#bad NHL imagines

[puckinghischier]

so the clip of quinn asking the producer if his hair looks good, we’ve all seen it, right? cause i’m just thinking about it and how yeah it was probably a joke, but it’s sooooo insecure!quinn coded. like i’m sure he was nervous, and he really did want to look good for the camera. and it’s got me thinking about what it would be like to comfort insecure!quinn (i didn’t mean for this to be this long but i couldn’t stop once i started so here’s basically a three in one blurb 🫣)

it’s even things as simple as his pre-game outfits. he’s seen all the comments online about how he only wears the same few suits, so one day while you’re on the couch watching tv, he turns to you and asks if you’ll go shopping with him. of course you agree, but you ask him what’s got him so eager to expand his wardrobe.

“just…people keep saying i’m wearing the same thing all the time and it has me thinking i should probably go buy a couple more suits to wear for arrival pictures and stuff,” he shrugs, almost whispering, telling you it’s something he’s slightly embarrassed about.

you reach over and run your hand through his hair, playing with the messy curls. “q, who cares if you wear the same suit every game day? you’re wearing it to walk in the building and out of it,” you speak softly to him, noticing he’s not meeting your eye. “but, if you want to go pick up a few more, i’d love to go with you and help you pick them out,” you tug lightly on his hair to get him to look over at you, bringing your hand down to toy with the tip of his ear.

he gives you a bashful smile, mumbling out a small “thanks,” before looking away again.

you lean over, replacing your hand on his ear with your mouth. “plus, you know how much i love looking at you in a suit,” you let your lips drag over the warm skin. “almost as much as i love looking at you without one on.”

quinn shudders at the feeling of your hot breath on his ear, making him forget what he was even thinking about before the current conversation.

~

of course, quinn’s constantly worried about being a good captain for his team, too. he doesn’t think he’s played long enough to earn it yet, not understanding why they picked him over some of the vets on the team.

so when he comes home after a particularly rough practice or a brutal loss, you can feel the insecurity radiating off of his body. the game that eliminated them from the playoffs, though? god, you never want to relive it.

he laid in your arms for hours, switching between crying and getting angry at himself. he kept telling you it was his fault. he was the reason they didn’t make it. they should’ve chosen a different person to be captain, not him. he clearly didn’t know what he was doing, or they’d be celebrating tonight instead.

you know that most of this is caused by the questions he was asked after the game. one reporter in particular always asking the worst questions and getting under his skin. but you’re sure the group of drunk, upset fans outside of the rink who were yelling discouraging things to him only drove the knife deeper.

the way he talked about himself with so much disgust broke your heart in a way you never knew was possible. you knew he was always hardest on himself, but the fact he truly believes these things makes you worry you haven’t been doing your job correctly.

“quinn, i don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, do you hear me?” you sat up, talking sternly but not harshly.

“well, it’s true. if they would’ve just picked someone else then-“

“stop!” you interrupted him, your sudden loudness causing him to pause, looking at you with wide eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to yell at you, but i’m not going to sit here and listen to you do this to yourself any longer,” you put just a few inches of distance between you and him on the large couch.

“you’re exactly who they wanted to lead this team or they wouldn’t have chosen you. you do have what it takes. hell, quinn, you got the team to the playoffs for the first time in 4 years. that has to count for something,” the tone of your voice is almost pleading, begging him to take what you’re saying to heart.

“your teammates love you. they look up to you. the fans love you. they were excited when you were named captain. i love you,” you take a moment, watching his face slowly change from distress to calm. “and i won’t sit here and listen to you say awful things about the man that i love. not for something that changes nothing about how i feel about you or your value as the captain of your team,” you finish, a knot forming in your throat because of how deeply you feel about the man sitting in front of you.

quinn just sits and looks at you, finally snapped out of his self destruct mode. “i…love you so much, you know that?” he tells you before pulling you into him and engulfing you in one of his ‘huggybear’ hugs.

“you’re right. i’m here because i deserve to be. and if you believe in me, who cares what anyone else thinks? i’ve got the best motivation right here in front of me,” he speaks into your neck, squeezing you tightly to his body, like he’s trying to press you into his skin, knowing he can always count on you to talk him out of his insecurities.

~

you get the rare moments, too, where quinn starts comparing himself to his brothers. you’d think as the oldest he’d know better, knowing that the two younger boys have always looked up to him, but once the media started trying to pit the three against each other, the seed of doubt crept its way into his thoughts.

it’s not even just about hockey, either. it’s the way jack is always so outgoing, the life of the party. and luke always seems so universally adored, his bashful charm winning him over with crowds.

quinn? quinn feels like he’s just…there. he can’t strike up a conversation as naturally as jack can. and his shyness seems to only drive people away, not draw people in, like luke’s.

and yeah, quinn knows you’re always there with him, keeping him company and being his buffer in all of the various social settings he finds himself in, but he can’t help but wish he was a little bit more like his brothers.

especially right now, when he’s sitting by the fire pit at the family lake house, a few of brother’s shared friends over for the weekend.

he’s sitting in a chair sipping on a beer, watching you partake in a heated game of beer pong with jack, luke, trevor, and cole. all day he’s felt a little…less than. watching you on the boat earlier dancing around to your favorite song with jack, not worrying about who might float by and see the two of you.

or when you were helping prep dinner, and trevor came up to you and struck up a conversation, talking a mile a minute while you kept up with and soaked up every word, adding to the conversation with just as much enthusiasm at the drop of a hat.

or right now, when cole is picking you up and swinging you around after you just won the drinking game, launching into your ‘secret’ handshake the two of you coined a few summers ago.

he wishes he could give you those things. the loud, crazy, fun atmosphere you seem to thrive in. he wishes he could be the guy to parade you around at all of the hockey banquets, introducing you to various people. he wants to dress up with you on halloween in the ridiculous couples costumes you always show him. to be the spontaneous boyfriend that goes diving off of the small cove cliffs on the lake like you love to do with jack.

but that’s just…not who he is. he likes to be quiet, observant, lowkey, private. he likes to listen to other people carry the conversation, and just chime in when he has something to add. he likes to drive the boat and watch everyone else splash around in the water, jumping in for a few minutes just to cool off before resuming his position on the driver’s seat. he hates going to the bar after games with his teammates, but agrees because he knows you like dressing up and going out.

he loves when the two of you spend time reading together on the couch, then order dinner in and watch a movie before bed. he likes the fact that the two of you can sit in silence, both comfortable enough to not feel the need to fill the space with empty conversation. he likes being able to come home to you after the loud environment of the game to the sweet whisper of your voice, because you know how he likes the soft tone after the arena full of screams and sirens.

but he can’t help but feel like he’s causing you to be less for him, seeing how much life you seem to have in times like these.

he’s broken out of his little pity party when you come running over to him. “quinny!! did you see that! we won! i won!” you fling your half-drunk self down onto his lap, beaming your beautiful smile to him.

“i did. looked like you were having fun,” he says with a smile, but his tone is flat.

he watches your smile fade slightly, cocking your head at him. “you okay?” you ask him, always able to tell when something’s not right in that mysterious brain of his.

“yeah, m’just tired. might head in early,” he tells you, drumming his fingers along the tanned skin of your leg, signaling he’s about to stand up.

“okay…well then i’ll go with you. just gotta tell the guys goodnight first,” you respond skeptically, removing yourself from his lap as he stands.

“no, no, don’t wanna ruin your fun. just come to bed when you’re done, yeah? don’t drink too much, sweetheart,” quinn shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of your head before turning and walking away from you, leaving you confused.

you watch quinn walk up the stone steps, stopping in the dimly lit kitchen to hover over the sink for a few moments, staring out the window looking over the dark lake. you can tell by his body language something is bothering him, so you turn and walk over to tell the rest of the group that you’re heading to bed, ignoring their protests of ‘you’re no fun! quinn’s made you boring!’ with a playful show of your middle finger as you walk away, following quinn’s same path.

quinn’s so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the kitchen door open or the soft pad of your footsteps walking towards him, only breaking out of his trance when he feels your hands make their way around his torso and your body pressed against his back.

“whatcha thinking about?” you ask him, placing a small kiss to the middle of his back through his thin t-shirt.

“nothing,” he tells you, his tone not convincing you. “why aren’t you out there defending your title?” he turns around so he’s facing you, resting his own hands on your waist.

“because something has you locked in that pretty head of yours, and i intend to find out why my boyfriend is sad,” you tell him in that soft tone of voice he loves, not wasting any time getting to the bottom of his odd mood.

quinn’s cheeks involuntarily flush, always having loved when you call him pretty. but before you can admire him too much he closes his eyes and throws his head back, sighing, not wanting to talk about how pathetic he is.

“you’ll just think it’s silly and pointless,” he confesses, knowing you won’t concede until you pry it out of him.

“try me,” you tell him as he looks down at you, seeing the cocked eyebrow and look of determination on your face.

he’s silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to explain it to you without making you feel like you did something wrong, because he knows you’ll immediately start picking apart what you could’ve possibly done to make him feel like this. but it’s not you, it’s his problem.

you continue to look at him with love in your eyes, silently encouraging him.

“it’s just…” he starts then pauses again, bringing a hand up to toy with your low ponytail. “do you…ever…y’know, wish i was different? more like jack? or trevor?” he finally gets the words out, shock taking over your features.

he watches your eyes go from loving, to surprised, to sad.

“quinn, what? no. never,” you tell him, shaking your head so vigorously he’s worried you’ll make yourself dizzy.

he brings his hands up to stop the movement of your head, leaving his soft hands there, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“it’s just…i see how you are around them. how…full of life you are,” he watches your mouth open and close, like you want to interrupt him but thought better of it. “and i can’t help but wonder if you’re missing out because of me,” he shrugs, removing his hands from your face to let them rest in half fists on your shoulders, a sad smile on his face.

reaching up to grab his hands and hold them in both of yours, you shake them a bit to get him to look at you.

“i’m not missing out on anything, do you hear me?” you tell him with such seriousness in your voice he’s almost worried you’re mad. “they’re a good time, yeah, but they’re not you, q.”

still not convinced, quinn let’s his doubt control his thoughts again. “i just know that they’re more your speed. they like to go out and party and have fun and i…don’t,” he can’t meet your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness settled there.

“with them you’re always talking and can be loud and spontaneous like i know you like to do. but with me it’s always whispers and quiet and hiding away in corners or at home. i don’t do silly dances with you in the boat without caring who might see or have a secret handshake when we win beer pong. i sit on the couch and read in silence. i sit in the corner and watch everyone else have fun when we go out because i don’t want videos of me all over the internet,” he continues, his tone growing more frustrated with each word spoken.

“i just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you’ve wasted all this time with some boring guy who only wants to sit at home and only goes out when he has to or when you want to, not because he enjoys it,” he finishes, nearly shaking with vulnerability.

his words are a knife straight into your heart, not wanting to believe he really feels this way about himself.

“oh quinny,” you bring your hands up to cup his face, wiping at the moisture forming in his grey eyes.

he gives you a weak smile, turning his head to kiss your open palm, closing his eyes at the comfort your skin on his always brings him.

“i need you to know, that i love you, quinn hughes. i love you so much it hurts me sometimes. like, physically pains me. i look at you and i feel like my chest could literally bust open with how deeply i feel about you. and not just when things are good. all the time. every day. even when we’re fighting. even when you’re sad. even when you leave your socks stuffed in the creases of the couch,” you tell him, earning a small, wet laugh, because he knows how much you hate that poor habit of his.

“i love you when we’re sitting in silence on the couch because you just got home from a game and need a noise break. i love you when we’ve been reading for hours, the only sound between us the turning pages of our books. i love you when we’re sitting in the corner of the bar because you don’t want to be the center of attention when someone buys the team a round. i love you when you’re watching me be crazy and drunk on the boat because you want to make sure someone is sober and everyone is safe. i love you when you’re ‘boring’ because to me, you’re never boring,” you confess to him, feeling the small tear slip out of your left eye and down your cheek, matching quinn’s.

“you’re the person that i love with everything that i have in me. the one that brings me home whatever books i’ve been talking about wanting to read during our marathons on a random afternoon just because you were thinking about it. the person that sacrifices his alone time away from his team, and just hockey in general, to go to banquets and events because you know i enjoy those things sometimes. you’re the person that always watches my favorite silly shows with me, no matter how stupid they are. my personal chef, my human teddy bear, my best friend,” you whisper the last words, sniffling, noticing quinn’s eyes are now closed tightly.

“because even though i do enjoy being loud and rowdy sometimes, i enjoy being with you, more. i enjoy the quiet and the slowness of life with you. the time we get to spend together without distractions or expectations. so no, i don’t wish you were more like jack, or trevor, or luke, or cole, or whoever. because you’re like quinn, which is exactly who i want you to be,” your voice finally goes quiet, bringing your forehead to rest against his, hoping your words are enough to convince him that his insecurities are just that. they hold no weight and have no truth to them.

the two of you simply soak in each other’s presence, neither one daring break the intimacy of the words hanging in the air.

when quinn finally opens his eyes and leans his head back, he lets out a shaky breath.

“tell me not to get down on one knee and propose to you right now,” he tells you, a slight joking tone to his voice, earning a small chuckle from you.

“way to do a complete 180,” you joke back, once again tangling your hands in his hair.

he huffs out a small laugh, tilting his head back before brining it back up to look at you.

“thank you,” he breaths out. “i don’t know how i got so in my head, but all day i watched you have fun and i don’t know. i got lost for a bit.”

you lean forward to place a small peck on the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it slightly in response.

“well, luckily for you, i’ll always be here to come in there and find you, bringing you back out here to me,” you tap your finger along his temple.

“luckiest in the world,” he beams down at you.

[generalllimaginesss]

Can you do a part 2 of the finsta one with Nico where the reader lets someone scroll through it as part of their Christmas gift?

Like the whole team knows it’s a thing and no one has been able to find it because she blocked them and everyone is dying to see it. Maybe it’s her contribution to a white elephant gift exchange and everyone fights over it. But it’s not Nico who ends up with it and he’s like “but I’m the love of your life” and she’s like “yes and?”

I’m just imagining this finsta has an insane amount of followers and no one knows it’s Mrs. Cap running it. Like all the followers just think it’s run by a diehard fan who understands the sport. And whoever on the team wins the scrolling privileges from her phone dies dead when he sees the amount of followers

I feel like this went so much better in my head, but I couldn’t quite do it justice when I actually wrote it. I’m slowing down writing some just because the holiday season is chaotic and I don’t have as much time. I’m sorry if it’s not quite what you thought of, but I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! Also, Merry Christmas❤️

••

It was a last minute get together, a few of the members of the team lingered in Jersey, some not making it home at all this year. Nico, being the lovely captain that he is, decided to have the few stragglers over for some games and drinks, enjoying the time together without the pressure of hockey lingering over them.

The group currently consisted of Hughes squared, Dougie, Timo, Toffoli, Bratt, Nico, and you, all gathered around the living room. The smell of cookies had infiltrated the room, wafting from the kitchen as a result of your afternoon baking session. Nico was responsible for the decorations and drinks, leaving the sweets and games in the hands of you.

Earlier you had made a group chat with everybody that was planning on coming, explaining the concept of a white elephant gift (gag gifts only edition) and preparing everybody that there would be a game of Cards Against Humanity.

