Dylan woke up with a startle after hearing the door slam at 2 AM followed by a loud ‘shhhhhh.’ That noise was followed by some loud footsteps and bumps against the walls until his girlfriend, Y/N, clumsily opened the door.
You made eye contact with a now very awake Dylan and frowned, “Oh no I woke you up, I thought I was being quiet.”
You stumbled over to the bed pulling off you dress as you went.
“You have fun tonight?” Dylan smirked.
“Yeah and I’m drunk,” you pulled out one of Dylan’s shirts and put it on, leaning over to give him a kiss.
“Really I couldn’t tell? Especially since you taste like a bar.”
“Don’t be mean,” you whined, crawling into the bed.
“I missed you though, next time come out with me.”
“It was a girl’s night I don’t think I was invited.”
“Next time it’s gonna be a girl’s night plus Dylan.” you gave him a peck on the cheek, “and other people’s boyfriends and stuff, but I don’t care if they actually come.”
He laughed before rolling over and trying to get back to sleep but you kept moving around, kicking the sheets up trying to get comfortable but just making them more tangled.
“Dylan why are our sheet broken?” You kicked more in frustration.
Dylan laughed as he got out bed, moving the sheets and comforter to started to tuck you in, as you drunkenly smiling up at him.
“Wait Y/N, want me to wash off your make up first?”
“Aww that would be so nice. I don’t want to ruin the sheets. Or get a big ol’ zit”
He helped you up out of the bed and leads you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the edge of the tub. The moment Dylan turns his back you slide into the tub, flailing your legs in the air and giggling.
“I fell in.”
Dylan helps you up again, you sway a little bit before he steadies you. He grabs your face wash and a wash cloth and gently removes your make up, kissing you once he’s done.
You smack your hands on your cheeks and grin, “I feel so clean thank you.” You then flips your hair over your face, whipping Dylan in the process, “can you put my hair in a ponytail too?”
“Of course babe, but it won’t be good.”
He pulls your hair up and puts it into a lopsided ponytail.
“Can you brush my teeth too?” You ask innocently.
“That might be where I draw the line.”
“Pleeeeeeeeassssssssseeeeee,” you draw it out while trying to give puppy eyes which look rather pathetic while you have little control over your motor skills.
Dylan rolls his eyes, but he’s a great boyfriend so agrees to do it. It’s quite possibly the most awkward thing he’s ever done. Brushing someone else’s teeth feels weird enough as is, but then trying to steady his drunk girlfriend and have you keep your mouth open makes it worse.
You start to gag on the toothbrush and pull away, almost falling back into the tub as you spit at the drain.
“Oh my god Y/N, you couldn’t wait to spit in the sink.” He chuckles as he turns on the faucet wash away the toothpaste.
Then he lifts you up to bring you back into bed. Your knees buckle the moment he stands you up so he opts to carry you the rest of the way. Tucking you under the covers before crawling onto his side of the bed.
You turn over and kiss his shoulder, tucking yourself under his arm to rest your head on his chest.
“Hey can we have sex tomorrow?” You gently run your fingers up and down Dylan’s chest, “I would do it tonight but I think I might throw up if I try.”
“As sexy as throwing up in bed sounds, I think I’m fine without getting any tonight.”
“Perfect cause I’m crazy horny,” you hiccup, “but also crazy drunk.”
“No worries, besides after brushing your teeth for you I’m the opposite of crazy horny.”
“Awww, I hope you still love me.”
“Of course I still love you.” He kisses the top of your head and soothingly rubs your back.
You give a soft smile and mumble an ‘I love you’ back before you’re out like a light.
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Requested by Anon: Could you write one (Carter hart, Connor McDavid, Mitch, auston, eichs, Larkin or Nate Bastian) along the lines of: you're really shy and good friends with (player of choice) and they're super close and protective/supportive of you (like they know well so they'll like order stuff for you so you don't have to and they can read you really well) and they've kinda helped you become way less shy. But then one of their teammates makes a joke about like when will you guys date And while mentally panicking you do the whole "what no! We're best friends." And then afterward he's like really weird because he kinda just realised that he doesn't like being just your best friend and then he's really grumpy and like idk almost gets in a fight and is really reckless and then afterwards while you're waiting (because he's taking agessss) you get chatting to some guy and he's furious (idk if this is going to be wayyy to long omg) but he doesn't say anything and just doesn't Just doesn't speak to you for ages and you're so furious so you don't speak to him and idk you can finish it (IM SORRY ITS SO LONG but I'm fuelled by angst).
