#hockey!john | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 8 months ago

Text

stages - j. marino

summary: from gym girl to girlfriend

warnings: john x f!reader, swearing, fluff, mentions of a cold/flu and a broken wrist, mention of the reader running and catering business, consumption of painkillers/flu medicine

word count: 6.6k

“You’re not going to stick around?”

You stopped walking, your attention solely focused on trying to find your car keys from the deep depths of a hectic gym bag, but even you couldn’t deny that the sound of an increasingly familiar voice distracted you.

It was a consequence of using the gym closest to the rink, you supposed. That, or just sheer chance that your gym of choice was also the exact gym that John Marino chose to frequent. But it was honestly just one heck of a fucking coincidence that each time you stepped foot inside the building, he was also there. Somehow you’d – against your will – managed to go from polite greetings on the treadmill to considering each other friends.

It was a weird dynamic, one that didn’t particularly extend outside of this one gym, but he was clearly comfortable enough to insinuate he wanted you to hang around a little while longer. If you didn’t already know his plans for the day you’d have probably thrown him an amused glance, or maybe even entertained the thought.

You shook your head, fingers clasping eagerly around your keys, before finally turning to look at him. He was wearing a compression shirt, his hair only slightly damp because this short trip of his was only to warm himself up before he’d journey across the street to the practice rink, and there was a careful kind of look on his face. He was watching your reaction, head tilted, hands wringing a water bottle.

He already knew what your answer would be, because like you knew his plans, he knew yours, and even though he knew the effort was futile, it would never stop him trying.

“Are you ever gonna come and watch me skate?”

You shrugged, watching him walk over to his own locker and pull out a hoodie, “I’ve seen you skate.”

He shook his head adamantly, making for the door and holding it open for you to follow him, “Not in person, that’s different.”

You were about to protest, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading, but before you could, he pulled a face, and whatever was about to follow you knew was going to be a teasing jab in your direction, “Oh, wait. I think I get it, you just want to see me up close, because you won’t get that if you come to a game? You’ll miss looking at my face.”

You huffed a laugh, “That psychology degree is finally getting put to use, huh?”

The teasing smile was still on his face, even as he turned to look at you right as you both walked out of the building and into the daylight. He was confused, the slight and fractional twitch of his eyebrow showed that, as did the way his mouth seemed to twist as his brain reworked your words.

It must have been because you didn’t deny his words that made him falter in his step and squint into the sun. You felt your cheeks heat up and your attention was thankfully stolen by the hollers and shouts from the other side of the street – you couldn’t make out the face from where you were standing, but from the size of the pairing alone, it looked like the Hughes brothers waving on the sidewalk.

“Maybe next time.” You muttered quietly, more to yourself than to the curly haired man in front of you, because if you didn’t say the words aloud like some kind of mantra, you knew you might actually never end up seeing him skate. This way, the promise felt real. And he seemed to have heard your voice carry over the slight breeze because he almost snapped his neck turning to look at you, and every morsel in your body recoiled at his quick reaction, “I’ll let you get going.” You stuffed your hands in your pockets, avoiding his eyes (he still hadn’t said anything, but there was absolutely no doubt in your mind that he had something to say).

“I’ll see you later.” He mumbled, nodding.

***

You had a sneaking suspicion that John didn’t know you were here – in fact, it wasn’t really a suspicion, you knew he didn’t know you were here. It was partly down to the fact that he’d already asked you and you’d had to decline because, technically, this was a work thing, it just so happened that his work thing and your work thing were the same work thing.

You’d been debating on how to approach him, mostly when you should have been paying attention to whoever it was that you were in a conversation with, but he just kept catching your eye. You didn’t know if he was just in a spot that you seemed to naturally redirect your eyes to, or if his almost lonely mood was catching you off guard.

He was a talkative person once you got to know him, but he’d spent the majority of the night stuck shoulder to shoulder with Luke Hughes, the two of them clearly muttering comments to each other under their breaths, usually one that would send them both spiralling into short fits of laughter before they’d inevitably straighten and try to look more professional in the face of a big boss or investor walking past.

It was weird seeing him in such a formal setting, and in a suit nonetheless. Fuck, if you knew he could clean up that well, you’d have been eagerly accepting his game invites just on the off chance that you’d see him dressed up. It was certainly different to seeing him in his shorts or joggers and a gym top – not that an outfit choice such as that was entirely unappealing (it most certainly wasn’t – he wore his gym clothes very well) for someone like him; meaning he could pull off a plastic bin bag if he really wanted to.

You hadn’t really spoken to each other since the other day and that awkward comment was made. Even the texting seemed to have slowed a little bit, and if it wasn’t for his ‘are you busy tomorrow night?’ message, you’d have just assumed he wasn’t even interested and taken a hint and left him alone until you’d found yourself enamoured by someone else.

Though…looking at him now, smile lines making a full appearance and grinning mischievously, you weren’t entirely sure it would be too easy to even look in someone else’s direction when what was in front of you was so incredible.

That being said, the person in front of you wasn’t John in any way, shape, or form. You didn’t know who they were or what they did, but they were talking to you about something to do with hockey equipment–

“I’m the caterer.” You blurted, cringing almost apologetically when they halted with their glass halfway to their mouth, a look of mild shock passing over their features.

“Oh.” They started, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you were the…nevermind, I apologise.” They hurried to correct themselves, and they were being so polite about it all you couldn’t help it when you jumped in.

“No, please don’t apologise, I should have said something sooner.” There was a brief pause where the both of you shared an amused look, “But if you want to know about the food?”

Their eyes seemed to light up, “Is there a dairy-free option?”

“Yeah, there is. You want me to show you?”

“Please.” They nodded gratefully, eagerly hurrying after you, and it was just then that John saw you out of the corner of his eye.

Granted, it wasn’t necessarily you that he saw, but a flurry of quick motion in his periphery. The kind of quick motion that would normally draw the eye under any circumstance, and it was as his eyes slid back to Luke that he felt something click in his brain – he didn’t quite understand what it was until his eyes returned back to…you.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry and his lips parting, all completely against his will. He blinked once, twice, then three times just to be on the safe side, but…you were still there: talking animatedly to one of the sponsors and pointing to the food assortment along the table with a bright grin on your face.

Luke’s mouth was moving but John swore there wasn’t any sound coming out, or nothing of that much value, anyway, because his entire attention was completely devoted to you, as he always seemed to find it. He felt his jaw clench, confusion beginning to stir as his mind reworked old conversations for something that he might have missed.

Boyfriend? No.

Family relations? He didn’t think so.

Did you know anyone else on the team? He was the only one, he was sure of it.

Work?

Work. He remembered you’d mentioned something about catering, but he’d just assumed you worked in a restaurant with how vague you’d been about it all.

But it made sense.

“Isn’t that your Gym Girl?” Luke bumped into his shoulder, his voice dripping with awe, and John wanted to cover his eyes. He wanted to grab Luke by the shoulders and physically turn his attention elsewhere, and that sudden desire to keep you out of his reach struck a nerve.

He’d never found Luke annoying before. He didn’t like it that much.

Instead, however, he schooled his expression into one that gave the impression that, yes, he knew you’d be here, and shrugged, still keeping his eyes on your figure, “She has a name.”

Luke ignored his comment, “She’s…wow.”

John frowned, turning to Luke and taking in the little glint in his eye and the drop of his jaw. He was beginning to find the child incessantly annoying, even if he was right in his words – “Jack wants you, look.” This time John actually laid his hands on Luke and twisted him to point over to where Jack was watching them rather curiously, sheer dumb look he supposed, and pushed him in his brother’s direction before making the rather bold decision to interrupt your conversation before he could psych himself out too much.

It had been a good few days since he’d last seen you, and since then he didn’t think he’d actually had any mental reprieve from your earlier conversation about him finally putting his degree to use, and if he was honest, John kind of wanted an answer. He’d like to bring it up somehow, maybe later on in the evening or maybe not even tonight – but if there was one thing he’d describe himself as, he’d probably say he was pretty good at checking off a to-do list once it had been established, and getting to the root of that was definitely on there somewhere.

It wasn’t a priority, though.

But talking to you must be, because before he could even register the sickening thump of nervousness in his chest, he’d found himself standing directly to your right, one hand awkwardly holding his tie in place and his other shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

You were still talking to the other person about the food, and he decided – for the sake of not wanting to interrupt – he’d made a dire mistake, and immediately changed course and darted left, only to find himself in front of a blank wall within a few short strides.

He sighed, placing his hands on his cheeks, and automatically pulled his phone out of his pocket with the faux urgency he’d mastered in the face of an awkward situation: wherever he felt a little bit too self-conscious in a public space, he’d reach for his phone. It gave his hands something to do, his brain something to be distracted by, and to onlookers it might make it seem like his awkwardness and fumbling was intentional: after all, no one could really avoid an important call or text, could they?

This time, though, he inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his nerves. He knew part of it was because he was technically at work, with his colleagues that were probably watching his every move if Luke had blabbed as expected – and that just added a whole new layer of pressure that he hadn’t previously considered before.