So far Jack had opened a puck from Dougie that was signed, Dougie claiming that it was "priceless." Luke opened the gift that Nico had found at the thrift store, a sequin pillow with Danny DeVito's face on it. Timo opened Bratt's gift, a $25 gift card to Victoria's Secret, a gift that you were going to fight for. Luke's gift was unable to be wrapped properly, a sheet thrown over it instead. Nico picked his and discovered that it was a young palm tree. Dougie opened Jack's gift, a gift card that was specifically for OnlyFans. Bratt opened Toffoli's gift which consisted of an assortment of chocolate in a ziplock bag, the kicker that they were all unwrapped and mixed together. You had opened Timo's gift, a small box that contained Band-Aids and alcohol wipes.

The last box wrapped was small, but wrapped with care, a small bow decorating the top of it. It was Toffoli's turn to open a gift, expecting something good since the last gift was obviously one from you. He pull the bow off and tore into the box, confusion coming across his face as he discovered an envelope labeled TOP SECRET. He cut his eyes at you, you urging him to open the envelope.

"You can't show anybody, Tyler. I mean it," You warned as he opened the envelope and read what was inside. His brows furrowed at first, not sure why the word "finsta" was on the inside, that is until it clicked with him.

"NO WAY," He yelled, the other boys looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I can't show you until everybody has had an opportunity to steal gifts," You explained, the other guys becoming increasingly impatient as they tried to figure out what it could be.

"What the hell did she put together?" Luke asked, trying to peer over Toffoli's shoulder to see what he had.

"Whoever ends up with my gift gets to spend 5 minutes on my finsta," Revealing what the top secret was caused a brief moment of chaos. Luke tried to jump on top of Tyler, but he overshot the distance and ended up face planting on the couch.

"Hey! You have to win it fair and square," You scolded the youngest Hughes.

"Oh, I will. You can bet your ass on that," He gave a warning look to Tyler as he regained his composure and returned to his seat beside Jesper.

"Ok, remember, there's only 2 steals. After the second steal the gift is dead and whoever has it wins it," As you explained the rules, eyeing the Victoria's Secret gift card, the stealing began.

You started it off by handing Timo back his gift, stealing the gift card you wanted.

"Ooh, Cap, you might get lucky with a new nighttime outfit with that gift card," Dougie teased, a pillow chucked at him shortly after caused a wave of laughter from everybody.

Jack was up next, stealing the finsta envelope immediately. He knew he wouldn't end up keeping it, but he had to get his hands on it somehow, even if it wasn't the actual account.

The gift immediately died the next turn, Luke snatching the paper from his brother.

"Give me that," He threw the Danny DeVito pillow at Jack.

The game continued until everybody had either kept their gift, or stolen something. The entire time everybody complained that they didn't end up with your finsta. Nico pouting the most.

"Babe, come on...I'm your boyfriend...the love of your life...your future husband. I think I deserve to see the account," He was trying to pull at your heart strings, but nothing would work. Not his puppy eyes, his pleads, or his hand that was dangerously high on your thigh, covered by a blanket, of course.

"Mhm...and?" Your eyes were filled with a playful banter, but your face was emotionless.

He rolled his eyes, tickling your sides to erupt laughter from you.

"Alright, I've waited long enough. Let me see it," Luke pointed to your phone, his hand motioning for you to hand it over.

You did as he said, but not before starting the timer.

He immediately took note of the username: @/hotforhischier causing his eyes to go wide and his laugh to rock his whole body. The shock didn't stop there, though.

"Holy shit, you have over 25,000 followers? What the hell? You've posted over 3,000 times, like do you even have a life?" He commented on everything he saw while all of the guys were inching closer and closer to him, trying to get a glance of the infamous account. Luke feigned a faint when he realized that you had a viral hockey account.

Nico stared at you the whole time, darkness clouding his eyes as he thought about ways he would get you to show him the account later.

Luke's laugh caught his attention, interrupting his eye contact with you.

"This post says 'The Devil's need to get their head out of their butt and realize that showing off doesn't win games. Somebody relay that message to Jack Hughes." Jack narrowed his eyes at you, not mad, but ready to get his revenge on you.

"There's a ton of thirst trap edits of Nico...a happy birthday post for Coach...SHE MADE A THIRST TRAP VIDEO OF ARBER XHEKAJ," He squealed as he flashed a smirk at Nico, "Damn, that is one good looking man."

Your cheeks were bloodshot. You didn't think he would take the time to watch the videos, but focus on the trash talk that you had posted.

“She calls Mercer ‘Raw Dawg,’” he chuckled.

“Luke, did you just say she made a thirst trap for Arber Xhekaj?” Nico asked, jealousy beginning to boil under his skin.

“Wanna see it?”

“NO! Your 5 minutes is up,” You tried to snatch your phone from him, but he stood up, holding it over his head as if playing a game of keep away.

“Luke Hughes, give me my phone,” You sent warning signs through your gaze, but he didn’t listen, tossing the device across the coffee table to Nico.

It was as if a magnet connected you to the phone, your body flinging itself wherever it went. You tried to climb onto Nico’s back, but he just shook you off.

“Hmm, ‘I’m no doctor, but I have this feeling that Nico feels good enough to come back. Should he really be missing this many games?’” You looked away as his eyebrows created wrinkles in his forehead as they raised.

“Thank God you’re not a doctor because I wasn’t good to go back sooner,” he pinched your side as he continued to scroll through.

“Jack she shits on you, Vanacek, and Schmid a lot,” he chuckled, still pushing you away, keeping you at an arms distance.

“Geez, what did I ever do to you?” A smile rose from Jack, one that was ready to tease you to no end.

“You keep up with the comments too….do these people have any idea who you are? Like you have a few fan accounts that you talk to almost every day!” Nico laughed.

“That’s enough,” You force yourself close enough to snatch it back.

“So what we all can gather from the finsta is that Y/N is the biggest supporter of the Devils and the biggest hater of Jack. I like her,” Luke leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and tilting his head back to sip the beer in the bottle that he was holding.

“I’m not a hater,” Trying to defend yourself was useless, all of the guys looking at you as if to point that out.

“She’s like Jekyll and Hyde,” Bratt pointed out, “To Mrs. Cap, also known as Jekyll and Hyde,” he raised his Old Fashioned to you, the others following with their drink.

“I hate you all,” You blushed, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to expose your lie.

The night was long, most of the guys deciding to stay the night because of the amount of alcohol that coursed through their systems. You didn’t mind though, covering each of the sleeping bodies that littered the living room with a blanket before joining Nico in bed.

“You’re nicer than me…I was going to let them freeze,” he said as he snaked his arm around your waist. He pulled you back to lay down, getting in position to spoon you.

“They’re family, Neeks,” you hummed as he placed a kiss right under your ear.

“Mm, so what are you going to buy with that Victoria’s Secret gift card?”

*

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[larsnicklas]

grizzled vet jonathan tanner miller, noted locker room leader

[dmercer91]

could you do nsfw hcs for trevor zegras

nsfw headcanons, tz11

he’s soooo 🥴 like who needs to look like that???

trevor is just a brat.

essentially choosing the vibes of the night every night cause he’s got daydreams of him fucking you a trust they’ll be made real

fucking your throat always

loving on you in a way that makes it known he’s prepping you to be used however he pleases for a better part of the night

chuckling at your requests to slow down or your incoherent babbles

chuckling at literally any of your attempts to assert any kind of power

unless of course he’s politely requesting to do unspeakable (new) things to you- in which case he’s suddenly leaving sweet kisses all over your jaw and tummy

if he’s giving you head and you start to close your legs he just pries them open and mumbles incoherently to make you even worse off

blatant jealousy issues that directly translate to marking you up

blatant jealousy issues that directly translate to having you mark him up. cause he wants everyone to see that he takes good care of you, he’s real proud of his scratch marks

big fan of making you watch him in a mirror while you’re perched up in his lap.

he sends some risky texts/pictures (videos too) while he’s on roadies and if he’s ever graced with some in return he sends voice memos telling you how pretty you are and just overall praising your entire existence

he buys you toys just so he gets to watch you squirm from them

10/10 passtime for him is holding a wand to your clit and watching you writhe. he’s got hooded eyes and parted lips- truly he’s so enamoured with your pleasure

“oh, baby. does that feel good?” while he’s literally about to cream his boxers listening to you whimper his name

you let him train your throat and he thinks it’s the hottest thing on the face of the planet when it pays off

the first time he slid all the way in with no resistance he immediately had to back out and give himself a second

“fuck. you’re molded to fit me, aren’t you? you were carved straight from heaven just for me to have. mine”

he’s just obsessed with you

he’ll never get enough

that shitpost that was like ‘i can’t fix him. i can fuck him though, that’ll calm him down’ that’s trevor

he likes to make you try and ride him after you’ve already come far too many times and when you’re doing an overall questionable job he cooes and teases that you’re too fucked out to be good for him

then he starts meeting the rolls of your hips and you jolt and stop completely so you can grip onto him

he puts on a strong facade to mask how good you make him feel and it’s rare that he slips unless you’re sucking him off

he likes missionary with your legs hooked over his shoulders cause he likes to look down at you when you scream for him.

he usually props a pillow under your back and you always try to rid of it or squirm away to avoid overstimulation and he gets a good chuckle from it

the very first time you guys went all night and every time since he’ll give you ‘intermission’ which to him was just incessant teasing while he desensitized

blowing on your clit to watch you jump from the cool air

nipping at the skin of your thighs

coaxing you into his arms so he can tie your wrists to the headboard and get you ready for more

rewarding you with kisses before telling you he’s getting you a surprise and coming back with an eye cover

him genuinely asking if you trust him and his heart and cock twitching when you say yes and mean it

promising him you’ll tell him when enough’s enough and you need a break or to stop

him promising you he’ll learn you like you’re his major for the rest of his life so he can make you feel like absolute heaven and him doing good at keeping that promise

soft moments or lighthearted jokes when you’re overwhelmed before he asks if you want to clean up or keep going

him always giving the sweetest aftercare even if he was soft that night cause he knows that regardless he draws it out

no seriously quickies are like his personal hell he would rather just be late

cleaning you up with a cool cloth or running you a bath and giving you a scalp massage

drying you off and putting you in loose clothes so you don’t feel constricted

putting a little of his cologne on the neck of his shirt you’re wearing to comfort you

cuddling you up on the couch and putting on a movie while he changes the sheets, puts everything away, sets up some water and ibuprofen for the morning in case, and orders your comfort foods

swaddling you up in his arms while you eat and after you eat and peppering you with so so many kisses

you playing with his hair while you doze off and him carrying you to your bed once the movies over

[alltaternotot]

Looking Glass | N. Zadorov

Nikita Zadorov x tailor! Reader

Summary: Nikita is trying to find a new suit tailor after his retires, and he is surprised to find a small tailor shop with all kinds of surprises, even beyond the suit

WC: 11k

CW: fluff, smut, relatively slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers?? swearing, limited knowledge about tailoring/suitmaking, the use of the words “suit” and “hand” a million times, light proofreading. Let me know if I’m missing something!

NSFW (MINORS DNI): fingering, p n v, in the mirror, clothed sex, so much praise it’s not even funny, Z likes to talk, consent checks, creampie (BE RESPONSIBLE! WRAP IT!), aftercare, this one got HORNY so be warned.

A/N: cuz we all love a giant pretty man in a nice suit ;)

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1 - the meeting

“I’m sorry Nikita, I’m retiring in two weeks, I’m finishing your last suit order then I can’t take any more. But I really do appreciate your business over the years, my friend.” Nikita’s tailor, Dimitri, said over the phone in Russian.

This was a little bit of a shock to Nikita, as his tailor had been designing and fitting his suits from day one, all the way back in Colorado. His closet was piled high with suits he would never stop loving, years and years of designing a look that was perfect for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m thankful I could at least get one last suit from you. I hope retirement treats you well, call anytime if you find yourself in Vancouver.” He said, earning a light hearted chuckle on the other line.

“Will do Nikita. Your suit will be on its way to you in the next few days. Best of luck this season.”

They ended the call with the usual goodbyes and made his way over to his closet, pulling out his navy pinstripe suit for the game coming up in just a few hours. His ex used to pick out his suits every game day, but now that they had been broken up for some time he started to enjoy the freedom of wearing whichever suit he felt like. His style was his own after all.

He burned the day away, working out and skating in the morning, eating a light lunch and watching some new show that Quinn had mentioned. He felt calm and ready for the evening ahead. The game hadn’t changed in that way for him, he still loved it like he did as a little boy back in Moscow.

It was finally time to get dressed, his favorite part of his game day routine. He threw on a crisp white button down with a burnt orange tie, one that stood out against the rich blue of his suit. He slipped his legs into the soft fabric of his dress pants, then his large arms into the sleeves of his jacket, he opted for sunglasses, one of his gold watches, and a spritz of his favorite cologne. Finally, he slipped his feet into his nice warm brown dress shoes and did up the button on his suit.

He let out a sigh, admiring his outfit and fixing a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. The floor length mirror across from his bed lit him up perfectly. He looked sharp and professional, the kind of look that seeps confidence. He loved dressing the part of a millionaire athlete, there was no denying that. He shuffled around his room, picking up his essentials before throwing them all into their respective places in his pockets. He was ahead of schedule today and feeling a little bit more antsy to go. He pulled his front door shut and locked it before spinning on his heel towards the elevator.

The only thing he disliked about his his large apartment was the parking. He took the elevator down into the labyrinth of a parking garage his building had, low ceilings and mess everywhere. They had construction going on for the past two weeks or so, mildly inconveniencing him quite a few times. He would walk along the barrier of the construction to his waiting car every game day, trying not to let all of this piss him off. He pulled his phone out to pick a song, one earbud in, trying to keep his mind on the game ahead. Suddenly, he brushed the chicken wire fence that was up to close off a good 15 parking spots. He heard a rip and some pressure on his arm, right near his shoulder. His hand flew to his shoulder, almost trying to save it from what already happened.

“Shit!” He exclaimed to no one in particular. His fingertips were in contact with a decent sized rip right on the seam of his sleeve, a little hole showing the white shirt underneath.

He untangled himself from the chicken wire, not wanting to pull any more fabric, before jogging up to his car window to examine the tear. Luckily, it looked like just the seam was torn, so hopefully it was an easy fix. He didn’t want to go back upstairs and plan an entirely new outfit, so he just got in the car and left the stupid parking garage. He knew he would get an earful from the guys and probably a go-around meme post on Instagram about the visible rip, but at this point he just wanted to leave and get ready for the game.

The drive was maybe fifteen minutes without traffic, but usually ended up being closer to 30. He spent most of that time mentally preparing with soft music playing on a normal day, but this whole ordeal left him brooding with displeasure about nearly ruining one of his favorite suits. He was first at the light on one of the corners that he always passed on this route, when he noticed a shop he had never noticed before.

It was a little shop right next to a corner store, a chalkboard sign out front reading Suits! Dresses! Tailoring! He perked up a little at the sight of a tailor, the rip on his shoulder almost taunting him. He pulled off the road, right into a parallel spot on the cross street, getting out and almost running up to the door of this place. It really did look unassuming from the outside, but inside was really glorious. A bell chimed as he stepped inside and took it all in.

There were bolts of fabric stacked up taller than him, and designs of beautiful dresses and suits scattered around on mannequins, amazing colors and patterns on full display. There was a small counter and a desk, catalogues and thick design books littering both tables. He could hear a few people talking somewhere in the back, or rather one person shouting numbers and the other repeating them.

“Just a second!” A voice echoed from somewhere behind the bolts of fabric.

A woman appeared from a back room, a tape measure hanging around her neck snd and a notebook in her hands, scribbling down numbers on the page. She was short (even though pretty much everyone was short to Nikita) and very pretty. She wore a nice blouse and a mid length skirt, all topped off with a pair of nicer looking heels. It almost caught him off guard, like he was blindsided by meeting someone so pretty on a normal work day.

