#jt compher fic

[matthewtkachuk]

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

[comphy-and-cozy]

the guy on the team - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: 4.2K

Author’s Note: rediscovered the three paragraphs of filth i wrote after seeing this dude play (and score) in his first ever home game as a detroit red wing, then went buck wild writing about it. that's all you really need to know. 🎶 karma is the guy on the wings coming straight home to me... 🎶

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering (f receiving), brief masturbation (f), very minor spanking, creampie, me being a huge fucking simp series masterlist

October 2024

The goal horn—restored from the glory days at Joe Louis Arena, reminiscent of legends and lore and well-decorated history—blares through the arena, the sound nearly swallowed by the roar of the crowd. Don’t Stop Believing plays over the speakers, the “born and raised in South Detroit” chant almost deafening as 19,000 of Hockeytown’s finest pay a proud homage to the city.

The energy is palpable, infectious, and your eyes fall to the sea of red jerseys at center ice, sticks raised in appreciation and celebration of their first win and first home game of the season. They’re smiling, a few of them clapping each other on the back or tapping padded knees with their stick, circling around as they soak in the joy and promises of a strong season.

The 37 on his back stands out proudly, the bright white stark against the rich red. He offered to get you a jersey, identical to the one he’s wearing right now, but you’d declined and opted for an old sweatshirt from 2002; wearing his name still felt a little too cheeky. Your eyes follow his movements, almost subconsciously, and your gaze slides to the winged wheel embroidered on his chest when he circles around.

There’s a burn in your cheeks as you shamelessly check him out, anonymous in the sea of fans who are starting to make their way out of the arena. No one there knows you from any other admirer, that you know what he looks like beneath his pads and his gear, underneath the delicious slate gray suit that the Red Wings’ socials posted. 

You’ve barely made it to your front door when the text buzzes your phone in your pocket. 

[JT:] You free tonight? [JT:] Feel like celebrating [You:] Why, did something happen?

You don’t have to see his face to know he’s smirking at your comment. The text bubble pops back up, and you do your best to summon the chill, cool girl and not squeal when you see the response.

[JT:] You want to come over later?

Despite the effort, you can’t help the smile that emerges on your face. His next text informs you that he’s out getting post-game drinks and dinner with his family who came to town to see his debut in Detroit. You’re not offended that you didn’t receive an invite—just excited to have received a text. The status of your relationship is still up in the air, floating somewhere between casually dating and something with benefits. Meeting his family is far from your bucket list. At this point, anyway.

Though your makeup was already done for the game, you decide to reset in the shower. You exfoliate, shave, and take your time moisturizing until you’re squeaky clean and your skin is smooth. Your pre-dick appointment ritual is practiced, having perfected it in the last six weeks that you’ve been involved with JT Compher. He doesn’t expect perfection, has told you on multiple occasions in so many words, but the routine makes you feel like you’re worth his time, his affection, his attention—that’s something you’ll deal with in therapy, though. 

After the body prep comes a quick blow dry, a light layer of fresh makeup (you learned your lesson with too much makeup after JT made sure that the entire sultry eye you’d worked so hard on ended up smeared all over the sheets), and then the undergarment selection. By no means do you have an expansive luxury lingerie collection, but you’ve found yourself glancing at the intimate wear section when you’re out, anticipating the reaction of a certain redhead as you run your fingers over the various pieces on display. 

Tonight does feel special, you admit, with plenty to celebrate: a debut, a win, and two points for JT. The lacy red bralette feels fitting, perfect for a little ‘wow’ factor without feeling like you’re trying too hard—and, of course, a nod to his (and your) team. Cheeky red panties finish your look, hidden by a pair of yoga pants and a cropped zip-up hoodie: the quintessential dick appointment outfit.

By the time you’re spritzing on your perfume, the come over text comes through. Slinging a small overnight bag over your shoulder with a few essentials, you lock up your apartment and head on your way. Nerves flutter in your chest the way they always do, anticipation building as you pull into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

JT hasn’t changed out of his pregame suit, the takeout box sitting on the counter an indicator he hasn’t been home for long. Your heart flutters at the realization that he must’ve texted you before he’d even left dinner, that he was thinking of you even while sitting and celebrating with his family. 

After closing the door behind you, he moves in to greet you with a kiss, and once his lips touch yours, it’s like the floodgates of desire have opened up and you lose all self control. Without warning, your hands tug at his neck to kiss him fervently, quickly pressing your body against his and sighing at the warmth. 

He groans, returning the kiss with equal ardor as his hands find their home on your hips. As you’re turning your attention to his belt, pulling your lips away from him for a moment, he murmurs, “Not that I’m not really, really appreciating this welcome home, but is there a reason for the extra enthusiasm?”

Clink. The belt’s hit the floor, and you waste no time getting your mouth back on his. Your hand slinks up his thigh, palming the half-hard appendage in his slacks eagerly. Involuntarily, you feel a needy throb between your thighs, the low thrum in his chest adding fuel to the fire.

“Really liked you in that jersey,” you purr. 

“Oh yeah?”

Your bottom lip slips between your teeth and you nod, glancing up at him. “Yeah.”

JT smirks, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit. He doesn’t say it, but you know it drives him wild how much of an impact he has on you. How little he has to work to have you desperate for him. “Anything else?”

“I really liked it when you scored,” you say, wistfully recalling the way it sounded hearing his name announced over the loudspeaker at Little Caesars Arena. “You should do that some more.”

“How much did you like it?” 

With just one sentence, he’s managed to increase the temperature in the room by at least 20 degrees; the words themselves are innocent, but the rumble behind them offers a filthy, sinful promise. His gaze is hot, predatory even, following the movement of your hand as you unzip your hoodie in response to his question. You don’t miss the way his breath hitches at the peek of red lace, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when you shrug off the fleece.

Tension is thick in the air as you stand before him, heart pulsing in your throat. With a blink, he seemingly regains his composure, though his eyes linger on your cleavage between the lace cups. “That much, huh?”

Another nod, shivering under the heated way he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. Breaking eye contact with him is difficult, but you’re met with an equally pleasing view of his firm length pressed against the rich material of his dress pants. 

Your hand works at the zipper of his slacks, the other slipping between the metal teeth to press your palm against him. He’s throbbing under your touch, growing more and more solid as your hand strokes him through his boxer briefs. 

Words aren’t necessary—or capable, for that matter—once you finally fish out his length and lap at the tip. The only thing exiting his mouth are strangled curses mingled with the sigh of your name, hand slipping into your hair when he slides further into the hot cavern of your mouth. He’s fully hard now, resting heavy on your tongue as you trace the vein that throbs on the underside of his shaft.

JT grunts, tilting his head down to watch the way his cock slides between your lips. Your hands hold yourself steady against his strong, muscular thighs—one of the more underrated parts of his body, in your opinion—as you bob your head back and forth, wetting every inch of him with your mouth. You wrap your fingers around the base, twisting and setting a cruel rhythm that earns a loud whine from his throat, followed quickly by a long, “Fuuuuuuuck.”

Nails scratch lightly at your scalp, like maybe he’s searching for purchase, his chest starting to heave a little more frantically the more you work him to a state of dizzy bliss. It’s the least you can do, you think, to congratulate him on his first ever home game in Detroit. And, maybe, there’s a little piece of you that wants to reward him, because you still haven’t quite thanked him thoroughly enough for selecting your city as his final destination in free agency. For coming home to you.

A wet, frothy mixture of spit and precum coats your chin when he finally tugs you back with a groan. His eyes are dark pools of umber, arousal seeping out of them as he drinks in the sight of you on your knees, lips shining with the lewd evidence of your worship.

“Bedroom,” he husks, helping you onto your feet and pressing his groin against the swell of your ass as he gently nudges you down the hall toward his room. 

Falling forward onto the mattress, you glance at him over your shoulder and catch him admiring the view before his fingers are digging into the hem of your pants and tugging down. The sharp intake of breath tells you he likes your choice of panties, left as a sneaky surprise for him to unwrap as his reward. “Oh, she really likes it when I score goals.”

A wiggle of your hips earns a slap to your ass. Soon enough, you’re flipped onto your back, feeling the weight of him settled between your legs and his mouth slotting over yours. His lips are sure, certain, plush against yours, lazily commandeering control. Kissing him never gets old, not even when his erection is bumping against your lace-shrouded pelvis, silently begging for entry. 

One of his hands runs over your neck, down your chest, palming your breast through the bralette. He toys with the scalloped hem, admiring the feel of it beneath his fingers. The low rumble of his hum vibrates against the spot on your jaw that he’s paused to mouth at while his hands explore, hot breath cascading down the sensitive skin of your neck. “Y’look so pretty, I almost don’t want to take it off.”

“You like me in red, too, hm?” 

“I like you in anything,” he muses, allowing his tongue to trail along the thin strap that rests on your collarbone. It’s a sweet comment that you don’t have time to dwell on when his attention moves to the swell of your breast, then flicks at your taut nipple through the lace. “But red definitely suits you.”

JT punctuates his statement with a gentle nibble, tracing the floral pattern with the tip of his tongue until the fabric is damp with his saliva and your back is arched off of his sheets. Your fingers are threaded through his hair, knees pressed into his sides when your hips start to roll against his thigh that’s slotted between your legs. 

“Can’t decide if I want to taste you or fuck you first,” he murmurs against your breast. A hand slinks down your body, eventually settling on the fabric between your thighs; a pleased hum leaves his throat, presumably at the moisture he finds there. The breath in your throat catches when he brings two fingers to his lips. “A taste can’t hurt, right?”

The sight of JT Compher gazing lustfully at you from between your legs is one you’ll never take for granted, nor is the feeling of his hot breath against the inside of your thighs. Even better than that is the sound of his groan when he tugs the lace panties down your legs, eyes never leaving the dripping heat in front of him.

His hand draws to the apex of your thighs, and you brace yourself to feel a finger slipping past your lips; instead, you only receive the ghost of his touch, drawing up the slick that’s dribbled out of you.

“J,” you whine, hips bucking impatiently. You’re not sure you’ll survive his teasing antics—not tonight.

“Jus’ wanna enjoy my treat,” he says, cheeky, popping the finger in his mouth with a groan. “I love when your pussy drools like this.”

Soft, pillowy lips press against your core, and you aren’t sure who moans louder: you, from the feeling of his mouth finally touching you where you need, or him, at the taste of you on his tongue. He sets to work, devouring your cunt with his usual practiced precision; long laves of his tongue paired perfectly with gentle sucking of your clit. It isn’t until he pauses for just a moment to wrap your legs around his head that you realize he’s grinding himself against the mattress.

“JT, let me—”

“No, baby,” he pants, barely parting his mouth from you, his voice muffled by your skin. “Y’taste way too fucking good.”

You’re in the process of wondering what you did to deserve a man who enjoys eating your pussy more than you do when his hand slips between your legs, joining his tongue to aid in his quest to bring you to climax. He alternates between dipping his finger into your heat and using it to circle your clit while his mouth continues its sinful magic. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, spine peeling off the mattress when he curls his finger, striking at the spongy spot inside of you. The pleasure is blinding, radiating from the place where he strokes diligently. “Don’t stop.”

For being a man, JT is good at following instructions, especially when it comes to making you come. It doesn’t take long for your legs to quiver and a loud moan to rip from your throat; he hums in encouragement, fingers pumping relentlessly until you’re spent, slumped back against his pillow. You’re pretty sure your bones have disappeared and your body is now just a floating, ethereal being. You know, status quo with him.

“One for the assist,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips are glistening with your slick and his spit, coating the auburn whiskers of his beard, and you draw him up to taste it.

His contented hum that vibrates against your lips when you kiss him makes your heart warm, like he could kiss you all day and not get sick of it. The feeling is mutual, you think, savoring the way his mouth fits perfectly against yours along with the heady taste of you on his tongue. His hand moves to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing gently as he swallows your sighs and comedown whimpers eagerly.

“You gonna fuck me now?” you ask into his mouth, once you regain the ability to speak. Sometimes, he has a habit of kissing the thoughts straight out of your brain. You love it more each time.

JT’s smile curls up against your lips. “Greedy girl, aren’t you?”

The sense of satisfaction watching his smile falter when your hand reaches between your bodies to stroke his erection is unmatched. Anything to render him speechless, too; the guttural moan is just a bonus. “Been waiting for this since warmups, when I saw you skating around in the winged wheel.”

“That’s a long time,” he says smugly, sitting up with a grunt and urging you to follow. When you turn your back to him, he pushes you down onto your elbows playfully, then offers a slap on your ass. “Your poor, poor pussy. So deprived.”

Turning your head, you watch him discard the rest of his clothes before his fist wraps around his cock, dragging up and down a few times. It’s a struggle to resist the whimper that threatens to bubble up in your throat. He runs the tip through your folds, coating it in your slick with a tsk. “So pretty. Should I give her what she wants?”

Instead of giving in, begging him the way you know he wants you to, you lean forward, ensuring he has an even better view of everything you have to offer. Your hand slithers between your thighs, fingers flattening as they rub at your clit. You part your folds before allowing your finger to dip into your entrance. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice dripping with a mixture of desire and awe. You swear you can feel the heat from where his eyes are burning a hole in you, staring at the way you touch yourself. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

Preening under his praise, your marriage joins your middle finger, moaning loudly when the two plunge into your heat. The sound of your slick is audible, harmonizing with your soft sighs and his deep, ragged breathing behind you. You muse, “I’ve always wanted to fuck a Red Wing. Doesn’t really matter who. Just want to say I did, you know?”

JT’s dark chuckle behind you sends shivers down your spine. He probes the head of his dick—still positioned at your entrance, waiting patiently for its turn—against your fingers, teasing you before nudging your hand out of the way. It falls to the mattress, and you return to leaning on both elbows. “You know how much I like making your dreams come true.”

The huffed laughter that falls out of your mouth is quickly usurped by a gasp when he pushes his hips forward. Pausing halfway, he hums at the way you squeeze him tightly before he sheaths himself completely. It’s a feeling you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to; so perfect and satisfying and full. Just the touch of his skin to yours is enough to ignite a flame deeper than you’ve ever experienced with anyone else—the intimate feeling of him inside of you is nothing short of euphoric. 

You push yourself back onto him, body acting on its own and greedily taking what it wants. He makes a sound behind you, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt; whatever it is, it’s followed by a firm slap against your ass that has you moaning.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “Fuck yourself on it.”

As if to accentuate his point, his fingertips trail up your spine before his hand fists into the lace strings displayed on your back. Once his hold is firm, he uses the material to drag you back against him and set a rhythmic slapping of your ass against his hips. 

JT fucks you until you’re a babbling, sweating mess, only capable of incoherent whimpers and crying out a semblance of his name. He’s steady and consistent, confidence rolling off of him even despite the way his voice falters when he’s murmuring filth in your ear, using your bralette to tug you backwards against his chest.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he whispers, beard scratching deliciously against the curve of your jaw. You nod, desperate, even your thoughts echoing the rhythm of his length driving in and out of you.

Teeth sink into the meat of your shoulder at the same time the universe explodes. Eyes squeezed shut, legs clenched tight, the air wrenched from your lungs as your body goes rigid in his arms. He hums lowly, working you through it, soft praises whispered against your skin.

“One for the goal,” he says, cheeky. You don’t have the brainpower to even roll your eyes at his hubris. Given the way your legs are still shaking, you’d say he has a right to be cocky.