*YOU GUYS! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! This is a loooong request and so a very looong fic. You know I love me some angsty, Larks multi-parters. This is the first of 3, maybe 4, chapters. I feel so good about this and I hope you do too. Enjoy!*
Word count: 1,316
Pro tip: never kick a door open when you weigh next to nothing, no matter how angry or agitated you are. Really, you’ve tried kicking down Dylan Larkin’s front door twice now and the only thing it’s gotten you is a sore foot and a wounded pride. Damn it, Dylan. Why can’t anything just go the way they’re supposed to?
Why can’t he just answer your calls or respond to your messages? Fuck, he can’t even be bothered to show up to your Sunday brunch place – the one you’ve always gone to on Sundays if he’s in town and has the time. He can’t even make up excuses because they only had home games this week.
Toning down your annoyance, you gave the door another wild knock, “I know you’re in there,” you leaned into the banister, “Dylan! I can hear Mario Kart, bitch.”
You looked around the porch to look for a comfortable place to sit in, determined to stay here until Dylan opens the door and talks to you. At this rate, you’ll have to sneak into their dressing room at the arena to see him. Whatever in the world did you do?
Okay, so the last time you saw him was at Anthony Mantha’s apartment. That was Friday night and you were there to celebrate because he was finally going to be reinstated. You had fun, some booze… maybe a little too much booze, if you are being honest, and then Dylan brought you home. Like usual.
He hasn’t talked to you since. Which is very much not like the usual.
Taking out your phone, you opened your messages and stopped until you landed on his last message, ‘I’m outside,’ was what he texted you that Friday night, telling you that he was ready to go home and that you should be too.
It’s been almost two weeks since then and this radio silence thing has got to stop, especially after his fourth fight in as many games last night. Dylan Larkin fighting: out of the ordinary but always welcomed. Dylan Larkin fighting for four games in a row: uh-oh.
Why is he so freaking angry?
Your ears perked when you heard some sort of shuffling inside. FINA-FUCKING-LY.
Except your heart deflated when the door opened and Luke Glendening appeared.
“You look like you need another layer on you,” he said as a way of saying hello, a smile playing on his face.
“If that’s your way of telling me I should leave, better luck next time brother,” you replied, sliding your phone back into your pocket and crossing your arms on your chest, “I’m not leaving until whatever’s up Dylan’s ass crawls out of it.”
For someone so big and bulky, Luke didn’t make any sort of sound as he gingerly closed the door and leaned against it, “he’s really not feeling you right now, bud,” he shook his head, “I don’t know why.”
“You and me both,” you sighed, “he hasn’t talked to me in two weeks,” you rubbed your face, “I just want him to tell me what I did.”
Straightening, Luke dangled his house keys in front of you, “I’m gonna go grab something to eat,” he said, walking down the front porch and into the driveway.
You watched him stop and turn back to face you, “tell him you found these in the porch,” he winked before tossing his keys towards you, almost hitting you on the head, “blow him or something, kid,” he laughed, “he needs to let all those steam out.”
For the record, Dylan Larkin is your best friend and nothing more. It doesn’t look it now because he’s being a jerk but he was the one who helped you overcome your stutter back in 4th grade. When he was confused whether he should go the collegiate way or give up his NCAA eligibility and go to the major juniors, you stayed up all night with him listing the pros and cons. He was there, front and center, when you graduated and you cheered the loudest when he got drafted.
There’s no Dylan Larkin without you and no you without him. It’s just the way it is.
Except apparently, there is a Dylan Larkin without you and this particular Dylan… he’s not all that amazing. He’s angry and picks fights with men like Zdeno Chara and Tom Wilson.
You let yourself in the house and followed the sound of something cooking, finding Dylan chopping some nuts in the kitchen. He’s sporting a pretty good shiner, courtesy of his last conquest: Brayden Point.
Leaning against the archway leading to the kitchen, you nodded at his blackeye, “nice shiner you got there, bud,” you casually commented, trying so hard to not yell at him.
Aaaaand nothing. He didn’t say anything, like you weren’t even there.