“How can I help you?” She asked, looking up, then up again to meet his eyes.

“Hi, umm, I know this is a weird ask but I am almost late for work, and I accidentally ripped the seam of my sleeve. Would you be able to fix it quickly? If not, totally fine, I’ll just be on my way.” He explained, turning to show her the tear in his shoulder.

“I can do that! Do you have maybe 10-15 minutes?” She asked, his eyes falling to his watch to check. He would turn out to be right on time.

“I think so.” He murmured, taking his phone out of the inside pocket and the jacket fully off.

She took the jacket, giving it a once over, then opened a tub of spooled thread sitting on one of the tables not too far from where he stood. He watched her pull out a tray of blues, holding them up to the blue of his jacket, then replacing them till she found an almost perfect match to the rich navy. She threaded a needle with lightning speed and flipped the jacket inside out to pull the seam together and pin it, deciding it would be the fastest to just stand at the desk and hold the massive jacket in her hands.

She could see how the sleeves accommodated large corded muscles in his arms, and how well done the work was. Whoever made this suit certainly did an excellent job and took his measurements down to the millimeter. She let herself look up at him briefly, his attention now on a deep purple suit displayed in the corner.

He was larger than life and had a confidence about him that was hard to ignore. His frame was perfectly accentuated with the cut of his suit pants and the button down he wore. His hair was perfectly cut and his sunglasses were perfect for his handsome face. The scar running through his lip down to his chin gave him a tough, no bullshit kind of look that only added to his confidence. He had a great taste in cologne, the spicy warm scent wafting through her senses from having his jacket. Even his accent was like a deep, rich honey being pouring from his lips. She pictured him as a hit man, or a spy, or some sort of agent. Something fantastic.

Once the stitching was done, she took the jacket over to one of the many massive mirrors on the wall and flipped it back, looking closely at the seam to make sure it was straight. Nikita walked up behind her and she offered up the jacket.

“Try that, hopefully the seam sits straight on your shoulder.” She remarked, watching him slip his big arm through the sleeves and button it back up.

He turned in the mirror, running a large finger over where the rip once was, now perfectly hidden by a straight seam. It was like nothing ever happened to it. He cracked a smile and turned back to the woman, yanking on the hem of the jacket to straighten himself out.

“That’s perfect. How much do I owe you?” He asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Oh don’t worry about it! It was just a quick stitch!” She exclaimed, holding her hand up in a stop gesture when he tried to hand over a fifty dollar note.

“Really, I insist. You’re saving me a lot of embarrassment with my… coworkers.” He said, circumventing the fact that his coworkers are in fact teammates on the most famous sports team in the area.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal. I’m just glad you let me work on this amazing suit. Your tailor is a magician!” She joked, and he just smiled.

“What was your name? I’ll be sure to recommend you for any fixing my coworkers need done on their suits.” He said, grabbing a business card from the desk.

“My name is Y/N, but the people who own this place are Rob and Krista. Any of us would be happy to help!” She exclaimed.

“Great. I’m Nikita. It’s nice to meet you, but I have to run. Thanks for everything!”

He turned on his heel to leave, sending a gentle wave her way before picking up the pace back to his car. When she turned around, the 50 dollar note was sitting on the desk, inconspicuously next to the pile of business cards he grabbed from. She let out a chuckle and let the fantastical daydreams of secret agent Nikita fill her mind up as she pocketed the note.

“Who was that Y/N?” Rob asked, emerging from the back holding the plans for a custom gown he was making.

“He just needed a seam stitched, no big deal.” She muttered, and he hummed at the far of gleam in her eye.

<><><><>

2 - the outing

Nikita scored two goals and got an assist that night. He was on top of the world and couldn’t come down. When the final horn sounded he found himself thinking of Y/N, and how the blue thread she used must have weaved some luck into him.

After his post game shower and doing media he found himself back at his locker, pulling his suit back on to return home. His button up was on, no jacket or tie, and he was almost done loosely tying his right shoe so he could finally leave. Quinn and Brock were close by, chatting with each other about the game.

“Fuckin rights Z, what a game!” Brock exclaimed, clapping a hand on his back, “What’s with you huh? Where’d all that goal scoring energy come from?”

“Just a good night I guess, nothing too crazy.” He responded, a little reluctant to share why he truly thought he was finding the back of the net.

He stood, quickly going back over to the sink to give himself a once over before finally leaving. Out of curiosity, he flipped the seam of his jacket into the light of the mirror in front of him, eventually finding a section of the seam that was a slightly different color with two tiny knots at each end. He smiled to himself and flipped it back, throwing it over his arm. Quinn and Brock watched, also curious why Nikita was all of a sudden examining his jacket. The looked at each other with a shrug, and let it go.

~ two weeks later ~

The universe had a funny way of treating Nikita sometimes. JT Miller gave him a call, basically begging him for a tailor recommendation. He said that ‘nothing was fitting well’ and that ‘you should know Nikita, I’ve never seen you wear a bad outfit!’. He was absolutely happy to give JT the information, and he told him that he had a suit he needed to get fixed anyway. He didn’t, but he wanted an excuse to go see Y/N and try to thank her in a hopefully normal sounding way for giving him good luck. They made a plan for their next day off in two days.

“Ah, perfect…” Nikita muttered to himself, digging out a beige jacket that he had made years ago, one that had a ripped inner pocket, buttons missing, and a weird seam wrinkle that wouldn’t go away. He had been digging around in his massive closet for close to an hour, trying to find something to bring to the tailor so it didn’t look like he was acting as the peanut gallery for JT, and now Elias as well, who weaseled his way into their trip because of similar reasons to JT.

A knock sounded at his door, Petey and JT both with their suits wrapped up in bags. They were dressed casually. Nikita offered to drive them all, making sure to avoid the chicken wire fence despite being in a black t-shirt and shorts. The drive was short and easy, but his heart beating with a flutter of excitement made it slightly harder to focus.

The bell chimed in the doorway when they entered, the sound of people talking in the back filling the men’s ears. JT and Petey had a similar reaction to the state of the store as he did the first time, both of their mouths falling open in surprise.

“Welcome in, gentleman. What can we help you with today?” An older man stepped up to the counter, a confident smile making his crow’s feet appear.

“Hi! I believe we talked on the phone a few days ago about some repairs the three of us need done? My name is JT.” He said, shaking the man’s hand earnestly.

“Ah yes! We would be happy to help! Let me go grab the other two.” He said, retreating to the back again.

This time, Rob, Krista, and Y/N all came up front. Y/N hadn’t been expecting secret agent Nikita to be standing there. He offered a gentle wave, and she offered one back as Rob began consulting JT while Petey introduced himself to Krista.

“Back with friends I see! How did the seam turn out for you?” Y/N inquired, coming up close to him.

“Very well. It’s holding up perfectly so far.” He answered, letting his hand fall on top of the jacket folded over his arm, “I actually have another one I could use your help with.” He said, offering up the beige jacket.

“No problem! We should be able to get them done in a day or two-“

“We can get these done today for you gentleman! You are more than welcome to hang around, it shouldn’t be too long.” Rob announced to everyone.

Y/N was a little surprised at this. Rob wasn’t usually the type to cut out time for walkins when his plate was stacked high with custom orders. Krista also seemed unbothered. She had been working on a dress that was due to the client in two days before they all came in, which normally took precedent over whatever little fixes came and went.

“Are you sure Rob? Mrs. Fueller’s dress needs to be done soon?” Y/N asked under her breath as they walked out of earshot.

“I will gladly finish suits for Vancouver Canucks players same day Y/N, it would be insulting to our great hockey town to not!” He exclaimed jovially.

It all clicked for her then, why Nikita was in a rush and dressed so well. Why him and his friends were also so athletic looking. Nikita also heard, eyes going wide as his cover crumbled right in front of him. He wanted just a few more moments of bliss without the fanfare, selfishly. He offered a sheepish smile to her when she looked back at him, feeling a little caught despite not really doing anything wrong.

She retreated to get her kits, still holding onto the jacket. This one smelled faintly of that warm spicy scent she loved last time. This one would be a relatively quick fix like the last one. She took the space at the front desk so Rob and Krista could have the work spaces in the back. They called Petey and JT into the back work space, leaving Nikita to wander.

As she came back up front, she found Nikita in front of a dark green suit, pulling at the sleeve and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He noticed her sit and turn the lamp on, laying his suit out on the smooth surface. He made his way back over to her, not resisting his urge to talk to her. His presence was strong and steady as he watched her rip the thread from the buttons left on the suit.

“I’m starting to think you’re clumsy, Mr. Canuck. Two suit coats in two weeks?” She joked, and he took a seat in the leather chair placed in front of the desk.

“I try not to be. I just like to be on my game with my suits y’know?” He answered, letting a twinge of guilt rip through him for not being totally honest about who he really was, “I’m sorry I wasn’t up front about who I was at first.”

“It’s ok, I understand. I’m sure you have people stopping you at every corner.” She answered as she pulled buttons out of their little plastic case.

“Not much of a hockey fan?” He asked.

“I grew up New Mexico, so there wasn’t much hockey around. Once I moved here I never totally caught on. But I like it when I see it! I know you guys have played well this season!” She explained.

He hummed in approval, “you should come see a game. It’s a lot of fun to see it live. I’ll even score a goal for you.” He joked, and she laughed along with him.

“Maybe I will.” She agreed, now moving on the inner pocket.

They continued to talk, just sharing about themselves and other light topics. He was absolutely endeared by her, her quick wit and personality shining through as they continued along. He learned that she moved to Vancouver for college and never left. This job was essentially dumped in her lap and it was too enjoyable to abandon. She could execute her favorite designs and get paid a decent wage.

Nikita’s coat was all wrapped up with all repairs made flawlessly, his old suit jacket returned to rights. He took it back, slipping a 100 dollar note into her kit when she tried to refuse him again. Now it was a waiting game for his teammates. He could see Petey with a tape measure in his armpit and JT looking through a few bolts of gray fabric; he guessed it would be a little while before they wrapped up. He perused the mannequins, taking note of the beautiful craftsmanship. He stopped at the double breasted dark green suit again, taking a good long look at it.

“I designed that one, y’know.” Y/N piped up, suddenly very close to him, making him want to reach out and touch her. He had a foot on her at least, her head reaching just above his sternum he guessed. He could smell the faint scent of sickly sweet flowers coming off of her, and instantly thought he would never smell anything better ever again.

“Really? It’s very impressive, something I would wear in a heartbeat…” he admired, then a lightbulb went off in his head, “I’m actually interested in buying some new suits, would you be willing to do them for me?” He asked.

“Absolutely Nikita. What kind of look do you like?” She responded, immediately interested.

“the style you saw on me the first day mostly. I think I want some color or something to give it a bit extra though.” He pondered, Y/N immediately beginning to swirl with ideas.

“Tell you what, I’ll set up an appointment with you and we can discuss it.” She offered, and he turned to her with a smile, “we can look through some catalogs and pick out some cool options.”

“Hmm, I would gladly take an appointment, but I don’t want a catalogue suit, I want what you think looks best,” He said confidently, “if you are ok with it, I would like to give you my number so if you see a pattern or inspiration you can tell me.”

Y/N’s heart dropped into her stomach, never to come out again. It was very, very rare that someone wanted anything other than an average suit, especially someone that seemed to be built for a nice suit like he was. Her mind lit up with a constellation of ideas.

“I-I would be honored.” She said, a little too stunned to say much else.

He smiled, making his way back to the desk for a business card and a stray blue pen. He jotted down his information on the back, handing it to her. She pocketed it, shoving it deep so there was no chance it fell out. JT and Petey made their way up front, now holding their suits plus some papers and fabric squares.

“All set Z?” Petey asked, and he nodded to the two men.

“We hope to see you all soon! Enjoy those jackets!” Rob said, waving as they made their way out the door, the little bell sounding as they exited the store

~*~

Rob and Krista returned to work on Mrs. Fueller’s dress, talking amongst themselves about how ‘nice those young men had been’ and how ‘you don’t see down to earth athletes like that anymore’. Y/N sat down at the desk gathering all of her supplies back into the kits. She smiled to herself at the 100 dollar note Nikita had left for her, making a mental note to scold him when she saw him next time.

There was a next time.

She fished the business card out of her pocket turning it over to reveal his neat, square handwriting.

Y/N,

Don’t share this with anyone! Hope to hear from you soon.

-Nikita Zadorov

XXX-XXX-XXX

She quickly put the number in her phone and saved it under secret agent Nikita before sending him a text.

Hi Nikita, it’s Y/N. Let me look at my schedule and we can put something on the books. I already have some ideas!

Not even ten minutes went by before a text buzzed from him

Sounds great. We leave for a week and a half tomorrow, but I should be available once we get back to Vancouver. Thanks for all of your help!

She sent off a thumbs up and a thank you before cleaning up her space to finish the last details on Mrs. Fueller’s dress. She imagined beautiful rich fabric and how it could lay on Nikita’s build, where to accentuate and where to bring in. There were seemingly endless options.

She couldn’t wait

<><><><>

3 - the fitting

During the week and a half the Canucks were on the road, Nikita found himself a little absorbed in talking to Y/N. They scheduled for a few days after the Canucks returned to Vancouver, and he couldn’t stop the flutter of excitement he felt when he thought about seeing Y/N again.

She started to send him photos of chic magazines, ones that had borderline eccentric suits, which she promised she would dial back but she ‘saw lots of potential’ in them. She sent him pictures of bolts of fabric, which he eventually just FaceTimed her to see. She was in the middle of a massive fabric store, dressed in a hoodie from what he could tell, which for some reason was endearing to him.

Y/N was very surprised by the FaceTime, but picked up anyway after the second ring, as it would give her an opportunity to hear his honey laden accent. He looked to be in a hotel gym, lightly huffing and trying to dry his damp forehead off with a towel. His hair was undone and falling in his face, and he was close enough to the camera that she could see the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. A domestic thought of doing this all the time flashed through her mind before she stamped it out.

“What do you think of doing something in this?” She asked, flipping the camera to show off a beautiful deep green.

“I like that a lot, I have a couple of green suits so maybe red? Or purple?” He inquired.

“Now we’re talking. I’ll get back to you ok? I’ll find the best red and purple I can.” She promised, which made him smile.

“I’m holding you to it.” He said, then a faint ‘come on Z food’s here’ sounded of in the background, “I have to go, but we’ll talk soon!”

“Ok Z, have a good night! Good luck for the game!” She said

He sent a wink into the camera, “will do Y/N.” Then ended the call.

Y/N couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach as she played that wink over and over again. He was just so nice and confident (not to mention handsome), all while trusting her to deliver something great. She perused the bolts some more, finding a luxurious maroon and a dark purple that looked almost black. She bought them both and returned to the shop to place them in the pile that was forming for Nikita’s appointment.

They kept texting. Not even about suits or fabric or accessories, just casual conversation. He would text her before games, after games, late at night when he should have been sleeping. He imagined her cuddled up on the couch in a soft t-shirt with snacks and a movie on, or at the shop with her cute heels on and hair all styled, answering his texts with a smile and a giggle when he said something funny. They didn’t really talk about hockey either, outside of an occasional question about the rules or a funny story from Russia, which was refreshing for him.

Y/N had done her own digging (for research purposes of course) and fallen into a hole of stalking his socials. She had watched a heavy hit compilation of him on YouTube, and couldn’t believe that the one she met and the one knocking people into the next year were the same person. She watched one of his away games, against the Seattle Kraken, finding herself invested in the play going on and feeling that twinge of excitement when the camera found Nikita every once in a while.

