating it.

"I may be an idiot, but I'm not fucking stupid." he says. He takes one more hit, sitting up. "I should go. I have another final tomorrow."

You sit up, stubbing the blunt out. "Yeah, I have to start packing for break. I have to go see my family." you admit, sighing heavily.

He looks over, brows furrowed. "That's a sighing matter? Seeing your family?" he asks. You can't tell if he's genuinely curious or just wants another shot at getting into your pants.

"Yeah, my sister just got engaged to my ex-boyfriend. And, surprise, I have to be present for her to gloat about her victory." you reply, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

He gapes. "Fuck. That's rough." he says sadly. You almost laugh at his puppy-dog eyes. It's no wonder he gets so many women into his bed.

He sighs and shakes his head sadly. "And I thought my situation is bad." he says.

You look over, eyebrows raised. "And what could possibly be ailing you, Mr. Di Laurentis." you ask, curious to know why he sounds so exhausted.

He huffs and rubs his hand over his jaw. "If I tell you, it'll reinforce every stereotype you have about me." he admits, looking over.

You raise your hands. "I won't judge. I have an amazing poker face." you promise, nodding for him to go on.

He laughs and shakes his head. "I... need more money from my dad. I spent my entire college allowance last year on parties. I've been living off of the money I have in my account from working one summer. But that's going away soon. My dad won't give me anything because he thinks I'm just dicking around." he says, body relaxing as the words leave his lips. He hadn't told anyone else, not even Beau, about this. He didn't want anyone feeling sorry for, or judging, him.

You frown, scooting closer. "I really am sorry about that. I can sorta empathize with that." she says, resting a hand on his arm.

He looks over, blue eyes lowered in shame. "Really?" he asks hopefully.

"I mean, no, not really. But I'll pretend." you admit, smiling.

He laughs, looking over. "I like you. Not in a weird way. I'd fuck you, don't get me wrong. But I like you as a friend." he says, looking as confused as those words made you feel.

You scrunch your face up. "I've never been objectified and complimented in the same sentence before." you tease, laughing when his eyes widen. He really is sweet, you think.

He laughs too when he sees that you aren't actually mad. He looks back down at his shoes, chewing on his inner cheek. "I need to prove in some way that I'm mature. That I'm not irresponsible. I don't have a job, and I can't just get one. I don't have very good grades. Hell, I still haven't fully declared my major. The only thing I have going for me is hockey, and that isn't even enough." he says, exasperated.

You nod, thinking. Maybe he could do volunteer work? No, it's too obvious that he would be doing it for the money. Maybe he could apply for an internship? Unlikely that he would be chosen.

"Why don't you bring a girl home?"

His head snaps up at your sentence, brow furrowed again. "A girlfriend? I've never done that." he says cautiously.

You nod encouragingly. "Then it's perfect. Bring a girl, have her pretend that you've been dating for a while. If he sees you in a committed relationship, he'll be impressed with your responsibility." you explain.

He shakes his head. "How will I find a girl who will agree to that? I ghost most of the girls I hook up with." he says.

"I don't know, you're Dean Di Laurentis, you can figure it out." you say, nudging him.

He looks up. "Why don't you bring a guy home? To show your sister that you aren't missing anything?" he says, turning the same logic onto you.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Like anyone would ever agree to be my boyfriend, fake or not." you say, self-deprecating.

"I will."

It spoken so casually, so quietly, you almost don't hear it. Then you turn your head so fast that you almost get whiplash. "What?"

He shrugs, smiling. "We could fake for each other. I scratch your back, you scratch mine."

You laugh and shake your head. "No. I am not bringing you to my family's Christmas. My sister would jump you immediately." you say.

His hand goes to his chest as he feigns offense. "You think I fuck everything with a pulse, don't you? I would never betray you like that. Promise." he says, smiling boyishly. "I'll be the most loyal fake-boyfriend ever." he promises.

You laugh, half out of exasperation and half from amusement. His charm is working on you, and he can tell. You look over at him. "No bullshit?"

He nods, his smirk fading into something softer. "No bullshit." he echoes.

You nod and then stand, offering him a hand. You speak as you help him up. "Meet me at nine, Malones. Don't be late. We need to talk logistics." you command.

He grins down at you, his hand on your hip. "My first fake relationship and I don't even call the shots? Brutal." he teases.

You tug him down by his collar, hips lips inches from yours. His eyes widen, gulping suddenly.

"You never had any control, Dean. Don't be late tomorrow, okay?" you say softly.

He nods uselessly, watching you walk back into the house.

His heart is beating harder than when he scores a goal during one of his games. He blinks at where you had been, wondering if he's just signed himself up for heaven or absolute hell.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

word count: ~2,700

How do we like this? I wanted to write for Dean, especially since I've consumed almost every piece of media for him 😭

If you like this, let me know! I will write pt.2 as soon as I can!