Strong arms help you back down to your stomach, and you’re thankful for the soft mattress beneath you, no longer needing to hold yourself up; you’re not sure your limbs have the strength to. JT’s hands gently pull your hips back, lifting them up slightly to slide a pillow beneath them before he’s diving in face first with a groan. “Fucking love the way your cunt tastes after it’s been fucked.”

His tongue laps at you, and you squirm under his attention. Grabbing at your ass with both hands, he kneads the globes and offers a hearty smack that earns a squeal from you. “JT!”

“Sorry, baby,” he says, but the nip on your ass tells you he isn’t. You feel him shift before he’s helping to flip you over onto your back, and the sight of him smiling down at you makes your heart flutter. “Can’t help it.”

Something you’ve learned over the last few weeks with JT is that he is a thorough, meticulous lover. He worships at your altar until he’s completely absolved and your thoughts are wiped clean, pulling prayers from your throat with easy, intentional thrusts. With your legs resting in the crook of his elbows, he drives into you, solid, steady, watching the union of your bodies with a hunger that might intimidate you if it wasn’t the same one consuming you entirely.

“Look so good like this,” he murmurs, eyes roving over your body, admiring each curve as if he sculpted them himself. His gaze holds the sway of your breasts, testing the way you respond to different pulses of his hips. “Y’take dick like a fuckin’ pro, sweetheart. You know that?”

You hope the question is rhetorical, for when you go to attempt an answer, all that comes out is a garbled whimper. The praise makes your skin hot, heightens the flutter in your belly, and when he tells you to touch yourself, you blink dumbly at him. It garners a smile on his pretty lips—so fucking handsome—perhaps pleased with the way he’s fucked you stupid on his cock.

“Won’t last much longer,” he purrs. He swallows thickly, and if your brain wasn’t complete mush, you’d be very satisfied that he’s losing control, too. “Make yourself come for me. Jus’ one more, baby, please.”

And when he asks so nicely, how can you disobey?

Your hand snakes its way between your legs, rubbing at your tender clit; the action enhances the delicious, soul-altering feeling of JT’s dick delivering pleasure and promise. His eyes are glued to your movements, but your eyes are watching him.

JT Compher has always been beautiful. Handsome. Exquisite, even. But the sight of him, eyes shut, lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, mouth open as his head falls back in ecstasy? No words. Truly, indescribable. 

It’s enough that you try to stave off your own orgasm just to prolong your view—that is, until the force of it absorbs you and then shatters you, seizing every last cell and filling them with euphoria. When the fuzziness fades from your eyes, JT’s panting body is on top of you, planting kisses along your collarbone. “And finally, one for the win.”

A dreamy smile slides onto your face. Weakly, your arms wrap around him, grazing the skin on his back lightly. He feels good in your arms. Safe. Comfortable. Natural. 

“Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?” 

There’s a pause as you try to process what he said, sure that he fucked you so good, your hearing’s gone out, too. He nudges your jaw with his nose.

“B–breakfast?” Your voice comes out way shakier than you intended. You feel the short exhale from his huffed laugh against your skin.

“Don’t want you to think you’re just a booty call,” he says, like it’s obvious, like he’s not still half-hard buried inside of you, his cum seeping out onto the wrinkled sheets beneath you.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Can’t think about anything else about you or I’ll get hard again,” he admits wryly. The confession strokes your ego, something he manages to do without even trying. As you debate if you should, in fact, rouse a round two, your pussy flutters weakly in protest—dick too good. Need break.

JT’s hands never leave your body as he helps you walk to the bathroom, laughing at the way you waddle to avoid spilling cum all over his floor. Once you’re cleaned up, you slip on the t-shirt you packed, joining him at the sink to brush your teeth. He bumps your hip affectionately with his, and the domesticity of it all contrasted with the filthy aura from 5 minutes prior is astonishing—in a good way.

Back in his room, he eyes the bag that you place on the floor. “You can keep some things here, you know. I cleared out a drawer.”

It’s a simple statement, but one that strikes you hard; symbolic and heavy in its meaning: a place carved out for you in his home. 

In his life. 

JT sees you standing, gaping at him, and closes the gap between you before he’s tilting your jaw upward to look at him. His lips hover over yours, the ghost of his touch lingering in a way that makes your heart stop.

His voice is low, almost a whisper, like he doesn’t want to burst the bubble surrounding you. “If I’m coming on too strong, let me know.”

“You aren’t,” you breathe, surprised that your voice even works. His lips curl into a smile against yours before he presses forward to kiss you. It’s slow, ardent, sweet. Dizzying.

“Let’s go to bed. You can fill the drawer tomorrow.”

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

#jt compher fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #jt compher x reader #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl smut #hockey smut

[laurenairay]

breathe me in, breathe me out - JT Compher

Summary: a reunion with JT at a summer wedding brings you more than you could have ever expected.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: fluff, mild pining, summer wedding.

A/N: this is my entry for @antoineroussel​’s summer fic exchange, and I have written this JT Compher fic for @fallinallincurls​! I really hope I captured everything you asked for Bre, and I hope even more than you love reading it as much as I loved writing it!

Fic title from Watermelon Sugar, by Harry Styles.

Series masterlist

*

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” – Maya Angelou

Weddings were a complex thing. Fundamentally, they should be easy, simple, celebrations of love. But often they were so much more than that; the stress of organising the ‘perfect day’, choosing who to invite and who not to invite, things going wrong, items not arriving, last minute cancellations, bad weather and so many more things that can effectively ruin what should be the happiest day of two people’s lives, starting them off on that new chapter together.

Over the past few years, you’d watched more and more friends getting married, helping out with all the planning and preparations, so when it came to helping out with your brother’s upcoming wedding, you were at least prepared for all the things that could go wrong. Your brother’s fiancé was (thankfully) fairly laidback compared to some brides you’d been around before, but even then there were some tears when there were complications with the flower orders and arguments over the seating plans. There were more than a few stressful moments that you’d had to deal with personally, as the only sister of the groom and the only non-related bridesmaid of the bride, but when the morning came on the big day, all you could see was how happy excited your brother was to marry her.

And that’s what mattered. Seeing him so in love, so happy, so excited for his future with her was all you cared about.

Waking up at the crack of dawn to head over to where the bride’s party were getting ready wasn’t your favourite idea, but you arrived with a tired smile and two trays of coffees, earning tired smiles in return. The bride’s father was a member of the local country club, which had its own venue area and private rooms (as well as its own mini hotel), so this was where your brother’s bride had chosen to get ready before the cars picked you all up for the church (your brother and his groomsmen were getting ready in your family home). All of the other bridesmaids were sisters or cousins of the bride, so you were mostly left to your own devices – which suited you fine – giving you a chance to wake up slowly while your hair and make-up were done, sitting to the side of the room while the closer bridesmaids rushed around squawking.

If your only job today was to take candid sweet photos to send to your soon-to-be sister-in-law later, then that was fine. The less stress the better.

But eventually it was time. Your whole troupe of bridesmaids were primped and polished and perfect, and the bride…well, she was radiant. And it was her happy-nervous-excited smile that topped everything off, only making her look more beautiful. Your brother was a lucky man indeed.

“Ready to officially join our family?” you asked softly, smiling at the bride.

She huffed out a laugh, a little watery, a lot emotional, but nodded and smiled at you in return. “Yeah, I am.”

You just grinned at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping back to let the procession to the cars take place.

If you were being honest, the ceremony sped by in a blur – all you could remember was your brother’s happy smile and happy tears. Thank god for the photographer. It wasn’t until your car was pulling back into the country club and the bridesmaids were all piling back into the rooms you’d gotten ready in this morning that you even took a moment to just breathe. The serious part of the day was over – now it was time to relax, have a drink or two, and party. That was your new sister-in-law’s intentions anyway, and you were determined to follow her wishes. Especially her idea to change into white sneakers for the reception; that was an idea of hers you were more than happy to do.

But it was as you walked through the reception hall, smiling and greeting old family friends on your brother’s side of the party, that you saw someone you weren’t expecting.

“Mom, I didn’t know JT was coming,” you murmured, trying to be subtle as you glanced at him out the corner of your eye.

“Oh you know how it is, honey – your brother invited all the neighbours we’re close friends with, especially those with the boys he grew up with, and the Comphers are on that list. We just weren’t sure if JT would be able to make it with his hockey season and the cup win, and, well, that’s not something you can ever truly plan for this time of year, is it?” she explained with a smile.

She had a point, sure – but maybe if you’d had a little heads up, you would’ve been able to prepare yourself for how good he looks with that beard. Like, damn. Hockey championship wins looked good on him. No, focus, don’t be a creeper.

“Do make sure to go and say hello to them later, yes? I know you and JT always got along when you were younger too,” she added, before wandering off.

More like you were the awkward younger sister and JT was always super nice to you, but close enough. You bit your bottom lip briefly, trying to think of what you’d even say to him (‘congrats on the cup, bud, how’s your life been for the past eight years?’), when he turned his head and caught eyes with you. And immediately started walking over to you, big smile on his face, sending your stomach erupting in butterflies. How had you forgotten how handsome he was? From 18 to 27, he’d only gotten more attractive, especially with how he’d obviously grown in confidence, that ease in his walk and his body language, and it was all you could do not to melt as he stopped in front of you.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been since I last saw you,” he said with a soft smile.

“Hello to you too,” you laughed, fighting the heat that wanted to rise to your cheeks.

A light flush rose to JT’s cheeks, making you smile even more, even as your traitorous heart started beating a little faster. You’d thought that you would’ve been able to get over your childhood crush on him by now – it had been so many years, after all – but apparently not. Who could blame you though, when he smiled at you like that?

“You look amazing, by the way,” JT said, smile turning a little shy.

“Oh thanks! The bridesmaids’ dresses were a great choice, right?” you grinned.

“Great for you, definitely,” he nodded.

The butterflies in your stomach swarmed with a vengeance, but you tried to ignore them. A little light flirting meant nothing. Right?

The two of you ended up sitting nearby, just talking, catching up about everything and anything that had changed since he left to play ice hockey, which turned out to be a lot. Everything from you going through college, starting a career, moving out into your own apartment, to JT going through the AHL and making it into the NHL, the highs and lows of professional hockey, and of course his Stanley Cup win. He only knew his family and your immediate family here tonight, and while you knew a few more than that you still knew less than half, so you didn’t feel bad about monopolising his time – JT certainly seemed happy enough to stay by your side. Time had flown by, both over the last eight years and tonight, and before you realised it, the two of you had been talking for a few hours, and were only broken out of your little bubble by the DJ announcing the last slow dance of the night.

“Would you, uh, maybe want to dance with me?” he asked hesitantly.

The hope in his eyes gave you hope of your own, stupid ridiculous hope, and you found yourself nodding, JT just smiling as he took your hand and led you onto the outskirts of the dancefloor.

At last, My love has come along, My lonely days are over, And life is like a song.

What a song. As the two of you swayed in time with the music, in time with everyone else paired up on the dancefloor, you found yourself staring up into his pretty brown eyes, him watching you back with the softest smile on his face. And even though you’d spent the last few hours talking, not a single word was spoken as you danced, one of his hands on your hip and the other clasping one of yours, while your free hand rested on his chest. It was sweet, and it was intimate, and it was soft, none of the things you ever thought you’d experience with JT. All those childhood fantasies and hopes came bubbling back to the surface, and just this once you allowed yourself to live in them, floating like you were on a cloud.

As much as you didn’t want the moment to end, you knew it had to, even though it made your heart ache to step away from him. Thankfully, you knew that the reception would be ending soon, and you would be able to go and bask in the sweetness of the evening in your own room, savouring each moment you’d shared with him in secret, in private. The two of you stayed silent as JT walked you over to the bar, getting you a bottle of water each, and it wasn’t until he took his first sip that he started talking again, murmuring a joke about a man walking past that had you almost spitting your own water back out. And just like that, your conversation started up all over again, people drifting in and out of your bubble, but for you everything was focused on JT. How could it not be?

“Are you staying here tonight? Or are you in the group of taxis back into town?” you asked, smiling up at him as you noticed a small set of people gathering by the doors.

“Ah, thankfully my mom booked us all a room before playoffs even started, so I’m staying here,” JT grinned, “I’m guessing you’re staying here too?”

“Yeah that’s right. Third floor,” you nodded.

“No way, us too! Good to know that I can walk you back tonight,” he said softly.

Walk you back? Oh, walk you back to your room? The very thought of him escorting you upstairs made your cheeks heat up, and although he raised an eyebrow as he noticed, JT didn’t comment on your reaction, which you could only be grateful for.

The two of you stayed by the bar, the few last family members who were staying in the country club hotel suites chatting with you too, until your mom wandered over, looking a little glassy-eyed but happy.

“We’re heading up to the rooms now – are you coming?”

You shook your head with a smile, holding up your half-full glass. “I’ll just finish my drink before heading up.”

She nodded, smiling at both you and JT, before walking away again. It was strange that she hadn’t said anything or even implied anything about JT being by your side all night, but you weren’t going to complain. It was probably a perk of him being a long-time family friend – it wasn’t like JT was a stranger who was going to take advantage of you. Just an insanely attractive guy that had been more than happy to spend a whole evening with you.

That wasn’t something you wanted to think about while he was standing next to you, so close that you could feel his body heat through his jacket.

Eventually though, it was time to head to the hotel suites, when both of you had finished your drinks. There weren’t many people left to say goodbye to, but you waved cheerfully and kissed cheeks as you passed people you knew, JT staying silent by your side until the two of you reached the elevators.

“Thank you for letting me stick to your side all night,” he mused, loosening his tie a little around his neck.

“Are you kidding? That’s the most fun I’ve had at a wedding in ages,” you grinned.

“Yeah?” he said, blushing again, offering you a sweet smile.

Oh he really was so cute.

“Yeah, JT. It was great spending some actual time with you after all these years,” you nodded, smiling back at him.

The last thing you wanted was for this sweetheart to think he’d been a burden or annoying, because that was so far from the truth. It wasn’t like you were lying – it really was the most fun you’d had at a wedding, and it was all because of him.

When the elevator stopped at your shared floor, JT gestured for you to head out first like the gentleman he was, quickly joining you to walk along the corridor. But as you got closer to your room, unmissable noises got louder and louder, until you realised that your next door neighbour for the night had a partner with her…and they were clearly having incredibly athletic sex. Damn it.

“What’s the likelihood they will finish in the next 5 minutes?” you winced.

JT just grimaced at a particularly loud moan. “Like, 0.1%?” he offered.

You just groaned, the groan echoed unintentionally by occupied room, making you both laugh despite the frustrating situation.

“If you want, and I’m not trying to be skeevy here, but I have two beds in my room? I’m at the other end of the corridor so you won’t hear them, and you’re more than welcome to have the other bed if you want to actually get some sleep?” he said.

His eyes were wide and earnest, although they narrowed in annoyance as the banging of a headboard started in the silence. If he thought there was any chance of you not agreeing to that, he had another thing coming. Sharing a room with JT? Hell yes. Even if it was totally innocent, he had no idea what that offer was doing to you. Sure, you’d been looking forward to basking in the fairytale that the reception had been, but this was way better.

“I will absolutely take you up on that. Let me just get changed into pyjamas?” you said, smiling.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Uh, I’m in room 310. I’ll see you soon?”

You just nodded, sending him a thankful smile, before you opened your hotel door. Somehow the sex noises were even louder in here, and you grimaced, turning your head to see JT already grimacing too, before he laughed a little sheepishly.

“Yeah don’t subject yourself to that for long. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he mused.

