#jack looks soft and cozy

[sevennone]

240314 VGK@CGY | pre-game fits

[glitterandhelium]

absolutely bought a yellow sweater cause ritsu had a yellow sweater

[hischierhoney]

I Know Places

Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist

title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!

Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your place, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!

It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-

You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.

Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.

You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.

He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.

You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.

Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.

He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.

“Why th’ fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.

You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”

He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”

You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”

You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”

He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.

He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.

“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”

You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.

“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”

You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.

The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.

….

You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.

There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.

It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.

Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.

Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.

But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.

Text me when you wake up.

That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.

You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-

The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.

“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.

You swallow. “I’m-“

“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.

“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.

“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”

You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”

He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”

And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.

It’s too much.

You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.

“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”

He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.

You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.

You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-

“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”

You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”

You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”

Your gut twists, again. “They will.”

“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”

You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.

“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”

You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.

“We?” You choke out.

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”

We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.

“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”

“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“

“They didn’t,” you cut in.

He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”

You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”

Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.

“I’m coming over,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.

“Me neither,” he says.

You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.

He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.

He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.

Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.

Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.

He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-

“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“

You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.

“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”

A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”

You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.

…..

The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.

Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.

Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.

He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.

You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.

You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.

“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.

He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”

You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.

“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“

“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”

Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.

He’s the kind of person who stays.

He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does, except this.

He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.

You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”

He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.

Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.

You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.

[ssahotchnerr]

An idea for Nanny!reader

R hurting themself (something small) and Jack telling on them to Hotch and after knowing r is fine some playfulness - you know the stuff you’re amazing at

wounds

hehe thank you <3 cw; fem nanny!reader, blood/small injury mentions, small talk of food, mutual pining 🥰🥰

The apartment was warm and inviting as Aaron returned home. The furnace humming, the living room brightly lit, the faint aroma from dinner still lingering. He instantly regretted his choice of staying a bit later at the BAU.

He also wasn't surprised; this is how the apartment always felt whenever you were here. Warm and inviting was who you were as a person. He couldn't remember the last time, prior to your addition in the Hotchners' lives, he had come home to such a calm and cozy atmosphere.

He found the two of you in the dining room; Jack and yourself were huddled over the table, conversing softly as Jack practiced the utter joys of fractions.

"Hey," Aaron greeted you both, shrugging his suit jacket off his shoulders, loosening his tie.

"Hi Dad," Jack kept his head low, continuing on his current problem while your gaze lifted, offering him a welcoming smile.

Aaron rustled his Jack's gently. "Whatcha up to?"

"Homework."

Aaron nodded slowly. And as he did so, his eyes began to study the spread across the surface: a math book, multiple worksheets, a few new-to-Jack books - the two of you must've visited the library this afternoon.

However, something stuck out; his attention fell to your hand, which you were attempting to subtly conceal. You were keeping it close to your body, leaning over the tabletop a little more than usual.

Just as he noticed it, and the initial alarm began going off in his head, it was as if Jack read his mind. He dutifully spoke up, telling his father how you unfortunately managed to cut your finger.

You shot Jack a playful glare, a humorous, 'really?' As a laugh escaped Jack, your eyes connected with Aaron's, your mouth dropping momentarily as you came up with a response. They were full of concern, his eyebrows drawn over his eyes.

By the look on his face, you were convinced he was ready to whisk you away to the closest urgent care.

"It's fine, really." You insisted, waving it off and hoping he would do the same. You weren't one for attention, especially when it came to your highly attractive boss.

But naturally, he didn't. "Let me see."

It was a question; a strained expression pulled onto your face, a do I have to? before Aaron reached out, holding his hand out in the air until you offered your own in defeat.

The second your hand connected with his, a jolt of electricity shot up your arm. You bit down onto your lip, your heart beginning to race and hoping you hadn't visually reacted the way you internally did.

As you expected, (and guilty of thinking many times) his hands were rough, similar to the demeanor an FBI agent would uphold (and to your mild understanding, he was on the authoritative side).

But they also had a softness to them, which made perfect sense as he has displayed nothing but respect and kindness to you. Aaron Hotchner was hard on the exterior, but gentle underneath.

Not only that, your hand fit perfectly into his.

He cradled your hand, carefully observing the bandage you had hastily wrapped around your left index finger. A deep blush developed quickly in your cheeks.

"How did this happen?" His brown eyes lifted to yours. The glint in them so sweet and genuine it caused you to flush more.

Pull it together. "Cutting up some veggies." You managed, taking a small, but very flustered, gulp.