Hopping on the bar stool just a few feet away from him, you picked a grape and started eating, “okay,” you shrugged, “you can ignore me but that’s not gonna get you anywhere.”
Still nothing. Woah, he’s good at this silent treatment thing.
“Really?” you shook your head, picking another grape, “you’re just gonna ignore me like you’ve been doing the last few weeks?”
Taking out a book from your bag, you wiggled in your seat, “then I’m just gonna stay here and make myself comfortable.”
“Suit yourself,” he muttered, turning around to toss the nuts into the pan.
You almost fell off the stool from sheer happiness. Holy Lord, he talks.
“’Kay,” you nonchalantly turned the page of your book, not really reading. Instead, you’re watching him move around the kitchen, shoulders so tight that he looked like he needed some deep tissue massage. His cheeks were tomato-red and the bruise around his eye looked as angry as he did.
Dylan Larkin, for all intents and purposes, looks like he is not in the mood to talk to you.
“Seriously, Dyl,” you sighed, closing the book before turning to him, “what’s up?”
“Nothing,” he said, avoiding eye contact, “you should go.”
“Oh,” you huffed, chuckling a little, “no one’s leaving until you untwist your panties, boo.”
That was the worst thing you could have said. Heh.
Rolling his eyes, Dylan shoved on hand into his curls and let out a frustrated sigh, eyes suddenly piercing you in place, “what do you want?” he spat.
“I just want to know why you’re ignoring me,” for all your fake bravado and macho stuff, you really can’t get mad at Dylan. He’s too important in your life that you just can’t risk it.
“We’re best friends,” he sounded so angry that you just sat there dumbfounded. His words were a conflict to his tone so you really don’t know how to respond to that.
“Okay?” you urged.
“You said,” he let out angrily, “we’re best friends.”
“We are best friends,” you argued, “we’ve been best friends for more than half our lives, Deedee,” when in doubt, use the childhood nickname he was never really fond of.
“You told the rookie that we were best friends,” he repeated, probably referring to Michael Rasmussen, who you were talking to at the party.
Now he just sounds like a petulant child, “we ARE best friends, what is wrong with you?” you finally stepped off the stool so you can poke his chest, “why are you so angry at me for telling people that you’re my best friend, that’s the truth. You’re my best friend, right?”
“I am,” he answered back, “and I’m not angry at you,” he said, eyes softening a little, “I’m angry at myself.”
“Okay now you just don’t make any sense.”
“You said we were best friends,” he said again, taking the plate he prepared, “just best friends,” he added so silently that you almost missed it.
Dylan gave you a lopsided smile, “think about that,” he shrugged, “you know where to find me.”
Author’s Note: This is in honor for BellLetsTalk. Which is actually today (since I’m writing this on Wednesday). It’s okay to talk about what you are dealing with, there’s always someone here for you. I’m always here for any of you, and I know a lot of other Fic blogs that are as well. You are never alone, no matter what you feel. I’m not new to mental health issues, so you can’t scare me. -Julianne
Warnings: Depression, anxiety.
It started off like any other day. You felt on top of the world than around two in the afternoon it hit you. You felt the numb feeling take over your body. It felt like it was raining in your head, but it was sunny outside. You hated the sun. By the time you got home you felt the need to go to bed, and that’s just what you did.
“Y/N, I’m home sweetheart.” Dylan’s voice rang through the house.
The pit in your stomach sank. You hated being around Dylan like this. You knew he meant well, and you hated the fact that you ended up hurting him. You placed the covers under your head.
“Babe. Are you okay?” He asked as he sat on the bed next to you.
“Yeah, I just have a bad headache.” You lied.
“Do you want me to get you anything? Advil? Candy? Food? Cuddles?” He giggled.
“No, I’m good. Thank you though.” You said still hiding under the covers.
“Okay. Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll go get something for dinner.” Dylan said kissing your covered head. You hummed as you waited for Dylan to leave the room.
You managed to get some sleep, but woke up when you smelled the sweet smell of chicken. You turned to see a plate full of food on your end table. You looked around to see if Dylan was there, that’s when you saw the note.
“Went to the game. I’ll see you at 10. Eat. Love you. -Dylan”
You placed the note down and looked at the food. It smelled wonderful, but you knew it wasn’t going down. You called the dog in and placed the food in front of him. Once, he was done you picked up the plate and placed it back on the table, before going back to sleep.