Wasting no time, you stripped out of your beautiful bridesmaid’s dress and hung it up in the wardrobe, and quickly pulled on your pyjamas. After brushing your teeth, scrubbing your make-up off and letting down your fancy up-do, all you needed to do was grab your phone charger and phone before heading back out of the room. The noises hadn’t lessened in the slightest while you were getting ready for bed, and to be honest, if JT hadn’t offered you his spare bed, you don’t know what you would’ve done.

The blessings for this guy just kept on coming.

Especially as JT answered the door shirtless. You found yourself freezing slightly, eyes planted on his sculpted chest, before heat rushed to your cheeks as you broke out of your stupor, only to find JT blinking as if he’d done the same. Was he…was he as affected as you were? Well, that was something to think about, you know, when you were eventually alone again.

“Thanks for letting me stay in here,” you murmured, as you plugged your phone in to charge.

There were plenty of photos to put on Instagram, but that was a job for tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. In this moment, you just wanted to enjoy this extra time you had with JT – you didn’t want to waste any of the time that he was looking at you and smiling at you staring at your phone instead. Not a chance.

“Oh you don’t have to thank me. There’s literally no way I would’ve been happy with you trying to sleep with all of that going on next door,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Well I’m still going to thank you,” you mused, rolling your eyes fondly, “it’s been a long day and I definitely need my beauty sleep.”

JT bit his bottom lip, as if he was trying to think whether to say something or not, before he exhaled, not saying a word. What was he holding back? You frowned slightly but didn’t push him – you sure as hell didn’t want him to pry into your own thoughts after all.

“Good night, JT,” you said softly, snuggling down under the covers.

“Good night,” he murmured, smiling over at you, “See you in the morning.”

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed was disorientating to say the least. Luckily you didn’t have much of a headache from all the drinks you’d had last night, silently thanking JT for all the water he kept ordering for the two of you. Oh damn, JT. You quickly lifted your head, easily spotting his fluffy red hair in the neighbouring bed, and bit your bottom lip as you cheeks heated up. Last night wasn’t a dream. You really had stayed in JT’s room overnight, after a whole evening spent by his side. And you weren’t dreaming, not a chance.

All of a sudden, your phone started ringing, loud and obnoxious, earning you a groan from the guy next to you as he woke up. Mom. What did she want? And why so early?

“Where are you? Why aren’t you answering your door?”

Oh damn, that was the last thing you’d expected.

“Brittany-Louise had a very loud bed partner as I headed back to my room last night, so JT offered the second bed in his hotel room,” you explained, wincing.

“He offered…in his room… you didn’t sleep wi-”

“No, it was very kind of him to offer the spare separate bed in his room,” you interrupted, willing away the heat rising on your face.

It was blatantly obvious that JT was listening to the conversation, but you desperately tried to keep your cool. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that your mom thought you’d slept with him. Definitely not after how sweet he’d been last night.

“Well that boy always was a gentleman. Is he staying for breakfast in the club restaurant?”

“I don’t know, let me ask,” you replied.

You pulled the phone away from your ear, pressing it to your chest as you smiled at JT sheepishly. “So, um, my mom wants to know If you’re having breakfast downstairs too?”

JT’s eyes went wide in realisation at who were talking to, but he just nodded. “Yeah I was planning on it. I think my parents and Jesse are too.”

Oh good. You smiled at him, before putting the phone back up to your ear. “Yes he will be.”

“Okay good, both of you can meet us down there when you’re ready. I will be having a word with Brittany-Louise’s mom in the meantime.”

You end the call with a wince at your mom’s abrupt tone, laughing softly at JT’s confused face. “Well Brittany-Louise is going to get an earful, and we’ve been summoned for breakfast,” you explained.

“To be fair, she gave you an earful last night,” JT grinned, making you groan, “and breakfast sounds good to me. We can head down together if you want?”

You bit your bottom lip as JT sat upright in bed, the bedsheets slipping away to reveal his thickly-muscled chest all over again, and it took all your concentration not to blush. Somehow he looked even better than you remembered last night. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’m literally just going to having a quick wash and brush my teeth before throwing on a dress so I won’t take long?”

“Perfect, see you soon,” he said, smiling softly.

You sped through a quick body wash in your own shower, throwing on a simple blue dress and a little mascara, and you were just slipping into your shoes when there was a knock on the door. Opening it with a smile, you saw JT standing there in a plain tshirt and jeans, looking unfairly fresh and awake. He did also look a little stunned though, making your smile slide into a light frown, before he seemed to break out of his thoughts by shaking his head.

“Wow you look amazing,” he murmured.

“I’m not wearing anything special,” you said confused. It was just a simple old dress?

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” he said, shrugging, although a fierce blush spread across his cheeks - which he clearly felt burning, so he turned away. “We should probably head down.”

“Oh jeez yeah, definitely don’t want my mom sending up a search party,” you laughed.

The look of fear on JT’s face made you laugh, and that seemed to break the awkward tension between the two of you.

When the two of you reached the club’s restaurant, JT’s family weren’t down there yet, so he sat next to you on the tables that your mom and aunt had pulled together. You grinned to yourself when you noticed how mortified Brittany-Louise looked, JT snickering when you told him. The two of you ordered your food with little fanfare, and although you were mostly in conversation with other people while you waited for your breakfast, every time you glanced over at him, he was already looking at you.

That had to mean something, right?

By the time you’d finished eating (JT’s family finally having joined the big group), there were a few people ready to head back to their rooms too, so you and JT headed back with them, even though you wished you could’ve spent just that little bit more time alone with him. Just that little bit more, before you were separated to see him again who knows when. Eventually though, you reached your room, the rest of your group continuing on down the corridor.

“I guess this is where I leave you,” he murmured, as the two of you remained the last people in the corridor.

You knew he had to pack his bags. You knew you had to pack your bags. But that didn’t mean you want this time with him to end. So you took a deep breath, hoping your smile wasn’t shaky.

“Kinda wish we had more time,” you said softly.

The moment the words left your lips, your breath hitched in your throat, and you tried not to wince. What if you were reading everything wrong? What if the fantasy really had all been in your head?

But then JT smiled, ever so lightly, and the tension melted from your body. That soft smile wasn’t one he gave out often, you knew that much. So maybe you weren’t the only one who felt this way, that there was something worth exploring between the two of you.

“Then maybe we should do this again some time. Dinner, drinks, breakfast the next morning,” JT said smoothly, “Just maybe without all your family around.”

Definitely without your family. But oh wow, he wanted to take you out on a date? JT wanted to take you out on a date?

“I’d really like that,” you said, smiling shyly.

JT’s soft smile shifted into a confident grin, sending a sharp jolt through your body and heat rushing to your cheeks, both of which you ignored as he handed his phone over to you to put your phone number in. He stayed silent as you typed, just keeping that intense stare in you, not helping the rush in your body at all. And the moment you handed his phone back, he started typing himself, until you felt your own phone buzz in your handbag. Ah, smart. Very smart.

“I’ve got some pr team things to do the next couple of days, but I’ll call you? Are you free on Friday?” he asked hopefully.

For him, for this? You’d make sure you were. But he didn’t have know that. Not yet.

“I’m sure I can work something out,” you said simply, smiling innocently.

JT’s eyes flashed with something a little more heated in response, sending a shiver down your spine. Damn, how was that possible? How did he have such an effect on you like this? 

He must have seen something in your eyes, must have felt that same flash of heat because the next thing you knew his hand cupped your cheek, and he took two seconds to search your face for a reaction before he leant down and took your lips in a kiss. You made a soft noise of surprise before you could stop yourself, but you wasted no time in clutching at his T-shirt, kissing him back just as intently, JT making his own soft noise in return. You lost yourself in his kisses, desperately glad in the back of your mind that no one else was in the corridor, but far too consumed by the feeling of his lips on yours, how soft his beard was against your skin, the way his tongue lightly brushed your tongue, how this was all so much yet not nearly enough. Then he pressed you lightly into the door, tearing a quiet noise from your throat, making the embrace all that more intense before suddenly breaking the kiss and stepping away, breathing just as heavily as you were.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he said, his voice a little rough, his eyes a little wild.

You just nodded, head still spinning slightly as you watched him walk down the corridor to his own hotel room. Did that really just happen? Were you still dreaming? No, there was no way that you could’ve dreamt the way his beard felt against your skin, the way his lips perfectly fitted with your lips. No way. The moment that you stepped into your own room and closed the door behind you, your fingers drifted up to your mouth, lightly brushing over the slightly swollen lips in a daze.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

#my writing #jt compher fic #the summer fic exchange 2k22 #jt compher imagine #jt compher fanfic #jt compher x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #hwn cloud

[ilyasorokinn]

I feel like JT would be a total GirlDad™️. I also love the idea of twin girl dad JT. He would be/is a total simp for all the ladies in his life.

TWO OF EACH

tw: babies

every single piece of kids merch the avalanche produced, jt was first in line to purchase two of them. and if they were customizable, he was ordering at least 20.

he came through the front door, two bags in hand. you looked over at him and shook your head, "again?"

"what? a few of them were on sale and the other stuff i couldn't say no to."

"joseph..." you sighed.

"what? they're so cute." he cooed, rushing over and sitting next to you, opening the bags and pulling out all the items, which weren't all of them.

a few were still being personalized with his last name and number, so they were going to either be shipped to the house or he would be coming home with even more bags.

"we're gonna go broke at this rate."

"well, i guess i'll just have to keep playing." he joked. he gathered all his bags and made his way into the twins' bedroom.

the twins, two girls, elizabeth or lizzie for short, and avery, were wide-awake when jt walked into their room, "hi," jt greeted them with a big smile, setting down his bags and kissing each of their heads.

"what'd you get us daddy?" lizzie asked, excitedly peeking into the bags.

he pulled each item out of the bag, showing it to them. they both "oohed" and "awed" as he pulled out each item, "and look, i even got your names on these." he pulled out the shirts, showing them the new sweatshirts with their names on it.

"yay!" they grabbed their sweatshirts and ran off to go put them on.

"what do you say?" you cut in.

"thank you, daddy." they giggled.

taylor's dilf day!

#jt compher imagine #jt cpmpher imagines #jt compher x reader #jt compher blurbs #jt compher fic #jt compher #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #hockey #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche imagines #colorado avalanche blurbs #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche #taylor writes #taylor writes: hockey #taylor's blurbs #taylor's dilf day!

[typical-simplelove]

love your writing so much, can I please request #13 from the prompt list with jt compher? thank you so much 💗

"I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you" with JT Compher

Requests are now closed!

Bouncing his knee up and down, he waited for you to come home from work. He's not normally this nervous, waiting for you, but he had a surprise for you. It wasn't that he thought you weren't going to like it, but it could be the surprise that changed everything. It could be the surprise that showed it all.

It could be the one thing that finally conveyed to you how much JT loves you.

You gave him the key to your apartment for emergencies, and while this didn't qualify as an emergency, JT didn't feel like waiting in the hallway. He texted you to let you know he was at your apartment, so you know, but it isn't stopping his heart from hammering.

"Hey," you say, announcing your presence as you walk in the door. "I got caught up in a last-minute meeting, so I'm sorry I'm a bit late."

He nods and swallows. No greeting leaves his mouth. He didn't even realize you were running late. As far as JT was concerned, he'd wait for you no matter how long you took.

"Let me just change into some comfier clothes, and I'll be right there," you continue, choosing to ignore JT's confusing behavior.

"Okay," he breathes out, knowing that you're onto his awkwardness.

By the time you emerge from your bedroom in leggings and a sweatshirt—his sweatshirt, which didn't go unnoticed by him—JT's pretending he's okay.

"Did you want to order dinner or something? There's this new Vietnamese place around the corner that I ordered from earlier this week, and it was really, really good, so I think you need to try it."

"Oh, yeah, sure, sounds good," JT replies. His plans of surprising you were just thrown out the window.

"Great," you respond, bouncing up from the couch to find the menu and place the order.

For the next hour or so, JT's returned to his normal behaviors, for the most part. His mind is still trying to figure out just how to tell you about his surprise.

Thankfully, the moment seems to make itself available.

"I got something for you," he tells you as you reach for the remote.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask, a small smile on your face.

"Remember when we went to the jewelry store to buy my mom a birthday gift?" JT begins, walking to where his jacket is hanging on a chair. He reaches for a small box. "This is for you."

Your face goes warm as his hand gently brushes against yours as he places the box in your hand. Slowly, you open the box and gasp at the necklace inside. Hanging on a dainty gold chain is a pendant with JT's initials and a small heart with a tiny diamond.

"I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you," JT explains.

"It's so pretty!" you exclaim, jumping from where you were sitting into JT's lap and wrapping him in a hug. You hold him tightly and feel yourself mold perfectly against his body. Slowly, you pull away and look intently into his eyes. "Thank you so much; I love it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Slowly, you close the gap between your and JT's lips. You softly kiss and hope he's not freaked out because it would break your heart if he were freaked out. He's not, though, as his hands go to cup your face, and he deepens the kiss. When you both slowly pull away, you're both warm with love and excitement. "You have no idea how much I love you."

JT laughs. "I don't think you know how much I love you."

You playfully roll your eyes and lean in for another kiss because, after all, the best way to show someone how you feel is by showing them.

#jt compher #claudia writes #jt compher imagine #jt compher fic #jt compher x reader #jt compher imagines #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl writing #claudia's debut season of heartfirst writing #op: 2022

[wyattjohnston]

if he hasn't been requested yet, pls do "I will never not think about you" with jt compher <3 for the avs blurbs. thank you so much!

i was going to say that this got 'long' but it's still only 400 words haha

It’s been years since the last time you saw JT. Occasionally you see Jesse or Morgan, and their parents are frequent visitors at your house, but JT is an enigma when he comes home for the summer—he’s everywhere and nowhere all at once.

The invite to the Cup party gets extended by Valeri when she and Bob come over for dinner—not a last-minute invite, just wanting to do it in person and never finding the time she assures you. You agree, your whole family does and while you’re excited to see the Stanley Cup you’re far more interested in the idea of seeing JT for the first time since he joined the NHL.

Despite the party being located in one, not particularly large area, he’s still impossible to track down. Well, he’s impossible to get alone but you can’t blame anyone else for wanting to talk to him.

You’re in the kitchen, downing a glass of water straight from the fridge—the day had been long and hot, and it was definitely coming to an end.

“You’re leaving?”

You turn, startled, one arm in your jacket and the other one on its way to getting stuck. You say, cheekily, “So you do remember me.”

“You think I forgot you?” JT asks, moving closer.

“I think you don’t think about me. Why would you know you’re a Stanley Cup Champion?”

JT sighs, “I will never not think about you.”

You abandon putting on your jacket, stunned that he would admit that. He doesn’t seem shocked by his admission or expecting anything from you which really just makes it harder to think of a response.

“It’s fine. I don’t expect you to say anything. You can go if you want.”

“That feels very familiar,” you say wearily.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he frowns, probably reliving the last moment you’d ever spent together when you’d been the one to tell him he could leave if he wanted, as if he wasn’t going to follow his NHL dream.

“If you remember having this convo, JT, come see me tomorrow, yeah?”

“Couldn’t forget,” he smiles. “Even if I wanted to.”

#jt compher imagine #jt compher fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #avs celly #fic: avs

[holy-puckslibrary]

here's everything i published in the month of OCTOBER.

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

★ THE ONE (18+) 

pairing — fwb!ANDREI SVECHNIKOV x reader wc — 8k synopsis — the reader is andrei's favorite girl, but she isn't his only. for awhile, the arrangement was comfortable. he'd show up whenever he was in town, they'd fuck, and then he'd leave. rinse and repeat. so how will andrei react when their routine comes to a screeching halt?