Was it why you kept shooting down his invitation to a game? His teammates could be intimidating if they wanted to be.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a string of messages – your messages to each other – pulled up. He blinked, frowning briefly, unable to recall even opening his message app, let alone seeking out your contact.

He’d been doing it more often, actually–

“Hi.”

He whirled around on his heel, jacket flapping with the brusqueness of the motion, and came to face you. He slid his phone back into his pocket, never really finding the strength to concentrate too much on where he was placing it, and before he could even consider replying, there was a dull thud and you were holding his phone out towards him, looking equally as apprehensive as he was.

“Thanks.” He muttered breathlessly, a flash of warmth tingling his hands.

You just nodded, your own hands fiddling with themselves in front of you, and he was watching – at least, he was until you seemed to become aware he was watching you do it and then you hid them behind your back almost instinctively.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking back up to your face, “Fancy seeing you here.”

And he did fancy seeing you here, if he was being honest with himself. You looked lovely. You always do, but there’s something a little bit more thrilling to him about seeing you here wearing more formal clothes than seeing you inside a gym wearing sports gear.

It was a nice change, he decided.

You cracked a smile at his comment, and before he could think too much into it, he was echoing the same sentiment back at you, “I know, right? You’re gonna be sick of me by the end of the night.”

“Oh, please.” He shrugged, unable to help himself, “That could never happen.”

He froze, hand once again attempted to put his phone inside his blazer pocket. He couldn't do anything, not even breathe, as he waited for your reaction. His words had slipped out a little too easily and with not enough hesitancy. He hadn’t even had time to think that maybe he shouldn’t have said that, before you stepped in, thankfully not too taken aback by it.

“Never say never.”

And he swore, right as his phone dropped into the pocket, that he felt something in him snap at the expression on your face and your sudden change in demeanour. But you seemed to flick out of it almost as soon as you’d done it, because in the next instant you were happier somehow, and he just knew that teasing lilt in your tone was more self-deprecating than he would have liked to think.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, I don’t even know, I guess I was trying to surprise you?” You got out, eyes darting everywhere but his face.

Maybe it was because he was beginning to take the breath out of your lungs with every second you spent actually looking at him, or maybe it was because you were conscious of other eyes watching you both from afar, but there was something a little bit odd about the way you were feeling in that moment.

It felt like you wanted…John. The man in front of you. In a ‘hold his hand’ way.

Which was new.

So, the crush had intensified. It was the exact thing you had to realise at that moment in time. How terribly inconvenient of you.

It could only go downhill from here, couldn’t it?

John did something with his face, and you glanced at him, noting the smile lines in his cheek from a closed-mouth smile, “It was a pretty nice surprise.”

There was a lull in conversation, the both of you awkwardly looking at each other and then looking away, trying not to show the smiles on both of your faces. It was a weird coincidence that you’d been chosen as the caterer for such a large event for such a well-known team, but here you were, amidst John’s teammates – of who you’d been putting off meeting sheerly for the reason that it might be a little weird for the girl from his gym to purposefully attend a game or practice session with the intention of doing just that, but you supposed it couldn’t really hurt if it was classed as a ‘work thing’.

Although, the man next to you certainly made the entire night more bearable. An hour and a half later you two were still talking to each other, sitting down this time with your kneecaps touching and an elbow resting on one of the tables, unconsciously tuning out nearly everyone and everything else.

It felt cliche and you almost felt sorry for inadvertently stealing him away from his teammates just because you happened to be there, but you couldn’t really find it within yourself for that to be a genuine concern. It was the longest you’d ever talked to each other, really. A coffee after the gym was sometimes in the cards, but usually you’d just forgo wearing headphones when you saw his car parked in the lot and spend the hour in the gym talking to each other – but it never got this far.

Your attention was stolen momentarily by a sudden dimming of the lights and a change in the music, and a flurry of bodies slowly tiptoed out to the supposed ‘dancefloor’. The person you’d been talking to earlier was there; there were players with their partners; coaches with their partners; parents with their kids.

You turned to look at John, an eyebrow raised in question at the spectacle, but he had a kind of soft haze about him as he watched his people begin to dance with each other; it wasn’t anything particularly special – some people were off to the side chatting and some people were just swaying, but it was obvious it had become a kind of tradition at these kinds of events.

“All staff and players are recommended to stand up at this point,” he started talking, head still turned towards the floor, giving you a perfect view of his side profile, and you watched him talk fondly, “Apparently it encourages people to get ‘more involved’ or something.” And then he shrugged, inhaling and turning back to you, halting at the look on your face, “What?”

“You’re still sitting.”

“I’m talking to you.”

That shut you up a bit: he’d said it so quickly and with such fierce conviction, as though there couldn’t even be single other reason for him not doing as he was told, and all you could do was roll your eyes and breathe a short huff of laughter, trying with all your might not to read into it too much or blush under the lights.

You’d done so well not to, so far.

“You don’t have to, you…don’t you network at these things?”

He blinked, tilting his head in an amused fashion, “Network? Hm, that’s cute.”

You stared right at him, unimpressed, “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you have to chat up the sponsors?”

Instead of answering your question, he turned briefly to the crowd of people on the floor, not uttering a word – and if you’d known him any less, you’d have just assumed he hadn’t heard you at all, but the look he’d got on his face indicated he was clearly thinking about something. There was a slight furrow in the middle of his brows, and his mouth was twisted thoughtfully.

You hadn’t even realised you were staring until he turned quite brusquely back to you, a hint of a mischievous smile on his face as he did so, “Who are you going to dance with?”

You felt your face drop more than you realised you were doing it at all, and the comical jump of his brows was enough to tell you he’d anticipated your reaction.

“I’m working.” You excused, almost scoffing at the question.

“You’ve already worked. The food’s been made and put out. Who are you going to dance with?” He repeated the question with a considerable amount of vigour, and you had an inkling he asked it sheerly for coaxing a specific answer out of you.

You narrowed your eyes, dragging out the silence a little longer than what was necessary. You contemplated teasing him – maybe mentioning Nico – but ultimately opted on the side of caution.

“With you.”

He just grinned.

***

You blinked wearily, your head heavy and fuzzy and your wrist in so much agony is hurt to even stand up under the force of gravity. The hand in the cast was painfully cold, the fingers freezing to the touch, and you found yourself wincing on instinct as you used your other hand to curl the fingers into your fist.

You felt a little bit sick, if you were being honest. The painkillers must have worn off mid-nap on the couch because as soon as you’d pushed yourself into a sitting position a shooting throb seemed to echo right from the crack in your wrist bone to the very tips of your toes, and you walked rather blearily to the pile of meds on the table, washing some painkillers down with water.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d been woken up because of something else until a knock sounded at your door, quite frantically. You stood in the middle of your living room rather dumbly, only able to tug your hoodie sleeve further down the bulky cast to cover the tip of your fingers, your brain too exhausted to even contemplate what the knock could mean or who it could be.

Your feet didn’t move, and you found nothing in you reacted to the sound like you usually would have. On a normal day you’d have jumped up to peer through the peephole to see who it was – but that didn’t happen.

At least not until a rather dull thump echoed across your door and an equally tired groan could be heard from the other side.

That sent your mind working again, because you knew that voice, though not in that context. There was just something recognisable about the undertones there that seemed to ring a rather important bell in your head, and you stepped forward, peeking through the hole just to be sure.

As luck would have it, there leaned a mop of curly hair just next to the number on your door, and you didn’t even need to see that familiar slope of his nose or the shape of his mouth to know who it was. He lifted his head, and from the resignation in his face you could tell he was just about to walk away.

You probably would have let him: you hadn’t actually managed to tell anyone other than your parents that you’d broken your wrist, for a variety of reasons: there wasn’t any cell service in the hospital; you’d got back to your apartment and immediately passed out from exhaustion and pain; and you’d broken your dominant wrist, which meant doing just about anything was twice the faff, and you hadn’t quite mastered the art of charging your phone or texting with one hand only without getting frustrated ( you’d actually thrown it across your bed and lost it in the small gap between the frame and the wall). And the idea of opening the door to him all ‘surprise!’ didn’t seem particularly appealing.

Or it wouldn’t have if he didn’t look as exhausted as you felt, with a red nose, pale cheeks and the packet of tissues clutched in his hand. He clearly wasn’t too well either.

“Wait!” You called through the door, voice still groggy and hoarse, and tried to unlock your door as quickly as you could without fumbling the chain or accidentally shutting the door before you could wedge your foot in the crack to prise it open with your non-injured hand.

You hid the cast behind your back, trying to appear chipper as you held your door open with your foot and smiled politely. It felt a little futile, though, with the way he seemed to blink uncertainty as his attention zipped to the bags under your own eyes and the lack of colour in your cheeks.

“Hi.” You mumbled, your brain still a bit of a jumble as you almost slurred your words.

He yawned, leaning his head against your door frame in an adorable manner and clearing his throat, “Hi.”

You had to stop yourself from lifting your hand up to comb his curls back from his forehead, and instead opted to give in to your instincts and smiled softly at him.

He reciprocated it, albeit a little sadly, “I thought you died.”