Dylan came back at 10 like he said and saw you fast asleep. He smiled to himself until he saw the plate. The plant was empty but the fork was untouched. He knew the patterned of your depression. He knew the signs, and when he saw you under the covers he knew it was acting up again. He kissed your forehead before taking the plate and fork downstairs. Where he also called is mom.
You woke up to see that it was six in the morning. You knew that Dylan would already be at the rink. Placing one of Dylan’s dress shirts on you made your way into the kitchen to make yourself some hot tea. Once, you got to the kitchen you curses yourself for not looking in the driveway to make sure Dylan was really gone.
“I made you some peanut butter pancakes.” He said as he sat at the table arms crossed. He had his hockey bag sitting next to him.
“Hey, why aren’t you at work?” You said with a fake smile.
“I need you to eat.” He said sternly.
“Dylan, I ate last night.” You smiled.
“No, you didn’t.”
Your body ran cold. You knew your face changed but you still tried the fake smile.
“Yes, I did.” You chuckled nervously as you messed with the mug in your hands.
“The fork was untouched and I placed it a way that I would noticed if it moved. When, I checked the fork was in the same places as I left it.”
Now, you felt anger. You knew he meant well, but your depression took over. You slammed the mug down and were shocked when it didn’t break.
“Are you spying on me!”
“I’m worried about you, Y/N! I love you and I wanted you alive.” He said looking more mad than you.
“I’m not going to die from not eating one meal Dy.” You scoffed.
“So, eat.”
“What.”
“Eat the pancakes.”
“I can’t.” You said feeling the tears getting ready to pour.
Dylan’s face change. He saw your face, he hated being the bad guy but he has been there to many time and he did love you. You were his wife, and he hated seeing you deal with this alone.
“I’m going to call off work and you and I are going to see someone.”
“Dylan, I don’t want to get locked up.” You cried, as he hugged you.
“I wouldn’t let that happen, as long as you eat. Please. I love you. I hate seeing you like this. If you don’t want to go to the doctors then talk to me. I need you to talk. You hold to much in and you let it eat you. I’m here for you. My mom’s here for you. My dad, my brother. Hell the team is. You are not alone, I know you feel like you are but you aren’t. We all love you. I love you, but I need you to try and I need you to eat.” He said wiping away the tears from your eyes.
You felt scared but you knew that he was right. You reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes, before you ate your pancakes.
A/N: So I wanted to write one while I was feeling it lol I had a lot of fun with this one as my first one back! As a U of M fan it was interesting to write from the opposite perspective but I hope I did okay!
Request: Omg I love your writing so much. Is it possible to get a Dylan Larkin imagine where he's still playing at Michigan and his girlfriend (the reader) goes to Michigan State, and you watch him play against Michigan State? Maybe State wins so you're happy but Larks is grumpy? Thanks a billion love ❤
On any other day Dylan had a game you would have happily donned the U of M jersey that he had gifted you on your first Christmas together. Whether you were at the game in person or holed up in your apartment with your friends, streaming it to your TV you never failed to show your support for him.
Today was different though. Different because Dylan wasn’t just playing any old team, he was playing Michigan State. His biggest rival and your school. While you loved your boyfriend, fully supported his hockey career, and generally loved watching him win, you also had undying loyalty to your school which meant today was going to be different. Today you tucked the U of M jersey back into your closet, opting instead for the green and white jersey that was so well worn. It had been in your family for the last four years, gifted to you by your older brother on the day that he graduated from MSU. Part of you felt like you were betraying your boyfriend as you threw up your hair, the spartan stickers on your cheeks a stark contrast to the usual maze and gold you would have donned on another day.
“Are you sure you’re going to have a boyfriend after this?” Your roommate, Alyssa, teased as she saw that you weren’t holding back on your support for your school. She found it funny, she had seen you nearly fight a frat boy for bashing on the U of M hockey team after a loss to Notre Dame and now you were doing a complete 180.
You stuck your tongue out at her, flashing her the beaded Larkin bracelet you wore on your wrist. It was an early memory of yours and Dylan’s relationship, a simple babysitting job for your cousin resulted in hours of bracelet making. He had made you a beaded bracelet, mainly blue and yellow, but the six letter beads that sat in the middle were what made you smile every time you glanced down at your wrist.