"We had pizza." Jack chimed in, his pencil pausing amidst his worksheet. "To help me with my math."

"Oh," Aaron pointed a soft smile in your direction. Could he quit it before you turned into a puddle? "That's a smart idea."

At the compliment, as small as it was, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks even more. "The perfect way to visually learn."

He was still clutching onto your hand, holding it firmly enough to not cause you any more potential harm, and giving no signs of releasing. You may have been imagining it - your brain fuzzy beyond belief - but you could've sworn the pad of his thumb was brushing back and forth lightly on your palm.

"How long ago was this?"

"Hm, maybe an hour and a half, two hours ago?" You thought back, shrugging lightly.

He seemed pleased with your answer; the bleeding wasn't lasting, nor was it seeping into your bandage. A good sign. "And did you clean it?"

"Who do you think I am?" You teased, but nodded in confirmation. "Thoroughly, yes."

"Well, before you leave tonight, I want to take a better look at it. Change your bandage, apply more Neosporin, all that."

You weren't one to argue, so you nodded as he finally released your hand, mourning the loss of his contact right away.

But at least, a guaranteed moment alone with Aaron was in your near future.

You flashed him a small yet grateful smile, which he returned before his attention switched over to Jack. "Back to work bud. Those fractions aren't going to solve themselves."

"Can we practice with ice cream next?"

[nhlclover]

CHRISTMAS MORNING JACK HUGHES

— event masterlist !

pairing: fem!reader x jack hughes

summary: a cozy christmas morning unfolds for yours and jacks family.

warnings: established relationship + family, you and jack having two kids, brief mention (blink and you miss it) of sex, kissing

wc: 2.59k

notes: final fic of my twelve days of christmas series!! so normally i don't like writing dad fics but this was too cute to not write and i got a little carried away with the world building lol

The first whispers of daylight nudged at the frost-tinged windows, and the faint glow of a winter sunrise spilled into the corners of your bedroom. Sleep was elusive for you and Jack last night. The excitement of Christmas kept your two little ones wide awake, and it took a while to finally coax them into bed. Once they were peacefully asleep, you and Jack spent the next hour arranging presents under the tree, carefully crafting the illusion that Santa had visited your living room in the quiet hours of the night.

The dim light of dawn filtered in, teasing the edges of consciousness. Everything was peacefully silent… until it wasn’t. A cacophony of squeals and laughter accompanies the patter of small feet that gets louder and louder. Before you can even form a coherent thought, the sound of your bedroom door bursting open and hitting the wall pierces the quiet, followed by two bodies hurtling onto the bed with unbridled glee.

“Santa came! Santa came!” Ellie’s voice, sharp and jubilant, rings out like a bell, while Grayson’s higher-pitched laughter trails behind her declaration. Their small hands tug at the covers, and with them, any last shred of warmth and sleep you hoped to cling to.

Jack stirred beside you, his groggy groan muffled by a pillow he had instinctively tried to use as a shield. You glanced at the side table, the digital clock reading 7:28. You squint against the dim light and see Elliott bouncing on her knees, her strawberry-blonde curls wild from sleep, her eyes wide with the wonder of a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Beside her, Grayson is less coordinated but no less enthusiastic, flopping down on Jack’s chest before scrambling up again to pull at his arm.

“Up, Daddy!” Grayson exclaims, his chubby toddler hands gripping Jack’s wrist as if sheer determination will pull his father from the depths of exhaustion.

Jack tossed the pillow shielding his face to the side, turning towards you. His hair tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly boyish despite the years. Jack’s voice, thick with sleep but carrying a soft smile, rumbled through the early-morning chaos. “You hear that? Santa came,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple.

“Mommy, you have to come see!” Ellie insisted, her excitement bubbling over as she crawled up the bed, clambering over your body. She leaned perilously close to your face, her freckled nose inches from yours. “There’s a HUGE one under the tree! It’s got a gold bow and red wrapping and I think it’s for me!”

Grayson, not to be outdone, shifted his efforts from Jack to you. He pulled the duvet off of your torso, the air outside the bed’s cocoon biting against your skin where the covers had been yanked away. “Come, Mommy, hurry!” His blue eyes, so much like Jack’s, sparkled with the kind of joy that only a three-year-old could summon.

You sighed, a mixture of amusement and resignation, and began to prop yourself up on your elbows. Jack, catching the motion out of the corner of his eye, placed a hand lightly on your shoulder, his warm fingertips a contrast to cold air outside the bed. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice still heavy with sleep but carrying an undercurrent of tenderness. “You stay, I’ll get the coffee going. You can take your time.”