It was days and days of sweet conversation and thinking about each other when they weren’t talking. Multiple teammates of Nikita’s were giving him shit for always being on the phone, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. It lit him up inside to see Y/N’s contact flash across the screen. She was so witty and kind, not to mention beautiful. She even began to cross his mind when he was alone in the hotel room.

The day finally came. His appointment was at noon, so he prepared a little early and stopped for coffee, also grabbing Y/N’s order as a little surprise. He felt like he needed to show his appreciation for the wonderful couple of weeks he had. The familiar bell chime went off as he opened the shop door, this time no bickering voices, just faint music coming from the back. Y/N walked up front to meet him, cracking the smile she had been waiting to crack since he asked her what her favorite color was over a week and a half ago. He handed her the coffee he was holding and offered a friendly side hug.

“Oh! You really didn’t have to, but thank you! Always full of surprises.” She remarked, setting down the coffee.

“Hey, what can I say. We’re gonna need all the caffeine we can get.” He said, then looked around to find no Rob or Krista, “where is everyone?”

“Rob and Krista decided to take a vacation in Italy, they’re gone for another week, so you’re stuck with me by myself I’m afraid.” She explained, grabbing a book from the corner to set out.

He perked up a little unintentionally at that news. The thought of the two of them together like this felt eerily similar to just, hanging out, and not an actual business deal being done by two professionals. He had been waiting for the appointment like it was a scheduled hang out for fucks sake.

“So first I’m thinking we get your measurements, then talk about what you want to see, and see where it takes us?” She offered, and he nodded, “great, if you don’t mind coming over here under the light so I can see you.”

He was dressed in a t shirt and shorts again, hopefully something that would make it easy for her to get good numbers. She had a little lawyer pad and a pencil, along with a tape measure ready to use in the other hand.

“Just stand normally and relax, I’m gonna work from the bottom up.” She noted and Nikita relaxed his stance.

She began, quickly pulling the tape measure around his ankles, jotting down numbers then moving up. She measured his calves, then knees, then thighs at their thickest, then the outside seam from hip to ankle. Nikita was trying to focus on anything but her touching him, literally anything but her skilled fingers pulling the tape measure taught around him. She finally measured his inseam, going from his groin to the inside of his ankle, then the other side, all before popping up and writing the last numbers down.

He was so, so still. He felt like if he moved he would shatter like glass under her touch. He was barely breathing. She moved to his hips, then waist, then from his armpit to hip. She wrapped the tape measure around his chest, the metal tag hitting him dead center, and she took the number. He wondered if she could feel his heart rattling his rib cage under her hand.

She pulled a block out from the corner to stand on, giving Nikita a moment to breathe and relax. She started on his arms, taking his wrists, biceps, and shoulder width, then from shoulder to wrist. Finally, she wrapped the tape measure around his neck. His pulse quickened at her closeness, and all he could think about was her breath fanning over his collarbone while she leaned in to read the number.

“Ok… that’s the last number…” she murmured, letting the tape measure fall loose around his neck, “wanna sit down to talk about what you’re thinking design wise?”

“Y-yeah, let’s do that.” He said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

She directed him to the seat around the front of the desk. She grabbed her pre-cut fabric squares in maroon, dark purple, and a sage green with silver detailing woven in. She grabbed her organizer of buttons and other accessories, and the magazines she had compiled since they began texting. She had tabs sticking out of each one, the magazines resembling annotated homework more than catalogs. She stuck them all on the desk, then sat.

He leaned back to accommodate his size in the seemingly too small chair, his knees bent up at a slight angle and his arms resting beside him. To a passerby it might look like an interrogation if they didn’t know any better. It was like he took up as much space physically as he did mentally for her.

“So, I showed you the fabrics I liked best over our call, but I wanted you to feel them and decide for yourself if you like them.” She started, handing him the fabric squares that he pinched between his fingers, one by one.

“The purple and the maroon are great, and I like that you went for a lighter green. I think three suits is a good amount for now, so let’s stick with these.” He explained.

“I thought the same, so we’ll go with those.” She set aside three piles, with one fabric square per pile, “I love to see double breasted suits, and they look great on you, so I was thinking about making the purple fabric double breasted with these buttons.” She pulled out gold buttons that were adorned with little flowers, very much like an old wax seal, “they’re vintage, and I think they fit the style nicely.”

He nodded, and let her take them back to set in their own pile with the purple fabric square.

“I think since the maroon is a little more adventurous we could try a strap closure in the front, it’s one of the more chic styles coming out of fashion recently.” She explained further, flipping to a saved page in one of the magazines where the model had a suit that was closed with a slim gold buckle and a strap across the waist. He had never considered something like that before, but he could see Y/N’s vision coming to life, so he agreed.

“And for the green I think a couple of buttons and a nice fit will do the fabric plenty of justice.” She said, holding up the green fabric square.

“This is all perfect Y/N.” He said, looking over the three piles in front of them, “what can I expect in terms of time?”

“I have one quick project before you, but I would say around a month for everything? Rob and Krista gave me permission to take on just your project after my other project is done.” She said, taking a glance at the calendar on her desk.

“That’s perfect for me, don’t rush on my account, I’m a very patient man.” He said with a sly smile, and she just laughed, the clearest most lovely laugh he could have imagined.

“We’ll plan on it then.” She whispered, seconds going by before she looked away from his eyes.

They both stood, Nikita reaching out to shake her hand once she came around the desk within arms reach of him. He pulled her in for a brief hug, as if to say ‘we’re past all the pleasantries’. Something was shifting in the air, between them.

“Um, I really wanted to thank you, for the trust. This project is a big deal for me.” She murmured.

“It’s an honor for me to own such a brilliant collection.” He assured, letting her go after one final pat on the shoulder, “I can’t wait for a month from now.”

“I can’t either.”

<><><><>

+1 - the gifting

Right on schedule, Y/N had all three pieces done in a month. She stayed up late and got up early quite a few times simply because she was inspired to finish. Everything, down to the very last stitch, was perfect. She thought of making replicas to save for a future fashion magazine.

Nikita and Y/N continued to talk, a lot. He found himself texting her anytime he thought something was funny, or interesting, or really any sort of thing that he thought she would like. When he was home, he would drop coffee off to her, and she would try to hide his suits from his curious eye. Each time he did, it would end with a hug and a promise to talk soon.

She ended up calling him one afternoon extremely frustrated. Her dishwasher started to make a funny noise and her landlord wouldn’t pick up, and he happily came over to help her, fixing it in a mere hour. They spent the whole evening tucked in a private corner of her favorite restaurant, her treat, as a thank you.

One night, on a rare off day on the road, she picked up another FaceTime call from him, and they talked into the early hours. He wanted to hear her voice all he could, and play her pretty laugh on repeat. They waded a little deeper beyond light banter, and they both shared personal things, and tried to be encouraging. Nikita admitted that NHL life could be lonely without anyone to share it with, especially since his ex moved on, but he was trying his best to enjoy every minute with his teammates. Y/N hoped she could give him a little peace in that way; be an avenue for him to take when the nights got a little too lonely. When they signed off, Nikita found himself biting back an ‘I miss you’.

He was on a road trip for a couple of days after his suits being finished, so they planned on meeting up at the shop on his next off day, which happened to be the day after the Canucks returned from a very successful 3-0 road trip.

Y/N had secretly been watching his games from the privacy of her apartment, cheering on the Canucks of course, but especially Nikita. She watched all of his media availability, and laughed at all of his witty replies. He was witty with her too, but from a different place. She knew he wasn’t trying to be smart with her, he just wanted her to laugh.

She had been waiting so long to see him, and today was finally the day.

She got up late morning, the sun already decently high. She decided this day was a hair down kind of day, so she brushed and lightly curled the ends. She threw on her favorite green dress with built in cups, and a black cardigan over the top, pairing everything with black heels. She threw on a light dusting of makeup and some perfume to finish everything off.

She made her way into the shop, not noticing the dark clouds rolling in behind her as she pulled each suit off the rack and placed them in very nice suit bags. The plan was to meet Nikita at 4pm, then get dinner after. When she turned back towards the front of the store, the sky was much darker and big raindrops were gliding down the windows. The storm got heavy very quickly, the wind whipping sheets of rain into the side of the building. Normally Y/N would find this kind of weather relaxing, something that would warrant comfy clothes and a cup of tea, but she had Nikita to wait for, and the more it rained the more she got worried about her plans for the day.

She was suddenly bathed in darkness as the power flickered and shut off completely. The light coming from outside was dim at best, and the rain only seemed to pelt the glass harder. She felt her heart sink. There was no way she could work on anything, let alone meet Nikita and give him his suits.

Right on cue, special agent Nikita flashed across her phone. She picked it up and tried to smooth over her frustrated tone. Despite being frustrated, she was tremendously relieved.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Nikita asked, hearing the rain in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’ll be ok, I just have to be careful getting home and we can reschedule, ok?” She asked, the defeat weighing down her last few words. She thought of her shit box sedan, probably floating down the flooded street by now.

“What’s happening over there?” He inquired, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Uh, the power’s out and the street is flooded out front, I’m not going to make you come over here Nikita.” She argued, “the roads are dangerous as it is.”

“Im coming to get you, just relax and I’ll be there soon.” He said, the determination in his voice rocking her a little bit.

“It’s really not safe right now! Don’t worry about me I’ll just wait it out.” She tried to reason, but she was cut off with a ‘no, no, no, stop.”.

“I’m not letting you sit there in the dark Y/N, I have an SUV I’ll be fine. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon.” He pushed, and quickly hung up so she couldn’t try to deter him any more.

Not even fifteen minutes later, a black SUV swung up into the spot right in front of the door, Nikita running to the door with his arm up over his eyes. He threw the door open and pulled it closed, water gathering on the floor in front of him.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah I’m good, it’s just dark.” She laughed, gesturing to the flashlight on her phone illuminating them.

“Good, let’s get the suits and get out of here.” He said, stepping back to the door to wait for her.

She first slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys from the desk. Then she grabbed all three garment bags, tucking them into her cardigan before folding it over her body like a disgruntled teacher. He pushed the door open as soon as she was by his side, fighting the wind and big drops. He stuck his arm out, using his big body to try and shield her as much as he could. He hit the hatch button on his key fob and she ran as quickly as her heels would allow on the flooded sidewalk, laying the bags down flat in his trunk before hitting the button to close them in safely. She made the quick shuffle to the passenger seat, shutting the door with an aggressive thud.

Nikita and Y/N both let out a breath. She hoped they would both make it out without getting too wet, but it was no use. She was soaked, her nicely curled hair now a damp mess, her cardigan and dress soaked on top. Nikita’s sweatshirt and hair were also soaked, him taking the hem of his sweatshirt to wipe his dripping forehead.

“So I was thinking we could go to my place, but if not I’ll take you home..?” He suggested, and she nodded after a beat.

“We can go to yours, I want to show you the suits.” She said, and he pulled out of the parking spot with a nod.

The road was absolutely drenched, so the drive home was slower, but nothing his SUV couldn’t handle. Nikita wordlessly turned on her heated seat, hoping to combat the shivers she developed as the minutes ticked on. He felt really bad about her getting rained on, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave her to drive home that shit box sedan or sit in the dark studio all day till the rain stopped. He was so relieved when the entrance to his building’s parking garage came into view. He parked in his spot, getting out first and grabbing the garment bags out of the back. Y/N brushed her wet hair out of her face in the mirror before opening her door and hopping out.

They made their way inside the elevator, side by side, until it arrived at his floor. He opened the door and let her in first, extending his hand in a come in motion. His apartment was nothing short of amazing. The space was large and open with a beautiful kitchen, plus large windows that overlooked Vancouver. The room was decorated exactly how she pictured, lots of sleek neutrals and modern details. He had a massive sectional sofa, with a huge tv and an electronic fireplace right underneath. He had a sliding glass door that lead out to a lovely balcony that housed a couple of plants and Adirondack chairs.

They could see the rain still coming down hard against the glass, with no signs of stopping any time soon. Across from the open living space was a large hallway that she assumed led to his bedrooms and bathrooms and any other extra space he had.

Y/N bent and grabbed a hold of one heel, sliding it off, then the other, then tucked them into the mat where a lot of his shoes sat near the door. Her heels were covered in water stains and grime from the dirty sidewalk, so she figured it would be better to leave them there for now. Nikita set the garment bags over the arm of his massive cushy sofa sectional before he meandered into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs and setting some water to boil. Without heels on, she fell right below his sternum, and it was now even more glaringly obvious how wide their size difference was.

“What kind of tea do you like Y/N? I have mint, camomile, and some sort of spicy-orangey one.” He asked from around the corner.

“Spicy orangey sounds good.” She joked, finally walking into the kitchen where he was pulling a little box out of one of the higher cabinets, “I never took you as a hot tea kind of guy.”

“I like it sometimes. Nathan MacKinnon said I should try it when I can’t sleep before taking melatonin, and he was kind of right.” He laughed at the memory, “the Dogg is always right when it comes to what you eat and drink.”

“Hey, if it works it works.” She remarked as he handed her a perfectly warm mug of tea.

They sat quietly for a minute, letting the warm liquid warm them up a little further. The sound of the rain outside was much more soothing in the comfort of his apartment. Y/N hadn’t realized how deep the chill had gotten from her still too wet cardigan and hair. He looked at her for a moment, realizing she was still shivering a little and damp. Once both of their teas were done, he grabbed the mugs and turned them in the sink.

“You should take that cardigan off, you’re going to catch a cold,” he said matter of factly, “I’m sure I have something you can wear if you want.”

She shrugged it off, and Nikita took a hold of it and turned on the electronic fireplace, putting it next to the slowly building warmth. He turned to the garment bags, and picked them up carefully, nodding his head towards the hallway.

“My closet’s down here, I want to see in the mirror.” He said.

At the end of the hallway was his room, decorated similarly to the rest of his living space. The bed was underneath the window on the opposite side of the door, a nice long ottoman chest sitting at the foot of his bed, the kind that had a cushioned top to sit on like a bench. Across from the bed was an absolutely massive ceiling to floor mirror that was backlit with soft white light, making it easy to see. There was a connecting door to the bathroom, and another door that seemed to be a walk in closet, absolutely filled to the brim with suits. Her jaw fell to the floor at the sight of all of this tailoring genius in front of her, and they were about to add three more to his amazing collection. She continued to look around while he slipped into the closet.

“What do you want to see first Y/N?” He asked, separating out the bags and hanging them on the closet door. He had thrown on a nice white button down and a black tie on, just to make sure he was doing the suits true justice. He kept his shorts on, creating a very interesting sight

“Hmm, the green one?” She asked, and he nodded, turning on his heel to take the green suit into the bathroom.

She took a seat on the ottoman chest, waiting patiently for him. He returned, pulling on the sleeves and adjusting the jacket on his frame. The green complimented him so well, and the cut hit him in the perfect spot on his hips to make him look muscular and fitted. The pants perfectly accentuated his thick thighs. He turned to the massive mirror, taking a quick once over before turning back to Y/N, who’s jaw was on the floor again.

“I don’t think that could fit you any better.” She said, and he laughed.

“Well, you took the measurements, I knew it was going to be perfect.” He responded, “ok, what next?”

“Do the purple one, the last one is going to surprise you.” She said, and he obliged, of course.