“Oh yes because from the ice he will for sure see the tiny bracelet on your wrist, covered by your green and white jersey.” She nodded, sarcasm dripping from her lips.
She wasn’t meaning to worry you, but admittedly there was a small pit forming in your stomach. You had always supported him at hockey games, having missed just about every MSU vs U of M game for some reason or another. This would be the first rival game you could attend in person and you weren’t going to wear his jersey.
“He knew I was a Spartan when we started dating, not like it’s a newsflash for him. I root for MSU every football game, I don’t see why hockey would be any different.” You waved her off, grabbing your student I.D. and leading her out of the apartment.
The drive to Munn Arena was short, giving you little time to focus on your impending problem. You had shot Dylan a good luck text that morning, knowing the closer it got to the game, the less time he would have to talk. You had just conveniently left out the part that you were secretly rooting against him this game.
Not exactly against him, just his team, you wanted a victory for the Spartans. Call it pride, but you were a sore loser even when it came to sports you didn’t play.
You made your way to the student section, finding a few other friends who had managed to get there earlier than yourself to snag good seats. Meaning that you couldn’t even hide your jersey in the section, you were right up front where Dylan was undoubtedly going to see you.
“Gotta make sure your boyfriend remembers where your loyalty lies.” Your buddy Jack teased, elbowing you lightly as you punched his arm. It seemed your jersey was going to be the talk of the group today, you were more intent on focusing on the guys beginning to pour onto the ice.
You caught Dylan’s eyes faster than you had prepared for, noticing the way his smile faltered for just a second before he shook his head, what looked like a chuckle escaping from his lips. It brought you ease, he didn’t seem overly angry that you were going to be donning the green and white today but you wouldn’t really know until after the game.
Needless to say, your anxiety returned when the final buzzer went off. The game had more or less gone the way you wanted to, MSU had emerged victorious, clear as the fight song that blared around you. Dylan had played well too, so that was a benefit, but you could see from the look on his face that he was frustrated.
The Spartans had dominated the ice early on in the game, scoring in the first five minutes which seemed to be a preview for the rest of the game. It seemed while your team was on the top of their game, Dylan’s was slipping. Sloppy passes leading to turnovers which lead to goals. A 5-2 loss was never an easy thing to swallow, but it was even worse when it was to your rival team.
You split off from your friends, knowing Alyssa would catch a ride back to the apartment with one of the others, as you made your way to wait outside of the visiting locker room. You tried to keep your joy of your team winning to a downlow, out of respect for Dylan and his team who would have to pass you to leave. That didn’t mean you weren’t buzzing with excitement, the rush of a team victory coursing through you.
You shifted on your feet as a few members of the team filtered out, recognizing you as Dylan’s girlfriend but not feeling the need to stop, especially given the fact that they could clearly see who you supported today. Dylan was the last one out, his movements stiff, something you assumed came from the hits he had taken in the game.
“Hey..” You trailed off, fiddling with the beaded bracelet on your wrist as you shifted your weight again. You shouldn’t be nervous, it’s not like he was going to break up with you over a jersey. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel like you were rubbing in a victory.
“Hey.” He greeted, a quick peck to your lips as he set his bag down at your side, the short answer was enough to clench your stomach again.
“You played really well Dyl.” You offered, reaching out to hold his hand, in an attempt to get some kind of a smile from his lips.
“So well, for sure. The scoreboard definitely reflected that.” He muttered sarcastically, glancing over at you as he felt you squeeze his hand. He must have sensed your nerves because he chuckled a little, shaking his head like he did out on the ice.
“I’ll chalk it up to bad luck considering my own girlfriend decided to betray me for my enemy.” He teased and you scoffed, all the stress of the day lifted off your shoulders as he joked about it.
“You knew this was part of the package when you asked me out babe. I am a Spartan! It’s in my blood! Besides it’s not like I wasn’t supporting you!” You protested, showing him the bracelet, which brought a full laugh bubbling to his lips.
“You aren’t allowed to come visit me tonight if you wear that. I’ll respect your decision this time but my roommates will not.” He pointed out, you had made plans to drive to Ann Arbor after the game, staying with him for the weekend in his apartment following the game.
“You got a better option?” You quirk your eyebrows challengingly, watching the smile cross his lips.