The thought was tempting, but Ellie’s insistent tugging had grown more urgent. “Mommy, pleeease! You have to see it! Santa ate all the cookies, and—” she paused for dramatic effect, her eyes widening. “—there are glittery reindeer footprints on the rug!”

“Okay, okay,” Jack said, his tone halfway between indulgence and resignation. “How about a deal? You two go check under the tree — make sure Santa didn’t leave anything behind — and I’ll start making breakfast.” He glanced at you, his blue eyes soft with a silent promise of a few stolen moments of peace. “Mommy will be right behind you. Deal?”

Elliott pouted for half a second before nodding solemnly, the gravity of the proposal weighing on her like a proper contract. “Deal! Come on, Gray!” She scrambled off the bed with impressive speed, dragging her brother by the hand as they bolted for the door, their laughter echoing down the hall.

The sudden quiet was almost deafening. Jack sighed, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw as he glanced at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. “That bought us, what — five minutes?” he joked, leaving the warmth of the bed with a reluctant groan. The sheets slipped away to reveal the lean, sleep-warm lines of his torso.

Your gaze lingered on him as he stretched, his movements slow and fluid, the soft light tracing the sharp lines of his shoulders and the taut planes of his back. There was something about the unguarded ease of mornings like these — the way his hair stuck up slightly at odd angles, the curve of his mouth as he let out a contented sigh, and the way his skin held the remnants of sleep’s warmth.

Jack reached for the pair of sweats draped over the chair by the window, the muscles in his arms shifting as he stepped into them. You felt a familiar tug in your chest, that quiet, magnetic pull of affection mixed with admiration. It wasn’t just his physicality, though that certainly caught your attention—it was the unassuming way he carried himself, the effortlessness with which he balanced the roles of husband and father, and somehow still managed to look like a scene from a romantic film first thing in the morning.

As he tossed on a hoodie, Jack caught you watching, a corner of his mouth quirking into a knowing smile as he brushed a hand through his hair.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice low and playful.

You rolled your eyes, though the curve of your lips betrayed you. “Just wondering how you manage to look that good on no sleep,” you said, your tone light but honest.

He chuckled, crossing the room to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a heartbeat. “Must be a Christmas miracle.” he joked.

Jack crossed the room, shutting the door softly behind him. You sank back into the pillows for a moment, listening to the distant sound of childish giggles and screeches as your kids no doubt were scanning the bags and boxes to figure out which gifts were for them. The corner of your lips lifted as you pictured the scene awaiting you—a tree lit with soft, golden lights, stockings bursting with trinkets, and two wide-eyed children tearing into the carefully wrapped gifts with all the patience of a wild storm.

Pulling yourself from the cozy embrace of the duvet, you slipped your legs over the side of the bed, toes brushing against the cool hardwood. You reached for the flannel Christmas pajamas Jack had tugged off you last night in a quiet moment of intimacy when the house finally stilled, the soft fabric a buffer against the morning chill. You padded to the bathroom, running a brush through your hair until it framed your face in somewhat manageable waves. A quick splash of water on your face, teeth brushed, and you were as ready as you could be for the whirlwind downstairs.

The air smelled faintly of coffee as you descended the stairs, the creak of the wooden steps masked by the symphony of excited whispers and the occasional shriek of joy. Peering into the living room, you caught sight of Elliott and Grayson darting around the tree like two joyful fireflies, their small hands flipping over tags on the presents.

“Gray! This one says ‘To Grayson, Love Santa!’” Ellie shouted, holding up a package wrapped in bright red paper adorned with tiny reindeer.

Grayson’s eyes widened as he reached for it, though Jack, stepping in with his mug of coffee, quickly intercepted. “Not yet, buddy. Stockings first. Rules are rules.”

He glanced up as you entered, his face softening into that effortless smile you loved so much. “Just in time, your mugs on the counter.”

You swiped the mug from the island, indulging in the bitterness. “Mommy, hurry!” Ellie called from the living room, already tugging at the corner of her stocking. Grayson was next to her, arms deep in his own stocking, pulling out a small car with a delighted squeal.

You joined them, sitting cross-legged on the floor as you helped the kids unpack their stockings. Small toys, chocolates, and even a few practical gifts — like socks — were met with equal excitement.

After stockings, you and Jack quickly whipped up pancakes, eggs, and bacon while the kids played with the toys they’d received in their stockings. At the table, the kids barely sat still, vibrating with excitement as they ate just enough to be excused. The table was cleared quickly, plates rinsed and stacked, and then it was time for the main event.