★ CLANDESTINE (18+) 

pairing — dbf!SIDNEY CROSBY x reader wc — 4.5k synopsis — when sidney catches the owner’s daughter hooking up with a rookie during a swanky event, he feels compelled to save an old friend some embarrassment. reminding showing her what a real man can do is just a bonus.

— INAUGURAL SLUMBER PARTY  tags: #oct 23 // #lights camera action

★ sharing is caring deets series masterlist

★ thoughts/feelings re: kinktober

★ lucky charm hidden object teaser game

★ re-visiting cameo and the remaster series masterlist

— 1989 (GRACE'S VERSION) tags: #1989 (grace's version) // #1989 (GV)

★ TRACK ONE — OUT OF THE WOODS (quinn hughes) the crush verse masterlist

★ TRACK TWO — THIS LOVE (erik johnson) the nanny verse masterlist

★ TRACK THREE — I KNOW PLACES (sidney crosby) the sugar sugar verse masterlist

→ next month’s round-up 

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

#*ೃ༄ by holy-pucks #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov angst #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x you #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby smut #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby #sidney crosby x y/n #sidney crosby x you #oct 23 #lights camera action #sharing is caring verse #tyson jost x reader #jt compher x reader #jt compher x reader x tyson jost #college au #kinktober 2023 #the lucky charm verse #lucky charm #lucky charm!jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes #cameo verse

[powermakar]

Take a Picture - Jt. Compher

Merry Christmas ya filthy (slut ) animal!

well, this happened... 472 words of filthy smut with no plot

I have a soft and extremely horny spot for Jt okay

warning: cum play, unprotected sex (be careful please!), lots of swearing, pictures being taken during it too, and I think that's it

Jt Compher x fem reader

Jt wasn’t the most experimental person in the bedroom but when you two did do something new, 9 times out of 10 it would become his favorite thing. 

Now that is how you ended up laying on your bed with his head between your thighs. The scratchiness of his beard and the way he works his tongue over your clit sends you over the edge within minutes every time. “Fuck Jt how are you so good at this?” you ask, catching your breath. 

“Lots of practice. And I love watching you cum,” he smirks. You just hum in response as Jt flips you over onto your stomach and lifts your ass up. “I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight,” he says unbuttoning his pants. 

“Fuck me so hard Jt, I can take it,” you say reaching down to play with your clit. Jt smacks your ass and you can feel his spit slide down your folds. Before you know it, you are screaming his name as he is ramming his cock into your pussy. “Harder please, please,” you beg.

“I don’t want to hurt you, love,” Jt says but speeds up his pace anyways. The only thing that could be heard was breathy moans and skin slapping together. 

“Baby ‘m gonna cum soon,” he moans.  He spills into you embarrassingly fast, but at that moment he didn’t care. He wanted to try something new. Pulling his cock out of your tight hole, he gathered some of his cum on his fingers. Jt begins to rub the cum over your pussy. He sticks two fingers into your hole to gather more and rubs it on your clit, teasing you. This makes you clench your pussy and cause more to slip out. “Fuck, you should see yourself y/n you are so fucking beautiful like this,” he praises. 

“Take a picture, I want to see it,” you say, arching your back a little more. You thought that Jt was just going to grab his phone, but no, he grabbed his old polaroid camera. He took multiple pictures with and without his hands all over you. 

“So fucking un-believable,” Jt whispers in awe. He puts his favorite polaroid on top of his phone to put in the back of his phone at a later time. Jt fingers you roughly seeing all of his cum being pushed and pulled out of your sweet pussy making you both chase your next orgasm. 

“I’m close baby,” you say, squeezing your erect nipples. 

“Me too,”

“What?” you laugh

“Playing with my cum in your pussy is enough to send me over the edge babe,” he says gently slapping your pussy. That right there caused your third orgasm to rip through your body. In return, you sucked off Jt until he is spilling into the back of your throat.

#jt compher #colorado avalanche #go avs go #hockey fic #ice hockey #nhl smut #nhl imagine #jt compher imagine #jt compher smut #nhl players #national hockey league #jt compher fanfic

[jostystyles]

our love was made for the movies | jtc

a/n: because i am always late to everything i've ever done, here is my fic for @antoineroussel 's fic exchange! this is always such a joy to do demi, thank you <3 this fic is for @apoormansyou , i hope you enjoy!! (edit: i had this queued to post on the 31st until i realized i set it to post on july 31st 2023. im an idiot.)

warnings: swearing, tooth rotting fluff, jt being my puppet for a rom com boy, allusions to sex, fem reader pronouns

word count: 2.2k

In the movies, they always over elaborate the scene where the main characters realize they’re in love. 

There’s a soundtrack playing, usually some orchestral ballad or a top 40 love song, the camera work is exaggerated, and there’s a close up of the character smiling at a cheesy shot of their love interest doing something cute. 

But this wasn’t a movie. This was real life. 

And JT knew he was in love without all that stuff you see in the movies. 

But for the sake of the story, let’s set the scene. 

Our story starts 3 years ago at a coffee shop in Denver. Tyson had asked JT if he wanted to go after practice because he had a crush on the barista and was afraid of embarrassing himself. Naturally, JT grudgingly obliged, half because he loved his best friend and half because he was hoping Tyson would do something stupid. And something stupid he did. 

“I’m telling you bro, she’s totally into me. She gave me the biggest cinnamon roll!” Tyson gloated. JT rolled his eyes. 

“That doesn’t necessarily mean she likes you genius. She picked the one that was closest to her in the case.” He replied. 

Tyson scoffed,” Whatever man. You just can’t believe that-“ There’s the stupid. As he turned back to retaliate against JT, he ended up walking right into someone, spilling his iced latte all over them. 

JTs eyes widened as he tried to stop the inevitable, but it was too late. The girl stood dumb founded, her blouse now covered in the brownness of Tyson’s stupidity. 

“Oh, fuck, I am SO sorry ma’am.” The curly haired boy said, looking frantically around for something to clean up. 

“It’s um, it’s ok. Wouldn’t be the first time this had actually happened.” the girl laughed.

“Josty, you idiot. Go get paper towels.” JT grumbled. 

As Tyson sputtered an apology and left, JT turned to the girl who somehow didn’t seem as upset as he would’ve been given her situation. 

“I’m really sorry about him. He’s kind of an idiot.” 

She let out a laugh, and JT came to realize that his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the sound. 

“It’s ok. I have an idiot friend too. Besides, I kinda thought this shirt could use a coffee stain.”

JT chuckled, brown eyes looking up to meet her (Y/E/C) ones. In that moment he knew he was fucked. 

“I’m (Y/N) by the way.” She said, the corner of her mouth turned up into a smile.

JT swallowed a lump he didn’t know he had in his throat. “I’m uh, I’m JT.” he replied. 

JT thinks that he was going to like (Y/N).

Almost 4 months after Tyson made a fool of himself, JT had fallen quite hard for the girl from the cafe. 

As much as a klutz Tyson is, JT really had to thank him for it this time. After they had helped her clean up her shirt, Tyson had removed himself from the situation out of embarrassment. That left JT and (Y/N) to make small talk, and one thing led to another. 

Now, JT stood in the rafters of Red Rocks Arena at a Coldplay concert, with a huge smile on his face. But the smile wasn’t directed towards the band at all, no. In fact, he was staring at (Y/N). She stood at his side, full attention directed towards the band on stage. Her (Y/H/C) was bouncing at the speed she was jumping, her floral sundress pillowing it out like a cloud around her each time she rose off the ground. Her eyes were shut so tight that JT was sure she was seeing stars, and the electro lights illuminated her features. 

Growing up with two sisters, JT had watched his fair share of rom coms. He always rolled his eyes at the cheesiness of them, and the dramatic scenes where the guy finally get the girl. He never understood why Morgan squealed when Kat read her list to Patrick, or why Jesse always said her childhood crush was Jack from While You Were Sleeping. 

But now it hits him. He never understood what love was really like until this very moment. 

In this moment, he was standing with a grin on his face, watching a girl who was a stranger to him 4 months ago dance her heart out to a band he had never really paid attention to before. 

After the concert had ended, they sat on the floor at the end of JT’s bed, an open pizza box laid across their laps. (Y/N) was a little drunker than she’d like to admit, but JT had insisted he’d do the driving so she could let loose a little. 

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them, the only sound to be heard was the faint chewing of food.

Swallowing a bite, (Y/N) wiped some grease from the side of her mouth before speaking up. “Y’know, I had a really good time tonight, J. You really outdid yourself on this date.” 

JT replied with a chuckle. “I don’t really think I had much of a part in causing you fun as Chris Martin did.” 

“Ok, that may be true. But, he's not the one who bought me a tshirt and is now eating pizza and asking me about my day.” 

JT laughed again, looking to his left at her. She had a few crumbs on her face, and was looking up at him with the biggest (Y/E/C)-est eyes he’d ever seen. Her makeup was a little smudged and her hair a bit out of sorts, but he doesnt think he’d seen anything more beautiful. 

“Can I tell you something?” he said too quickly before he could think. (Y/N)’s eyebrows rose a bit in surprise. 

“Yeah, of course.” She said softly. 

Looking down, he realized that their hands were intertwined slightly, and he gave hers a squeeze before taking a deep breath. 

This was it. Now or Never. If there were boxes to check in the story of JT’s rom com, quite a few had already been checked. Denial that true love exists. Meet cute. The comedic relief best friend. Girl who changes his point of view. Moment of realization. 

Now, he was about to check another box. The love confession. It might not be a kiss in the rain, an objection at a wedding, or a first kiss in front of the building they used to work in together. But it belonged to him. This was JT writing his own story, the one where he tells about the love of his life. 

And she was sitting right next to him, looking at him with wide eyes, probably expecting the worst. 

“I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I’m not usually, like, good with words or anything, and I don’t exactly like, know how to do this. But I do know a few things. I know that Tyson is an idiot,” that elicited a laugh from (Y/N), “And without that idiot I wouldn’t have you. I know that meeting you changed my life forever. I know that we want the same things out of this. At least, I hope you feel the same as I do. And I know that we’ve only been together for like, 4 months, but I just really want you to know how I feel, even though it scares the fuck out of me and I don’t know what I’m doing. But I think I love you. Wait, no I know it. I don’t think. I know I do. Love you.” He finished, knowing that he just rambled on and probably sounded like an idiot. 

Looking up at (Y/N), he noticed that her eyes were teary. “Oh no, you’re crying. I’m sor-”

“NO! No I’m not. These are happy tears. I promise.” She cut him off. “I feel the same way. About everything. It sounds crazy, but you’ve changed my life and my outlook on a lot of things. And I want this with you, I really do. I love you too, JT.” 

JT smiled, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks and flow through his veins. In a swift motion, he threw the pizza box across the room, grabbed (Y/N), and practically threw both of them onto the bed. A soft squeal followed by a giggle came from her lips just before he captured them in a sweet yet passionate kiss.

As the kissing ensued, and their bodies grew closer together with each piece of clothing discarded, only one thought was running through his brain. 

JT really loved (Y/N). 

Now, in some stories, the movie ends with that. The lovers embrace intimately after confessing their love that was discovered throughout the story, and an upbeat love song plays as the screen fades to black and the credits roll. But this is not where JT and (Y/N)’s story ends.

It’s been 3 years since that night. Of course, there were times where it got tough, like always, but true love always comes out on top. The love story continued, and (Y/N) has been through JT’s side through it all. Their first home together, a cat named Dumpling, Jesse’s Olympic run, and Tyson’s trade. (Y/N) was there to hold JT when he cried about losing his best friend to the trade, and JT did the same for her when her friendship ended with a close friend. 

Their relationship wasn't picture perfect, but it was healthy. JT and (Y/N) were two sides of the same coin. Twin flames. Destined to be together, if you really wanted to be specific. 

They’d been through a lot of monumental things together, but nothing really compared to what was happening right now. 

(Y/N) sat in the rafters of Amelie Arena, head in her hands. “I can’t fucking watch this Jesse. I can’t look up.” 

“(Y/N), its fucking happening. JT is going to win the Stanley Cup.” Jesse replied, gripping her arm and shaking it.

Just as she finished speaking, the buzzer sounded off, signifying the Avalanche as the 2022 Stanley Cup Champions. (Y/N) jumped up, cheering at the top of her lungs and tears streaming down her face. She began to embrace each of JT’s family members in her arms, and before she knew it she was down on the ice, eyes scanning the crowd for the familiar head of bright red hair. 

JT spotted her before she saw him. His head was full of a million thoughts, but they all reduced to one as soon as he saw her. “(Y/N)!” he called out, and before he could say another word, she came running across the carpet on ice and jumping into his arms.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD. You did it baby, you fucking did it. I’m so proud of you what the fuck.” She rambled on, the tears falling from her cheeks onto his, rambling on in between kisses. 

“We did it baby. Stanley Cup champs.” JT said, voice wavering, not even realizing he was crying. 

“God, I love you so much J. I’m so proud of you.” (Y/N) said, running her fingers up and down his face, pushing tears away. 

He looked away from her for a second, seeing his fellow teammates embracing each other, and their loved ones, and even at his mom for a second. As he looked down at (Y/N) once again, he realized something. 

JT had done a lot of realizations while looking at his girlfriend throughout their relationship. But this was a big one, one that he had been pondering on for a bit of time. 

This was the part of the story where the main characters get their happy ending. The problem is resolved, the dragon is slayed, the princess is saved, whatever. JT’s happy ending was (Y/N). All the movies and the romance novels that he once found ridiculous made perfect sense, and he loved them. Because he knew what it was like to experience them, all because of her. The girl who made him believe in love. And he realized he never wanted to let that go, ever. 

“Marry me.” He said, looking at her once again.

(Y/N)’s head shot up, a surprised “What?” falling from her lips. 

“Marry me. I mean it. I don’t have a ring or anything, and this is not at all how I pictured doing this, but that’s not how anything has ever been with you. It’s always unexpected. I never expected you in my life. Or to win the Stanley Cup. But I know I never want to forget this, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, marry me?” He finished. 

“Yed, fuck yes, I’ll marry you. Oh my god.” (Y/N) babbled, as JT closed the gap between them, her hands tangling in his hair and lips burning with the scruff of his beard. 

This is where our story ends. JT and (Y/N)’s story is far from over, but this is where we have to part for now. But, this isn’t really a movie is it? This is real life. 

And JT was going to marry (Y/N), the love of his life. 

Scene. 

[FADE TO BLACK, CAMERA RISING AS “HEAD OVER HEELS” BY TEARS FOR FEARS PLAYS.]

#emmie writes #jt compher #jt compher x reader #jt compher imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #colorado avalanche

[fallinallincurls]

watching halloween movies with jt while kids are trick or treating at your house would be the actual end of me

OHMYGOD!!! i’m obsessed okay

it’s halloween night and it’s the first time you’re spending the holiday with jt in your newly bought house in a quiet section of denver. the neighborhood is perfect for that future family you both want and it’s not far away from the arena or practice rink for jt. you got to decorate outside for halloween and experience autumn in your own home which has been nothing short of incredible.

now, a halloween movie marathon is playing on tv and you’re cuddled up with jt on the couch watching the festive films. it’s calm and cozy, everything you wanted. you’re both going to nate’s later for some big halloween party, but for right now, your boyfriend and spooky movies are perfect.

every once in awhile though, the doorbell would ring signifying one thing and one thing only. trick or treaters. the moment the chime sounds through the house, you and jt are racing to the door to see who makes it first and gets to hand out the candy. and once the front door opens, you’re faced with the cutest little kids dressed in their amazing costumes.