The smile on your face turned upside down, and instead of replying, you opened your door further, letting him step inside, still ensuring to keep your hand behind your back and away from his eyes until you felt as though you could tell him properly.

“You didn’t come to the gym last night and I texted but you didn’t answer, and you always come to the gym even if you’re sick, and I was just a bit worried, y’know?” He rambled, wandering towards your bathroom, “And then I woke up this morning and had to phone in sick because I feel like shit and I remember seeing the cold medications in your cu–”

He stopped, eyeing the packets of painkillers on the coffee table with both intrigue and concern, before turning to face you, eyes trying to justify any possible reason for that many packets to be out and already consumed, until his gaze came to a stop on the arm concealed behind your back. One hand came up to point at you, but before he could get any words out, he succumbed to three rather violent sneezes, all in immediate succession of each other, and by the time he’d finished, his eyes seemed redder and his cheeks even paler than before.

In fact, he blinked hard before moving himself to sit on the sofa, his head between his hands, still and silent.

“John?” You frowned, coming to sit beside him, this time uncaring if he saw the cast on your wrist or not, and placed one hand on his thigh. His eyes were screwed shut and his jaw was held ajar and crooked, deep breaths inflating his lungs slowly.

“Dizzy.” He groaned, pressing his thumbs to the bridge of his nose, and you inhaled sharply, continuing his journey to the bathroom and pulling out the necessary packets for him. You poured him a glass of water, coming to sit beside him once more, this time having some trouble popping out the tablets with one hand, and it was a particularly frustrated sigh that had him blinking cautiously to watch you.

“So, you’ve come to steal my drugs and give me your germs, huh?” You muttered fondly, about to ask him for help, but he interrupted before you could say anything else.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled, clearly ignorant to your teasing comment, his eyes fixated on your cast before trailing up to your face, moving slowly so as to not disturb another episode of dizziness.

You cringed, “I broke my wrist yesterday.”

There was a beat of silence when you watched him watch you, heart pounding a little harder than it usually would due to the unfamiliar situation. John was always caring, always wanting to help in some way, and you adored him for it, but this was a little different.

This time you guys were in a new relationship…and there was a small part of you that was a little worried that he’d take this as you not trusting him.

“How?” He blinked, the one word obviously not the only thing he wanted to say, but something he’d settled for for the sake of it.

You shook your palm, trying to get him to take the pills from you, and he did, swallowing them with the glass of water on the coffee table, before physically turning himself to face you, the look on his face suggesting he wasn’t about to do anything until you answered his question.

“I was…” You inhaled sharply, eyes darting from his face and the flaming of your cheeks only seemed to make you more nervous for what you were about to tell him, and instead busied yourself with picking up the box of tissues on the coffee table and holding it out for him to take, “I was with one of my friends, and she was teaching me to skate.” Your voice trailed off pathetically, almost too embarrassed to even look in his general direction.

You could imagine he was blinking, trying to make the words compute in his head, eyes boring into the side of your face like a madman. Maybe he was managing a small smile, too.

“Teaching you?” He asked, voice somehow rough and soft at the same time, and it was the warmth in his tone along with the complete lack of judgement that had you hesitantly taking a peek at him out of the corner of your eye.

You’d been right – on some level. He was hiding an amused smile behind his hand, and his eyes were wide with pleasant shock.

You nodded, rolling your eyes, “Teaching, yeah.”

He faltered, mouth open as though he was going to say something and thought better of it, before ultimately deciding to go through with it, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

“What’s so embarrassing about breaking a wrist?”

“No, it’s embarrassing that I don’t know how to skate. I didn’t call you because there’s no cell service in the ER and then it pissed me off that I couldn’t type quickly enough and now my phone is wedged down the side of my bed and I can’t reach it.” You rambled, eyes widening in a rather self-deprecating manner, “Then I passed out.”

He sniffed, plucking a tissue from the box, his other hand almost going to hold yours before thinking better of it, “Did you go to the hospital by yourself?”

You shook your head, leaning back against the sofa.

“What did the doctors say about it?”

“It’s a Colles fracture, so I’m gonna have to wear a cast for a few weeks before they change it for a splint.” You sighed, picking at the end of the cast with disdain. The painkillers had eased some of the pain to a throb that seemed to beat on time to your pulse, but it was still uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. And you were exhausted, as was the man next to you.

“I’d touch you but I don’t want to give you my germs.”

If he hadn’t looked so genuinely upset at that you might have said something else, maybe teased him a little, but with the heaviness tugging at his features already, you tilted your head, “You do look pretty rough.”

He rolled his eyes, a gap-toothed grin showing itself, “Thanks.”

“Still cute, though.” You grinned, nudging his hoodie clad arm with your own, unable to help yawning nearly immediately after, “Do you want to stay and have a nap?”

He raised his brows, clearly a little surprised by the offer, “Even when I’ve got the lurgy?”

You shrugged, “I’m probably gonna get it at some point anyway. Better to be ill together at the same time.”

“Even with your broken wrist?”

You paused, acting like you were considering changing your mind, and John huffed a laugh. You could tell he was unsure about your proposal, maybe he’d feel a bit guilty giving you his cold when you were already in a state yourself, because it was clear he was holding himself back from being his usual affectionate-self.

“Do you have an ulterior motive?” He asked, raising a suspicious brow.

“Not entirely, but I might need you to reach my phone.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes later that you were both cuddled up under your covers, your phone now safely plugged in and charging, you on the brink of sleep when John seemed to jolt up in remembrance of something. His sudden motions had your heart beating and a shot of adrenaline coursing through your body, perhaps thinking he was en route to throw up or something, but when you turned on your bedside lamp, he was grinning lazily, his eyes a little sleepy.

“What?”

He breathed a laugh, “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t know how to skate?”

You shrugged, “I was gonna surprise you, I guess. You said there was that skate thing coming up, right? I was gonna suggest we go, but I wanted to practise and…it didn’t go very well.”

The cheeky grin seemed to melt off his face at your quiet admission, replaced by a softer, more sincere one, “You were gonna say yes to that?”

You pressed your lips together self-consciously, unable to help feeling strangely vulnerable with the intensity in his stare. You were very aware of the fact that you didn’t look your best, wearing Barbie PJ’s, and your hair was an absolute mess. Add that on top of not having had the chance to shower, you were pretty positive you didn’t smell too great either (you did douse yourself in deodorant earlier), so it felt almost unjustifiable that you were on the receiving end of such a look.

“Yeah.” You muttered, “I thought it best to at least try to look like I knew what I was doing if I was gonna be in the presence of professional skaters and cameras.”

His brows jumped up his forehead animatedly, head unintentionally leaning closer to yours in excitement. One of your favourite things about him had to be the way he was so unashamed to show enthusiasm for even the smallest things – it was always written so seamlessly and effortlessly in the way he’d nod his head when he was listening to you or the way he’d hold himself to show you he was interested. It had always tugged on your heartstrings, even when you’d first met him.

He didn’t say anything, but there was an odd expression on his face, like he was having an internal discussion with himself, and before you could stop it, you blurted a rather impatient “What?”.

He pulled a face, cheeks reddening slightly despite the chill to his skin, “I don’t know how to – I’m not good at talking about it, I’m not sure how to talk about it because it’s kind of overwhelming in a way that I can’t string the words together or something, but…” he sighed, “If I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more, and–Aargh.”

“You just quoted Mr Knightley.” You interrupted, eyes widening upon realising just what you’d interrupted him from saying.

“That’s what you got from that?”

You paused, eyes darting across the shadows of his face. You could just make out the smile lines on his face and the slow, weary blinks as he fought off the sleep he’d been dying to succumb to, and if wasn’t for the fact that he’d instigated this half-asleep conversation you’d probably feel a smithereen of guilt for teasing him in that state, but all you could do was nod and attempt to conceal just how smitted you felt. Fatigue tended to lower your inhibitions.

“Well, no, but…”

His grin seemed to widen and he pressed his face into your pillow, curls begging for you to run your hand through, and sent you a rather expectant glance that had you rolling your eyes fondly.

“You know I love you too. It just…”

“It still feels weird, huh?” He murmured, raising a brow and widening his eyes after a snotty sniff, “I still get nervous.”

“With me?”

He breathed a laugh, “Saying it. You just constantly floor me, I wouldn’t say you made me nervous, not like you used to.”

“The novelty’s worn off a bit, huh?”

“I prefer it that way.” He gave a short, self-deprecating huff, “I can function around you now.”

***

Luke knew John had been hiding something for weeks, if not months. And each time he cast his mind back to trace the source, the one thing that kept coming up was that Gala and Gym Girl being the surprise caterer – probably one or two days before John had shaken his head rather despondently after Luke had asked if she’d said yes yet. After that night (each and every time Luke looked over their way, they were both completely enamoured with each other, ignorant to anyone else passing by at that moment in time), John had changed.

Whether it was just how generally happy he’d been lately, even without saying it; whether it was his sudden attachment to his phone; whether it was keeping an overnight bag in his car – it didn’t take a genius to figure out something was up, Luke felt he was proof enough of that. But what he wasn’t quite sure of, was if anyone else had noticed the slight change in the older Defenceman.