You and Jack settled onto the couch, mugs in hand, as Elliott and Grayson dove headfirst into the pile of presents under the tree. Wrapping paper flew in all directions, accompanied by shrieks of joy as each wish list item was uncovered. A Barbie dreamhouse for Ellie. A set of dinosaur figurines for Grayson. A remote-controlled car. A glittery art kit. You and Jack exchanged amused glances, your hearts full as you watched their unfiltered joy.

Jack leaned close, his arm brushing against yours as he whispered, “This is my favorite part.”

“Mine too,” you replied softly, watching the kids with a warmth that spread through your chest.

After what felt like hours of watching the kids revel in their treasures, Jack stood and walked over to the tree. He crouched down, sifting through the remaining gifts before pulling out a small box wrapped in silver paper. Turning to you with a boyish grin, he said, “This one’s for you. From me.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your coffee aside as you accepted the box. “Is this something I can open in front of the kids?” you teased, giving him a playful smirk.

Jack laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, you can open it in front of the kids. I promise.”

The kids crowded around you, their faces alight with curiosity. You peeled back the paper, revealing a plain black jewelry box. Your heart skipped as you flipped it open — only to reveal not a necklace or earrings, but a single car key. Your eyes widened, disbelief etched across your face as you glanced from the key to Jack. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Jack said, his grin widening as he motioned towards the front door. “Go look in the driveway.”

The kids were on their feet before you, racing to the door with cries of “What is it? What is it?” trailing behind them. You followed, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. You slipped on your uggs, opened the door and stepped on the porch, the cold morning air rushing against your cheeks, though you didn’t really notice.

Because there, in your driveway, was a brand-new Cadillac Escalade parked in the driveway, its polished black exterior gleaming in the sunlight. A massive red bow sat proudly on the hood, the ribbon fluttering slightly in the breeze.

You froze, your brain struggling to process what your eyes were telling you. Jack was at your side now, his hands resting casually in his pockets, his expression one of quiet pride. “Jack,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “did you seriously buy me a new car?”

He grinned, his gaze steady. “You were due for an upgrade. And you deserve the best, always.”

You turned to him, your heart so full it threatened to burst. “I — Jack, this is too much. It’s gorgeous.”

He shrugged, his tone light. “It’s got room for the kids, especially since they’re growing and Ellie just started hockey… And, y’know…” He paused, his eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “Extra space. In case we want to expand the roster.”

The implication hung in the crisp air for a moment before you burst into laughter, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re welcome,” he replied, leaning in to kiss your temple.

Jack intercepted both Ellie and Grayson before they ran out in their socks, helping them into their winter boots. The kids’ squeals of excitement broke the moment as they darted down the steps of the porch toward the car, their tiny boots crunching against the frost-dusted driveway.

Ellie, impatient as ever, tugged at the door handle but stopped short when she realized it was locked. “Mommy, you have the key!” she hollered, hopping up and down in place.

You hurried down the steps, the car key still clutched in your hand. With a click of the key fob, the Escalade’s lights flashed and the doors unlocked. Ellie let out a triumphant cheer, yanking the door open with all the strength her five-year-old frame could muster. “It’s HUGE!” she exclaimed, climbing inside and sprawling across the back seat.

Grayson toddled after her, his shorter legs struggling to hoist him into the car. Jack reached down and gave him a boost, settling him beside Ellie.

Jack turned to you with a raised brow. “What do you think? Roomy enough?” His tone was casual, but you could see the hope in his expression, the eagerness to hear your thoughts.

You took a slow step forward, running your hand over the smooth, glossy paint. “Jack… it’s incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you love it,” he replied, leaning casually against the car with his hands tucked into his hoodie pocket. His smile was easy, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes that told you how much thought he’d put into this moment.

“I love it,” you said, your voice soft with sincerity. “But I love you more.”

His smile deepened, and he pulled you into a quick hug, his arms warm and steady around you. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Ellie’s voice interrupted the moment as she leaned into the front of the car. “Daddy! It has a screen! And buttons!” She pointed to the touch screen in the center console, her small fingers hovering over it like it was a treasure chest of untold riches. “Can I push one?”

“Not yet, El,” Jack said with a laugh. “Let’s figure out what they do first, okay?”

Grayson clambered into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “I drive!” he announced, his voice filled with authority.

“Oh no you don’t, buddy,” you said, opening the driver's seat door and scooping him up before he could start pressing buttons. He giggled as you twirled him in the air, placing him in the back beside Ellie.