“trick or treat!” they all say happily, holding out their pumpkin baskets and halloween bags. you compliment all of them on their costumes; a princess, a superhero, spider and no surprise, a mini colorado avalanche hockey player. jt crouches down to show the kids the candy in the bowl before dropping the one they want into their baskets. he’s got the biggest smile on his face, a look of joy that you love so dearly.

“whoa! do i have to tell mackinnon that he’s going to be replaced next year?” jt teases the little boy who’s dressed as an avs player. your heart swells as they interact and if you didn’t already know, this only solidifies the fact that you want to have him in your life forever and to be the father of your children.

as the small group of kids yell thank you and clamber down the porch steps back to their parents at the end of the walkway, you lean into jt’s side just as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“that’ll be us one day.” he murmurs quietly, a fond look in his eyes and the sweetest smile gracing his lips.

“yeah,” you start, squeezing him a little bit as another group of children approach the house. looks like the movie marathon won’t be finished tonight. “that’ll be us one day.”

#asks #ask bre #lovely anon #concept night #send in some concepts! #jt compher #jt compher blurbs #jt compher fluff #BESTIE I AM LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS #OHMYGOD #please give me more of this #or i might just turn it into a whole fic

[eyesthatroll]

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

“Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened. 

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

#quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes imagine #dawson mercer imagine #jt compher imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #trevor zegras imagine

[comphy-and-cozy]

can't let this moment go - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f)

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, praise. Brief but resolved angst.

series masterlist | nhl masterlist | part 2

August 2023

Dreams are a funny thing. Living a dream come true is even funnier. You typically don’t realize you’re living it until it’s over, and even if you do, there’s no way to make yourself live fully in the moment. There’s always the flickering thought that you’re never going to be able to remember the breeze in your hair, the low timbre of someone’s voice, the specific sound of their chuckle in their throat. And then before you know it, the dream is over, and you’re eternally left looking back and trying to remember the scent of a cologne or the warmth of a hand in yours.

So when JT Compher steps into your apartment, you take a moment as he’s looking around to take a mental photograph: of him, here, now, like this, to live in a corner of your mind forever. And somehow you just know that you’ll never forget it.

A smile forms on his face, like maybe he’s pleased with himself that he made it here. You are, too, still in disbelief that he’s really standing there, toeing off his shoes at your entry rug and making his way to your couch at your invitation.

He declines your offer for a drink, and you contemplate standing in your kitchen if you want another layer of insulation. Ultimately, you decide against it, joining him on the couch. Feeling a little sheepish, you turn on a mood playlist to give yourself something to do. JT smirks a little, asking in a teasing voice, “You nervous?”

“I’ve got a really hot professional hockey player sitting on my couch. Of course I’m nervous.”

He accepts the compliment wordlessly, humming. “That why you left that night?”

You know what he’s referring to, sure he’s remembering the way you disappeared without a word. There’s not much else to say, so you nod. “I was intimidated.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he says, and the sincerity in his eyes makes your chest tighten. “I won’t lie; I really, really want you, but you can say ‘stop’ at any time. Send me home if you want to. Probably fuck my hand raw tonight if you did, though.”

You’re unable to prevent your laugh at the way he simultaneously makes you feel un-judged and comfortable while also turning you on like you’ve never been before, a low and steady pulse ever-present in your belly. Still, his words send warm butterflies fluttering through your chest, hot at his shameless admission of his attraction to you. Part of you is still waiting for a camera crew to hop out, exposing you, because this can’t possibly be real; JT Compher can’t really be in your living room, expressing his burgeoning desire to take you to bed, looking at you with eyes of rich, melted chocolate.

But then his thigh is pressed against yours, his arm slipped over your shoulder as it rests on the back of your couch. He’s warm, and he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. His soft, gorgeous eyes. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, without an ounce of expectation. “I thought so from the first second I saw you at that event. It’s why I came up to you after, at the bar.”

Your cheeks grow warm, and you mumble a shy ‘thank you’ as you cast your eyes down. He tilts his head, amused, maybe, at how you grow shy under his compliments. “It’s also why I was so glad to see you across the bar tonight. I had to try again, to see if you’d have me.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves your throat, almost self-deprecating. “If I’ll have you? You’re the one who’s way out of my league.”

“Not as much as you think.”

You’re afraid to ask, afraid to hear his answer; you’re already in way too fucking deep with a guy that you’ll never see again after tonight. You can’t afford to hear whatever saccharine praise that comes out of his mouth, to let yourself fall deeper into the hole that will surely crush you come tomorrow. But you ask anyway.

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that I’m just a normal guy, a human who messes up just like everyone else, and I got chirped to hell when the guys found out I couldn’t… secure the bag,” he chooses his words carefully with an embarrassed chuckle. “That I fumbled a rocket like you.”

You’re processing the idea of JT Compher calling you a rocket—that his teammates called you a rocket, too—sure that your brain has exploded like an alien invasion movie. The sound of your pulse is loud in your ears, barely comprehending all of it when you see his eyes sliding down to your lips, and then your mind really short circuits. 

“A rocket, huh?”

“NASA certified.”

It’s almost unfair—no, it’s definitely unfair—at how smooth he is, how gentle he is, how effortless it all seems to be for him. Like he’s done this a thousand times. Maybe he has. 

“You know that song, ‘You’re So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings’? That’s pretty much how I feel about you.”

He hums, then nuzzles your jaw with his nose, and all remaining coherent thought evaporates in an instant. The roughness of his beard scratches at your skin, and you yearn for more, for burns all over your body from the auburn hair. His cologne invades your senses and enhances the touch of his hands on your waist. 

“If that’s the case, then you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

His lips are even more plush than you imagined, warm and soft when they press against yours. He tastes faintly of pineapple seltzer, the rest something that’s uniquely his own, and suddenly it’s your favorite. Your first kiss is just that—a kiss, maybe two or three, before he’s pulling away to look at you. 

Another mental photo. Click.

Cheeks flushed and eyes aglow, he looks like something you could only ever have dreamed of, even more unreal when he smiles at you, his eyes darting back down to your lips. This time, when he leans in, his hands thread into your hair, loose, before he’s leaning back in to kiss you again.

His beard tickles your chin, but you welcome it, accepting the flirt of his tongue against your lips. As much as you want him, biblically, you’d be perfectly content just making out with him on your couch, too. He’s warm, steady, patient in the way he kisses you, like he’s got all the time in the world. When his thumb begins to run along your jaw, you shiver, and you can feel the way he smiles into your kiss. A top tier moment of your life, for certain, feeling JT Compher’s smile on your lips.

It feels like an eternity before you feel his hand grazing its way down your side, resting on your waist. You yearn for him to touch you, more, and you lean your body into his under the guise of deepening your kiss. His lips devour yours, breath hot against your mouth as you feel a slight nudge of his hand, urging you to scoot closer. You do, eventually sliding a leg over his, then shifting again until you’re straddling his lap. The sigh that escapes your throat is involuntary, content at feeling him between your legs and transferring warmth through your body.

And then he starts to travel, blazing a trail of fire with his pillowy lips over the curve of your jaw, down your neck. He mouths at the sensitive flesh, every so often nipping and caressing with his tongue. He is intoxicating.

Your hands itch to explore, the way he’s taken the liberty to explore, and you allow them to card through his hair at the base of his skull, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. The action earns a low groan from him, vibrating against your throat, and you repeat it, relishing the softness of his hair in your hands. You make a mental note to ask him what products he uses because his hair is definitely in better condition than yours, but then his mouth is trailing down toward your chest and suddenly you can barely remember your own name.

His lips pause at your collarbone, pressing heated kisses into your already heated skin. His hands are resting respectfully on your waist, but you’re silently begging them to roam, freely.

As if on cue, they do, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist in a sort-of-hug that pulls you closer to his body, his lips still lingering along your sternum. His hands ghost up and down your back, along your spine, touching as much of you as he can before they finally land on your ass. His movements are slow, timid almost, as if gauging your reaction, pausing to make sure he can continue; you let out a sigh in response to let him know to please, keep going. 

And he does, gentle at first, squeezing lightly. It’s only a few moments later that he seems to realize the moans that are falling from your mouth are in direct response to his hands and he begins to knead a little harder. It’s the catalyst to turn a pleasant makeout session from steamy to scorching, and soon your hips are rolling in his lap, his hands guiding your movements.

JT’s grunts are muffled by your skin, trailing back up your neck until he reaches your mouth. This time, your kiss is more desperate, swallowing the sighs you offer when your clit bumps just the right spot. 

“D’you…” you begin, distracted temporarily by the way his tongue flirts with yours. You can’t even bother to get the words out, loving the feeling of kissing him too much to tear yourself away. But then you feel a distinct and heavy throb between your legs, and you know you’ll be better off if you can just sacrifice a few moments to speak. The effort is lazy, your lips barely leaving his, enough to ask, “D’you want to go to my room?”

It’s comforting to know he, too, can barely get the words out, nodding eagerly with a muffled, “Fuck yeah, yes, please.”

Before you can speak, his strong arms are wrapping around you and out of instinct your legs hug his waist. The feeling of his hands on your ass are nearly enough to send your eyes rolling in the back of your head. He presses another kiss to your lips before he murmurs, “Which way?”

“Kinda want to see if you can find it on your own,” you muse, and he laughs. 

“Normally, I’d be all for exploring, but I’m dying to get you horizontal,” he says, taking the opportunity to seize your lips one more time.

You can’t argue with that, and you jerk your head down the hallway. “Last door on the right.”

His nod is short, allowing you to kiss him once more as he makes his way down to your room, walking almost blindly in favor of keeping his lips on you. Nudging the door open with his foot, he parts with you only for a moment to locate your bed before he’s laying you down in the center, not wasting any time before crawling on top of you.

“Much better,” he murmurs, reattaching his lips to your neck while his hands explore new territory: your chest. His fingers glide along the silk fabric of your shirt, raising goosebumps beneath it when he drags his hand up your ribs before massaging your breast.

Out of instinct, your back arches into him and he smiles against your neck. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“Me too.” 

“Sorry I can’t recreate it exactly for you. I don’t have a suit. Or a locker room.”

The reference makes you shiver, flattered that he remembers the details, is bringing them up now, in the heat of the moment, like he’s acknowledging what a dream this is for you. Like he wants to make your dream come true. A wave of courage passes through you, finally overcoming the imposter syndrome that he really is here, now, in your bedroom, ready to ravage you. Plus, there’s his erection that’s pressed against your pelvis, something you desperately want to see, and it’s way too hard to be fake. So you let your hand trail between you, palming him through his chinos, and relish the low groan he releases. 

“This will do just fine.”

If this was a video game, your words would’ve been the key to unlocking the next level. All at once, his hands are at the waist of your jeans, tugging the hem of your shirt out before shimmying it over your head. After he tosses the fabric behind him, he pauses to look at you, his eyes roving over your body, growing darker when you reach behind your back to unhook your bra.

At the sight of your bare breasts, it’s like he’s lost all coherent thought—which is just as well, because those left your mind a long time ago. He swoops down, hands returning to massage them, freely this time, while his mouth descends on one of your nipples. His tongue is warm and his lips are soft against the sensitive skin, and you can feel every single nerve ending on fire with his hands on you.

He worships you, kissing every inch of exposed skin, though he allows you to tug his collared shirt off so you can feel his skin pressed against yours. It’s everything you wanted and more, feeling the defined muscle and the strength of his body underneath your fingertips that coast along his ivory skin. 

Eventually, JT’s lips make their way to the waist of your jeans, kissing the button gently before he’s glancing up at you through feathery lashes. Without a single ounce of will to resist him, you’re murmuring a soft please, and who is he to deny you?

The air on your thighs makes you shiver as he wrestles the denim down your legs, eyeing the expanse of skin hungrily. You watch the way his deep brown irises zone in on the scrap of fabric between your thighs, a deep warmth radiating at the exact spot. His tempting tongue licks his lips, and for a moment you’re jealous that it’s not your tongue tracing the outline of them.

“These are…” he trails off, then curses. “I’m kind of glad I didn’t know you had this tiny little thing on or else I’m not sure I would’ve made it out of the bar alive.”

You’re keening under his praise, his compliments silky and stoking the blue flame in your belly. Though you want him desperately, the feeling of being desirable, irresistible even, is what sends a surge of arousal coursing through your body.

“Close your eyes,” he purrs, hands grazing the skin of your calf gently. “I’m going to correct your story.”

You wonder if you misheard him, and all at once your brain short circuits when you understand his implication. I would use my fingers and then my mouth to make my girl come.

There’s no time to react before his lips are pressing softly to the skin of your leg. The whiskers of his beard tickle as he works his way upward, inching closer and closer to his true target. He spends a few moments mouthing at the inside of your thighs, satisfied at the sound of your whimpers and the way your legs perch on either side of his shoulders. 

“If I recall correctly, you weren’t wearing any panties,” he says in between kisses pressed directly against your core, lips warm on the damp fabric. “But I think I like being the one to take them off myself.”

To prove it, JT hooks his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, covering each inch of skin that he reveals with kisses, along your hips and over your pelvis, slipping the material down your legs and off of your feet. You’re completely naked, and you’ve never felt more comfortable being bare around a man for the first time. You can’t help it, not with the way his eyes rove over you like he’s watching a magnificent Santorini sunset or maybe even the Stanley Cup being lifted in his Captain’s hands for the first time.

“So fuckin’… gorgeous.”

And then his fingertip is dragging along your slit, through your slick, and you gasp when he dips inside you. His lips attach themselves to your inner thigh, kissing the tender skin while he works his finger into you. There’s no barrier, not with how fucking wet you are, and he groans at the feeling of your tight heat squeezing just his pointer finger. You’re thinking it, and surely he is, too—the way it will feel when he’s pressing his length into you. You wait desperately in anticipation for that feeling.

JT is patient, eventually adding two fingers to your dripping heat. A cry leaves your throat when he curls upward, pressing against that delicious spot that has your hand clutching the comforter beneath you. Feeling his smile against your leg, you whisper his name, a plea to keep going, don’t stop. This has been an orgasm nearly two years in the making—longer, if you consider the length of your crush—and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stave it off, even if it comes embarrassingly fast. Pun intended.

He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, if the low hum and eager eyes are any indicator. Greedily, he watches your face as the wave of pleasure washes over you, like he’s memorizing the sight of it. Once you’ve come down, breath coming out of your mouth in heavy puffs, he pulls his fingers out to inspect, then presses them into his mouth to taste. A moan escapes his lips that sends a fresh flood of moisture to your core.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. 

Your legs are jelly, your mind complete mush, but something in you itches to touch him, and your hand reaches for him. He stops you, and for a brief moment you’re afraid you did something wrong, that your dream is finally going to come crashing to an end, but he’s smiling as he shakes his head at you.

“What did I say? Fingers first, and then…”

Your voice is hoarse, swallowing thickly before you manage to choke out, “M-mouth?”

“Good memory,” he says with a wink that nearly sends you tumbling off the bed.

Large hands gently take your legs and spread them wider, granting him the space to settle onto his belly. JT presses kisses along your inner thighs, tracing the same place he’d run his lips along before, murmuring, “You good?”

Great. Excellent. Incredible. The words can’t come out, so instead you’re nodding. Finally, you manage to get out, “Yes. More than good.”