John was a quiet type, Luke could happily yap to him and he’d nod along and ask questions when it was appropriate to, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was like that with just him, or if it was just a John-thing.

Yet, here they all were – the team, families, friends…John. With a girl. The girl: Gym Girl.

And because Luke had spent so much time with him, he knew that John wouldn’t bring someone to these kinds of events if it wasn’t serious. It’d have probably been serious for a while and just kept quiet to let them both figure things out between them – Luke understood that.

In fact, it was Jack’s innocently curious question that made Luke feel a little bit more smug than he probably should have.

“Who’s that John’s with?”

Luke glanced over at the pair once more: John with a sweet smile on his face that he’d never seen directed at anyone else ever before; his girlfriend with a cast on her wrist skating like a baby giraffe, John holding onto her pretty tightly as she wobbled on her blades.

It was a cute sight, Luke could admit that.

“His girlfriend.” He replied, fighting a smile when Jack’s head snapped in his direction, shock dripping from every feature.

“His what?”

“Girlfriend.” Luke grinned this time, “Y’know, his romantic part–”

“I know what a girlfriend is, you little shit.” Jack sighed, “When did that happen?”

Luke shrugged, “A while back, I think.”

Neither of the brothers said anything, but Luke was wondering if anyone else had had the same conversation within the last twenty minutes. Nico was talking to Timo, Curtis was hanging around with some of the media people – had they all asked the same questions, or did they already know?

“If you could pick someone on our team to get married and not tell us until they’ve got kids, who wou–”

“John.” Luke interrupted Jack, the both of them sharing a knowing smile.

#john marino x reader #john marino fic #john marino imagine #john marino oneshot #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey player x reader #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine

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maxz-b · 12 days ago

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hey hey this is part 5 out of ???

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sweethischier · 8 months ago

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𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨

word count: 4k

summary: Friends with benefits never works out. Someone always falls, but will they fall, too?

warnings: mild angst, drinking is mentioned, MINORS DNI 18+ content under the cut -> unprotected sex, slight hair pulling from reader to john, that’s it i think?

note: first johnny baby fic. hope you guys like it<3

The first time you met John Marino was in some dingy bar when your friend invited you out after a particularly long and strenuous day at work. Her boyfriend and a few of his friends were going to be there, and she thought it would help ease some of the stress that had accumulated over the last few days. You were initially hesitant to go, knowing that Jack’s friends were likely going to be his hockey teammates, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to be around that specific group of people, but you went anyway.

You ended up having a great time, mingling with some of the other girls and guys who were there, and you also met John. He introduced himself to you, casting you a bright smile as his brown eyes bore into your own. He didn’t bother to be subtle in his advances with lingering touches and brief glances to your lips, but you didn’t mind it all that much. After all, he was easily one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen.

You end going home with him that night, spending the rest of your time out tangled in his sheets with his sweaty body pressed against your own. When you slip out of his apartment the next morning, you tell yourself that it was just a one time thing, that it was never going to happen again, but then it did. And again. And again. It happened so many times that the two of you had to have The Talk about what you were, ultimately agreeing on the notorious “friends who just hook up sometimes”.

It was a bad idea, and you knew that. You know that no matter how many times one says that there are to be no feelings involved, someone always falls. Someone always breaks the one rule that shouldn't be broken, and of course it was you who did. You had fallen for John Marino, and you didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

Going out wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do. In fact, you would have much rather stayed home in the comfort of your own bed and slept through the weekend. You’d had yet another shit week at work, and nothing seemed to go in your favor from the moment you woke up Monday. All you wanted to do was relax, but, in true Macy fashion, she convinced you to come out with her and the guys to celebrate whatever win they had secured.

At first, you were having a decent time surrounded by a slew of hockey players and their friends as they drank and had fun. You did your best to avoid John like you had done for the last few days, not wanting to think about the way he made you feel. You wanted to temporarily forget about all of your stress for the night, and that was arguably the most stressful of them all.

You were pressed against the bar, sweaty and sticky bodies bumping into you as they passed behind you. It was taking all of your willpower to not turn around each time someone would push into you a little too hard, but you kept your composure to preserve your decent attitude. You thanked the bartender and told him to put it under Jack’s tab before turning around to rejoin your friend, but you froze when you saw him.

John was sitting on one of the stools, a beautiful girl leaning on the table as she talked to him. She was slightly leaning forward, her chest on full display before him as he smiled at her, and even from there you could see his eyes dart down below her face. From where you stood, it looked like he brushed the skin of her arm with his hand when he brought it up to adjust the hat on his head, but if you were closer you would be able to see how uninterested he was. Yet the thought alone was all it took to ruin your mood.

The sight in front of you suddenly made the urge to go back home trump any desire you’d previously had to stay at the bar. Initially, you came to appease your friend because you knew she’d tease you all weekend, but now your obligation was out of the window. There was no coming back from the sour mood you were in, and you didn’t want to ruin her own, so you chose to place your still full drink on the bar and beeline to the exit.

You ordered an uber the moment you stepped outside, leaning against the brick wall as you hugged your arms against your body. Of course you knew you had no reason to be upset. It was you who made the suggestion that you could still see other people because you weren’t dating. It was you who made a point to stress that there were to be no feelings from either of you, but you’d always been bad at listening to your own advice. After all, it was you who fell for him.

When your ride pulled up to the curb, you finally sent Macy a text telling her that you were going home and that you would see her later. You knew she’d come outside had she known you were out there waiting, and you were too frustrated to deal with what would’ve been her pleas to go back inside. You loved her, you really did, but you just wanted to go wrap yourself in your blankets and forget about everything before you had to do the same routine next week.

Pulling up to your apartment complex, you thanked your driver and slipped out of the car. The air was cool against your skin as you walked into the building, greeting the overnight doorman who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than there. The elevator ride to your apartment felt like it lasted a lot longer than usual, and you’d never felt more relieved about anything than when you had finally stepped foot in the comfort of your own home.

“Finally,” You muttered to yourself as you stepped out of your shoes.

Your clothes felt too tight and your skin felt sticky and disgusting. Your hair felt like it was a knotted mess and you know your makeup had ran a bit while you were in the bar. On top of that, you felt like you wanted to cry out of sheer frustration. All you wanted to do was shower, crawl into bed and put on some shitty tv show until sleep graced your exhausted body.

You had just slipped on fresh clothes after your shower when you heard the sound of someone rapidly knocking on your door. Initially you ignored it, but it happened again a few minutes later, so you begrudgingly went to see who was bothering you so late at night. When you looked through the hole in your door, you saw the last person you wanted to see.

“What do you want,” You snapped as you flung the door open, glaring at John as he stood there with his hands in his pockets.

John looked slightly startled at your harsh tone, but he quickly recovered before speaking, “Macy said you left because you weren’t feeling well, so I came to make sure you were okay.”

It was your turn to be taken aback as he looked down at you, the nerves radiating off his body meshing with your own. Every feeling you had been trying to suppress came flooding to the surface the second you looked at him, and him standing outside your door with his soft brown eyes was doing nothing but making that worse. You needed him to leave so you could force yourself to swallow your feelings and move on.

“I’m fine. You can go,” You grumbled, attempting to shut the door, but his hand slapped the wood, keeping the door open just enough that he could see through it.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been ignoring me,” He rushed out, voice hesitant as his eyes stayed focused on your own.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, slightly caught off guard at the directness of his question. When you didn’t answer for a few moments, John caught you off guard and shoved your door open enough for him to slip inside your apartment. He ignores your quiet protests as he shuts the door, his body so close to your own that you can clearly make out the scar on his cheek.

Blood was pounding in your ears, your heart thudding so loudly in your chest that you’re certain he was able to hear it. He was peering down at you, a multitude of emotion swirling within the depths of his dark irises. Your fingers twitched towards him, aching to pull him close, but you forced them at your side as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What did I do,” He asks, his voice so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

You let out a sigh, running your hand through your hair as you look at the ground, “Nothing, John. You did nothing, but you need to go. I’m sure you have some girl down there waiting for you.”

“The only girl I want is standing right in front of me and she won’t tell me what’s bothering her,” John admits, his gaze on you unrelenting and unwavering.

Your body stills as you let his words ring in your ears, coherent and well-strung thoughts fleeing your mind as you try to wrap your head around what he had said. Surely he hadn’t meant it in the way you wanted him to. Surely he was just saying that because his bar girl fell through and he knew all he had to do was mumble a few words and you were putty in his hands.

John whispers your name like it was delicate, like it was going to shatter if he uttered it with too much force. Your eyes snapped to meet his own, both of you staring at each other like you were afraid of what could happen next. Neither of you spoke, letting the silence envelope you in the most uncomfortable and nerve wracking hug as John’s words echo around you.

“Nothing is bothering me,” You whisper, tears threatening to prick the corners of your eyes.

“Then why haven’t you been talking to me? You didn’t even look at me in the bar,” He forces out, voice laced with sadness and uncertainty, “Talk to me, please. I want to know what I did.”