After another few minutes in the bathroom, he re-emerged, the velvety purple showing up almost black with the gorgeous vintage gold buttons holding it all together. The suit, again, was cut perfectly, showing off his physique. He turned, looking at the fit and the buttons, all before turning to Y/N once again.

“I think you were made for the double breasted suit.” She admitted, and he gave her a wide smile and a dorky little spin.

“I love the color, it’s so deep.” He said, again turning to go back to the bathroom with the maroon suit in hand.

Now this one, she wasn’t entirely sure about how he was going to feel. The buckled closure was new for his wardrobe, but she had faith that he would embrace it. While he was in the bathroom, she stood from her spot and looked inside his closet, wanting to grasp the full picture of his collection. His closet felt like it continued on for miles. She heard the door open, and turned to see Nikita messing with the closure.

“Can you help me close it?” He asked, and she took a moment to look at him.

The maroon of the suit was perfect for his skin tone, and the fit, again, looked perfect. the clasp that closed the jacket was a delicate gold, something that would fit with his usual accessories. The fabric tie that he would attach to the buckle seemed to be jammed a little, very easy to fix. She grabbed the tie, pulling it gently so it would slide out again, and grabbed the buckle with her other hand, slowly snaking the piece in and looping the pieces together.

Nikita’s brain shut off. She was so close to him, smelling like rain and sickly sweet flowers, with her hair now falling in messy locks from being wet. Flashes of every moment they spent together, through the phone or not, spun through his mind. He thought about the dinner they had, and how pretty she looked, and how hard they laughed. In this moment she looked beyond beautiful in her dress, the freckles on her shoulders standing out. His arms were at his side but he so desperately wanted to reach up and touch her.

So he did.

He ghosted his hands over her bare arms, up her shoulders, and placed them on the sides of her neck. She looked up at him, her gaze finding his. She didn’t look apprehensive at all, in fact there was a glimmer in her eye that he had never seen before.

“What?” She murmured, keeping their eyes locked.

His thumb grazed her jaw, keeping a slow, feathery pace, “nothing, I just wish this would happen every day.”

“Trying on new suits?” She wondered, even though she knew that wasn’t it.

He leaned down, almost to her lips, “No, having you here to help me.” He murmured, “I want you here all the time. I’ve dreamed of having you here with me.”

That was all she needed. She met him the rest of the way, standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips. Their kiss was all consuming, encapsulating every feeling they both felt over the last few months, but were never able to say. He felt so soft against her, his hands remaining on her neck while hers slid around his waist. She pulled back, Nikita chasing her lips as she broke away. She looked at him for a minute with a soft, twinkling look on her face, Nikita deciding he never wanted to see her look any other way.

“C’mere.” He said, pulling her back in.

He kissed her deeper, his tongue dancing over her bottom lip so she would open up. She did, willingly, the both of them melting into each other’s embrace. One hand snaked back into her hair, the other sliding down and across her back. Her hands crawled up his arms, holding onto the soft fabric of his suit jacket.

He tightened his hold on her hair, kissing across her cheek and down her pretty neck. She let out a soft moan, her lips sitting on the shell of his ear. He wanted to bottle up that sound and keep it forever.

As he mouthed at her collarbone, he took a step, then another, till they were standing in front of his ottoman chest, the mirror right across from them. He sat down, finding her lips again. He reached up and pulled on the knot in his tie just a little loose, giving him more room to move. Their kiss was growing hungrier, his need to feel her growing stronger with every move. Her hands found his hair, fingers carding through his soft locks.

He grabbed at her waist, pulling her flush with him between his thick thighs. She began trailing kisses down his neck, or what she could reach with his stiff collar in the way. He opened his eyes, just for a moment, and watched her squirm under his touch in the mirror. He could see his own pupils darken at the thought of watching her.

“Nikita..” she groaned, “please.”

“What is it baby?” He asked, letting his hands wander to the sides of her breasts.

“I, I just want you.” She said, placing a desperate kiss on the corner of his mouth, “can we go to bed?” Grabbing his hands to pull him up.

“No, wait,” he said, using the hand that she was holding to turn her around, “right here.”

Y/N and Nikita looked like a work of art together in that mirror. Her hair was tousled and messy, falling down to one side while he kissed and sucked at her shoulder, moving the thin strap of her dress down her arm with one hand and caressing her head with the other. The maroon of his suit and her green dress accented the other perfectly. She could see her nipples beginning to pebble under the built in cups of her dress, making her look beyond sultry in his arms. The most striking piece was how much bigger he was than her.

He moved his hands again, bringing them to her waist, then the sides of her breasts, then over them on top of the dress. He gave them a gentle squeeze, working a moan out of her throat. He kneaded her softly, then reached into the soft fabric, pulling her tits out over the top of the dress. He rolled her nipples in his fingers, making her shudder and arch in his grip.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, watching her eyelids squeeze shut at all of the sensations, “I thought about you like this, all sweet and pliant under my touch.”

“Shit, N-Nikita.” She panted, coming down to fully sit in his lap and grasp at his arms. She could feel his bulge growing in his nice new suit pants, and whimpered at the feeling.

“Do you like that? When I touch you like that?” He egged on, wanting to hear her say it.

“Ah.. yes, yes I love it.” She sighed out.

He shifted one arm over to play with her nipples and hold her up while his other hand reached for the hem of her dress, slowly pulling it up till he could see her panties. He almost died at the sight. He could see how spun up she had gotten just from kissing and touching her.

“Shit, look at you.” He said, cupping her pussy with his massive hand, “all wet from a few touches.”

“Only for you.” she admitted, letting him take control of the whole situation. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and gazed at the ceiling.

He reached into her panties, letting his fingers graze over her wet lips, before slowly pulling her panties down and off. He grabbed her by the waist and shifted her back so she was fully seated, throwing her legs over the outsides of his. She was fully exposed to the mirror, and all of his ministrations were on display. He ran two fingers through her wetness before sinking them into her pussy, agonizingly slow. He began to make a come here motion, letting his thumb circle her clit. The sound of her arousal filled the room, and she couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of her mouth as Nikita dragged his fingers over her sensitive walls.

She worked her hand into his hair behind her, the other coming to cover his as he worked on her. He placed kisses on her temple and neck as he slowly worked more sounds out of her, her movement working him up underneath his suit pants. Every sigh and gasp in his ear, every time her grip tightened on his hair, every grind of her hips against him, was heaven. Every inch of her was perfect for him, and he got to watch it all unravel right in front of him.

“God I’m s-so close, please!” She gasped, her pussy tightening around him.

“Go ahead baby, take what you need.” He encouraged, “cum all over my fingers.”

His words were like magic. She came all around him, her legs clamping down around his and her fingers tightening in his hair. He kept gently moving his fingers inside her, the waves of delicious pleasure washing over her. His eyes never dropped from the mirror.

Once her orgasm ebbed, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away from her oversensitive bundle. He brought his soaking fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off of his fingers with an ‘mmm’. She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, letting herself catch her breath while she tasted her essence on him.

She was very, very aware of his hard dick pressing against her; with every shift he would groan. His hands found her waist again, gently lifting her out of her seat so there was enough room for him to unzip his pants and bring them down just enough for his cock to spring free. She started to turn and sink down on her knees but he stopped her, pulling her back up.

“Maybe later, I wanna be inside you.” He stated bluntly.

“What about your suit?” She asked, running her hands along the fabric, “you haven’t even worn it out yet.”

“I’ll take it to the dry cleaners if we make that much of a mess. All I’m worried about is you.” He said giving her hand a kiss. “Where do you want to be baby?”

“Right here, I liked how we were.” She admitted, climbing back onto his lap with her legs bent on either side of him, facing the mirror.

She was spread open and on display for them again, this time his cock was painfully hard resting against her back. He took her hips in his hand, pulling her up while she grabbed a hold of him, giving him a couple of pumps before lining him up with her. She took it slow, settling down inch by inch. She sank down till she was fully seated in his lap, being practically split open. She moaned out a breath, giving them both a moment to adjust to the feeling.

For Nikita, it felt like coming home. She was so tight and warm and all enveloping. He wanted to stay that way forever, close to her with the perfect view. He let a hand ghost over her stomach, a touch that ended up feeling comforting to her.

“You ok?” He asked in her ear, laying a kiss on it.

“Y-yeah, you’re just really big.” She admitted, making him chuckle. “Feels so good..”

“Good, baby.” He reassured.

After another moment, she pulled up, then sat back down, starting a deep slow pace. She put her head back on his shoulder, letting pretty moans tumble out just like before. Nikita’s hands were everywhere, her stomach, thighs, tits, waist, all of her. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He looked at the scene before him in the mirror, watching himself disappear into her tight heat. He had never seen something so hot, it was a miracle he was even able to utter a word in English.

“Fuck, baby, look how pretty you are.” He whispered, bringing his hand into her hair again, “watch with me.”

She looked up, as mesmerized by the two of them as he was, “s-shit, you’re taking me so well, baby. Keep fucking me like that.” He mumbled, watching her bite down on her lip.

She watched him slide into her, feeling him deep inside while she took him at her own pace. She watched her tits bounce as his hands came up to meet them, rubbing her nipples to add some more sensation. Her thighs began to burn and her legs were shaking, both from the stimulation and the effort. She was trying her best to keep pace, but she was losing rhythm.

“Nikita.. please.” She asked, grabbing his hands and sliding them down to her hips, where he squeezed.

“Oh, do you want some help baby?” He whispered, earning a nod from her, “that’s ok baby, relax and I’ll help.”

He began lifting her and setting her back down, keeping his hands firmly planted on her hips as he guided her body. He set a slightly faster pace, one that would keep winding them up without hurting her. Their moans were getting louder and higher, and he could feel her pussy squeezing around him.

“Oh fuck Nikita I’m so close! Keep going!” She moaned out, one hand coming to play with her puffy clit.

“That’s it baby, feel good for me, cum all over me”. He rambled, his breath growing ragged as he felt his orgasm approaching, “I wanna see you come all over my cock, make a mess.”

The last few strokes with her pussy basically holding him in a vice pushed him over the edge; he came deep inside her with a loud moan. the feeling of him unraveling sent her into her very own. Her orgasm practically ignited her whole body, her vision exploding with stars. He kept the pace up, even if she wasn’t using any strength anymore. The waves kept crashing over her, high pitched whimpers escaping her. She kept rubbing her clit, teetering on the edge of overstimulated until Nikita set her down on his cock, letting her hips go. He ghosted his hand over her waist again, laying little comforting kisses on all of the skin he could reach. The comedown was slow, like floating feathers in the air. The only sounds left were their breathing and the gentle pattering of the rain outside. The sun had set not too long ago, so the room was dark except for the halo lights around his mirror.

“Fuck baby, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He painted, “…you ok?”

“..yeah, t-that was amazing.” She said, turning her head to capture his lips in a soft, tired kiss.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked, and she shook her head no, but not before nikita’s eyebrows rose in realization, “shit, we didn’t use protection-“

“It’s ok Nikita, I’m on birth control and I’m clean, I trust you…” she said, and a small shift in their position made her wince. Her hips and thighs were beginning to ache with soreness from the open position, “as much as I like feeling full, I really need to move.”

“Of course, let me help.” He obliged, grabbing her hips one more time, sliding her off his cock so she was able to close her legs in front of him, “what would you say to a quick shower, then relaxing in bed?”

“Mm, I could be persuaded.” She giggled, letting him finally stand up.

His lap was a wet, creamy mess of both of them, but it wasn’t so bad that he would be shunned from every dry cleaner in Vancouver. He would just wash off the incriminating stuff and wet his new suit pants a little and say he accidentally dropped them during the rain storm. They both made their way to the massive bathroom, pulling off their clothes. The shower they took was strangely the most wholesome part of the night, both of them taking turns washing each other while they had soft conversation. They gave each other sweet kisses, and laughed at the couple of hickeys that adorned the both of them.

Nikita shut off the water and reached for his fluffiest towel, wrapping it around her with a kiss on her nose. They dried off, him finding a stretched out old shirt for her to wear for the rest of the evening, while he picked new boxers and an old tee as well. He picked up her panties and handed them to her, then leaned up over the bed to crack the window, the soft sound of rain and the cool breeze wafting through. He reached down bringing his comforter and sheets down the bed and sprawled out on top. She joined him on the other side. She snuggled up to his chest and he began tracing soft patterns on her back, his other hand falling to the ditch of her knee as she crossed her leg over his lap. A loud growl erupted from his stomach, and they both laughed. They accidentally skipped dinner all together.

“You wore me out, you minx.” He joked, earning a slap to the chest, “want to order in?”

“Sounds delicious!” She exclaimed, Nikita fishing for his phone on the table beside him, “hey, Nikita?”

“Yes baby?” He responded, looking away from the online menu to her.

“Thank you, for being so amazing,” she muttered, “for being there for me and taking care of me, I guess.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, leaning down for a chaste kiss, “you’re the amazing one, I’ve been dying to ask you out since you fixed the seam on my jacket,”

“Really? That long huh?” She teased, and he laughed along with her.

“As long as it took to make you mine.” He admitted, her heart fluttering at his words.

“Does that mean you’re officially asking me out Mr. Zadorov?” She giggled, making his cheeks turn red with blush.

“And if I was, would you say yes?” He whispered.

“One hundred times over.”

<><><><>

[ateriblewriter]

Four Letter Words (t.z)

an: i know it switches pov and probably persons for a section there. i did a little ~~ so you can tell. it’s rough. sorry

Warnings: bad words. more bad words. alcohol. copious amounts of it.

Enjoy!

He took a sip of the harsh liquor, letting it burn the back of his throat. Despite the gross taste it felt good. Tonight was the one night that he was going to allow himself to dwell in the fact he felt like he was an utter failure at hockey. He was planning on drinking himself stupid in the presence of strangers and possibly do something crazy he would regret in the morning.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” A warm and familiar voice sang out behind him.  He knew whose voice it was, but Trevor couldn’t will himself to face her. “God you reek. Just how much have you had to drink?”

“Go away.” He downed the last of the current drink he held in his hand. Trevor quickly motioned the older man behind the bar counter to bring him a couple more of the beverages he had been served. He was already sloshed, what was a couple more drinks?

“I'm not going away until you answer me.” The beautiful lady attempted to take the drink away from him, only to slap her hand away. She sighed in defeat, there was no way to pry the drink from his hand.

“No of your business.” He mumbled taking another sip of his drink. He wasn't inebriated enough to share anything with the person to his right. He knew he could trust her, after all she was one of his roommates but he didn’t want to. “Now scurry off Y/N. Find someone else to bother.” He made a motion with his hand to shoo her away.

“I’m not going anywhere, Trev.” She sat down on the barstool next to him. She wasn’t going to leave him alone. Ever since that day Jamie introduced them and subsequently asked her to move in with them since they had space, Trevor felt a special connection to her. Something maybe more than just roomies. Then he got too comfortable, she became too much of a distraction for him and he started failing at the one thing his world actually revolved around. “Have you eaten anything tonight?”

“No. Not hungry.” He couldn’t look at her stupidly beautiful face. Fuck. Why did his career falling apart have to be her fault. It wasn’t fair.

“Well you should. Especially if you keep drinking. And maybe drink a glass of water, you’ll thank me in the morning.” He noticed that you had finished off another drink and was in the process of getting another.

“You’re not my mother. You can’t tell me what to do.” Trevor thrusted his almost overfilled drink at her, spilling over half of it on her. A smile made its way to his face, thinking himself funny.

Y/N never left his side the whole night. Despite his attempts to get her to go far away from him, Y/N wasn’t about to leave him alone with his own pities. Deep down somewhere Trevor was kind of thankful, but that wasn’t something he was going to remember anytime soon.