Jack leaned against the car, watching the kids explore with the fascination only children could bring to something new. “I can already see this thing covered in crumbs and sticky fingerprints by the end of the week,” he joked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You laughed, leaning into him. “Probably.”

Jack wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both watched the kids giggle and chatter excitedly. The car was beautiful, but it was this moment — the shared joy, the love that radiated from your little family — that made it priceless.

You turned to Jack, resting a hand against his chest. “You spoil me, you know that?”

“Just giving you what you deserve,” he replied, his voice soft with affection.

“Careful,” you teased, “you’re setting the bar pretty high for next Christmas.”

Jack grinned, leaning in to press a soft but loving kiss to your lips. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

[pucked-bunnie]

un-offical ⎜j.hughes

pairings: jack hughes x reader genre: romance ⎜situationship to lovers ⎜christmas special ⎜ warnings: readers ex being a jerk ⎜ jack being a doberman boyfriend ⎜ this is honestly just short and sweet synopsis: things with jack are complicated at the best of times - but they're about to get even worse when he meets your ex boyfriend at your families annual christmas party word count: 3.9k authors note:  this was a combination of two requests i thought went really well together - I hope you all enjoy!! Happy Christmas season!

(unedited)

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“Hon, there is someone at the door for you.” Your mum calls through the house, her voice casual yet carrying that sing-song lilt she used when she knew something was about to stir up excitement. You shoot to your feet, the soft rustle of your dress swishing against your ankles as you jog to the front door. You give her a quick nod of thanks as she drifts away, leaving you alone to handle the unexpected arrival. Standing in front of the door, you take a steadying breath, smoothing your dress and running a hand through your hair to make yourself look a bit more composed. Then, with a slight smile, you pull it open.

“Hey, didn’t think you’d make it,” you greet, the words sliding off your tongue with practiced ease. It’s a lie, of course. You’d been tracking his location on Find My Friends only minutes ago, and the little dot marking his presence had been slowly inching closer to your house, sending a flutter of nerves through your chest. But the moment Jack steps into view, all of those feelings morph into a warm kind of familiarity. There he stands, a neatly wrapped present in his hands, his white button-down pristine and tucked into tailored black slacks. His hair, as always, has that perfectly messy charm, and his grin is enough to light up even the frostiest winter night.

“Come in, come in, it’s freezing out there,” you say, stepping aside to usher him into the entryway. The air outside bites at your skin, a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of your home, but Jack’s presence brings an added heat—an unspoken connection that’s been brewing for months.

“I managed to squeeze it into my schedule,” Jack jokes, his tone light but his eyes sincere. That, too, is a lie. You know it, and he knows it. The moment you had mentioned your family’s annual Christmas party weeks ago, he had cleared his calendar without a second thought. The idea of being here, of being with you in a space so intimate and familial, was something he couldn’t resist. “I…um, got this for you.” Jack says softly, handing over the small present. 

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the air from the living room. “Is that Jack?” your younger cousin, Emily, calls out, poking her head around the corner. Her face lights up the moment she sees him, and Jack waves, his easy charm working its magic as always. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s Jack,” you confirm, and she’s gone as quickly as she appeared, probably to alert the rest of the family of his arrival. Your stomach flips slightly at the thought. Having Jack here is already complicated enough, given the undefined nature of your relationship. Your family, however, has an uncanny way of reading between lines that don’t even exist yet.

"They're expecting a lot of photos tonight." You say with a chuckle - your hand reaching out to slip into his. “Don't say I didn't warn you,” you tease, leading him into the living room. The scent of pine, cinnamon, and freshly baked cookies fills the air, wrapping around the two of you like a comforting blanket. Jack’s eyes wander, taking in the twinkling lights on the tree, the garlands strung along the bannisters, and the small army of cousins bustling around in various stages of sugar highs.

Just as Jack is about to say something, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, cutting through the festive chatter like a needle scraping across a record. You freeze. For a moment, you think about ignoring it, but your mum’s voice rings out again. “Hon, could you get that?” she calls, and your stomach twists with a sense of foreboding.

You glance at Jack, who raises an eyebrow in curiosity but stays silent. With a sigh, you make your way back to the front door. The moment you open it, the air seems to drain from your lungs. Standing there, a crooked grin on his face and a bottle of wine in hand, is your ex-boyfriend.

“Surprise,” he says, his voice tinged with that familiar cocky confidence that used to charm you but now only makes your pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons. You’re too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to understand why he’s here.

“Tyler? What are you doing here?” you manage to ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Your mum invited me. Said it’d be nice to catch up.”