He had stepped closer to you now, your back pressed against your door as you looked up at him through glassy eyes. When John notices the uncried tears brewing in your eyes, his hands are cupping your jaw, his thumbs rubbing against the skin of your cheeks. His tender affection is what breaks the dam, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to slow the rush of tears.

“Baby,” He murmurs, “I need you to work with me here. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Is it– Did you find someone else?”

You can hear the way he has to force himself to say the words, almost as if he’s suppressing anger or disgust at the thought. It almost makes you want to laugh; the fact that he thinks someone else is the reason for your behavior rather than yourself. You were the cause of your own heartache.

“Of course not,” You shake your head, breathing shaky and uneven, “It’s just— John, please don’t make me say it.”

“If it is anything close to what I want it to be, I need you to say it. I need to hear it come out of your mouth,” He’s pleading with you, begging you to give him exactly what he needs to make his next move, “I need you to give me a reason to stay, or a reason to leave.”

With his eyes unrelenting from your own, you force yourself to speak through the nauseating nerves, “You’re the only one I want, too. I don’t ever want anyone else.”

Not even a second later, John surges forward and slams his lips on your own in a kiss that would’ve sent you toppling over had you now already been pressed against the door. You’ve kissed John before, plenty of times, but this was different. This was searing, blinding in a way that made you feel like you were floating above the clouds.

John tastes the salt from your tears on your lips, his own meshing with yours in a way that leaves him wondering why he had ever kissed anyone else before. He always thought you were made for him, that you fit perfectly against him, but this was different. This was much more real than it ever had been.

You dropped your hands down to the hem of his t-shirt, slipping them underneath the material so you could delicately drag your nails across the toned muscle. John falters, his teeth accidentally clashing against your own as his body shudders underneath your touch. You can’t help but smile against him, relishing in the fact that you had the same effect on him that he did you.

“Johnny,” You mumble, every nerve in your body desperately screaming for his touch, “Let’s go to my room.”

“Are you sure,” He asks, pulling away so he can clearly look at your face, “We don’t have to— We can just hang out.”

“John,” You start, voice serious and flat, “I don’t want to “hang out”. I’ve been stressing myself out trying to avoid my feelings for you, and I’ve had a shit week. I need you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Fuck. Yeah, okay. Let’s go,” He rushes out, his hand falling down to carefully grab your own and drag you down the hallway to your bedroom.

He shoves through your bedroom door, tugging you back into his chest as he reattaches his lips back to your own. Your hands fly up to tangle in his hair, gently pulling on his curls as you move your mouth against his own. John’s hands are on your hips, keeping you steady while he walks the two of you backwards until he feels the mattress on the back of his knees. Without breaking apart from you, he sits on the bed and guides your hips so that you’re straddling his waist.

You grind your hips down against him, your hands dropping to the hem of his shirt as you began tugging up his torso. John pulls his mouth away from yours so you can pull his shirt over his head, him doing the same with your own. His eyes immediately dart down to your naked chest, his tongue swiping across his bottom as he cups one of your breasts in his hand. You’re grasping at his shoulders, trying to keep yourself steady on his lap as he begins to suck on the skin of your neck.

Your fingernails dig into his back, breathy pants passing though your lips as his teeth graze over the sensitive spot he’d marked. John groans when you push yourself further onto his bulge, squeezing the flesh in his hands as he drops his head to your shoulder. You slowly grind your hips, creating enough friction to your core that a quiet moan of your own fills his ears. You’re able to find a painfully slow rhythm, but John drops his hands to your hips and keeps you in one place as he meets your lips in a hungry, painfully needy kiss.

“John,” You whisper against his mouth, “Need you now. Please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to lift you off of his lap and place you on the bed, moving away so he’s kneeling in front of you and able to slide your shorts down your legs. He briefly falters in his movements as his eyes drag down the length of your body, drinking in every inch of you as he silently worships you like your body was sculpted for him. Your cheeks flushed, like they always did when he looked at you that way, and you dropped your eyes to the waistband of his jeans as you unbuttoned them.

John watches your fingers fumble with his zipper, his breath hitching in his throat when you flatten your palm against him and press down on him. He throws his head back, but the feeling of your hand was gone almost as soon as it arrived and he felt you tug the material down his toned legs. He kicks them away from him before looking down at you, a smug smile forming on his lips as he watches you clench your thighs together at the sight of his cock in front of your face.

No matter how many times you’d seen him before, the sight in front of you made your mouth water and the wetness between your legs worsen tenfold. You carefully grasp him in your hands, rubbing your thumb over the precum that coated the sensitive head. You feel him shudder from your touch, and it only encourages you to lean forward, but he stops you by taking your chin between his fingers.

“Not tonight, princess,” He lowly speaks, his thumb ghosting over your lips, “I’ve missed you too much.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes wide with anticipation as you look up at him. He’s got his head cocked to the side, his curls an untamed mess on his head as the corner of his mouth twitches. He drops your chin, jerking his head to silently urge you to crawl backwards onto the bed. As you’re doing that, you watch as he walks towards your nightstand and moves to open the drawer that typically houses a small box of condoms.

“John,” You call out, pulling your lip between your teeth, “We don’t— It’s okay tonight. Just don’t, you know.”

“Are you sure,” He asks, dropping his hand away from the handle.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I’m sure.”

A few seconds later, John is back on top of you with his lips on yours as he uses his forearms to bear most of his weight. You tangle your hands in his hair, tugging on the curls as your mouth moves in sync with his own. You can feel his stiff erection pressed between your thighs, and you lift your hips up in a desperate attempt to get any sort of friction. John moved one of his hands down to grip your hip, his fingers splaying against the skin as he pushes you back down.

“I’m getting there,” His laughter vibrates against your lips, “Just wanted to kiss you first.”

“Wanna feel you,” You whined, his fingers lighting the skin underneath them on fire.

John mumbled under his breath, his eyes darkening as he slides his hand from your hip to grasp his length. He glances back up to you, keeping hold of your gaze as he slides himself between the slickness of your folds. Breathy whines begin to spill from your lips as you pull at the strands of his hair, the teasing anticipation making your heart race more than it already had been.

He slowly pushes himself into your entrance, hissing as your walls clench around him when he bottoms out inside of you. He carefully rocks his hips into your own, keeping himself steady above you and his movements short. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth, your eyes screwed shut as he lets you adjust to his size for a moment. Small, shallow whimpers are the only thing he hears as he slowly increases his rhythm as he dips his head down.

“That’s right, pretty girl,” He whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your own, “You’re doing such a good job. You always take me so well.”

“Harder,” You choke out, pressing the back of your head into the pillow beneath you.

John doesn’t need to be told twice as swiftly grips the bottom of your thigh and bends your leg over his shoulder before he harshly slams into you, your cries bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Your hands fall down to his back, fingernails digging crescent shaped indents into his tanned skin as he finds a pace that he’s learned drives you insane in the best way possible.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, filtering in through his ears and making the blood rush straight down to his cock. He loves watching you slowly fall apart underneath, feeling your pussy clench around him like it was made for him. One of his favorite sounds were the moans and whimpers that you made when he was buried inside of you. That sound alone could make him cum.

“Harder,” You repeat your plea from moments ago, deliberately digging your heel in his lower back in an attempt to push him further.

“Fuck,” John groans, his curls sticking to his forehead as he does exactly what you ask.

Skin slapping against skin echoes around you, your whines lacing with his low grunts as you explore the planes of his back with your hands. You feel yourself reaching your release, nearly toppling over the edge as John hits into you so deeply that it was the only thing you could register. You know he’s close too, judging by the way his hips keep faltering and stuttering against your own.

“Johnny,” You murmur as the knot in your stomach begins to come undone, “I love you.”

John swears his heart stops beating in that moment, but he doesn't stop his movements as your walls flutter around him and your nails scrape down his back. He fucks you through your orgasm, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he forces his own back just a little longer. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him for as long as he could, but he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I love you,” He whispers against your neck, peppering small kisses to the skin as he feels you relax underneath him, “So much.”

John feels himself reel into his own orgasm, and he quickly pulls out of you, letting your leg fall back to the mattress as he grasps his length in his hand. He releases his load on your stomach, careful to not get anything on your mattress or your face as he lets deep moans fall from his lips. Your eyes were drooping, your body coming down from the blissful high still hazing your mind as you watch his head fall backwards.

His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his lips parted and his eyes closed in a way that makes him look unreal. You’d always thought John was pretty with his curly hair, his brown eyes, and his soft features, but the way he looked before you completely took your breath away. There truly was no one else who even came close to him.

He carefully leans over you and presses a small kiss to your lips before he slides off the bed and darts into your bathroom. He’s back almost as quickly as he was gone with a towel in hand, batting your hand away when you try and take it from his grasp. He wipes away the warm, sticky liquid from your skin, making sure to clean you up entirely before he does so himself. He makes sure to put the dirty towel in the basket of already dirty clothes before he returns to you.

“Up,” He instructs, “I can see the goosebumps on your arms, you’re getting under the blanket.”

“I don’t think they’re from the cold, John,” You snickered, but you pushed yourself off and shoved the blanket down underneath your body.