Around two o’clock in the morning it was announced that the place was closed and that he needed to leave. Trevor got up to leave stumbling unable to hold himself upright for more than thirty seconds, something that felt like an eternity for him.

“Trevor, lean on me.” That voice popped up again as an arm snaked its way around his torso, helping him to an upright position. This person was beckoning towards the front of the establishment and out the door.

The chill of the early morning hit him, making him fall into the road in front of him. He stayed there for a moment staring at the bright lights heading towards him. A strong hand wrapped around his arm pulling him out of the way just in time.

“Can you manage to not get hurt? Your millions of fans would never forgive me if I let you get hurt.” The arm was back holding him upright again, taking him somewhere into the dark unknown.

Trevor couldn’t remember who was with him. Pushing his head up he looked at the face of the person who was handling him. The hair was familiar. They’re Y/E/C eyes looked like something he could get lost in. And those lips looked like they held back a beautiful voice.

Fuckity Fuck.

Y/N.

Why her?

Y/N was with him. When did she get there. He doesn't remember. Had she been with him all evening? God that woman made him so angry sometimes.

~~~

“Where are you taking me?” He spat at you, trying to remove himself from your embrace.

“I’m taking you home. You need to sleep this off before your morning skate.” Your grip became slightly tighter around his arm as you felt him struggling to try and get away from you.

“No.” Trevor managed to unglue himself from his grasp after several attempts. “Leave me alone Y/N. I hate you.”

“No you don’t. I’m the only one here for you right now.” You could hear the hostility creeping into the hockey player’s voice, in all this time that you knew Trevor you had never heard this side of him.

“I hate you so much Y/N Y/L/N.” You stopped walking to listen to him. “I hate everything about you. You are so annoying. You never leave, you are always there! I don’t get why Jamie thinks you're so great. Plus ever since you got here my games been tanking, nothing goes in, I keep over passing, fighting and getting my ass handed to me.” Trevor was getting really passionate about letting you know how he really felt. “It’s all your fault! You never stop distracting me. God. I despise you. I loathe you. I HATE YOU.”

Your heart fell and you felt tears starting to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Were you really affecting him that badly? You didn’t like the fact that he thought it was your fault. Maybe you should consider finding a place of your own instead of rooming with them. In fact when you dropped him off at his home, maybe you leave then, pack a bag of essentials and take off for the night. You were already coming up with excuses to give Jamie as to why the housing situation wasn’t working out, because Trevor was making it very clear right now just how much he disliked you. Why did he even agree to you taking the spare room if he felt this way?

All those thoughts come to a defining halt when you feel yourself getting pushed and hitting the hard pavement. It wasn’t a hard fall, only sustaining slight injuries to your knees and the palms of your hands. Nothing you couldn’t brush off.

“Fucking bitch.” Trevor murmured to himself, just loud enough for you to hear, seeing you on all fours. He stepped around you, not caring at the moment. He just wanted to get away from the person he had strong four letter word feelings for.

“Come on Z. I need to get you home.” Getting back up, you rushed to catch up to Trevor, he was taller, faster, and very drunk so it took a hot minute. His words hurt, you knew he probably didn’t mean them and he most likely wouldn’t remember anything from that night. It was there that you figured out that you could never stop caring about your now former roommate no matter what he said to you.

“He’s yours now. I’m done.” You helped Jamie with Trevor once you managed to get him home and into his room. You explained to Jamie what had happened outside the bar, telling him what the sleeping intoxicated man said and showing him the scrapes and bruises you sustained from falling.

“I’m sorry J. You’re one of my best friends, but I can’t be here with him anymore.” Thank god, he understood why you needed to leave and respected your wishes.

~~~~

The next morning Trevor didn’t wake up to one of his various alarms that had been mysteriously set for him. Instead he woke up to a killer hangover and Jamie standing over him shooting him angrily with one of the various nerf guns stashed around the house, this one just happened to be filled with water.

“What the fuck man.” He managed to swat the device away once all the water had been drained from the device. The water may have stopped but the staredown wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Y/N is gone. She told me what you said and called her. And in her own words said it was in everyone’s best interests if she found somewhere else to live.”

Trevor rarely saw this side of Jamie. It kind of scared him. But he swore up and down that he would never say those things to her. Sure he was feeling distracted as of late. But it wasn’t because of her. No. He could never really hate her, it was four completely different letters that were the real root of his distraction.

“I was drunk. I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of that.” He balled his hand into a fist, hitting himself hard enough in the leg to leave a bruise, a move he often made when he was mad at himself for something he did.

“You better fix this. I am not losing another friend because of you.” Trevor could feel the sharp pointy daggers Jamie was throwing his way. He vowed to do anything to get Y/N to come home so he could let her know how he really felt. Because love is a better four letter word than hate.

Please let me know what y’all think! Any thoughts, comments, or complaints! 

[meekahy]

About me:

-My name is Micayla. -I'm an artist

-I'm 28. -Ask Box/Messages always open!

-She/her

Bad Omens:

Noah:

Cough

I Missed You

Layover

Break Up

Series:

Bullet Train Broken Sweets Memory Game

The Hell I Overcame Part 1 Part 2

Hospital Part 2

Folio:

Nightmare

Winter Kisses

Cool Ranch

Jolly:

I Love You

Nicholas:

Matt:

Passenger Princess

Sad

NHL:

Quinn Hughes:

Mascara Runs

Insomnia

Stood Up

John Marino:

Beach Bunny

Motionless in White:

Chris:

Vinny:

Ricky:

Justin:

Ryan:

Catfish and the Bottlemen:

Van:

Christmas

Benji:

[goldfades]

this clip . made me cream . 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

[wyattjohnston]

want nothing more than to be back at home again - anthony beauvillier

series: into moonlight

summary: another hockey day, another hockey trade.

word count: 1,204

Maggie wasn’t expecting the hardest part of a trade to be Tito being in New York but staying in a hotel room in Manhattan.

He’d left their apartment to meet the Canucks for the first time, two large suitcases in tow, and Maggie sat on the couch expecting him to be home after practice for a nap. What she got—and what they’d talked about—was a quick phone call as he was crawling into bed. Although, that definitely added to her confusion because roadie naps were usually preceded by a text, not a call.

Nothing was making sense.

Just as she would for any road game when she had free time, Maggie curled herself up on the couch. Only, the Islanders hoodie she was wearing suddenly felt traitorous. She’d seen the photos of him in a Canucks jersey and knew that he was wearing the number 72 again and yet it took her a moment to find him on the ice whenever the commentators said his name; years of watching him meant she was eventually about to find him just by the way he skated at least.

That paled in comparison, though, to walking into UBS Arena and walking down towards the ice, not up to the family box as she usually did. Cheyenne had been mortified at the idea that Maggie would even think she wasn’t allowed in the family box, and Grace had followed it up with a phone call to really make sure she knew. She still sat in the seat she’d paid a couple of hundred dollars for at the last minute.

It was poetic, maybe, watching both Tito and Bo Horvat score their first goals against their old teams in their first head-to-head game since the trade. Maggie mostly just sat quietly and tried not to draw too much attention to herself whenever the Canucks scored—at the end of the day, she wanted Tito to score and his team to win more than she wanted anything else out of a hockey game.

Weirder still—and Maggie did not know how it kept getting weirder—was walking into the depths of UBS Arena. Lou Lamoriello was a man of many rules and one that Maggie had never dared break was family not being allowed to wait outside the locker room, he couldn’t stop her from hanging outside the visitor’s locker room, though.

She’d still made Tito ask permission first.

“Lou would lose his mind if he knew you were down here.”

Mat was walking towards her, hair wet and demeanour far more jovial than she would have expected after such a close loss, and Maggie hugged him.

“Lou can kiss my ass after what he’s done.”

“Vancouver’s a great city,” Mat told her earnestly. “Tito sent me the place the Canucks found for him—it looks pretty great.”

“It all looks amazing,” Maggie agreed, though her shoulders lifted in an uncertain shrug. “No idea when I’m going to be able to get there, but I am looking forward to it.”

Maggie listened to Mat’s tales of Vancouver, of all the places he thought she should go when she got there—from the regular touristy things like Capilano to the places in Coquitlam he still visited every summer when he went home. He, again, offered up his bedroom at his parents’ house if they ever needed it even if Coquitlam wasn’t far from Vancouver, and mentioned multiple times that if Maggie wanted a friend, he would happily re-introduce her to his sister.

She sighed, deep and heavy, “I hadn’t even thought about the friend thing. I got a nice message from one of the WAGs on Instagram with her phone number. Lexie Demko?”

“It’s good that someone did. I think the captain’s wife normally would but—”

“We’re trading places, yeah.”

The Canucks players had started to leave during their conversation, slowly trickling out. Some of them greeted Mat briefly but nobody stopped for a proper chat—none of them knew who Maggie was either, so they didn’t stop to introduce themselves. She wasn’t upset by it; in fact, she was more relieved with every one of them that past because it was one less person she may have to talk to that night.

Tito finally emerged and Maggie didn’t think she’d ever been more relieved to see him. She folded herself into him as soon as he was by her side and felt her body sag with a release of tension. It had been a matter of days since she’d seen him yet it had felt longer than every road trip he’d ever been on.

She stayed close to him through his conversation with Mat and some quick introductions to some of his new teammates, faces and names she knew separately but could now put together.

Mat left not long after, leaving Maggie and Tito standing in the nearly deserted corridor.

Maggie frowned at him, saying, “It’s going to be easier when you’re actually in Vancouver and not half an hour away in Manhattan.”

“I have permission to come home tonight,” he revealed, already visibly bracing for Maggie to launch herself at him. She had the awareness to not wrap her legs around his waist, instead keeping them on the ground as she clutched him as close as humanly possible.

Leaving the Island was hard. It was the only place she knew to be home and, quite frankly, leaving it wasn’t a possibility she had considered beyond a surface level thought.

She watched impatiently as their belongings were loaded into boxes and then into a moving truck; she had Peyton on FaceTime from California who was, not for the first time, talking Maggie through the moving process. Peyton had moved to California with her non-hockey playing boyfriend in the summer of 2022, so at least Maggie wasn’t also having to say goodbye to her.

It was a home they’d made together and, to be quite frank, she wasn’t totally enthused about moving into an apartment in Vancouver,  no matter how nice it was.

Still, she packed up their house, didn’t cry as much as she thought she would, and hopped on a plane with a large suitcase to get her through the wait while the movers drove straight across the entire continent.

Vancouver is undeniably beautiful from the air, Maggie recognised as she stared out the window over the mountains and the water; nicer to look at than the view coming into either JFK or La Guardia.

In an ideal world, Tito would have met Maggie at the airport. In the real world, he had morning skate and a game against the Flyers that evening. Their schedules lined up enough, though, that he was back from practice and waiting in their new home when she called him from the street.

Seeing Tito, even after just a week, had a relieved smile growing on Maggie’s face.

“I’ve never missed you so much,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing onto her toes to kiss him—it wasn’t particularly passionate or desperate, they were both just happy to be together.

“It’s been weird,” he agreed. “Do you want to see our new home?”

“Lead the way, babe.”

thanks to shelb ( @matthewtkachuk ) for her feedback of more. she didn't win.

Please consider leaving feedback—reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

[senditcolton]

“Lead Me to the Garden” Chai Cookies ❀ edelweiss (courage, devotion) — “touch them again and i promise, it will be the last thing you ever do.” + Mat Martin -cellythefloshie

ugh, a perfect match the energy this man gives off. i hope you don't mind that i used this request as a chapter 2.5 of the "We're a Bad Idea" series (i also slightly changed the wording of the prompt to make it hit more) @cellythefloshie

word count: 1.8k

You were out drinking again.

It was a common situation, one that you enjoyed a little too much if you were being honest. But it was different because this time, you weren’t with your brother and his teammates. You were with your best friends from university who had come to visit you in the city. And you hadn’t realized how much you missed them until now.

So many of your nights were spent being a different person for someone else, someone you weren’t even sure wanted you the same way you wanted him. Tonight, you were you. Unapologetically you.

It was refreshing.

But you couldn’t stop Matt Martin from being on your mind.

“Hey, can I ask you guys for advice?” you shout over the music, your three friends turning to look at you.

“Of course you can. Is that even a question?” your friend McCaela replies, leaning her elbows on the table and giving you her undivided attention, Hayden and Taylor following her lead to look over to you. Their eyes make you slightly nervous but you know they will be honest with you and that’s what you need right now. So, you take a deep breath before continuing.

“I’ve been seeing this guy and I like him but I’m not sure if he feels same way. What should I do?”

“Well, what do you mean by seeing? Like, is it talking? A few dates? A booty call?” Hayden asks.

“It’s… complicated,” you try to explain but a scoff from Taylor’s mouth stops you.

“Do not say that because I’m just going to tell you to dump this boy’s ass. It shouldn’t be complicated babe. Either he wants you or he doesn’t.”

“No, like, let me explain: we have these days that feel like they’re dates. Like exploring the city and having fun just hanging out. But then there’s days where he’s so distant. And I get why he’s distant because of our situation but it still feels weird.”

“What situation?” McCaela questions before you see her face morph into horror. “Are you sleeping with a married man?”

“Oh my god, no!”

“Then what is this ‘situation’ where he needs to be distant.”

“He’s my brother’s teammate alright? And my brother would freak if he knew.”

“So – wait – this dude is afraid of your brother? That’s why he’s distant?” Taylor speaks again, one eyebrow raising in question.

“That plus he’s a little older than I am.”

“Oh, that makes it even fucking worse actually,” Taylor says, taking another hearty sip of their drink.

“How is that worse?”

“Babe, he is a grown ass man. And yet he’s… what? Keeping you like a dirty little secret? That’s gross.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Oh really?”

“Taylor, you’re being a little harsh, don’t you think?” Hayden says, their incredulous tone lifting over the music.

“Well, hang on. I’m willing to admit I might be wrong but let me just make a guess about why you feel the way you do,” Taylor says before scooting closer to your, angling their body to face you directly and their blue eyes staring so far into your soul that you were slightly terrified they could see the truth so plainly written on your heart.

“This man…” they start and you are terrified of the next words to come out of their mouth. “The reason you are confused about how he feels about you is because he says these things that make you think that he wants you. Or wants something more. But… he only ever says these things to you when you’re fucking. And he doesn’t say them to you in the daylight, in public, whatever. Am I close?”

 You had to try and prevent your jaw from going slack at their completely accurate representation of the situationship that defined you and Matt. Because, it was true.

“How the fuck did you know?” you whisper and you hate the way Taylor’s mouth twists in a sort of satisfied disgust as they turn back to their drink.

“That’s not a man. That’s a bitch-ass baby and you should dump him.”

“But, I really like him.”

“It’s not worth it babe,” they continue, shooting you a quick glance. “Trust me.”

You let Taylor’s words sink into you and you chew over them in your mind. You always equated Matt Martin to a bad idea, to a drug. But you never fully understood why you attached that metaphor to him.

He was changing you and you knew that if you kept letting him in, he would permanently alter you.

And that’s not what you did to the people you cared for.

But like any good drug, it felt impossible to quit him.

“Can we focus on something else?” you ask, the truth nagging in your brain. But you weren’t sure that you were ready to face it. At least not tonight.

“Of course.” It’s Hayden that says that, their hand coming over to gently grab your forearm in encouragement. “Let’s just have fun tonight, yeah? Just like old times.”