“Actually I do.”
Which was how you found yourself tucked into a U of M hockey sweatshirt, ‘Larkin’ spread out in block letters on your back, crossing the parking lot towards Dylan’s apartment an hour later, seeing him leaning in the doorway.
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Hi, love your writing!! Could you do an imagine with Dylan Larkin where your lab gets loose and runs off and Dylan finds him and brings him back to you? Thank you! 😊😊
“Tucker!!” You yelled outside your back door. Your little brother had come to visit you before school, and sadly he left in such a rush that he forgot to close the back door. End result was your chocolate lab Tucker to get out.
Every thought ran through your head. You worried that he got scared. That someone might have picked him up. Or that someone was scared of him and might have hurt him. You were just glad that you remembered to place his collar back on after his bath last night. But, you still worried.
“Tucker!!!” You yelled again. This time you walked around the outside of the house and down the street. With each moment that passed you grew more scared.
You have had Tucker since he was a puppy. You had adopted him, as soon as you laid eyes on him. He was bought in from a family that didn’t really have time for him, so he was sitting in the corner of his cage. This made you sad, so you bent down and started talking to him. He perked up and walked over to you.
“He must really like you, he never does that. “The worker said.
In less than an hour you brought him home. He was your best friend, and was never seen very fair from you. You two had a huge bond one that even your boyfriend Dylan saw and loved. If you ever slept the night at Dylan’s Tucker was always welcomed as well.
“Dylan. I can’t find him.” You sobbed into the phone as you walked around your block.
“Find who? What’s going on, love?” He asked fresh off the ice.
“Tucker. Jake, came over before school and he was in a rush and forgot to close the door all the way, and….and Tuck got out. I can’t find him. Dylan, what if he’s hurt.” You sobbed.
“Okay, you get in the house. In case he comes home. Stay by the house and I will drive around. We will find him. Okay. Go on home.” He said softly knowing that you needed to stay calm.
“Okay. Love you.” You said heading home.
“Love you too. I’ll see you soon.” He said before hanging up.
You did as Dylan said but as each hour past, you grew overwrought. You wanted to call Dylan but at the same time you worried that if you did someone would call for Tucker and they would hear the line busy. So, you sat worried bouncing your leg up and down.
Onc the clock read two you picked up your phone to call Dylan, but your front door opened.
“TUCKER!” You yelled as you flew to the ground to hug tha lab. He hugged you back and that’s when you knew he was alright. You grabbed his face and kissed him.
“Don’t ever do that to mommy ever again. You had me worried.” You said to Tucker who only nudged your palm.
“Good!” You laughed as you got up to hug Dylan.
“Thank you sooooo much.” You said kissing him this time. “Where did you find him?”
Dylan, placed a kiss to your lips once more, before wiping a tear from your cheek.
“Believe it or not but he was at my house.” He said holding you to his chest as you two looked over at Tucker who was now sleeping on the rug.
“What?”
“He must have gotten scared and went to the next place he knew. I was looking everywhere for him, but the gear in my truck was starting to smell so I was going to drop it off at home. Once, I pulled into the driveway, I was greeted with this face.” Dylan smiled over at Tucker.
“John, next door said he was sleeping on my porch for about three hours. I told him next time he sees Tucker on my porch to call me. I then filled him in on Tucker being my crazy girlfriends dog who got out.” He joked placing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Thank you Dy, really.” You said kissing his chest.
“You’re welcome babe.”
“So, how about your crazy girlfriend makes us some lunch.” You laughed as you pulled away.
“Even, better how about I take my crazy girlfriend to the sandwich shop she loves so much.” He smiled as he grabbed your bag from the table.
i found it!! it was about Larks trying to convince the reader not to join the army
Author’s Note: I am so sorry for the long wait for this one! @saad-sack :( But, I hope you like it!
This was not how you imagined this big life changing event to go. You pictured hugs, smiles, and motivational words. Yet, you got tears, screams and regret.
It wasn’t until the mid-afternoon when you got the call. You were joining the army. You! It was a dream of yours since, you could remember. To be honest you weren’t even sure what sparked the dream. You did know that this was something you prepared yourself for since you were five.
