#dylan larkin fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matthewtkachuk · 8 months

Text

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last.

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you.

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado.

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’.

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count.

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way.

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house.

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid.

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely.

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you.

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours.

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes.

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy.

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level.

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law.

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it.

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit.

It warms your heart.

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate.

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway.

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander.

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena.

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell.

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility.

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier.

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass.

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp.

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs.

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy.

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff.

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.”

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot.

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces.

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you.

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16.

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer.

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move.

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners.

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy.

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed.

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire.

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more.

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper.

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate.

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently.

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth.

“It’ll be worth the wait.”

And worth the wait it is.

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices.

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too.

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you.

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure.

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other.

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign.

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan.

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up.

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed.

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life.

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie.

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants.

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is.

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you.

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed.

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush.

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss.

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again.

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing.

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body.

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast.

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs.

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone.

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises.

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too.

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths.

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch.

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him.

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better.

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips.

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him.

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm.

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too.

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up.

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs.

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery.

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall.

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake.

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with.

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying.

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless.

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.”

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing.

The reality of the situation hits you.

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life.

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply.

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time.

“He loves you,” she says.

You’re not so sure.

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here.

It’s not all bad though.

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities.

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school.

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat.

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be.

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.”

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away.

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same.

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red.

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist.

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded.

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head.

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit.

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up.

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled.

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan.

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone.

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts.

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked.

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass.

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours.

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back.

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again.

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact.

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head.

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.”

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist.

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door.

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again.

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.”

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial.

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug.

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone, it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother.

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl x reader #jt compher fic #shelb writes

256 notes · View notes

letsgetrowdy43 · 8 months

Note

Would you want it in like individual little thoughts for each brother or like a specific brother and like a larger blurb??

individual thought for each brother please🙏🙏

Request: could you write a fic/blurb for the hughes brothers and how they would take care of their gf who’s overstimulated and has gone non-verbal (and i don’t think you would take this the wrong way but some people have when i haven’t specified) (not in the sexy way)

I tried to be as general as possible, just cause I don't want to be insensitive to anyones triggers or to any personal experiences!!

Quinn—

Being captain means that Quinn has to attend these bigger events and be as present as he possibly can be for them. But if and when his girlfriend needs his help, his captain duties get pushed to the side until he knows she is safe and okay. They attend an event together and it gets a little busier than she expected she tries to stick it out, but by the sixth random person that had come up to ask her questions about Quinn and the charities that the two of them had been working with during this season, she is just completely out of her comfort zone and so overwhelmed Quinn noticed right away from her body language, watching her whole body tense up, and by the way her face looked blank with wide eyes as she tried to find the nearest exit. He's immediately trailing behind her and into the hallway of the banquet hall, finding her curled up in a ball, her pretty dress pooled around her as she hid her face in her hands. “Hey hey,” he mumbled, trying to get her to stop panicking, pulling her hands away from her face to make her look at him, “let's try those breathing exercises that you taught me” She's struggling to comprehend, but he is persistent and gets her to a state of calm in a few minutes. Her head rests against his shoulder as he creates a game plan in his head to get their things and get them out to the car without a soul noticing, and without being bombarded by people wanting to chat with him. At the end of the day, she is his number one priority, his leadership means a lot but she means a lot more to him than some tabloids that paint him out to be the saving grace of the canucks.

Jack—

Jack is known for being a carefree soul, he's go with the flow and has a bubbly or joking demeanour. But the second she needs him, all of his attention goes straight to her. The bar they were at had strobe lights, she had never experienced something like this, but the flashing, mixed with the music and loud chatter had her head spinning. She sat awkwardly in the corner of the bar, nursing a tall glass of ice water that she had managed to order herself before she completely shut down. So now she just sitting in silence in some dimly lit booth in the back, twiddling her thumbs in her lap as she focused on her breathing. Jack searched the crowd for her the second he came to realize that she was no longer by his side, his conversation with Dylan Larkin going a bit longer than intended which led to him becoming lost in their conversations about his upcoming wedding. His eyes found her from across the room, and within a second he was maneuvering his way around the room to get to her. "Oh baby," he said as she looked at him tiredly, slowly blinking at him which let him know just where her energy level was at, "I'll call Luke to come and get us now," he said sitting down next to her, careful not to touch her or move her around too much and make her feel even worse. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable while we wait?" with a slight shake of her head Jack watched as she mentally counted the seconds in between her breaths, "would some fresh air maybe help, get you away from the noise?" she looked at him again and nodded, her lips turning up into a smile as she reached out to squeeze his hand. A little notion to tell him. that she was okay when she could verbally express it.