John’s cheek slightly flushed at your comment before he was slipping back in bed, pulling the blanket back up over you and tugging you into his arms. You placed your hand on his chest, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck as he dragged his fingertips down your back. For the first time in a long time, you felt yourself truly relax, and it was all thanks to some guy you met in a rundown bar.

#john marino #john marino x reader #john marino imagine #john marino smut #john marino fic #john marino one shot #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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newyork-institute · 5 months ago

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A hockey!au where its Coach John Price, goalie Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish as a defensemen and Kyle Garrick as a forward. Kate Laswell would be there PR manager and Nikolai is in charge of making they get to each destination on time and (looking at you Garrick) one piece.

Coach Price had a couple of Stanley Cups under his belt from his day as a defensemen. He was known throughout the league as being the dad to his team.

(Kate was the mom).

Simon Riley had a skull painted on his helmet and from some of the PR videos Kate has posted on the teams TikTok page, he was given the nickname Ghost because of how he always seemed to come out of nowhere.

Johnny MacTavish is known as a beast on the ice, but all his hits were so clean, the refs never called a penalty. His opponents started calling him Soap on the ice as a deterrent, but Johnny was Johnny and took it as a compliment.

Kyle Garrick is recorded to be the fastest player in the entire league. He’s a smooth player and well liked in the league, so no wonder Coach Price made him Captain.

Kate Laswell loved her job and the boys she worked with. Price and her go way back to when they were teenagers, so it makes Kate’s job so much easier when the Coach cooperates with her. She also definitely babies the boys and will admit that with a smile on her face.

Nikolai was one of the most famous Russian goalies back in the day, having competed against Price in the past. They both lost a Stanley Cup to each other but after retiring from the game, they found they had a lot in common.

(Price is the first openly gay Coach in the league, and the boys couldn’t be any prouder.)

Don’t mind me I thirst for these cod men and for hockey players leave me alone 💀

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thornescratch · 23 days ago

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Yeah, I saw Pro turn around like he, like he might have scored, so I dunno, I uh. Yeah. I've, uh-- where's Johnny? Johnny's around here? Yeah, he, uh, he told me I was celebrating a bit too much by myself. So I caught myself in the act and turned around, and he was reeling me with, uh, the fishing rod to come back to the boys, so. Um, I've gotta remember that if I score again, to go celebrate with my teammates.

Dylan Strome earnestly explaining how his teammates have lectured him about not letting them celebrate and hug and grope him enough after he scores, and how he's going to get a good grade in post-goal celebrations.

#Something that is both normal to want and VERY possible to achieve on this team #If you are going to be a Capital then You Are Going To Be Hugged (Threat)#No but his serious expression slays me. “Oh shit I'm not celebrating enough with the boys! Hang on!”#Dylan Strome #John Carlson #Aliaksei Protas #Alexander Ovechkin #Jakob Chychrun #Washington Capitals #Hockey hugs #goal celebrations

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lee-laurent · 5 months ago

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Done Trying - Luke Hughes

Summary: In which Luke falls for a girl who always seems to be hanging around the Devils, the issue she has a toddler with one of his teammates

There will be more parts!! Next part is the backstory of John and Tori! Part after that is a continuation of this part! Hope you guys enjoy!

content: unplanned pregnancy, fluff, angst, children (is that a warning??), past relationships, self confidence and body image issues, money struggles, oc x ex!john marino (this is throughout the story, but this is a luke fic!! she ends up with luke!!)

WC: 4.8k

notes: this idea came to me the other night while i was watching tiktoks lol, but i thought it would a fun fic to write. the poll i put out showed a pretty clear leader the whole time, but if you guys are interested in me doing any of the other pairings in the poll just let me know!! before writing this i have a feeling it's gonna be a long fic so enjoy!!

Luke Hughes was walking down the street to the cafe that Jack had recommended. He still didn't know many places in Newark, seeing as it was his rookie season, but his brother had been a huge help... for the most part. Jack had told him about his coffee shop that was usually pretty quiet, so he wouldn't have to worry about fans coming up to him. And it had become his safe haven over the last two weeks.

Victoria Wilson was also walking down the street in the direction of the cafe, but she wasn't alone. Her newly turned two-year-old was toddling besides her, having refused to get in his stroller when they were leaving their apartment. "No" was his favourite word at the moment and Tori thought it might drive her crazy. She was dropping him off at his dad's in a couple hours, so she decided that grabbing him a bagel and some juice for breakfast sounded like a great way to get out of the house.

"Riley! Stop!" she screeched, watching as her son started to run down the sidewalk in the direction of a tall boy, looking at his phone. She didn't reach him in time though, the little boy wrapping his arms around the man's legs.

"What the hell?" Luke muttered, staring down at the toddler gripping his leg.

"I am so sorry! He's really big into hugging right now. We're working on learning who we shouldn't hug," Tori rambled, attempting to pull Riley off the man.

"It's fine. Really. No worries. Come on, little dude. Go back with your sister," Luke smiled, making the girl blush.

"I- I'm his mom, but I'll take that as a compliment," she smiled, finally prying Riley away and picking him up. He squirmed her arms, screaming "no" like it was mantra.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed," Luke rubbed the back of his neck.

"It's all good. Let me buy you a coffee. Again, I'm so sorry. Terrible twos," she sighed, reaching into her purse for a pacifier. "Here bubba. Let's go get breakfast."

Riley finally calmed down, happily putting the pacifier in his mouth. Tori had been trying her best to ween him off his "binky" but his dad wasn't, so it wasn't really working all that well.

"You don't have to do that. He's just a kid."

"Please, I'd really like to," she smiled. Luke nodded, opening the door for the woman and her son.

Tori ordered a coffee for herself and Luke, as well as a bagel and apple juice for Riley. They sat at a small table, Riley on her lap and Luke across from her.

"I'm Tori, by the way. And this little devil is Riley."

"It's nice to meet you," Luke grinned, "I'm Luke."

"So, how long have you lived in Jersey?" she smiled, breaking off a bit of bagel for Riley. He had a habit of trying to shove things in his mouth and gagging every time. So Tori always broke his food up into little pieces.

"A month now. I, um, just moved here for my new job."

"That's exciting," she grinned, handing Riley more food.

"What about you?"

"We moved here two years ago. Riley's dad moves a lot for work and I like to be in the same city as him so they can spend time together."

Luke nodded. So she was single. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't admiring her. She was stunning. Pale skin covered in freckles, ginger hair that she'd curled into waves, and the prettiest blue eyes he'd ever seen. She giggled as Riley dropped bagel all over his shirt, attempting to wipe it away as best as a toddler could.

"You said Riley's two?"

"Yes! He just turned two in August!"

"My mom always said that's the hardest age," Luke tried his best to relate to the girl in front of him.

"Ha! She's right. He really likes saying 'no' right now. It's impossible to get him to do anything except play mini sticks."

Luke choked on his coffee, "As in hockey?"

"Oh, yeah. He, uh, we're big hockey fans in my house."

"Devils?"

"No. No offence if you're a Devils fan. But we're proud Penguins fans. Right, Riley?"

"Pen-guin," he giggled, clapping his cream cheese covered hands together.

"That's cool," he nodded, checking his phone. Jack had texted asking if he'd died on the way to get coffee. "I, um, it was really nice meeting you, but my brother's getting worried about me. I should go."

"No worries! It was lovely meeting you too. Say 'bye-bye', Riley."

"Bye-bye!"

"Bye, Riley. Um, I was wondering if I could get your number. We could do this again some time? It's totally fine if not. I just-"

"Of course, Luke. Here," she chuckled, taking his phone from him. Luke walked out of the coffee shop with a smile.

It was the first Family Skate of the season and Luke was happily yapping away with Jack and Nico, seeing as they were all single. Luke had been texting nonstop with Tori for the last two weeks, she was really busy taking care of Riley so they hadn't met up again yet. He had found out she was 24, from Pittsburgh, and had a degree in journalism. He hadn't told her what he did for a living, just saying athletics which she assumed meant personal training. He was laughing at a joke that his brother had made when a flash of red hair caught his eye.

He did a double take. Standing at the bench was Tori, holding an extremely excited looking Riley on her hip, tiny skates on his feet. They were both dressed in Devils jerseys. Tori pointed at someone on the ice and Riley clapped happily. John Marino skated over, grabbing Tori's hand to guide her onto the ice. Maybe she wasn't single like he assumed.

"What're you looking at, Rusty?" Jack knocked his shoulder.

"Huh? Nothing."

"Come on, let's go see Curtis."

Luke followed his brother, keeping an eye on John and the girl now holding his hand. It hurt a little, he really thought they were connecting. And she hadn't mentioned a boyfriend at all.

Tori had yet to notice Luke, smiling widely watching her son and his father interact. Even if she and John had broken up, they still held a mutual respect for each other, maybe even still loved one another.

"Do you like his jersey?" she asked, showing John the '6 Marino' on the back of their son's shirt.

"Wow! You look just like Daddy, bubba!"

"'Ike Dada!" Riley smiled.

"My mom got it for him for his birthday. He was really excited to show you."