He’s pleased, smiling when he takes the opportunity to finally delve into your folds. If you thought he was a good kisser—he is—his mouth is just as talented elsewhere, his tongue tracing along your entrance in teasing circles. It flicks, laves, licks, drinking in everything your sopping cunt has to offer, eager to taste more of your sweetness. 

The feeling of his groan against you makes you clench around his tongue, and he uses his hands to pin your hips down and repeat the action, humming against you to send vibrations coursing through your body. His beard scratches your thighs, and you hope that the burn lingers for days so you can remember the feeling long after his scent has faded from your sheets. 

When his tongue finds your clit, you let out a loud mewl, hands flying into the now-mussed fringes of his hair. It’s nothing short of an assault, lips and tongue working in tandem to flick the bud, shooting waves of pleasure all the way to the tips of your fingers and your toes. He’s good, seeking out the nuances that make you croon, yearning to feel your fingertips scratching against his scalp.

Your eyes flutter shut, unable to focus on anything other than the sinful way his tongue glides along your center, drinking your nectar like a man quenching his desperate thirst, hardly believing that JT Compher’s tongue is in your pussy. He sighs out, the sound far more lewd than it should be, catching his breath before diving back in. You’re close, you can feel it approaching, revved up by the fact that he’s literally recreating a long-time fantasy you’ve had in your head about him for years. 

The sound he exhales is nothing short of magical, indulgent in itself as he groans at the taste of you. No man has ever been this good at it, let alone thoroughly enjoyed it. With just the deliciously wicked practiced motion of his tongue, he’s transporting you to the eighth wonder of the world, transcending the highest levels of pleasure; your heart already aches at the thought that he’ll have to stop, eventually. As if he can hear your thoughts in your head, his hands grip at your hips tightly, unwilling to part from you now that his face is buried in your cunt.

“JT,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “Please, don’t stop.”

He hums, your plea igniting a fiery determination in him. You can hear how sodden your folds are, the sound of his tongue lapping you up audible even despite the moans that tumble out of your mouth along with soft sighs of his name. JT doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, you think he’s enjoying it almost as much as you are, if his wanton groans are any indication.

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he murmurs against you. “Sound even prettier when you come.”

This time, your orgasm hits you like a freight train, an explosion of euphoria before you even have a change to realize it’s happening. Your hips buck wildly against his face, uncontrollable as the pleasure shoots through your system; his strong arms fight to hold you in place, keeping his mouth attached to you to soak up every last drop of your essence.

You feel the way your pussy throbs on his tongue, hear the way he moans at the sensation. He stays still, ensuring he drags out your high for as long as he can, only pulling away once your legs fall open and your body relaxes, spent. When he does, he grins at you, and you feel a pull when you notice that the whiskers of his beard are damp with your arousal.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he blurts out.

“I was thinking the same about you,” you reply with a weak smile, coated in a layer of bliss. You mean it; the thought has been repeating in your mind ever since you saw the flash of red hair across the bar.

His hand finds yours, tugging your body close to his as both of you pause to catch your breath. It’s intimate, almost more than when he had his tongue buried in your cunt, basking in the afterglow together. If he wants to keep going, he makes no indication, content to lay with you for the rest of the night with no expectation of moving further.

You want to, though, when the haze finally clears a bit and you remember the way his cock felt between your legs, rigid and tempting and wicked in its promise.

JT’s eyes glitter when he sees the way you’re looking at him, crawling over him to connect your lips with his again, far too long since they touched you last. Your hands are quick with his belt, and you feel the heat of his gaze on you, watching you, waiting for your reaction while he helps you shuck his shorts down his legs. His arousal, thick and firm, is tucked into the navy boxer briefs that do little to hide his decency, and your mouth waters at seeing its outline straining against the fabric. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, hardly believing that you’re here and this is real; that he’s hard just for you. The NASA certified rocket.

As much as you want to remove the cotton barrier between you and his dick, you can’t resist the urge to press your lips against him through the material. He groans, savoring the feeling of your mouth on him, twitching when you lick a wet stripe down his length.

When your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and free him from the confines, you let out an audible whimper when his erection springs against his belly. It’s divine, flawless in every sense of the word, a bead of sticky, delicious precum pooling at the tip. 

“Is it like what you expected?” he asks, mostly joking but, admittedly, a little curious. 

You resist the urge to laugh, though a smile plays at your lips. If only you could put into words how beautiful, how surreal, how exquisite he is. But nothing comes. Instead, you run your palm along his length, familiarizing your touch with the velvety skin, memorizing the weight of him in your hand.

Then, with a light squeeze that chokes a groan out of him, you purr, “It’s perfect.”

JT’s chest puffs up at your admission, perhaps with confidence and a little bit of an ego. Not that he shouldn’t have one; he’s a Stanley Cup champion bedding a woman who has desired to have him for years. It’s what every athlete dreams of, deep down, buried beneath layers of modesty and humility.

He pushes his hips forward and you pull away, smiling at him as if to say, Not yet. With weak limbs, you slink off the edge of the bed, kneeling on the soft, plush rug and looking up at him expectantly. It takes a millisecond for it to click, but then he’s scrambling off the bed, too, rising to his full height as he kicks his shorts the remainder of the way off his legs. Finally, he’s fully naked, and you take a moment to admire the expanse of pale skin, tinged with sprinkles of dark hair, smattered across his chest, along his toned arms, down the muscular surface of his thighs. 

“My God, you’re gorgeous,” you mutter, barely even realizing the words slipped out.

The smirk on his face returns, preening, and he reaches down to stroke his length with a large hand—the same one that brought you to your first climax of the night; his fingers still have the slight sheen from your arousal, catching just so in the light that shines through the bedroom window. Your eyes are glued to him, watching the way he pulls, slowly, leisurely; it’s insanely erotic, and you feel a pool of wetness between your legs, wondering if you’re going to ruin your rug. Not that you care, not with the way the world’s most beautiful cock is staring you straight in the face.

“Is this what you did when you read my story?”

His smirk grows, and you see a flash in his eyes. “You want to know what I thought about?”

“Fucking me in your locker room?” you ask cheekily. 

JT laughs, nodding, “Yes, that was certainly a hot detail. And not opposed to making that a reality, too.”

For a moment, your heart flutters at the idea; not just at the thought of fucking him in the Detroit Red Wings locker room, but at the idea that he would do this again. This, when you haven’t even done it yet.

“What else?”

Eyes blazing, his free hand reaches forward to caress your cheek. His thumb catches on your lip, and you take it between your teeth, running your tongue along the digit. 

“I thought about this,” he murmurs, and the velvety hum of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “About getting these gorgeous lips on my cock. Fucking this smart mouth of yours, before I fuck your delicious, heavenly pussy.”

You whimper at his filthy words, and if you weren’t already on your knees, they would’ve given in. His thumb presses against your tongue, briefly, and you keep your eyes on his as you feel the pad of it gliding against you. Time has completely stopped, orbiting around you while JT Compher strokes his erection in your bedroom.

“Well,” you purr, “you made my fantasy come true; what do you say I return the favor?”

JT groans, nodding, not even bothering to come up with a clever quip back. You smile, pleased that for once you’ve rendered him speechless. And when he guides the head of his dick toward you, your mouth opens earnestly to welcome him.

He tastes like heaven, because of course he does. No dick tastes good—tolerable, sure, but never good— and yet, you find yourself craving more. Kitten licking his tip, you lap up the precum that’s blooming before dragging your tongue down his length. You press your lips in open-mouthed kisses along his base, flicking your tongue at the vein that throbs on the underside of his shaft, before you end up back at his head.

When you take him into your mouth, he lets out a sound that’s halfway between a moan and a whimper, and it fuels you to continue. You experiment, testing the swirl of your tongue paired with the bob of your head, seeing what will elicit the most delicious noises from his pretty throat. By no means are you a blowjob expert, but you’re determined to make sure this is the best one you’ll ever give; it has to be, since this is your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to blow his mind and make sure he never forgets you. 

With a glance up at him, the sight is beautiful: his lips parted, cheeks flushed, a strand of hair falling over his face as he gazes down at you, drinking in the sight of you taking his cock between your lips.

“Fuck,” he curses, threading a hand through your hair. Your eyes lock with his, molten and dark, hinging your jaw to take more of him. Slowly, you do, pressing forward until you feel him bump the back of your throat.

With a hum, you repeat the action, gradually picking up the pace until the sounds that fill the room are nothing short of filthy; wet, sloppy, downright pornographic. Above it all, his delicious grunts of pleasure puncture through the noise, each one of them encouraging you to don’t stop, even despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. Your heart soars, both at his praise and at the fact that he’s even more perfect than you dreamed, sprinkling in the perfect amount of chatter, filthy promises that have your pussy melting with lust. “You gonna let me fuck you now?”

His words have you imagining the feeling of his thick length pressing into you, spreading you open with steady, solid thrusts. There’s something insanely erotic about feeling the weight of him on your tongue, knowing that he’ll soon be stretching you out like you’ve been dreaming of for years. 

“You want to ride me, baby? Like in the story?”

If your cunt wasn’t throbbing with need, you’d probably be melting at how erotically sweet it is that he’s paid such attention to detail in an attempt to make your dream come true. But your desire is more powerful, and the thought of bouncing yourself in his lap is too tempting to pass up, so you’re nodding eagerly, accepting his hand to pull you up to your feet.

JT tugs back the comforter on your bed, fluffing the pillows up to give him a soft back rest so he can sit up and watch you more closely. 

“D’you—” he starts, then stutters when you perch yourself in his lap, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. His erection, still slick from your saliva, bobs between your bodies, pressed against your core and the mere friction has both of you groaning. Your hips roll against him, dragging your sopping wet folds over his length, and the feeling is enough to distract you both from whatever he was going to say.

Then, as if he’s fighting for his life, he chokes out, “D’you want me—want me to wear a—fuck—condom? I’m—m’clean.”

You hum, and you honestly, truly believe that you wouldn’t be able to part from him even if you did, not now that you know how his cock feels pressed against your clit. It’s electric, enough to send shockwaves through your entire system.

“No,” you say. “Want to know what it feels like when you come inside me.” You may never get the chance again.

JT moans, and the sound is so delicious, you pause for a brief second to commit it to memory. His hands fly to grip your hips, sucking in a breath when you grip his length and tease him against your slit. The feeling of his warm flesh against your most sensitive area is enough to drive you insane, eyes fluttering shut when just the tip brushes your waiting, eager entrance. 

If you liked the sound of his moan, the sound he makes when you finally sink down on him is nothing short of divine. He fits inside you perfectly, and you think Michaelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted his cock any better. The stretch of him is euphoric, fucking sublime, even more so when you start to move experimentally, feeling each ridge and vein sliding against your snug, warm walls.

Your hands fit into the dip of his shoulders, clutching onto him for dear life as your hips begin to move. A string of mumbled curses fall from his beautiful mouth, his eyes glued to where your bodies connect.

“JT,” you whisper, searching for the strength to finish your sentence, already weak for the pleasure shooting through each nerve ending in your body. “You’re so… feel so—fuck.”

He hums, pushing his hips up as if he knows exactly what you’re trying to say, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

It’s all you can manage to say, not that you could find the words even if you wanted to, so you opt to keep creating that divine, blooming feeling from his cock splitting open your cunt. Each pass is better than the last, and a fleeting thought in your head says that this is what porn actors act like they’re feeling, except it’s infinitely better because this time, the feeling is real. A symphony of moans, sighs of his name, low, grunted curses into the darkness fill the four walls of your room, the rest of the world oblivious to the transcendental experience happening. And what a shame.

Your thighs burn, a delicious heat that almost rivals the one that’s between your thighs. Almost. Yet again, you have the feeling that he’s read your mind when his hands grip the globes of your ass to aid your movements. His skin is hot, scorching against yours, and you wish that he’d leave burn marks, angry red handprints on your ass so you can see them in the morning to prove this isn’t all a delicious dream.

Another cry leaves your mouth when you feel his lips press against your breast, unable to resist the temptation of them heaving and swaying in front of his face. He groans, too, savoring the feeling of it in his mouth, the weight of it on his tongue. 

With his strong arms helping the way you bounce in his lap, your hand is free to trail down your stomach, fingers itching to touch your aching, singing clit. JT feels the press of your knuckles against his pelvis, tearing himself away from your breast for just a moment to glance down at the way you press the pad of your finger against yourself; the sight makes him groan and thrust his hips upward to drive even deeper into your pussy. 

“Oh my God,” you cry, unsure if the coil inside you can wind any tighter. Of course, it does, with every push into your insatiable, greedy walls. 

At hearing your moans lilt higher, he mouths around your nipple, “Fuck yeah, baby, that’s it.”

His encouragement is enough to give you the strength to ride him to high heaven, chasing that feeling of euphoria. The sounds that slip out of his throat are delicious, low murmurs of praise ticking you closer and closer to the cliff that you’re hurtling towards with no helmet, no seatbelt, no nothing, prepared to fly across the edge and free fall into oblivion.

“J—” your warning cry is cut off by the force of your climax, an explosion of color dancing inside of your eyes that are squeezed shut. Everything nearly fades to black, all sound, sight, touch going dim save for the ecstasy that fills each and every one of your cells, heightening the bliss that floods your mind. 

Five seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours later, your senses return and you realize you’re panting, fingers clutching the meat of his shoulders while your hips stutter atop him. As your high subsides, you feel the way your walls clench around him, and you slowly relax your grip on him, feeling the harsh indentations from your fingernails in his skin.

“Holy shit, that was fuckin’... insane,” JT says breathlessly, looking up at you hotly. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, swear to God.”

You laugh—or try to, anyways, but the sound doesn’t quite make it out—and you realize your body is still tingling as he rubs gentle circles into your hip with his thumbs. Wordlessly, JT soothes you, bringing you back to earth slowly with gentle kisses dotted across your chest like an intricate constellation.

“You good?”

You nod blissfully and he pauses, pulling back to lock eyes with you. “Can you say it, please?”

“M’good, JT,” you say, sounding less confident than you feel. “Promise. Want you… t’come. Please.”

Heat flares back up in his eyes and you feel him twitch deep inside of you. Your muscles instinctively contract around him and he groans before he’s wrapping his arms around you to tenderly turn you around and lay you on your back. The softness of the mattress is welcome beneath your muscles, your body aching with the most delicious exhaustion.

His body looms over you, large and indulgently intimidating. Quick to slip back into you, JT’s hips roll with a new intensity now that he’s made you come, now that he’s completely transported you to another galaxy—another universe entirely. Dark eyes gaze into yours, like he can’t get enough of you; the feeling is mutual, you think, and you attempt to tell him so by wrapping your legs around his waist, sliding your hands up the muscles in his back. In another life, you hope you get to spend more time exploring each dip and ridge and curve of the body he’s spent so much time working on, a slight tinge of sadness that you won’t get to appreciate him in all his glory for much longer.

“Fuck,” his voice is barely intelligible with his mouth now buried in the curve of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, every nerve already alight from your orgasm. “Y’r gonna fuckin’ milk me dry, baby. God damn. Squeezin’ me so tight.”

He’s close, you can tell, by the choked curses and short groans that spill from his throat, lips openly mouthing along your jaw. And just as his hips begin to stutter, he kisses you deeply, moaning his release into your mouth just as you feel hot spurts spilling inside of you. It’s far more intimate than you expect, so connected to him everywhere as he touches his own euphoria; you can’t help but moan again at the communion.