Luke—

Luke's girlfriend hated parties, but this was the boys' last big college party before they headed to Tampa for the Frozen Four, and then Luke to Jersey, so she wanted to be there in support of him, and as a nice send-off. But it was a lot, a lot of people, a lot of music, and the awful smell of alcohol. An episode hadn't happened in a while once she realized that it was the parties and the environment that were causing them, but she wanted to surprise Luke and be there for his final hurrah. But the second she stepped in she was quickly anxious, she hadn't left her boyfriend's side the entire night, her hands gripping him to make sure not to lose him in the chair that was the hockey house. She squeezed his side the second someone accidentally bumped into her, her face growing red as she silently let tears roll down her cheeks, too out of it to wipe them off. He felt her touch and saw the look on her face, he quickly whisked her away and brought her into an empty bathroom on the second floor of the house. He felt a little panicked as he watched her just blankly stare at her feet, heavy breathing before he remembered the thing about pressure and relieving her nervous system of any stressors that his mental coach taught him about a few months before. "I'm gonna try something okay?" he mumbled as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest and squeezing her as tight as he could. they stood like that for a few minutes, his arms applying continuous pressure to her as her breaths steadied. "feel better?" she nodded slowly as her hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt, feeling the soft material between her fingertips before tapping him to let him know that she was okay. he pulled away, holding her a good length away to examine her state, her eyes tired as she wiped away the tear streaks that had remained on her face, "let's go lay down in my room, let you decompress before bed," he said brushing the hair from her face and away from her neck as she weakly smiled and nodded at him

#rotalks: hughes brothers night!!#quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader

195 notes · View notes

sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months

Text

ꨄ 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 ; 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 ꨄ

➪ summary: aubrey goes to alex's first home detroit game and when she meets one of his teammates, she realizes that he's going to be different then all the rest

➪ warnings: none? i think

➪ word count: 1.8k

➪ file type: au (once in nine lives) fic

➪ sunny's notes: i am so so so excited for this au, so send in thoughts whenever you please. the biggest help is @slutforseider so if the idea isn't mine it is probably hers tbh. but like i said, i'm very excited for this au so hopefully it'll show with my writing

au masterlist || nhl masterlist || navigation

It wouldn’t be Aubrey’s first hockey game she’s been to, not even her first Red Wings game she’s been to, but it would be the first time seeing her brother play on the team and meeting the team. Alex was her number one supporter and she was his, so when she got the news that her brother would be living practically thirty minutes away from where she went to school, she was more than thrilled.

She wore her new Alex DeBrincat jersey, loving her name plastered on the back of it. She always wanted to get a jersey for every team her brother played for and sharing their last name saved her money. She met up with Lyndsey two hours prior to when they had wanted to leave there and Archie ran into her arms as soon as he laid his eyes on her, “Hey little man.”

“Auntie Aubrey!”

“You excited to watch daddy play today?” Archie nodded his head ecstatically.

She looked at the two of them in the mirror, fiddling with his jersey, “And look, we match!”

He grinned up at her, content with staying in her arms for the rest of the night. She talked with Lyndsey until it was time for them to go, both of them getting into their respective cars and making their way to Little Caesars Arena. As they got out of their cars, Archie begged his mom to hold his aunt’s hand on the way in and she agreed, grateful for the moments her sister-in-law was around.

Aubrey talked to Archie excitedly about the game tonight and about Alex playing as they made their way to where Alex had said to meet them. As Archie continued to walk, he grew tired and asked Aubrey to be picked up, which she did without question. Alex stood talking with some of his teammates as the three of them arrived, immediately stopping their conversation to walk over to them.

“Hi!”

Lyndsey kissed him before turning her attention to her son and his aunt, both of them giggling at each other. Alex walked closer to them, poking Archie in the side to gain his attention, “Daddy!”

Aubrey handed him over to her brother, smiling slightly at the interaction, “Hey bud. You excited for tonight?”

“Yeah, me and Auntie Aubrey are going to make fun of you the whole time.”

She let out a nervous chuckle, “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow before setting his son down to hug her, “Nice to see you, Aubs.”

“You too, Lex. How’s the team doing?”

“Good, good. I think we got a shot this year.”

She smiled at him, “Good, you deserve it.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to them.”

The three of them followed after him, passing by a few of his teammates along the way before stopping where a large chunk of them were. Alex gained their attention and he looked between his family and his team, “Guys this is my wife Lyndsey and my son Archie. And this is my little sister, Aubrey.”

His eyes darkened before looking at the younger ones of the bunch, “No dating her, no touching her, don’t even smile at her.”

“Lex…” Alex held his hands up in defense before continuing, “And, this is our captain, Dylan Larkin, Ben Chariot, Lucas Raymond, Jake Walman, Simon Edvinsson, and Moritz Seider.”

The three of them nodded and waved, Aubrey trying to keep her emotions in check. But her mind didn’t stop her as she started spitting out random facts at them, “Oh yeah, Lark had a 13.1 shooting percentage, Ben you had 19 points, and Lucas had a 29.4% face off win percentage, Jake had 47 hits, Simon had 13 shot attempts and 5 shots, and Mo had 40 penalty minutes-”

She looked at all of their faces, “I did it again, didn’t I?” Alex nodded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “It’s fine. I guess I would like them to know you’re nerd now rather than later.”

“Uh hi, I go to Michigan and I’m studying sports management. That isn’t usual, actually yes it is. I tend to blurt out facts when I’m nervous or I’m meeting new people, it just-” She took a deep breath, “Sorry.”

The boys stared at her in awe and Alex wasn’t having it, “Okay pretty and smart, we know. Time to go, you three.”