"Well, I think it's awesome. Tell your mom 'thank you.'"

"Of course. I-" she stopped. Her eyes locked with a familiar pair across the ice. Luke? She furrowed her brow, handing the toddler over to his dad. "Here. Practice skating with him. I, uh, need to talk to someone."

"Oh, sure! Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just fine," she mustered a smile as he pressed a kiss to her temple, skating off with Riley.

"Luke?" she approached him, a confused look on her face. Jack and Nico looked at each other before skating off to see John and Riley.

"Hi, Tori. I, uh, I didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah. Me neither. You play for the Devils?"

"Um... yeah? It's my rookie season. I just- I didn't want you to like only want to talk to me cause I play in the NHL."

"I gave you those vibes?" she sassed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, no. That's not- You don't. I, uh, what're you doing here? I thought you were... single."

"I am. I would've stopped talking to you if I wasn't. Riley's dad also plays for the Devils."

Then it all fell into place for Luke. Moving from Pittsburgh, being Penguins fans, Riley's dad moving around for work, her being here.

"Johnny?"

"Yes. John invited us. I thought it would be fun for Riley."

"I'm sorry. I- I should've told you. Are- is this too weird now?"

"'This?' There isn't really a 'this' yet, Luke. We just met and I have a kid. But if you're asking if I'm going to stop talking to you. Then no. This isn't weird for me."

"Do you- d'you think John will be upset?"

"John? No. He just wants whatever is best for Riley. We broke up over a year ago."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to pry. I-"

"Luke, it's fine. It was nice seeing you, but I should get back to my family."

"Right. See ya, Tori," Luke smiled, ignoring the pain in his chest at her words. John was her family. How was he supposed to beat that?

"You know Luke?" John asked as his ex-girlfriend skated up next to him.

"You remember that guy I met that Riley hugged?"

"The one from the coffee shop? Yeah, you said- oh my god! Was it Luke?"

"Yep," she popped the 'p' at the end of the word, "He didn't tell me he played hockey."

"Are you gonna cut things off?"

"There isn't really a 'thing' to cut off. We just text."

"Right. Well, don't let it stress you out."

"I won't. Don't worry. Anyway, how's Riley doing at skating?"

"Like a newborn deer. But he loves it, so..."

"Are you gonna be just like Dada?" she cooed, kissing her son's chubby cheek.

"'Ike Dada!"

"Yes! Just like Dada!"

Riley joined John in the locker room after, seeing as he was spending the night at his instead of going home with his mom. He sat in John's stall, kicking his feet back and forth. John had changed him into some tennis shoes instead of his skates.

"Hey, Riley!" Nico smiled, raising his hand over a high five.

"Cap!"

"Yes sir! That's gonna be you some day, huh?"

"Cap!"

Nico ruffled the boy's dark curls, walking back over to his stall. Jack also came over to see the little boy, but turned his attention to John after.

"Did ya know that Tori and Luke know each other?" he frowned.

"Huh? No, Tori told me today. Why?"

"Luke had been talking about this girl he met a couple weeks ago, had no idea it was Tori. I would've told him to back off."

"Back off? Tori and I aren't getting back together. That ship has long sailed."

"Really? I thought you still... loved her?"

"Of course I do. She's the mother of my child and for that I'll always love her. But she's made it very clear that we didn't work as more than friends. If she wants to see other people, I'm not going to stop her."

"Even if it's your own teammate?"

"Luke is the only guy on this team I'd let date my ex. Trust me."

"Damn. Maybe I was gonna shoot my shot."

"She'd reject you before you could even say hi," John smirked.

"Hungy! Hungy!" Riley chanted, pulling at John's sleeve.

"Okay, bud. One second, Jack," John reached into his backpack, pulling out a pouch and opening it for Riley. "There you go, bud. Eat slowly."

"O-tay."

"Anyway, Tori wouldn't be interested in you. She only likes guys with curly hair."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We were together for four years. I know what her type is," he rolled his eyes. "Are we done here? I'd like to take my baby home."

Jack nodded, sulking back over to his stall.

"So... how're things with that Luke boy going?" Tori's best friend, Allison, asked. The two girls were sat on the sofa, an almost empty bottle of red wine in front of them, some horrible reality tv show on in the background.

"About that..."

"Oh no! Did he end up being a dick?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. He, um, he's teammates with John."

"He's what?! You're kidding me!"

"Nope. Saw him at family skate today."

"I thought you said he was an athletic trainer."

"He told me he did athletics. I just assumed he did like training for something. But nope, he's a rookie for the Devils."

"That's insane! Are you cutting him off? I thought you'd sworn off hockey players."

"I-"

"Victoria Jane Wilson! Do NOT tell me you're thinking about getting with this guy!"

"I... I'm not sure. He's really cute, Ally. Like the cutest guy I've seen in a while."

"Cuter than John?"

"Not sure anyone is cuter than John. My son is his carbon copy and he's the cutest ever."

"Speaking of Riley, do you think this Luke kid is ready to deal with a child in addition to you? He's how old? 20?"

"I know... I love Riley, but he's definitely made my dating pool smaller."

"Well, you'll have no way of knowing until you ask him on a date."

"You were just saying no more hockey boys! Make up your mind, Ally!"

"I know... but you haven't been on a date in like what..."

"Seven months."

"Seven months?! Text him right now!"

"Right now?"

"Right now!"

Maybe it was the copious amounts of wine that she'd consumed or the fact that she hadn't been on a date in seven months, but she reached for her phone and typed out a message.

I was wondering if you'd like to go on a proper date some time? Without any children with us

"Done!"

"Yay!!! This calls for more wine!"

The girls clinked their glasses together, giggling as they drank more.

Hey, Tori. I'd love that! Is Riley with John tomorrow? I'm free after 5.

"Oh my God! He said yes!!!"

"I knew he would, girl! You're stunning."

"I-"

"Don't give me that shit about your 'Mummy Tummy.' You carried a baby for 9 months of course you aren't going to look exactly the same as you did before. But trust me, you look fucking stunning. Now text him back!"

Ally was over for the second night in a row, except this time it wasn't girls' night. She was helping Tori get ready for her first date in almost a year.

"You have to wear something lowcut! Show off the goods," Ally smiled, pretending to squeeze some boobs in the air.

"They're not that impressive," Tori rolled her eyes, flicking through her shirts.

"Girl! Be confident! If I had tits like yours, I'd walk around in nothing but a bra!"

"Ally! Don't be crass!"

"What? Just telling the truth! We both know that Riley exists cause John loved your curves a little too much."

"Allison!" Tori gasped, although it was a tad bit dirty, she couldn't help but giggle. She pulled a white, flowy tank top out of her closet, holding it up to her body. "Thoughts?"

"That's the one! You'll look irresistible. Now! Let me do your makeup!" Ally clapped.

Tori did a once over in the mirror, smiling brightly. She wasn't usually very confident in her body, and that only got worse after having Riley. A ring filled the apartment as someone pressed her buzzer in the lobby. She pressed on the intercom button, "Come up!"

"I'll be here the whole time. Call if you need rescuing and I want all the details when you get back!" Ally smiled, plopping down on Tori's bed.

Luke rasied his fist, knocking on the wooden door. Tori wiped her hands on her jeans one last time, opening the door to reveal the boy. He was wearing a polo shirt that showed off his arms in the best way and a pair of khaki pants. It looked like he had attempted to tame his curls, but they just looked like they always did but wet.

"Wow, you... you look so pretty, Tori," he stuttered.

"Thank you. You also look really cute," she blushed. "Let me just grab my purse and then we can go. Come in."

Luke entered the apartment, taking in the decor. There was a small table in the corner covered in art supplies and a basket of toys next to it. On the sofa was a stuffed Winnie the Pooh and lots of plastic farm animals. Hanging on the wall was a colourful scribble with Riley's name printed at the bottom. It was clear to him that Riley was the most important thing in her life.

"Sorry, it's a bit messy. I usually clean when he's at John's, but I was... kinda nervous about tonight and forgot."

"You've got no reason to be nervous. I promise," Luke smiled.

God, his smile was cute. It was crooked, almost like a smirk and she wanted to see it every second of every day for the rest of her life.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

The walk to the restaurant was full of jokes and laughs. Conversation between the two flowed so easily.

"You're joking! There's no way!"

"I'm not! He ripped Quinn's braces out!"

"That's insane!"

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No, no, I don't. Only child."

"How's that?"

"It was a bit lonely when I was a kid. But now I've got Riley so it's impossible to feel lonely."

They sat at a table, deciding to share a very large plate of seafood pasta.

"This is kind of a personal question, so you don't have to answer. But did you always want to be a mom?"

"That's not too personal, in my opinion. But yeah. When I found out I was pregnant though, I was really unsure. I was 22 and wanted to do so much more in my life first. But I can do most of those things even with Riley. And if I can't, John is there to watch him for me."

"That's a good way of looking at things. I, uh, I've never dated anyone with a kid."

Tori giggled, "I'm not surprised, Luke. But I'm not asking you to stay around if you don't want to."

They quickly moved on from talking about Riley, talking about their childhoods, favourite movies, and favourite foods.