With a last twitch of his hips, JT slumps over, hot and heavy breath panting as he rests his head on your collarbone. He’s still completely sheathed within you, and you can feel the way he twitches as he comes down from his high, the way liquid seeps out of your cavern. Your walls hug him snugly, content to stay wrapped around him forever. 

It’s your turn to return the favor, running a soft hand along his back as he catches his breath, and after awhile he slips out of you with a regretful whimper; you instantly miss him, even though he slumps beside you on the bed, hand blindly finding yours in the darkness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life,” he confesses with a wry chuckle. The admission makes you preen with pride, an achievement you’re sure you’ll never top.

“I thought the same,” you reply slowly. “But then you did it again. And again.”

JT, too, is ruffled with a smug pride. “Once I get the feeling back in my legs, I’ll do it again.”

Your brain short circuits at the promise, barely able to comprehend getting to feel that euphoria again. “JT, you don’t have to—”

“You think I don’t wanna do that again?”

His question makes you shy, as if he wasn’t just buried inside you, like his cum isn’t seeping out of your cunt at this exact moment. You tug the sheet over your chest, toying with the edge of it. “I just… I meant that you don’t have to keep up the act. And you don’t—you don’t have to stay, either, if you don’t want to.”

JT’s warm hand lays over yours, stopping you from picking at the material between your fingers. He waits until you glance over at him, even more beautiful under his post-coital glow. “I like morning sex too much to leave.”

He rolls off your bed with a grunt, and you sneak a long look at his perfect, perky ass as he strides freely through your room to your closet door that he confidently opens thinking it’s your bathroom. You giggle, then point him toward the other door, and he sends you a sheepish grin before he disappears into your bathroom. The ghost of his touch lingers over your skin, feeling the delicious ache between your thighs as you listen to the sound of the sink running, of him opening and closing your cabinet drawers, undoubtedly searching for something.

A few moments later he’s back, and this time you have a full frontal view of his nudity, appreciating the god-like figure walking back toward you. The moonlight illuminates his pale skin, his hair looking so dark it almost looks brown as he gently tugs back the sheet covering your modesty. With the warm, damp washcloth in his hand, he is careful as he wipes down your thighs, biting his lip when he sees his essence dripping out of you.

After tossing the cloth in your sink, he slips back into bed beside you and you have to resist the urge to stare at him. He pulls you into his arms, and you deeply inhale his scent, memorizing the way it feels to ensure you’ll never forget it.

“By the way, there is no act. This is the real deal.”

The light peeking through the blinds is what wakes you, a few moments spent blinking away the sleep before the memory of last night floods back into your psyche. Warmth spreads through your body as the scene unfolds in your mind, remembering the whispers of your name, the way plush lips felt on your skin, the delicious stretch between your legs. 

Stretching your sore muscles, it’s only then that you realize the space beside you on the mattress is empty. Your hand presses against the sheets to find them cold. With a frown, your heart sinks.

That’s it, you think, the dream is over.

You allow the disappointment and defeat to wash over you, tightness welling in your throat—of course it was too good to be true; a guy like that would never stay to the morning, not with someone like you. Still, you can’t deny that it stings; he’d seemed so genuine. There is no act. This is the real deal. But, you remind yourself, he was trying to get in your pants.

And he had. And it had been… marvelous. Ethereal. Celestial, even. But he’d gotten what he wanted and bolted out as soon as you fell asleep, which is deep down what you had expected.

You wallow in self-pity for a few moments, letting the smarting tears sting your eyes before you heave yourself out of bed with a glance in the mirror to make sure you hadn’t entirely dreamt it. But the fevered marks on your neck and swollen lips confirm that you hadn’t, which ultimately makes your heart sink a little further.

Digging into your dresser drawer with a heavy sigh, you pull out your favorite vintage Red Wings sweatshirt, something you’ve had since childhood. It’s oversized, which is why it’s become a staple in your wardrobe all these years later; you don’t bother slipping on underwear.

When you open the door from your bedroom, you yelp involuntarily at seeing the figure standing in your kitchen. Your eyes are drawn to the messy, russet hair and the pale skin, and all at once the identity of the stranger in your home registers.

“JT?”

Whipping around, you’re met with his sleepy eyes and a warm smile. “Hey, good morning. I hope you don’t mind I dug around your kitchen to make some breakfast.”

You gape at him, staring at him even as he slides a mug of coffee across the counter toward you. Then, seeing your shock, he laughs, shifting the frying pan off the burner before he steps toward you. It’s not until his warm hands wrap around your waist that you register he is, in fact, really still here, and now he’s leaning in to kiss you. His lips are plush, familiar now, and you barely have the chance to savor the feeling before he’s pulling away.

“You thought I left?”

“Well… yeah.” The question makes you shy, like you’re airing out your insecurities with a guy you just met. A guy you’ve never spoken to when the sun is up. A guy you’ve barely spoken to while sober.

A slow smile curls onto his face, eyes crinkling in that sweet way that makes your heart melt. “I told you, I’m not the hot shot player you seem to think I am. And I think you’re really, really…” 

Your eyebrows raise when he lets out a sigh, gazing off like he’s searching for the right word. 

“Well, let’s just say I really want to see you again. If you want to.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a prank?”

JT smiles, amused at your refusal to believe his interest in you is real. Instead of speaking, though, he opts to cup your jaw between his hands, pulling you toward him to press his lips against yours in a slow, sensual kiss. It brings back a flood of memories and feelings and sensations from the night before, almost like he’s reminding you of the spark that’s undeniable between you.

When he pulls away, you’re thankful that his hands return to your waist, for your knees are a little wobbly and your vision is a little cloudy. But then, he pushes his hips forward against your front so you can feel the unmistakable sign of his interest pressed against your abdomen. “Does this feel like a prank?”

Your reply is a strangled sound, unintelligible, and he smiles. “I was very serious when I said I want to do that over and over again. But I’m also serious about wanting to see you again. Maybe you’ll come to dinner with me, sometime? I believe you still owe me the rest of my tour of Detroit.”

It takes a moment for you to speak again, but something in the sincerity of his voice finally has you shifting to reality, and after a third mental photograph, you quip, “Depending on your omelet skills, I may need to show you Detroit’s best breakfast first.”

“To be honest with you, after seeing you in this t-shirt, I’m way more interested in having you for breakfast.”

With a cheeky smile, you say, “I never said it wasn’t me.”

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

#jt compher fic #jt compher imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #jt compher smut #a dream come true

[laurenairay]

watermelon sugar high - JT Compher

Summary: after three years together, it’s finally your turn – the day of your wedding to JT Compher.

Word Count: 4.5 words

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, kissing, wedding day, anxiety

A/N: we made it! The end of this little story series – I sincerely hope you’ve all enjoyed reading these as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them! I’d love to know your thoughts 💛

Third, and final, part in the watermelon sugar series, sequel to breathe me in, breathe me out and strawberries on a summer evening.

Tagging: @fallinallincurls @suitandtys @sorryjustafangirl​ @jostystyles​ @starshine-hockey-girl​ @xsyntheticsensation​ @senditcolton​ @hockeylvr59​ @corneliaskates @tysojost​

*"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." – Dr. Seuss

Sometimes it can be scary how fast time flies.

The longer you dated JT, the more romantic he became. It was all the little things – he brought you flowers every time he saw you, he started keeping your favourite tea in his kitchen for when you stayed overnight, he always gave you little kisses in passing, he never failed to hold your hand whenever the two of you were out in public, and he spent ages shopping for the perfect Christmas decorations that first Christmas together. And those things were only the tip of the iceberg. He only grew softer, sweeter, sappier when you moved in with him too, two years into your relationship. This was your JT, the sweet gentleman; it was a side of him he never let show in public, and you got to be the person to see the real him, more and more each day.

Before you knew it, three years had passed since that fateful summer, reuniting with JT after so long, starting up that change from childhood friends to more, and you couldn’t imagine your life without him. Not that you would have to, with JT proposing only three months after you’d moved in with him a year ago.

You hadn’t thought much of the walk JT had invited you on one Sunday morning through your old Northbrook neighbourhood, the two of you just talking softly in the early morning quiet, hand-in-hand, until you reached a clearing in the local park with dozens of bouquets of flowers. Before you’d even been able to ask him what the hell, JT had dropped down on one knee and pulled out a ring that still made your stomach fill with butterflies – there was no way you were going to say no.

(and when Jesse and Morgan had both appeared from behind trees, one filming and one snapping photos, you knew they’d played a big part in the planning, which didn’t surprise you in the slightest).

So much of JT’s season had been filled with the wedding planning, both of his sisters and your moms more than willing to help out while JT was off on roadtrips, and somehow within all the chaos and all the differing opinions (and with JT chiming in over facetime), you’d manage to figure out a wedding that would be perfect for the two of you.

Finally though, the time had come for you to marry JT, to become his wife. And you couldn’t wait. This was a day you’d dreamed about since you were a little kid – innocent fantasies then, but now it was the reality that you were giddy to be able to live.

The venue you’d chosen was an all-in-one ceremony and reception site – the ceremony was going to outside in the middle of a beautiful gardens, full of wildflowers and trees lining the outside of the clearing, with the reception hall in a giant converted barn complex, with multiple rooms for changing and food storage & preparation. It was intimate and rustic and stunning, and the moment that the two of you had seen it (because it was actually one that JT had been able to go with in person), you’d fallen in love. And by the look on JT’s face, you knew that he felt the same way. You were getting ready in the largest room right at the back with all your bridesmaids, far away from all the final decorations, and even when people started arriving they wouldn’t be able to see you. It was perfect, for the both of you, and you knew the photos would preserve the memories of your special day exactly how you’d envisioned it.

Waking up early for the hair and make-up stylists was no more fun as a bride than all the times you’d done it as a bridesmaid, but at least this time you weren’t the one running around to make sure things were ready – you left that to your mom and your bridesmaids (JT had claimed Jesse as his best ‘man’ so you’d quickly claimed Morgan as your sane bridesmaid, which she was living up to with tissues and glasses of water). All through getting ready, the light breakfast, the jewellery, sliding into your gorgeous wedding dress, you could hear the photographer snapping photos but it was something you were trying to let fade into the background, just trying to enjoy the peaceful time you had while it lasted. This was something you were only going to experience once (hopefully?) and the only thing you wanted to do was live in the moment, to make the memories rather than let everything pass in a blur.

The one thing that JT had specifically asked for was a moment just for the two of you before the ceremony. Not a first look – no, he wanted to be surprised – but a moment where everyone else left the room so he could hold your hand.

He really had become such a romantic.

When that time came, when your group of people filed out of the room, murmuring their coos of encouragement to JT, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard JT breathe out shakily, the door open less than a foot, just enough for JT’s hand to slip through. You knew he was standing with his back to the door, to not risk seeing you, so you did the same, clasping your hand in his in the ever-familiar motion. The moment that his hand squeezed yours, you felt tension leaving your body that you hadn’t even realised was there.

And with a final click of a camera before the photographer slipped out of the room too, the two of you were finally alone.

“Hey JT,” you murmured.

“God it’s good to hear your voice,” JT groaned.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the desperation in his words, imaging the exasperated look on his face.

“We’ve only been apart for one night, it can’t be that bad,” you giggled.

“I’ve had Jesse and Josty competing all morning to take my mind off how nervous I am,” he said dryly.

What an image – you knew he’d gotten ready in his parent’s home that morning, travelling all together to this venue when they were all ready, and you could only imagine the chaos. There was something that caught your notice though.

“You’re nervous?” you asked, frowning slightly.

“Not nervous to marry you, not that,” he said quickly, “I’m nervous that I’ll do something stupid, like trip over my own feet, or tread on your dress, or forget my words, or just, I don’t know, make an ass out of myself and ruin the day.”

One of the things you loved most about JT was his emotional honesty – drunk or sober, he always told you what was going on in his head and you were so grateful for it. Not just because it was hard to read him sometimes, but because it meant that he wasn’t bottling things up inside. Even if he did worry way too much.

“There’s not a single thing you could do to ruin today. We’re getting married, baby. There’s nothing to be nervous about at all,” you said firmly.

“You called me baby.”

There he was. The happiness in his voice sent butterflies soaring through your stomach, and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your lips. He really was so sweet.

“I’ll get to call you baby for the rest of our lives now,” you teased.

The happy noise he made only made you laugh softly in return.

“I can’t wait,” JT said softly, “are you ready to be Mrs Compher then?”

As if that wasn’t the one thing you’d wanted for years.

“I’m ready. Let’s do this,” you nodded.

“Let’s do this,” he echoed, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I would kiss your hand but that would bend your arm in a weird angle and I’m not sure these pants are squat proof.”

The very thought of him splitting the ass of his wedding suit just to be able to bend down enough to kiss your hand had you busting out in laughter, JT laughing as well, taking the final fizzle of nerves away.

“Rain check?” you offered, still laughing.

“Rain check. I love you,” he said.

“I love you too. Now get out of here so I can meet you at the end of the aisle,” you mused.

JT squeezed your hand again, knocking twice on the door in goodbye before letting go. You clenched your fist briefly, clinging onto the phantom feeling of his hand in yours, before trying to compose yourself as you heard footsteps approaching. The whirlwind of last-minute preparations continued, giving JT enough time to get to the ceremony venue outside, enough time for another round of hugging and almost-tears before it was your time too. Your mom shuffled off to get your dad, ready to walk you down the aisle, and your bridesmaids all lined up in the order you’d discussed, although Morgan stepped up next to you and rested a hand on your forearm.

“I’m so glad you’re going to be my sister,” Morgan said, smiling widely, “my brother is a lucky man.”

It was all you could do to choke out a laugh, hugging her tightly in turn, trying not to cry all over again.

The ceremony setting outside was stunning. The clearing in the trees on the venue grounds was lined with all colours of wildflowers, complementing the olive green of the bridesmaids’ dresses perfectly, with white chairs laid out for the multitude of guests, the mix of rustic nature and wedding blending perfectly just liked you’d hoped. You saw your wedding planner signal to one of the venue staff, and the sound of the wedding march started immediately, making your stomach fill with butterflies, even more so as everybody stood up from their seats.

Here goes nothing.

At the end of the aisle stood your bridesmaids, the groomsmen, and most importantly, JT. He was framed by a beautiful wooden arch that his dad Bob had made as a surprise for the two of you, more of the wildflowers threaded through it, and to be honest you didn’t think you’d ever seen anything looking better.

The tears JT wiped away from his cheeks were just the icing on the cake.

You paused only briefly to pass your small bouquet to a bridesmaid, Morgan straightening your dress out behind you, before you stepped those final steps towards your soon-to-be husband, the smile on his face as wide as you knew yours was.

“Hey,” you murmured.

“Hey,” he said, laughing softly.

You were ready.

The officiant started his speech, welcoming everyone to your wedding, but all you could focus on was JT’s smiling face, both of his hands holding yours, full of so much love. Time stretched out into a blur, everything feeling like a floating magical dream, until Jesse stepped forward with the rings. You knew you were smiling like an idiot as you exchanged I Do’s and slid the rings onto each other’s fingers, but you didn’t care. He was yours, and you were his, and nothing else mattered.

“I now pronounce you as married in the eyes of the law in the state of Illinois! You may now kiss your bride.”

The grin JT shot you made you laugh, and you wasted no time in clutching at his lapels as he pressed a soft slow kiss to your lips, one of his hands cupping your face with the other resting on your waist. Cheers and applause and whoops filled the air, JT slowing the kiss down to a few pecks before pulling away, the sappiest look on his face.

“Wanna get out of here for a moment?” he murmured.