It was the real deal when you start ROTC. You began in high school and sometime in college. You did everything you needed to do to make yourself mentally and physically ready for the army. When you felt the time was right you applied to the army. That was about two months ago and to be honest you were starting to worry that they didn’t want you. That all changed this afternoon. They wanted you. In three weeks you were going off to train.
You were dancing around the room, when Dylan got home. He couldn’t help but smile at your glee. He placed his bag down before slipping his shoes off and placing them by the door. He made his way over towards you and began dancing with you.
“Why, are we dancing?” He asked with a smile on his face.
“You ask after you join.” You giggled.
“Hey no one said I was smart.” He joked with a smile.
“I got in. I GOT IN!!!” You cheered dancing more.
“In?” He smiled
“The Army!” You smiled.
That’s when Dylan stopped dancing. You could tell by his face that he wasn’t okay. You stop jumping around and followed Dylan in your shared room. You waited for him to say something. Anything. He made his way into the bathroom, and slammed the door. What the hell was wrong with him you thought. You sighed before walking over to the door and knocked.
“Dyl, what’s wrong?” You said placing your ear on the door.
You heard the water turn on and you knew he was trying to ignore you. The question was why? Why, was your boyfriend of four years being such a child. You felt anger. This was a big step in your life. Very big, yet your boyfriend was acting like it was nothing. You knocked louder this time.
“What the fuck Dylan!” You yelled.
That’s when the bathroom door swung open, to reveal a red eye Dylan. You felt bad for yell. That was until he spoke.
“If you go, then we’re….then we’re done.” He spat.
“Fuck you.” You said, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “Fuck you.” You said again, before grabbing your shoes, and car keys.
“Honey, I don’t get it. Why did he say that? Did you say something to him to make him think that.” You mom said handing you a cup of hot tea.
“Really, mom.” You said not looking up.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t get why he would say something like that. That’s not Dylan.” She said.
“I know it’s not. That’s why it hurts so much. If I go to in the Army I lose the love of my life. If I don’t go then, I just drop my dream.” You cried.
“I think that this moment right now is what you want. You want Dylan then fine. If you want to fulfill your long life dream then fine, but pick what you want. No matter how much it might hurt.” You mom said getting up from the chair.
“Thanks mom.” You smiled weakly. You heard a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it. It’s Marcy with my books.” You mom said walking away.
You took the time to pull out your phone. Nothing. No call. No texts. Nothing. It was like the last four years meant nothing. That’s what hurt the most. He knew that this was your dream. He knew that you applied. Yet, he couldn’t just be happy for you.
“I’m sorry.” Dylan said from behind you. You turned to face him. “I was an ass. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right. This is your dream and I’ve always known that, but a part of me is scared. I don’t want to lose you. I might be strong, but the thought of losing you kills me. I still shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I’m really, really, really sorry.” He said.
You felt the stress from earlier wash away.
“I’m scared too. I’m going to be in different places and have guns going off around me, but do you know what hold me together. “ You said walking towards him and taking his face in your hands. “You. So when you acted the way you did it killed me. I need you, just as much as you need me. I’m not going to say that our lives won’t be hell at times, because it will, but at the end of the day we have each other, right. And to me that’s all I need. “ You kissed his lips.
“I love you, Y/N. Can we go home and start all this over.” He smiled.
“You loved my moves that much.” You joked grabbing your stuff.
“There better than mine.” He giggled placing a kiss on your head.
“I love you Dylan, but don’t you ever freak me out like that again.”
Here is the conclusion to our favorite angsty story! Not angsty at all!!
Please read parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 first. Enjoy! :)
Word count: 1, 065
You put your hand out to push him back but your traitor fingers gripped his shirt tightly instead. Holy fuckamole – your tongue is inside Dylan Larkin’s mouth! And you like it! The world, surely, is ending.
Dylan, being the gentleman that he never was around you, moved his hands until one was tightly pulling you into him, his fingers grazing your inner thigh, while the other hand was gently cradling the base of your neck. You have to admit, though, you feel very safe right now. A train running at full speed can hit you and you’d still think his overly-huge muscles are going to keep you alive.
You were always that kid who counted her blessings so when his hand cupped your right butt cheek as he deepened your kiss, you sent a silent prayer of thanks. Shit, maybe you needed him to kiss you like this all those years ago that’s why you’re always wound so tightle whenever he’s around.
Gah. Took you long enough to admit it to yourself.