You take a deep breath and nod, putting on your best smile before McCaela orders a few green tea shots for the table. And as you let the alcohol slide down your throat, you let your worries slide off your mind with it. You wanted to forget for a little bit: forget about your worries, forget about the hole that you dug yourself into all those months ago.

When you decided to go after that stupid crush you had and fell straight down into this pit you weren’t sure how to lift yourself out of.

But that was then and you wanted to focus on now.

Once you shook off the lingering anxieties, you started to relax. You started to have fun. You started to come back to yourself. The spirits were flowing, both literally and metaphorically, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt surer and more confident of yourself.

So, when a cute stranger slides up to you while you’re sitting at the bar waiting for your next drink, you don’t dismiss his advances. He engages you in a conversation that is suggestive without being creepy and you start to feel the temptation of taking him home at the end of the night.  

And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel the weird pang of guilt. There was no need for the voice in your mind to try and persuade you that this was okay because you and Matt Martin weren’t really together.

Because you weren’t together. Period. Matt Martin was someone you occasionally fucked. He had done nothing to prove to you that he wanted anything more.

Like Taylor said, if he wanted to, he would. But he didn’t.

So, when the handsome stranger – Camden – starts to get bolder, his knees knocking against yours, you felt the thrill of being so blatantly desired and it was intoxicating. It was something you didn’t know you were missing. And when Camden reaches his hand over to rest on your upper thigh, the desire ratcheted up to another level.

But it was quickly squashed when a strong hand came down on Camden’s bicep, tearing his hand from your skin and your eyes dart over. Only to have the butterflies erupt in your stomach when you see Matt standing there in his black leather jacket, looking every bit like his on-ice stereotype.

“Touch my girl like that again and I promise, it will be the last thing you ever do,” he says, his voice like steel and when Camden looks behind him to see the large body of Matt, he doesn’t put up a fight. He just slips out of his barstool wordlessly and Matt takes great pleasure in occupying the now vacant spot.

“What the fuck was that about Matt?” you ask, the alcohol in your veins making your bold words fall as you watch Camden disappear into the crowd.

“What? Were you going to take him home?” he asks and that infuriating condescending tone did nothing but add fuel to the fire.

“I might’ve. Why is that any of your business?”

“I thought we had established that no one could please you like me,” Matt says, his body leaning forward, his hands coming to rest on the top of your thighs and you hate the way your body involuntarily craves his touch. His voice deeps lower and the sultry timbre makes your heart pound.

“Remind me how many times I can make you cum. Or did you forget?”

If this was any other night, you would’ve folded easily, his intoxicating energy pulling you in. But tonight was different. Your friends had reminded who you were, who you discovered yourself to be at university. And you loved that person. You weren’t going to let Matt Martin take that away from you. So, when you shove his hands off your thighs, you can’t stop the thrill in your heart at the expression of shock that flickers over his features.

“And that makes you entitled to me somehow?” you scoff. “I’m yours because you can make me cum? If that was the case then I’d still be with this boy Sean who I slept with second year of university.” 

“You’re mine because no one else makes you feel the way I do,” he attests, his voice hard and determined. You return his statement with another scoff.

“And do you want to know how you make me feel right now, Matt? Angry. And I’m going home.”

You slide out of your seat in a rage, grabbing your purse and quickly texting your friends, making up an excuse about some emergency, promising that you’ll hang out again before they leave. You feel sorry for ditching them like this but you knew you couldn’t spend another moment in that bar when he was there.

Matt Martin made you feel… everything. Desire, rage, happiness, excitement, comfort. Everything. And it was that whiplash of emotions that kept you tethered to him. Because every emotion he pulled from you felt like it was going to drown you. But it seemed that those depths were just shallow tide pools to him.

And you needed to draw the line. Not one in the sand that he could easily shift and move and change. But a solid line, one in concrete that he needed to step over or walk away from.

You were done playing games. You were done with him calling you his and doing nothing to make you feel like it wasn’t just another pretty practiced set of words. You were done with Matt Martin. You swear you were.

Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted last night. It was wrong to try and control you like that. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Brunch at Sanfords? Message received on March 23rd at 11:09am

 Can you pick me up? Message sent on March 23rd at 11:35am

Be there in 20. Message received on March 23rd at 11:37am

[generalllimaginesss]

jackhughes

Liked by elblue6 and others

jackhughes I’ve never been one for sappy posts, but this past year with this little one has been heaven on earth. I’ve heard so many parents complain about lack of sleep, crying, and so many other things, but how can you complain when there’s something so innocent looking at you like this angel looks at us? I’d do this over a million times if it meant you stay this little forever. Happy first birthday. Always and forever going to be my little girl.

view comments

lhughes_06 Thanks for making me the favorite uncle, bro.

_quinnhughes You’re not the favorite.

lhughes_06 Oh my bad, I’ve never heard her say your name so I thought she just didnt know you existed🫢

_quinnhughes she’s one. How tf is she supposed to say a “q” when she’s one?? I wasn’t the one that was 2 days late to the birth because of “plans that you couldn’t get out of.” 🫢

jackhughes if Quinn didn’t live in the middle of nowhere Canada he’d be the favorite by a long shot🫢

elblue6 I could not have chose a better daughter-in-love or granddaughter for my sweet boy. Nonna and Poppa love all three of you beyond words! Also, is my little angel walking yet?

y/nhughes We love you more! She’s not quite able to walk on her own yet, but Jack is making sure she learns to skate before she walks😉

elblue6 I expected nothing less coming from him lol!

trevorzegras it’s cute watching Quinn and Luke argue over who the favorite uncle is when I’m holding her right now. She may not be able to say my name, but she sure as hell cries when I’m not holding her 🫢

_quinnhughes you traumatize her so much when you hold her that she has to let it out when you’re not.

lhughes_06 she probably has ptsd from looking at your face

trevorzegras anyways, happy birthday to my sidekick. Can’t wait to piss your mom and dad off together when you’re older🫶

nicohischier the best thing to come from a Hughes brother. Happy birthday, love!

jackhughes that was a very unnecessary backhanded compliment, Nico.

lhughes_06 I once brought you brownies to practice. I’m hurt.

nicohischier You’re brownies were burnt.

_quinnhughes are you comparing our niece to burnt brownies Luke?

lhughes_06 Quinn, you’re irrelevant.

colecaufield since everybody else ruined your sappy post…Buddy you’re the best dad. She’s absolutely perfect, just like her mom.

trevorzegras I’m deceased

jackhughes I may not be perfect, but at least I’m not Zegras’s bitch

jackhughes sorry I meant caddy. Damn autocorrect.

y/nhughes love you coley!

jackhughes really y/n?

_alexturcotte happy birthday to my favorite baby. make another one so I can have 2 favorites.

jackhughes gotta talk to y/n about that. If it were up to me we’d have 12.

y/nhughes you can have all the babies you want when you push them out :)

y/nhughes our beautiful little family. You both make life so precious.

jackhughes we would be lost without Mama💜

y/nhughes

Liked by trevorzegras and others

y/nhughes On the left was our first day home, and on the right is you just now. They weren’t lying when they said time is a thief. I went through the worst pain in my life bringing you into this word, little girl, but you made me forget about it the second I heard your first cry. Happy first birthday, angel. Mama and Dada love you infinitely times one hundred.

view comments

nhl Happy birthday Baby Hughes!

fanuser1 she’s so perfect. So happy for the Hughes family! Happy birthday!

_quinnhughes Uncle Q’s favorite girl. Happy birthday!

_alexturcotte The sweetest little family. Now add more. ps happy birthday beautiful.

y/nhughes We love you, Turcs! Our favorite babysitter😉

_alexturcotte the true favorite uncle doesn’t have to brag about it🤷‍♂️

fanuser2 I didn’t like y/n at first, but she’s grown on me.

jackhughes same tbh

y/nhughes Jack I stg if you don’t shut up…

bff.user you may have a lot of boys arguing about the favorite uncle, but I’m secure in knowing I’m the best aunt😙

trevorzegras we can be the aunt and uncle power couple😛

bff.user @jackhughes put your friend on a leash

jackhughes I’ll put a muzzle on him while I’m at it.

trevorzegras you all love me ;)

jackhughes unfortunately

elblue6

Liked by jackhughes and others

elblue6 Happy birthday to Nonna and Poppa’s favorite girl! You’re little heart is too good for this world, but we are so blessed for you to share it with us. You look so much like your mama, but you act just like your dada! (I’m saying a prayer for your mom). We can not wait to celebrate you this weekend! With love, Nonna and Poppa.

comments have been disabled

[sumikatt]

writing hockey:

[roseheartss]

i was fully expecting the bruins to lose tonight but man does that still hurt :ᗡ

it sucks bc no matter what they were going to be deemed a massive failure/disappointment this season due to how insane they’ve played all season long. unless they won the cup. but round one?? fuck dude

[dvar-trek]

that old man will never EVER sign anywhere else. for one thing, none of the serious contenders can afford him, unless he wants the jodrou wifey discount contract. which i am pretty sure he does not.

and for another thing, he's too neurotic. you think he wants to bend an entire new city, staff, and locker room to his will? at his age??

[theemporium]

[4.9k] things start to feel real as luke’s rookie season in the nhl officially begins. but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought. and maybe those good vibes will follow him off the ice too. (smut)

series masterlist

.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

Your smile widened as you pulled the door open further, letting the boy shuffle inside with a small wince at the bright sun shining through your windows. The hood of his jumper was thrown over his head, his curls a mess and his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he stole from Jack’s room after he woke up. 

It wasn’t the best state for you to see him but, truthfully, that was not his biggest concern at the moment. 

A few months away from college and he almost forgot what a bad influence his friends could be when it came to drinking. There was a vague memory somewhere around the fifth round of shots where Luke was pretty sure Nico tried to get them to drink some water, but it was pointless when Ethan found another bottle of tequila and insisted they had to drink it before it went to waste.

And, to Luke’s drunken mind, that sounded like the most logical solution. 

He was honestly surprised the three of them had managed to wake up early enough to catch the plane back to Michigan. They had woken him up to say goodbye, muttering something about afternoon practice and other things that Luke vaguely remembered before he fell back asleep for a few hours. 

Luke was pretty sure he was still drunk when he woke up a second time to the sound of Jack blasting music in the kitchen. 

Somewhere between his annoying brother and the lingering anxiety that followed with the hangover as result of the night before, Luke found himself at a local bakery to grab some goods before he stopped over at your place, not even thinking to message you beforehand (if he even knew where his phone was). 

“But you don’t smell shit so that’s a plus,” you noted as you shut the door behind him before taking pity on his state, dragging the curtains shut again whilst Luke muttered his thanks under his breath.

“I think I bought half the bakery,” Luke admitted with a sheepish expression as he extended the bag towards you. “I asked for every cherry based thing they owned, which surprisingly isn’t much.” He paused for a moment. “Maybe I should have tried another bakery.”

You laughed, brows raised in question. “I’m surprised you can stomach anything right now.”

“Oh, I can’t,” Luke said, his nose scrunching up in disgust like the idea made him feel nauseous. It did, if he was being honest. It was bad enough he almost threw up after Jack made him chug some water. “These were…well, they were the start of an apology.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“For…abandoning you in my room after everything,” he continued, his cheeks heating up. Because apparently no matter how much he drank the night before, he remembered well enough that he was a bit of a dick with how he ran off with his friends. “It was a shitty move. And it was shitty for me to make you hide under the bed.”

“That did throw me off,” you admitted, though there was a slight teasing tilt to your voice. “Although, your bed was surprisingly clean under there. No plates growing mould or other questionable diseases.”

Luke scoffed a little. “I’m not a slob.”

You shot him a look.

“I’m not that much of a slob,” Luke corrected, grumbling under his breath before he let out a sigh. “You know, you are making this apology a lot harder than I imagined it being.”

“Probably doesn’t help that you’re hungover as fuck,” you teased, but you took the baked good from him. You peaked inside, noting just how much he had actually bought and something warm twisted in your stomach. “You really didn’t have to. It wasn’t that big of a deal, Luke.”

“But it was to me,” he murmured, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I…I shouldn’t have done that. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love my friends. And I know they wouldn’t judge me but…”

“Hey,” you stepped forward, reaching out to gently touch him. “It’s fine, I promise. This was a part you hid from them for so long and it freaked you out. I get it.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you,” he blurted out, because apparently he has no filter or control over the words leaving his mouth. “Just in case you thought that. Because I’m not. The boys would probably love you but like—”

“You just don’t want them asking questions,” you finished for him, watching as the boy shyly nodded his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself but thank you, anyways. And thank you for the pastries.” 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, nodding a little. “Well, I–”

“Go lay down,” you said, a smile growing on your face when his shoulders slumped in relief. “I wasn’t lying when I said you looked like shit. The fact you are even awake before noon is shocking, to be honest.”

“Thank you,” he sighed in relief as he made his way towards your couch, his feet shuffling against the floor. “If I had to go back and listen to Jack blast his obnoxious playlists, I would have died.”

You snorted. “Aw, baby is facing his first, proper hangover outside of cheap college vodka.”

He pulled his sunglasses off to glare at you. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” 

“Lie down,” you prompted as you gently pushed him a step forward. “We can nap on the couch. I’ll even show you the trick to hangovers.”

He raised his brows. “It’s not gonna be some weird shit like drinking raw egg yolks, is it?” 

“I was going to offer head scratches but if you want raw eggs—”

“No!”

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.” 

…

The thing about playing with the team during playoffs was that, as amazing as it was, they did get knocked out and the whole thing felt fairly short-lived.

Don’t get him wrong, it was still a surreal experience. Hockey had been a constant in his life, something that always felt familiar and welcoming no matter where he was. It had felt as recognisable and comforting to him as his family was. 

But to know he had made it? To know he was skating and playing and wearing the jersey of an NHL team? 

It brought a new thrill to hockey he had never expected, but basked in, nonetheless. It added an extra layer, an extra kick that college hockey could never compete with. It made him feel like everything was worth it, that everything worked out and his dreams aligned with the stars and—fuck, he was making his debut in the National Hockey League. 

But as fast as it came, it went. 

And then summer happened. 

And he was distracted by long nights in Michigan summer heat and cool beers and boat rides that made him feel like nothing else existed beyond the lakehouse. It felt like he was just a normal guy, spending the summer break with his brothers and his friends and pretending like life was always this easy. 

It was his last thread to normalcy before his life fully changed. 

And then he was moving to Jersey, his belongings packed into boxes and cases as he moved in with Jack for the first time since his brother was drafted. He spent days being paraded around his new city, trying to feel familiar in the unfamiliar apartment, trying to bond with a team that had been together long before his arrival. 

It was confusing and exciting and baffling and scary. Every emotion a person could experience, Luke had felt tenfold since he had started preseason training. He felt like he was stumbling through a life that wasn’t his, trying to catch up and get a hold of himself. 

Then, in a blink of an eye, he was about to step out for his first official game of his rookie year in the NHL. 

And, for some stupid reason, he was far more nervous than he had been for the playoff games. 

There wasn’t a pressure on him during the playoffs, not really. People were letting mistakes slide, willing to look over things because it was his first time stepping foot onto the ice for an NHL team. He knew he technically had that luxury now too, that he was a rookie and he was allowed to use this year to find his footing.

But it was hard to remember he was a rookie when everyone and everything kept reminding him he was the third Hughes brother. He wasn’t just a normal rookie or young kid starting out their career in the big leagues. He was the third brother to try and live up to an insane standard his brothers have set, he had to prove he wasn’t a bust who only got here because of his name. 

Luke felt more than ever that he had to prove he belonged, that he deserved to have his spot and his place in the team. That he was more than just his surname and the connotations it brought.