“Hell yes,” you laughed, taking his hand and threading your fingers together.

As you took your bouquet back from your bridesmaid, you murmured to her that you just needed a moment, to have a breather alone with your husband (husband!) and to change out of your heels, and she promised to let everyone know, letting you focus on enjoying walking back down the aisle, flowers in one hand and JT in the others, that giddy rush hitting you harder than it ever had before.

You were married.

You were married.

JT Compher was finally your husband and you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. And why should you stop? You were so unbelievably irrevocably happy, so much so that you felt like you were about to explode, JT’s hand in yours being the only anchor. He led you into the room you’d gotten ready in that morning, and the moment that he closed the door behind the two of you, he let out a laugh of disbelief.

“Did that really just happen? Did we really just get married?” he grinned.

“Fuck yeah baby, you put a ring on it,” you teased, holding up your left hand to display the beautiful wedding band.

“Baby,” he cooed, sliding his arms around your waist, you sliding yours around his neck, “I get to call you mine for the rest of my life. I like the sound of that.”

And with that, he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, barely grazing his tongue over your bottom lip before he broke the embrace.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look?” he asked softly.

He thought you were beautiful?

“Not even once,” you fake-pouted, trying to ignore your racing heart.

“Well I’m going to have to make up for that, aren’t I?”

A kiss to your neck. You’re beautiful. A kiss behind your ear. You’re beautiful. A kiss to your cheek. You’re beautiful. A kiss to your lips. You’re beautiful. Over and over and over again he murmured those sweet words between kisses until you couldn’t take it anymore. You took his lips in a firm kiss, tangling a hand in his hair to keep him in place, earning a soft laugh from your husband before he returned the kiss eagerly, JT sliding his tongue against yours in an instant.

That was more like it.

You lost yourself in his kisses, your blood swirling heatedly through your body, even more so as JT backed you against the wall, his hands like a hot brand even through your dress. And to think, this man was yours for life. Whew.

“Baby, everyone’s waiting on us,” you said with a groan, breaking the kiss reluctantly.

“They can wait,” JT muttered, pressing wet kisses down your neck, making you moan softly.

As much as you’d rather stay alone with him right now…

“Baby, we gotta, come on,” you giggled.

JT nipped your neck, making you gasp before batting at his shoulder, and he just laughed before nodding reluctantly.

“Baby,” he grinned, “Alright, I guess we should go say hi to our guests.”

“And take official photos, and eat, and dance, and actually sit down,” you added.

“And then we can have some alone time,” he smirked.

The dark heated look in his eyes made you shiver and bat at his shoulder again with a laugh, JT letting you out of his arms. If you started thinking about how excited you were for your wedding night, then you knew you wouldn’t be leaving this room any time soon. There were some things that your elderly relatives didn’t need to know. JT sat down next to you as you quickly topped up your lipstick and changed out of your heels into sneakers that your brother had customised for you, Mrs Compher, his eyes lighting up like it hadn’t really sunk in yet. To be honest, it hadn’t really sunk in for you yet either, that you were really actually finally married, that you were JT’s wife, that you were starting this new chapter together – but those were things you didn’t have to think about right now. All of that could come later, because right now all you wanted to do was head back out to your family and friends, and have some fun.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You’d already asked for photos to be taken in as many combinations as possible, wanting a ton of just yourself and JT (and you couldn’t wait to display them in your home because you knew they were going to turn out amazing), as well as both of your families and your wedding parties. You wanted to remember this day for the rest of your life, to capture every detail as much as possible, and you knew JT felt the same way.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t getting a little grumpy by the time that it was time to head in for the reception.

“JT’s looking a little hangry – do you want me to sneak him a snack?”

Jesse’s whisper made you giggle, glad you weren’t the only one who noticed. “Absolutely – I’ll flag down a waiter to get us drinks too.”

“Teamwork! 1, 2, 3, break!” Jesse grinned.

JT looked over his shoulder from where he was standing with his mom, frowning at Jesse’s whoop.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I promise it’s nothing bad?” you said, smiling innocently.

JT snorted, but rolled his eyes fondly. “I suppose I just signed up for you conspiring with my sisters for the rest of my life.”

Hearing him say that, for the rest of my life, wasn’t going to get old any time soon, you knew that much by the way it made your heart beat just that little bit faster.

“That’s the spirit baby,” you grinned.

You watched a happy glint pass over his eyes briefly, making you smile to yourself as he seemed to settle into himself a little more. Baby. You loved how much he loved that.

“They’re ready for your entrance now!”

Snapping out of your thoughts at your wedding planner’s words, you took the hand that JT held out to you with a smile, that giddy buzz filling your body again. He tilted his head towards the door in a silent question, ready?, and you smiled even wider, nodding. You were more than ready.

“I give you, Mr and Mrs Compher!”

The double doors of the venue hall opened, and you were immediately hit with a wave of cheers and whistles and applause and whoop’s, JT grinning widely and proudly down at you before he squeezed your hand. You squeezed his back, grin just as wide on your own face, and with that, the two of you walked into the packed room. There were strings of fairy lights everywhere, just as you’d asked, with clean white tablecloths on every table, rustic wood centerpieces with more of the bright wildflowers from outside decorating as far as your eyes could see. It was exactly how you’d envisioned, exactly what you’d hoped for, and you couldn’t stop the tears that stung at your eyes.

“Shit, it’s perfect,” JT murmured, eyes wide as he took in the room.

Good to know he felt the same as you did. By the time the two of you were sitting at the table at the other end of the room, Jesse had snuck a little bundle of snacks onto JT’s plate, the waiter that you’d nodded to having brought over a glass of prosecco each already too. Teamwork indeed.

“This feels surreal,” JT said softly, voice full of disbelief.

It really, really did. But it was your reality, your dream that you’d built together, and you were going to savour it while it lasted. “Better believe it baby. This is all for us,” you grinned.

“Cheers to that,” JT laughed, lifting his glass in salute.

First came the speeches – JT went first, making your eyes fill with happy tears as he openly declared his love for you in front of all the most important people in your lives, saying how lucky he was to finally be your husband. Then came your dad, as father of the bride, who had everyone in sappy tears, welcoming JT to your family officially, asking him to take care of his little girl. And then came Jesse, as best ‘man’, who had everyone in tears of laughter with embarrassing stories of JT, as well as a few of you too.

“Before I finish up and let JT’s flaming cheeks cool down, I’ll tell you one last story. On JT’s cup day back in summer 2022, my new sister came along even though she wasn’t sure she should, seeing as they’d only been on three actual dates by that point. But I told her, as did everyone else that day, that JT was smitten and that she was already family, so she belonged as much as the rest of us did. But it was on the way home that night that I knew they were going to last. JT was sloppy drunken mess, as we all know-”

Your husband’s face scrunched up in a sarcastic thanks, Jesse just beaming at him.

“-and he basically had to be poured into the taxi by the two of us. And then, she called him baby…and you should’ve seen his face. It was like he’d seen the moon and the stars and the sun all at once. The love on his face, so open and so pure, was like nothing I’d ever seen him show before, and it was then that I knew for sure that I’d get to call her my sister one day.”

Oh god. Oh wow, that was when she knew? That sweet little passing drunken moment? You heard JT let out a soft laugh next to you, a little wet like he had tears in his eyes, and just a glance over at him showed you that he was indeed more than a little emotional. That day had been so early in your relationship, before he’d even asked you to be his girlfriend, before you’d even moved to Denver to be with him for good, and that’s when she knew?

“Clearly I was right, because here we are. Everyone knew long before they even did, how perfect they are for each other, and I’m honoured to be able to welcome you officially to our family. So everyone raise your glasses, and let’s toast to the new Mr and Mrs Compher! Cheers!”

You took a big mouthful of your own drink as your guests drank too, applause immediately filling the room while tears filled your eyes all over again. JT glanced at you, smiling widely, before he stood up to pull his sister into a firm hug, both of them holding on for a little longer than usual, before Jesse let go of him to pull you into a hug too.

“Thank you, so much,” you murmured to her.

“No, thank you. For bring out the best in him, always,” she murmured back.

You pressed your lips together in an attempt to compose yourself, Jesse just grinning as she stepped away to move back to her own seat. JT saw the storm of emotions on your face as you sat back down, and slid his hand into yours with a word, squeezing that silent show of affection he always did.

“Everything okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed. That was…whew, that was all so much,” you admitted, “in a good way though.”

“As long as it’s all in a good way,” he nodded, eyes serious.

Your sweet overprotective man. It was all you could do to lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips, pouring all your emotions into the embrace, JT just sighing happily as he raised a hand to cup your face. Just a slow, soft, sweet kiss, but it was everything you needed to steady yourself, and when you felt a little less shaky you pulled away, JT just smiling at you. You knew you were smiling like an idiot back at him, but you couldn’t help it. This happiness, this genuine unparalleled joy, was unlike anything you’d ever felt, and you wanted to savour it.

The rest of the evening was smooth riding from there on it. All the food courses were brought out, JT making sure you ate between talking with guests, as well as mason jars being brought around with your favourite cocktails in, polaroid cameras at every table to capture those candid moments, and so so many sweet little kisses with JT. It was perfect. So undeniably perfect. There was just one thing left to do – to open up the dancefloor.

“Here with their first dance, let’s hear it for the bride and groom!”

You grinned up at JT as he led you to the middle of the dancefloor, resting one hand on your waist then clasping the other with one of yours up by your shoulders, you just resting your free hand on his chest. He’d been worried about looking like a fool in the first dance, seeing as it wasn’t something he usually did in public, so the two of you had actually practiced swaying together in a little two-step in your kitchen a few times, just to ease him into the motions of it all. It was those kinds of sweet little moments that let you know you were right in choosing him to spend the rest of your life with, and to be honest, you couldn’t wait to get started.

“Stars shining bright above you, Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you", Birds singing in a sycamore tree, Dream a little dream of me. Say nighty night and kiss me, Just hold me tight and tell me you miss me, While I'm alone and blue as can be, Dream a little dream of me.”

As Ella Fitzgerald’s voice filled the room, you lost yourself in the feeling of JT’s arms, his eyes locked with yours like he didn’t want to miss a moment of it either. This moment, this was the one you wanted to remember the most, this little pocket of time that was just yours. Nothing would ever match up to this, ever, and you could only hope he felt the same.

“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you, But in your dreams whatever they be, Dream a little dream of me.”

Cheers and applause filled the room as the song faded to a finish, JT capturing your lips in a soft kiss that left your heart racing, whoops and catcalls adding themselves to the chorus around you too. JT broke the kiss with a laugh, shaking his head fondly at his teammates, before looking back down at you.

“I love you, Mrs Compher, so much,” he murmured, eyes shining as he said your new name.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, smile spreading across your lips.

JT just kissed you slowly again, hand cupping your face, his tongue lightly brushing along your bottom lip briefly before he pulled away once more. There would be more time to explore that later, to explore his body all over again to start this new chapter of yours lives together, when the two of you eventually retreated to your hotel room. But for now, you just looked up at his smiling face full of adoration and let him sway you from side to side amongst the other couples who’d joined you. For now, this was all you needed, just him. And it was everything.

#my writing #jt compher fic #watermelon sugar series #jt compher series #jt compher imagine #jt compher fanfic #jt compher x reader #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagine

[ilyasorokinn]

I am so proud of the Avs 😭

I would love for you to write number 10 from the fluff prompt list “I don’t know if you know this but, I love you.” with JT Compher please! 💛

LOVE YOU

TAYLOR’s AVS NIGHT!

10. "i don't know if you know this but, i love you." (from this prompt list)

you and jt were relatively new. you had been friends for years but only been going out for about 2 months, so when you started dating, it probably wasn't the best time of year.

he was in his head a lot and was working hard and pushing himself every step of the way. each game passed and it was growing clearer that the avalanche was going to the finals.

this was your first year as a wag, so getting the jacket and all the other merch made with his last name on the back felt like a dream.

you were in tampa for game 6 and had flown in with jt's family. the clock ticked down, and by the 3rd period, the score was 2-1. every time the puck got even close to the net, you let your heart pick up.

when the clock got down to 0, you jumped up from your seat and screamed before pulling his sisters into a hug.

you made your way down to the ice after they accepted the cup and each got their chance to lap around the ice with it and let his family greet him first.

they all hugged him and congratulated him before he finally spotted you, standing off to the side. he skated over to you so fast he almost knocked you over when he hugged you.

you held onto him tight so you wouldn't fall over, "i don't know if you know this but, i love you." he whispered into your ear.

"i know." you nodded, "and i love you, too." you pulled away so you could kiss him.

#jt compher imagine #jt compher imagines #jt compher x reader #jt compher blurbs #jt compher fic #jt compher #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #hockey #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche imagines #colorado avalanche blurbs #colorado avalanche fic #colorado avalanche #taylor writes #taylor writes: hockey #taylor's blurbs #taylor's prompt lists #taylor's avs night!

[ladylooch]

do you have any blog recommendations for nhl/sport writers i love your blog so much

Oh gosh... I have many, and I am so worried about leaving someone out! I focus mostly on hockey, so that's the theme of the blogs below:

@senditcolton - The Matt Martin agenda worked. So quickly on me. In love with we're a bad idea.

@cellythefloshie - Road Wife. That is all. Holy shit. A creative mastermind.

@bitchinbarzal - The queen of AUs 🤌🏻💋

@sc0tters - Hot, HOT smut. Whew. Need a shower if I'm going into her stories 😘

@comphy-and-cozy - Love her style! Her JT Compher X reader fic in the locker room... was all the things: dreamy, sexy, intimate, exciting. One of my fav fics I've ever read on here.

@nicohersheys - My Timo bby. Foaming at the mouth for whatever is gonna come from your brain with our man.

@leafs-lover - Not an Auston Matthews girl... and yet, I am deeply invested in Auston and Tia. Incredible character development!

@mikkomacko - The Nico- bookworm story lives rent free in my head. Was absolutely speechless and breathless at the end.

@mendeshoney - I am still on my knees for their Barzal story. Holy shit. (No pressure but I need the next part. not want, need. I check every day, okay love you write when you feel like it and not because of external sources 😂)

& many, many more! I admittedly don't read a ton on Tumblr anymore. I am too caught up in my own stuff. But am always taking recs.

#b answers #fic recs #hockey writers

[wyattjohnston]

since you asked for some non Nate/Cale/EJ requests for the Avs blurbs:

brushing your teeth together and looking at yourselves in the mirror with JT! Getting very bring it on vibes from this

During road trips, when you’re home alone, you have music playing constantly. The stereo system throughout the house wasn’t bought with that in mind but it was a blessing. The habit of putting music on whenever you moved about the house always kind of stuck even when JT was home.

It wasn’t a bad thing by any means, just resulted in some laughs when out of habit you got out of bed in the morning and pressed play on your phone even if you were mid-conversation with JT. Or, on the odd occasion that you did so when JT was taking his pre-game nap.

When you’re getting ready for bed, music is always on—it’s usually boppy and the opposite of conducive to sleep, but it helps you get rid of any restless energy that’s still hanging around.

JT’s already brushing his teeth when you enter the bathroom, and he smiles at you through the mirror’s reflection when he sees your dance moves. As basic as they are.

Singing isn’t off limit either, despite mouths filled with toothpaste and toothbrushes. It takes a few moments for JT to join in—which is far more part of the routine than him actually not being interested in it—but by the time the toothbrushes are back in the holder, you’re both singing in each other’s faces and dancing around the bathroom.

#jt compher imagine #jt compher fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #homemade fic #avs celly