Dylan Larkin, for all his rosy cheeks and innocently curled brunette hair, kissed like he was The Rock – all hard and hungry.
It took all of your strength not to climb all over him, honestly. Your hands smoothed his the shirt over his chest and you tiptoed to give him more access, his tongue fighting over yours for dominance.
You’ve never felt so real and raw in your whole life. Not even after he managed to throw a helmet at you when you were twelve. You still have a nasty scar on your hairline because of that shit.
After what felt like forever, which actually was maybe just a minute and a half, Dylan broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours. Before you can even let your evil mouth say something to ruin the moment, he released a long and satisfied sigh.
“That,” he started to say, his voice barely a whisper, “was like coming up for –“
You stopped him before he can say anything to ruin the situation, “if you say coming up for fresh air,” you glared at his nose, “I will give you a solid knee to the balls.”
He chuckled, “of course.”
You didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that your lips were swollen. You can feel it. Damn it, you can almost not feel it anymore, numb little fuckers.
Dylan took one step back and looked around, as if something was missing.
“What?” you asked, curious, when he looked at you with extra wide eyes.
He gestured with his fingers, pointing to the ceiling, “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Huh,” you shrugged, biting the edge of your bottom lip.
He shrugged, moving one step closer, “I feel like you’re gonna yell at me any moment now.”
Dropping to the nearest couch, you mumbled to the floor, “I think I forgot my voice somewhere,” you gulped, kicking the air before glaring at him, “oh my goodness, Dylan Benjamin Larkin,” you whispered, touching your voice.
He snorted, “that’s not my name.”
Rolling your eyes, you answered, “shut up,” you bit back, “you kissed me.” You brushed your hair away from your face, “the fuck,” you groaned, “I kissed you back!” You looked back at him, “what the fuck are you doing that face for?”
“What face?”
“You have it scrunched and,” you stuttered, “it looks weird,” you breathed out, “you look weird!”
Realizing that you may be having a semi-panic attack, you started breathing like you were a pregnant woman in labor. Gulping air and fanning yourself, suddenly the room feeling warmer than ever. Damn it, even your heart is skipping one too many beats.
Calmly, Dylan sat next to you on the couch and you stopped yourself from scooting, “how did we end up kissing when a minute ago we were yelling at each other?”
You smiled, “you make me so furious sometimes, you know.”
He nodded, “you’ve yelled at me more times than you’ve ever smiled at me.”
You scoffed, “that’s not true,” you denied, “not true at all.”
He bumped your shoulder with his, “do you remember the first time you ever smiled at me?”
You don’t. Heck, you don’t even remember the last time you smiled at him. When did things change? Oh, yeah. Four months ago when your heart decided that oh my gosh, you don’t hate Dylan Larkin. For some unexplainable reason, your heart decided that, contrary to what you believe, you actually like Dylan Larkin.
Hell, you might even be in love with the guy.
You really must have been dropped on your head once upon a time.
When you didn’t answer him right away, Dylan took it as a sign to continue talking, “we were eight.”
“Oh,” you said even before you realized you shouldn’t say anything, “that was such a long time ago.”
“That was the first time I realized I liked seeing that smile directed at me,” he grinned, “and then you never did it again.”
You laughed, “I might have done it once or twice,” you argued, “I’m not a bitch.”
“Eeeh,” he snickered, “you sometimes are.”
You scoffed, “it’s not like you were very generous with your smiles either.”
He chuckled, “I feared you would fall in love with me if I kept smiling at you.”
“So you had to scowl instead?” you punched him playfully.
The fucktard did the oldest trick in the book and fake-yawned, stretching his hand above his head and settling it on your shoulder.
You snorted, “does that usually work for you?”
Shrugging, he answered, “being a professional hockey player does the trick most of the time,” he tapped a finger on your shoulder, “does being a bitch help you pick up guys?”
Grinning, you shifted so you can look at him eye to eye, “apparently it only works on you.”
He kicked his legs out, “what can I say?” he leaned in to kiss you swiftly, “I like it when you slam doors on my face.”
“We’re gonna be so bad together,” you warned, “we’re gonna look like an old bickering couple.”
He grinned, “we’ve been bickering for more than a decade,” he winked, “and we’re really good at it,” he nodded, “but I just kissed you a minute ago and I think we’re even better at that.”