Aubrey didn’t have to be told twice and immediately rushed out of there with Archie and Lyndsey in tow. The whole game Aubrey felt embarrassed by what had happened, if it was anyone else she would’ve been fine with it, but her brother’s teammates? Her brother’s cute teammates? She felt like she could cry.

It wasn’t often that she found her brother’s teammates cute, and it was often that the attraction that she felt for them was this strong. Sure she would find the occasional teammate cute, Lukas Reichel, Alex Vlasic, Brandon Hagel, Kirby Dach. But it wasn’t like she was attracted to them, mostly because she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to date them.

However, this time around, she couldn’t help but find one of them attractive, nor could she help the feelings that she might’ve already had for him. She shook her head as she continued to watch the game and make comments about her brother with Archie, she was not going to let herself fall for one of his teammates, it was forbidden. She couldn’t break the one promise she had made Alex, the one promise she was determined to keep.

After the game, the three of them met up with Alex once more, Archie taking his post-game nap on Aubrey’s shoulder. Archie truly loved Aubrey, he would always be by her side when she would come over, always asking to hold her hand when they went out, always asking her to do stuff with them. Since he was born, the two were attached at the hip, and everyone knew it wouldn’t change.

She kept her grip on her nephew firm, not wanting to startle him by any sudden movement. Some of the players came out a little too loud and she immediately shushed them, she wasn’t going to let anyone wake Archie up, if she knew them or not. The players who had passed them apologized softly before moving on, some of them even patting his head gently as they walked out.

Alex walked out and she cursed mentally when she saw him walking beside her brother. Of course this would happen to her, one little slip up and the Universe was trying to make her pay for it. She smiled at Mo and her brother, still keeping her grip on the boy, “Nice game, guys.”

“Thanks Aubs, how long has he been asleep for.”

“Probably like five minutes before we got here.” She handed him over to him, watching as he and Lyndsey walked out of the arena.

The two stood there awkwardly, none of them sure if they should start a conversation or just wave goodbye and leave. And just as Aubrey was about to do the latter, he spoke up, his German accent making its way to her ears, “So Michigan, huh?”

She nodded, “Yeah, they had a really good sports management program and it was close to a hockey city, so it was kind of fate.”

Mo stuck his hands in his pockets, “I’m assuming you like hockey then?”

“Yeah, both of my brothers played it but I could never. So when I figured out I liked math and that sports had a lot of statistics, I fell in love with it.”

“Math? I’ve never understood it.”

She chuckled, “A lot of people don’t but that’s also kind of what I love about it. It’s like I know something that people don’t in a weird way.”

The two started walking, both of them not wanting their conversation to end despite how awkward it was. Aubrey thought back to earlier and blushed, “I’m sorry about earlier. Or not sorry to you but to myself.”

“It’s okay. It’s really impressive actually. You said I had 40 penalty minutes last year?”

“Yeah.” She took her hands out of her pockets to fiddle with them, trying to focus on something other than her small nerd outburst from before.

“That’s cool. So what other things do you know about me?”

Her eyes widened and looked up at him, “What?”

“I figured if you knew my penalty minutes from last year there must be some other things you know about me, hm?” He smirked, stopping and looking down at her.

“Oh, uh.” The blood rushed into her cheeks, turning them a color close to maroon.

“C’mon, you can tell me.”

“You had 5 goals and 37 assists, a total of 42 points. 3 of them were on even strength, one was a power play goal, and one was a short handed goal. You had 187 shots and 355 total shot attempts, leaving you with a 3.7 shooting percentage which was less from the year before.”

“Hmm, cute.” She looked down and waited for him to move, and once he did she followed him.

He walked her to her car, leaning against the back driver side door, watching as she fiddled with her keys, “So…”

“So… what?”

“Can I have your number?”

“Bold aren’t you?” She finally unlocked her door, pulling it open and throwing her bag on the passenger seat, “Also I thought my brother said no dating.”

“Who said anything about dating? I can’t befriend a pretty girl?”

“Oh, um. Okay then.” She honestly thought it was embarrassing how easily it was for him to make her flustered. It only took him to call her pretty or for his hand to flex and her cheeks were flushed.

He handed her his phone, watching her carefully as she typed her number into the new contact she had made. When she handed him his phone back, he grinned slightly and patted her head, “I’ll text you when I get home.”

And then he walked off, leaving her a stumbling and blushing mess. She got in her car and sat staring out into the practically empty parking lot of the arena. Driving back to her dorm room she listened to anything to get her mind off of the interaction she just had but she couldn’t. Everything she listened to reminded her of the way he dressed, the way he smiled, the way his eyes twinkled. God, what was she turning into?

She got back to her dorm and changed into her pajamas. She flopped onto her bed, talking a little bit with her roommate and then scrolled aimlessly on her phone. Just as she was going to put her phone down she got a notification from an unknown number, “ I hope you didn’t give me a fake number, pretty girl. Because I was really looking forward to texting you."

Yeah, she was fucked.

#ꨄ nine lives au !#ꨄ mo + aubrey !#moritz seider #moritz seider x oc #ms53 #detroit red wings #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #: ̗̀➛ sunny’s writing 📓 !

53 notes · View notes