“Of course she did,” you mutter under your breath, stepping aside to let him in. He’s barely in the entryway when Jack appears, his presence filling the space and immediately shifting the dynamic. His warm smile fades slightly as his eyes dart from you to the man now standing too close for comfort.

“Jack, this is, uh…this is Tyler,” you say, the awkwardness of the introduction making your cheeks flush. “Tyler this is Jack.” Tyler extends a hand, his expression unreadable. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, though his tone suggests the opposite. Jack hesitates for only a fraction of a second before shaking his hand firmly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

“Likewise,” Jack replies, his voice calm but his eyes sharp. The tension between them is palpable, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the situation.

“Do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar,” Tyler says, his grin returning as he doesn’t wait for Jack to respond, immediately greeted by the rest of your family as he steps further into the house, leaving you and Jack standing by the door. Jack’s gaze lingers on Tyler’s retreating figure before he turns to you, his expression softening slightly.

“Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Welcome to my life,” you reply, your tone half-joking but your heart pounding as you realise the evening is only just beginning.

Jack doesn’t say anything as the two of you move back toward the living room, but you can feel the shift in his energy. His easy-going demeanour has been replaced by a quiet alertness, his jaw tight, his hands slipping into his pockets as if to ground himself. You can’t blame him. Tyler has always had a way of commanding attention, whether or not it’s welcome.

And Jack? Well, Jack isn’t the type to back down from a challenge—even one that hasn’t been fully issued yet.

When you re-enter the living room, Tyler’s already making himself at home. He’s perched on the edge of the couch, chatting animatedly with your dad about some mutual interest in sports, the bottle of wine he brought resting on the coffee table like a trophy. The room buzzes with holiday cheer, but for you, the atmosphere is anything but jolly.

Jack hangs back slightly, his gaze fixed on Tyler. The subtle scrutiny in his eyes makes your stomach twist. You know Jack well enough to know he’s piecing things together, every detail adding fuel to the silent fire building between them.

You’re about to steer Jack toward the other side of the room when Tyler’s voice cuts through the conversation.

“Hold on a second,” he says, leaning back on the couch and pointing a finger in Jack’s direction. “Now I know where I’ve seen you before.”

The room goes quiet, all eyes flicking between the two men. Jack, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. He merely raises an eyebrow, his posture calm but commanding.

“You’re Jack Hughes,” Tyler says, a slow grin spreading across his face as if he’s just uncovered some great secret

“New Jersey Devils, right? My buddies and I are huge fans.”

Jack offers a polite nod, his expression unreadable. “That’s me.”

Tyler lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head in mock amazement. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d run into an NHL star at a Christmas party. Small world, huh?”

You feel Jack’s gaze flicker toward you for a moment, as if seeking reassurance. But before you can say anything, Tyler leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“So, how do you two know each other?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes alight with something more probing.

You open your mouth to answer, but Jack beats you to it.

“We met through mutual friends,” he says smoothly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Been close ever since.”

There’s something in the way he says it—something deliberate—that makes your heart skip a beat. Tyler catches it too, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovers.

“Close, huh?” Tyler repeats, leaning back again. His gaze slides to you, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s not the type to let things go easily, especially when it comes to you.

“Yup,” you say quickly, trying to defuse the tension. “Jack’s been a great friend.”

Jack’s eyes dart to you, and for a brief moment, you swear you see a flicker of something unspoken there—something that contradicts the word friend.

“Friend,” Tyler echoes, his tone light but with an edge that makes your skin crawl. He looks back at Jack, his smile widening. “Well, I guess that makes you one of the lucky ones. This family’s not exactly easy to crack into.”

Jack chuckles, the sound low and deliberate. “I guess I’ve got a knack for that.”

The subtle back-and-forth isn’t lost on anyone in the room. Your dad clears his throat and starts up a conversation with your aunt to break the tension, while your cousins exchange wide-eyed glances, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

You, on the other hand, feel like you’re standing on a tightrope, one wrong step away from sending the whole evening spiralling out of control.

As the night progresses, Tyler continues to insert himself into every interaction, his charm dialled up to maximum.

But Jack doesn’t back down. He’s there, steady and unshaken, his quiet confidence cutting through Tyler’s bravado in ways you’re sure only the two of them fully understand.

At one point, Tyler corners you in the kitchen under the guise of catching up. “So,” he says, his voice low as he leans casually against the counter. “Hughes seems…interesting. You two really just friends?”

You glare at him, your patience wearing thin. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Tyler says with a shrug, but the smirk tugging at his lips says otherwise. “Just curious. Guy like that, I’m sure he’s got plenty of options.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “Jack’s not like that.”