"Secretariat? The horse movie?" she laughed.

"Don't laugh! It's a good movie!"

"I've never seen it."

"Well, I know what our next date is going to be," Luke's eyes widened as his brain caught up with his mouth, "If- If you want to go on another date. I, uh, I get if you don't want to. No pressure."

"Luke, I'd love to watch Secretariat with you," she smiled, reaching across the table to hold his hand. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I, uh, I'm free tomorrow. If that's not too soon."

"That should work. I just have to pick up Riley at 5, so it'll have to be in the afternoon."

"I'll make sure I'm up then."

"It's okay. I also sleep in on days Riley is with John."

Luke walked Tori up to her apartment, not wanting their night to end. They stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking at each other.

"I had a really good night," she smiled, looking down at her shoes.

"M- Me too. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mhm."

"Can... Can I kiss you?"

"I don't normally kiss on the first date," she smirked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"I'll make an exception for you."

Tori pushed herself up on her tip-toes, leaning in until their noses brushed. She let Luke take the final step, softly pressing their lips together. His were a bit chapped, but she didn't mind. Maybe her lip balm would rub off and help him out. They smiled, breaking the kiss.

"See you tomorrow," she waved goodbye, closing the door as he walked down the hall to the elevator.

"How was it?!" Ally screeched. Tori jumped, holding her hand to her chest.

"Holy shit! I forgot you were here!"

"Okay? How was it?!"

"So good! He's coming over tomorrow. Oh Lord, I have to clean!"

"He's coming over?! You're getting laid?!"

"No, God. Ally, it's our second date. I'm not sleeping with him."

"Why not?! When was the last time you had sex?"

"Um..."

"When did you and John sleep together?"

"Two months ago."

"I still can't believe you did that."

"He looked really hot playing with Riley. And we both hadn't slept with anyone in months. It was just... a mutual release."

Ally shook her head, "Whatever. Two months. You need some dick. And not your ex's."

"Why not? John's-"

"I don't want to hear about John's dick, Victoria."

"Your favourite person ever wouldn't exist without it," she shrugged.

"Riley's the only good thing that came from John. Anywho..."

"We're not sleeping together tomorrow. We're watching his favourite movie."

"Aww! That's so sweet! Look at you!! Finally moving on from Johnny Boy."

"I've been moved on for a while. I'm not sure the same can be said for him."

"He'll figure it out when he sees how happy you are with Luke!"

Tori giggled, "Time to clean up."

"I'll help... if we open a bottle of wine."

"Deal."

Tori was so nervous that she'd refolded the blanket on the back of the sofa at least six times now. She didn't really have company over except Ally and John. She wanted her apartment to look the best it ever had. All of Riley's toys were back in his toy bin and his room, she'd even cleaned the kitchen counter in case Luke went in there for something.

The intercom buzzed and Luke's voice broke through, "It's Luke. Hughes. Luke Hughes. Except I don't think you're expecting another Luke. But, I'm here."

Tori laughed, pressing the button to let him up. Less than a minute later there was a knock at her door. She took a deep breath, swining it open and smiling widely. Luke was in a Devils hoodie and some track pants. Luckily, she was dressed similarly.

"Welcome! I set up the living room for us."

"Perfect," Luke entered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Tori sat on the sofa, Luke boldly sitting right next to her. Their thighs were touching and he had his arm stretched over the back of the leather sofa.

She couldn't help but admire his thighs. That was one thing she loved about hockey boys. Their thighs. It was probably her favourite feature when looking for a guy.

She clicked on Disney+, the app immediately playing Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

"Shit, sorry. Guess that's the last thing we were watching on here."

Luke just laughed, scooting closer to her (if that was possible). She relaxed, cuddling into his side. The movie started and Luke smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose. She blushed, leaning up and connecting their lips in an actual kiss.

"No more kissing. You're going to distract me from the movie," Tori sassed, playfully pushing his face as he went in for another one.

"Fine," he pouted, turning his attention to the movie.

By the time the movie had ended, Tori was practically wrapped around Luke. A loud yawn escaped her.

"Was it that boring? That's my favourite movie we're talking about, Victoria," he feigned anger.

"It was sad. But I liked it. I need a nap though."

"Oh, I can go."

"No, come on. Your comfy," she grabbed his hand, leading him to her bedroom. Luke lay down next to her, allowing her to cuddle into his side, an arm thrown over his chest. She fell asleep almost immediately. He wasn't surprised though. He understood that Riley had been having a sleep regression and it was exhausting for John and Tori. He turned to look at the picture on her bedside table. It was her, Riley, and John at a beach. It looked recent, like it had just been taken over the off season. Tori was holding on of Riley's hands and John was holding the other. They looked like a happy, functional family. And it made Luke's brain run a mile a minute. How come her relationship with John hadn't worked out? Maybe she didn't commitment. Maybe she didn't want something serious. Maybe- A snore cut off his thoughts and he looked down at the sleeping figure in his arms. Why was he worried? She seemed happy. He just needed to not overthink it. Easier said than done.

Luke woke her up at 4:30, shaking her shoulder slightly. She slowly sat up, patting down her messy hair.

"What's up?" she mumbled.

"It's 4:30. I should probably go before John and Riley get here. I don't want to confuse anyone."

"Oh... okay. I, uh, sorry I fell asleep. I haven't had a full night of sleep in what feels like ages."

"You're fine, Tori. You coming to the game on Tuesday?"

"Yeah. I try to bring Riley to most home games. We just never stay long. He gets restless."

"See you then," he kissed her one last time.

"Mama!" Riley ran into Tori's arms.

"Hi, baby! Did you have fun at Dada's?"

"Yes! We 'ockey!"

"You played hockey! That's so fun! Let's get you some dinner!"

"Hungy!"

Tori smiled, standing up to talk to John.

"How was he?"

"You weren't kidding about the sleep. Couldn't get him down until 11 last night. And he was up at 3 and 5."

"Yeah, it's Hell. Did he stay in his cot?"

"Last night he slept in my bed. Night before he slept in his cot until 4."

"Did you use a pacifier?"

"I'm working on not. I know you said you want him to give it up. He used it last night because I could not calm him."

"That's fine. We're coming to the game Tuesday. Can't promise we'll stay after the first period though."

"All good. You wanna stay for dinner?"

"Nah, I'm going to Jack's. See you at the game."

"See you at the game."

John pressed a kiss to her hair, "Come say goodbye to Dada, Riley!"

"Buh-bye, Dada! 'Uv 'oo!"

"I love you too!"

Once the door was closed and locked for the night, Tori put Riley in his booster seat.

"How about mac and cheese?"

"Eese!"

"Let's do it! We're going to go see Dada play hockey in two days! Are you excited?"

"I 'uv 'ockey!"

"I know you do, baby! Mac and cheese time!"

Tori was exhausted Tuesday night as she entered the arena. Riley hadn't slept the last time night for more than 4 hours and was throwing tantrums all day because he was tired. He cried and cried for his dad. Tori eventually had to call John and have him come calm down Riley while she showered. She was on the brink of crying all day Tuesday and the stress of being at the game wasn't helping. But she'd promised John that Riley would be there at least for a little bit. She was chasing him around the family suite, trying to tire the little boy out. He'd started playing with some of the other kids and she finally had a moment to herself.

"Girl, you need a vacation," Reanne sighed, rubbing her friend's back.

"You're telling me. He's been so poorly behaved recently. I just... I'm considering have John move in until he gets over his sleep regression."

"Really?" Nicole gasped, "Are you sure?"

"I'm not sure what my other options are. Call my mom to come. But she hates flying. I'd ask John's parents, but they don't love me since the break up."

"Luke?"

"We've been on two dates! And he's a rookie. He needs his sleep."

"A nanny?"

"I have no money, girl. Child support is a saving grace at the moment."

"I'm sure John would-"

"I'm not asking my ex for money."

"Are you still working for that online newspaper?"

"Yeah, but the pay isn't the best ever. It works for us, but I can't afford a nanny."

"Well, if you need moral support when you talk to John about it, we're all here," one of the other wives smiled kindly.

After the game, John came over for a bit. Tori had texted him and asked for him to come so they could talk. So, now they were tensely sitting at the kitchen table.

"What's up, Tori?"

"I- I need to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"I, um, I need you to move back in for a bit. This... this isn't me asking to get back together. Please don't take it that way. I- I'm seeing Luke now. But Riley has been a lot to handle on my own right now. And I really need help."

"I- I could pay for a nanny. Or-"

"John. I'm asking you as his father not as my ex-boyfriend."

"Right. Um, yeah. I can do that. For how long?"

"Until he's over this sleep regression. We need to tag team it right now. It's too much for one person."

"Let me go to my place and grab some stuff. I'll be back in an hour. Can you set up the sofa for me?"

"Why? You can sleep in my room. It's closer to Riley's."

"Because we're not together?"

"John, I'm not uncomfortable if you aren't. Your the father of my child. It's not weird for me."

"Then it's fine with me. See you in an hour."

God, she hoped this didn't backfire.

#john marino #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #njd imagine

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