He had to prove—

cherry🍒: break a leg or whatever they say in hockey

cherry🍒: actually wait

cherry🍒: don’t break a leg, that would be pretty shit for you

cherry🍒: feel like it would be pretty useful to skate with two unbroken legs

cherry🍒: what i am trying to say is good luck! 

And, in a silly way, he knew it was stupid. He shouldn’t need to hear someone else say something, to try and reassure him. Jack had tried a few times to prompt the conversation as game day approached. A few of the other guys had tried too. Hell, even Quinn had called him to try and give him a pep talk.

But, in the nicest way he could put it, it felt meaningless when it came from people he felt like needed to say it. 

They needed to believe in him. 

You didn’t. 

Fuck, you didn’t even know a single thing about the sport. You didn’t understand the significance of his last name in the sport. You didn’t understand just how intense the next year of his life was about to be. You didn’t understand a single thing that the other people in his life had been trying to reassure him over. 

And, for some reason that was beyond Luke’s own understanding, that was what he needed.

He needed that unwavering, unbreakable faith from someone who didn’t have to support him. You weren’t his family. You weren’t his teammate. You weren’t a fan. You had no reason to lie to him, to sugarcoat your words and fluff away his worries. You had no reason to believe in him other than the fact you just did. 

And it was what he needed.

It was what he needed minutes before the game was due to start, the clock ticking to puck drop and his eyes lingering on your messages before he had to get up and head out to the ice.

He needed you. 

…

They won the first game of the season. 

And then, because the person in the league who was organising the game schedule decided they wanted to try and test them this early on, they played their second game the next night. 

And they won that one too.

It was surreal, to be fucking frank. It was a kind of buzz that Luke had never experienced before, not in hockey at least. 

Winning was always great, regardless of what age or what league you were playing in. Truthfully, he didn’t think anything would beat the thrill college hockey gave him. His attachment to the boys on his team, the adrenaline of the win pumping through him as he basked in the cheering crowd. 

He thought that was his peak. He thought that was the best it would ever get. 

And then he joined the NHL. 

There was something about wearing the jersey, about knowing that they had thousands of fans watching the game. There was something about skating straight towards his big brother and feeling Jack scream in his ear as they were crowded by the other boys. There was something about knowing this had been his dream since he was a kid, to know he was now living it out. 

It was the perfect way to kick off their season—to kick off his rookie season—and Luke genuinely didn’t think he could sit down for longer than two seconds if someone asked him to. His body was bone-tired, he needed decent rest because professional hockey was no joke and his body was still not used to the jump from college hockey.

But he was buzzing. He was practically vibrating with how excited he was. He felt like he could do anything at that moment.

The locker room was buzzing with talks about how to celebrate. Most of them were tired—happy but fucking tired. The younger group wanted to head out to a bar, the older ones wanted to try to be responsible for the sake of practice in the morning. Nico was somewhere in the middle, trying to be diplomatic and find a solution that worked for everyone.

But honestly, Luke didn’t want to stand in a bar where he would either have to sneak drinks or stay sober. And he didn’t particularly want to get drunk in the first place. And he didn’t want to just head home with Jack when his body felt like it could start bouncing off the walls. 

He had this ever present, insistent buzz itching beneath his skin and he had a million and one ideas on how to scratch it. 

Truthfully, everything was a blur. He didn’t remember the post-game interviews or whatever chirps were being thrown his way in the locker room. He didn’t remember what fuck-ass excuse he gave Jack as he clambered into the backseat of an Uber. He didn’t even remember ordering the Uber in the first place. 

He just knew it led him to your doorstep, knocking on your door somewhere past eleven when he hadn’t even stopped to think if you’d be awake or not. He just knew he wanted to see you. 

It was almost a shock when the door swung open a couple of seconds after he knocked. 

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating with your team, winner?” You teased, leaning against the door as you spoke. Though, you didn’t look all that bothered with Luke showing up this late to your place unannounced. 

But his brain was still moving a million miles an hour and he knew—somewhere amongst the chaos of his thoughts—that he should have said hello, or apologised for randomly showing up, or for banging on your door when you could have been asleep.

But the only thing he managed to blurt out was, “I want to make you come.” 

You blinked. And again. And then one more time. 

And he thought his racing heart was going to explode in his chest before you pulled the door open wider, an invitation for him to step inside as you muttered something about your nosy neighbours overhearing the whole conversation and eavesdropping. 

Luke stood aimlessly in your entrance hallway, watching as you spun to quickly close the door behind him before turning on your heel to face him. You leaned back against the door, making his chest tighten in some kind of way at the way you smiled at him.

“Feeling confident after your big win, huh?” You grinned, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands, and he couldn’t help but find the act oddly endearing. “Does this mean you’re, like, first place or something?”

Luke didn’t bother fighting the smile growing on his face. “Yeah, we basically won the whole thing. Everyone has just forfeited from the championship.” 

“You know, you joke but if it wasn’t for the fact I can see you trying not to laugh at me, I would have believed you,” you said to him before pushing off the door, taking a few steps closer to him. “You never answered my question though. Did the win make you feel more confident?” 

“Maybe,” he swallowed, his fingers itching to just reach out for you the second you were at arm’s length from him. “It’s just…you always do stuff for me. I wanna do stuff for you too. But like, it’s okay if you don’t want—”

“Don’t do that,” you interrupted.

He frowned a little.

“Don’t second guess your own confidence,” you corrected yourself as you stopped just a step or two away from him. “Be sure of yourself. It’s hot.”

“Mhm,” Luke nodded, though it didn’t sound all that self-assured. 

“Remember, just like hockey. You practice and then you play. We’ve been doing the exact same.” And weirdly enough, your words were comforting. “Have some faith in yourself, Luke.” 

“Right. Just like hockey,” he murmured, glancing at the small distance between the two of you.

“Just like hockey,” you repeated with a small nod.

And, just like hockey, Luke let himself act before he over thought his actions too much. Hockey was about acting fast and thinking later. It was about acting on your instincts and trusting your teammate would be on the other side of the puck. It was about letting every move, every hit, every shot to be nothing but one hundred percent. It was about taking the chance before it was gone.

Luke took a step forward, closing the distance between you two as his hands reached to cup your face before he kissed you. You let out a noise of surprise that sounded from the back of your throat before you sunk into it, letting your hands rest against his stomach as he took control.

It was intoxicating, in a way you had never experienced with Luke before. Most of the time, he was happy to let you take control. He got this cute but hopeless look on his face when he didn’t know where to put his hands. He was happy to just sit back and let you tell him exactly just how you wanted to be touched, kissed, held. 

But this was different. It was overwhelming. It was suffocating in the best way possible. Feeling his body tower over you, feeling his large palms holding you just where he wanted you as his tongue slid into your mouth. Feeling the way Luke acted when he didn’t think, when he didn’t get in his own head, when he just let his body act the way it wanted to. 

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before his hands dropped from your face, fingers wrapping around your thighs with a stuttered ‘jump��� whispered against your lips before he lifted you with the ease only a professional athlete could achieve.

He barely pulled away as he walked deeper into your apartment, the layout practically memorised in his head considering the fact he spent just as much time here as he did in his own apartment. His arms were locked on you, not letting you slip a bit as he wandered into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed with a gentleness that made your stomach dip. 

“Show off,” you murmured as you glanced up at him, lip tucked between your teeth as your fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt.

He lazily grinned down at you. “I can be impressive sometimes.” 

“Yeah?” Your lips twitched upwards as you shuffled back until you were sat further up the bed. You reached for the hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head and tossing the clothing off to the side. “Come show me how impressive you can be, Hughes.” 

He swallowed, eyes darting over your figure before he slowly began making his way onto the bed. “You’re sure?” 

“You were the one who came knocking on my door, saying you wanted to make me come,” you teased. 

“Yeah but,” Luke paused for a second as his gaze caught yours. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it because I want to.” He flashed you an awkward but sweet smile. “Consent is sexy, you know?” 

You snorted, but you grinned back at him. “You have my consent to make me come, Luke.”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I just…I want you to enjoy it but I don’t…”

“Breathe,” you murmured in a softer voice, reaching up to gently squeeze his cheeks to catch his attention. “I’m still here, you’re not doing this alone. Just like hockey, remember? Think of me as your teammate.”

His face instantly scrunched up. “I really don’t want to be thinking about any of my teammates right now.”

You snorted, despite yourself. 

“Yeah, okay, maybe not my finest choice of words. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not doing this alone. Sex is a ‘two way street’, ‘it takes two to tango’ kinda thing, Luke,” you spoke as you reached down to guide his hands to the waistband of your leggings. “We’re doing this together.” 

“Together,” he murmured with a nod.

“Just like hockey,” you said to him again, seeing a hint of his earlier confidence shine in his eyes as his fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings before pulling them down your legs. 

He tugged them over your feet before throwing them off to the side, where your hoodie still laid. He didn’t even hesitate before he ripped his own shirt off over his head, in some weird mixed statement so you weren’t the only one who was half-naked—and because he felt his whole body running far warmer than he thought was normal. 

“Foreplay is important. It’s like warm-ups, it’s necessary and preferred and makes the game easier, as well as more enjoyable,” you said, your voice a little lower than before as you gently guided one of his hands from your waist downwards. “It makes her feel good. It makes you feel good. It’s sexy.” 

“Sexy,” he noted with a nod, though his eyes were transfixed on you. 

Luke gulped a little as his fingers rested along the elastic waistband of your panties. His heart was racing in his chest and blood was roaring in his ears and it was a little hard to focus on the words you were saying when his dick was twitching in his sweatpants.

“Just gotta know where to touch her,” you whispered, lip tucked between your teeth as your fingers lightly skimmed over your clothed cunt. You choked out a gasp as you pressed a slow, deliberate circle over your clit. 

He didn’t think even a meteor crashing into your bedroom could make him tear his eyes away from you right now.

“Try.”

Luke’s brows raised a little as you stared at him expectantly. 

“C’mon, winner,” your lips twitched upwards. “Just like hockey.”

Just like hockey.

Luke slowly ran his hand over your waist, feeling the cotton fabric of your panties under his touch. He kept his eyes locked on your cunt, trying to ignore the way his hand was shaking as he ran his fingers along the fabric. 

A soft sigh left your lips and his eyes snapped up to look at your face, to watch your expressions closely to see what you reacted to. His thumb pressed down experimentally and your nose twitched a little.

“A little higher.”

He listened. 

“Firm but gentle.”

He listened.

“Fuck, just like that, Luke.” 

He listened.

“A little faster.” 

Luke listened. 

He listened as you guided him. He listened until there was a small wet spot on the front of your panties. He listened until you were panting and telling him to pull them down your legs. He listened as he gently glided his fingers between your folds, watching with dark eyes as his fingers glinted with your release. 

“I get it,” he muttered out at some point, his thumb pressing down on your swollen clit as your hips bucked up against his touch. “The noises. Why you like them.” He gulped a little as his eyes glanced up at you. “You sound pretty when you’re moaning, Cherry.”

“Shit,” your eyes fluttered shut as you reached down to grip his wrist. “Just…fuck, I need to feel you inside me.”

His cheeks burned hot. 

“Just,” you panted, chewing down on your bottom lip until it was red and a little swollen. “Slow, okay?”

He gulped. “You sure?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “You wanna make me come?”

He nodded.

“Then yeah, I’m sure,” you murmured, brows furrowed together as you felt him glide his fingers through your folds until they were completely covered. 

And, if Luke was being so completely honest, he could have come in his pants from the sight alone. It was like at the last possible moment, his brain remembered to look up as he slowly slide one finger inside you and, fuck, he was glad he did.

He felt entranced. He felt mesmerised. He felt like he was stuck in some sort of hypnosis and he couldn’t look away. 

He wanted to burn this moment in his memory so he could never, never forget it. He wanted to memorise the way your eyes fluttered shut. He wanted to memorise the way you felt squeezing around him, like you didn’t want him to ever leave. He wanted to memorise the way your lips parted with a silent scream as he slid another finger inside you, as he curled his fingers, as you bucked your hips. 

He wanted to remember every single fucking moment until the day he died.

“A little faster,” you breathed out, your head thrown back on your pillow as he followed your instructions. “Shit, yes. Like that. Fuck.”

“Good?” Luke murmured, his whole body feeling like it was on fire and his dick straining against his boxers but, fuck, he couldn’t care less when his attention was on you.

“Good,” you confirmed with a nod as one hand gripped the sheets, the other reaching down to give your clit some attention. “So good, Luke.” 

Something in his stomach flipped at your words. 

If someone asked Luke Hughes how the last forty-eight hours of his life had been, he would tell them it had been fucking amazing. 

And if they asked him what the best moment was, he should probably answer that he has too many to choose from. That maybe it was the fact he officially started his rookie year in the National Hockey League. That maybe it was the fact he won not one, but two NHL games. That maybe it was the fact they won them one after the other. That maybe it was the fact he did all of the above whilst sharing the ice with his big brother.

But, in all fucking honesty, Luke would have chosen this moment. 

He would have chosen the sight of you writhing and squirming beneath him. He would have chosen the sight of you panting and moaning and begging. He would have chosen the sight of you coming on his fingers, your back arching off the bed and his name a whimper on your lips. He would have chosen the sleepy smile you gave him as your body twitched as he pulled his fingers out, already missing the feeling of you clenched around him. He would have chosen the look of pure lust and desire in your eyes as you watched him slide his fingers in his mouth, his body moving before his brain caught up as he sucked the taste of you off his fingers. 

He would have chosen this moment. And maybe that realisation would be a lot more alarming and head-spinning in a couple of hours, but right now it was a passing thought before he slumped down on the bed next to you.

“Luke?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re a good student,” you murmured, feeling a smile on your lips as he let out a small huff of laughter. “A little more practice and I think you could have a good business going for you if the hockey thing doesn’t work out.”

He shook his head. “I think my skating skills are still better than my sex skills, but the confidence you have in me is appreciated.”

“Hm, true,” you said as you nudged his arm, lifting it up before you curled into his side. Luke didn’t say anything but wrap his arm around you to pull you closer. “You do skate very fast.” 

“Those two videos really told you everything you needed to know, huh?” He teased, his words light-hearted and joking and warm. 

“No, the games you just played told me that,” you corrected.

Luke froze, his mind replaying the words in his head like he wasn’t sure he heard you right the first time. “You watched my games?”

“Yeah,” you answered like it was obvious. “You said they were the start of the important ones, the ones that counted. I mean, I didn’t understand half of it and I spent a significant amount confused but,” you paused to shrug. “I wanted to support you.”

His chest tightened and it was a little harder to breathe, but he didn’t really want to let you go just yet.

“You didn’t have to,” he eventually choked out.

“I wanted to,” you answered before continuing. “Who knows, maybe I’m your good luck charm.” 

He knew you were joking. He could hear as much in your voice. But it still made his heart clench a little at the thought.

“Guess you gotta watch every game then.” 

“Guess you gotta teach me the game so I understand it then.” 

His arm tightened around you, his face burned red and his heart skipped a beat or two. But he still managed to mutter out, “Deal, Cherry.”

.

[pucking-charnas]

"nathan thtop you're tho thekthy"- nate

exactly how i pictured this shit

You walk home to your boyfriend Nathan MacKinnon strip teasing himself “Nathan stop you’re so sexy” he says with a lisp. You stand and watch with your mouth open. “You got this,” he says. What does he have? “What are you doin-“ you start to ask, but he shushes you his finger. “This isn’t for you baby”

y/n’s the third wheel...again