Tyler chuckles, his eyes narrowing slightly. “If you say so.” 

“Why are you even here, Tyler? What made you think it was a good idea to come to your ex-girlfriend’s families christmas party.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead lightly. 

“I told you, you’re mum invi—” 

“Forget the fucking invitation… A normal person would’ve said no.” You hiss, slapping his hand away as he reaches out to place it on your thigh. 

“Maybe I wanted to see if we could fix things - I miss you, baby.” Before you can respond, Jack appears in the doorway, his presence filling the small kitchen like a protective shield.

“Everything okay in here?” he asks, his tone light but his eyes locked on Tyler. The word ‘baby’ echoing around his head as his eyebrows furrow. You let out another long sigh, slapping at Tylers hand again as he tries to reach for you. 

“Peachy,” Tyler says, pushing off the counter and brushing past Jack with a pointed pat on the shoulder. “We’ll finish this later,” he adds, throwing the comment over his shoulder as he disappears back into the living room.

Jack watches him go, his jaw tight. Then he turns to you, his expression softening. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, though your voice wavers slightly. “He’s just…Tyler.” Jack doesn’t press further, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not about to let Tyler ruin the night—or whatever it is the two of you have been carefully building.

As the evening winds down, the tension between Jack and Tyler remains unspoken but undeniable. And its as jack follows you around the kitchen helping place the dishes in the dishwasher at the end of the night, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of relief—like you’ve made it through a storm together.

“Thanks for coming,” you say softly, your breath visible in the cold night air.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Jack replies, his voice warm and steady. For a moment, neither of you moves, the world around you falling away. Then, with a small smile, Jack leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just a second longer than they need to.

The night stretched on, the warmth of the party doing little to ease the nerves that Tyler’s presence had stirred up. He seemed determined to inject himself into every conversation, his charm dialled up for your family’s sake, but every so often, you’d catch his eyes lingering on you, his smirk creeping back like an unwanted shadow.

Jack, on the other hand, was the epitome of steady confidence. He stayed close but never possessive, moving easily among your family members, cracking jokes with your cousins, and even helping your mum carry dessert platters from the kitchen. But his watchful gaze never strayed far from you, especially when Tyler was nearby.

You did your best to avoid being caught alone with Tyler, but the tension was wearing you thin. By the time dessert had been served, you needed a moment to yourself. Slipping out the back door, you welcomed the sharp bite of the winter air, hoping it would clear your head.

The backyard was quiet, the snow glistening under the faint glow of the string lights your dad had hung along the patio railing. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your sweater, when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” Tyler said, his tone smooth as he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed, your breath fogging in the cold. “What do you want, Tyler?”

“To talk,” he said, moving closer. “Just you and me. Like old times.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied sharply, backing away slightly. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Come on, babe,” he said, his grin widening. “You can’t tell me you don’t miss it. Us. The way we used to be.”

Your patience snapped. “You mean the way you used to lie and manipulate me? No, Tyler, I don’t miss that.”

His grin faltered, his eyes narrowing. “You’re being dramatic. You’re seriously going to let some hockey star replace me?” You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Tyler took another step closer, his voice dropping.

“I still love you. You know that, right? We could fix this. Just say the word.”

You froze, disgust bubbling up in your chest. “No, Tyler. There’s nothing to fix.”

He reached out, his hand brushing your arm, and you flinched away. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

“Everything okay out here?” Jack’s voice cut through the tension like a knife - for the second time that night. You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on Tyler with a sharp, unreadable intensity.

Tyler dropped his hand, his smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just catching up,” he said casually, his tone dripping with false innocence.

Jack stepped down onto the patio, his calm demeanour doing nothing to hide the tension radiating from him. “Didn’t look like that to me.”

“Relax,” Tyler said, straightening. “We’re just talking. No need to get all territorial.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to you. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice wavered. “Tyler was just leaving.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow, really? You’re gonna let him speak for you now?”

Jack took another step forward, his posture unwavering. “She doesn’t need to explain herself to you. You heard her. Leave.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you thought Tyler might actually swing.

But then he scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. I’m out,” he said, brushing past Jack and bumping his shoulder in the process. “But don’t think this is over.”

As Tyler disappeared back inside, Jack turned to you, his concern evident. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but the knot in your chest tightened as frustration bubbled to the surface. “Why did you bother stepping in, Jack? I could’ve handled it.”

Jack frowned, his expression hardening. “Because he wasn’t listening to you, and I wasn’t about to stand there and let him intimidate you.”

“I didn’t need you to play the hero,” you snapped, the adrenaline making your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything.”

Jack froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression shifting from surprise to something deeper—something hurt.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “You’re not. But I care about you. And I wasn’t going to let him treat you like that.”

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, but your frustration hadn’t fully burned out. “I didn’t ask you to care, Jack. This was my problem to deal with.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Maybe you didn’t ask, but I’m here anyway. Because I want to be. Because you deserve better than him.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the icy wind biting at your skin. Finally, you sighed, your shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…tired of all this.”

Jack’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing your arm lightly. “I get it,” he said gently. “But you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

His words settled over you like a warm blanket, and for the first time that night, the tension in your chest began to ease. You looked up at him, your breath hitching as you met his gaze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Jack offered a small smile, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled back. “Come on,” he said, his voice lightening. “Let’s get back inside before your mum starts sending out search parties.” You laughed softly, nodding as you followed him back toward the house. The warmth of the party enveloped you as you stepped inside, but the real comfort was the steady presence of the man beside you.

As the night wound down, the atmosphere in the house gradually shifted back to the cozy warmth you had hoped for. Tyler had left not long after his confrontation with Jack, throwing a half-hearted goodbye to the room before disappearing out the front door. His absence was a relief, like a storm cloud finally clearing, leaving the air lighter and easier to breathe.

Jack, ever the charmer, stayed grounded and helpful, seamlessly blending into the group. He helped your dad carry a stack of empty trays to the kitchen, indulged your youngest cousin in a surprisingly competitive game of charades, and even won over your aunt with a discussion about her favourite holiday baking show. But no matter how relaxed he seemed, his presence remained tethered to you, as though he was silently letting you know he was there, ready to step in if needed.

The evening began to quiet as guests filtered out, hugs and cheerful goodbyes exchanged at the front door. Your cousins had retreated upstairs to play video games, your parents were tidying up in the kitchen, and the glow of the fireplace bathed the living room in a soft, flickering light.

Jack stood near the mantle, inspecting one of the framed family photos with an amused smile. You watched him for a moment, your heart softening as the warmth of his presence settled over you.

“You’re really good with them, you know,” you said as you approached, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly. “With who?”

“My family,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I think my aunt is ready to adopt you. And my cousins… I haven’t seen them this hyped about charades in years.”

Jack chuckled, leaning casually against the mantle. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

A comfortable silence fell between you again, the crackle of the fire filling the space. You glanced around the room, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingering in the air. Your gaze landed on a small sprig of mistletoe hanging above the archway leading into the foyer.

Jack followed your line of sight, his eyes landing on the mistletoe as well. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Really? You’re the one who leaves mistletoe up?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Blame my mum. She’s the one who insists on the ‘holiday charm.’”

Jack took a slow step forward, closing the small distance between you. His expression softened, the teasing edge giving way to something more sincere. “Holiday charm, huh?” You felt your pulse quicken as he stopped just a step away, the warmth of him radiating in the cool room. The mistletoe loomed above, a quiet reminder of the tradition it carried.

“It’s silly,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Maybe,” Jack said softly, his eyes locked on yours. “But I don’t think I mind.”

His gaze flickered briefly to your lips, and your breath hitched, the world around you fading into the background. The glow of the fire, the faint hum of holiday music from the other room—it all blurred into nothing as Jack leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you a chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and electric, a perfect blend of warmth and tenderness. Your hands found their way to his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt grounding you as the kiss deepened ever so slightly.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, a small smile curving his lips.

“If you call me your friend one more time I might throw myself off the roof,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You laughed softly, your cheeks flushing as you shook your head. “We’re not friends?.”

“Not even close.” Jack’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press another soft kiss to your lips before pulling back completely.

The sound of your mum’s voice carried from the kitchen, breaking the spell. “Hon, is Jack staying for hot chocolate before he leaves?” You exchanged a glance with Jack, both of you smiling as the moment settled between you like a secret.

“I think I’ve got time for a cup,” Jack said, his voice warm as he took your hand, leading you back toward the living room.

The night had been a whirlwind, full of tension and unexpected twists, but as you sat beside Jack on the couch, sipping hot chocolate and stealing glances at him, you couldn’t help but feel like it had all led to this—something new and quietly wonderful blossoming between you.

[freeabortionslol]

cozy pinterest time (a lake house series fic)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

parings: luke hughes x reader, quinn hughes x reader, jack mentioned summary: fluff! reader and luke get bundled up during the christmas lake house trip to scroll through pinterest warnings!! cursing a/n: FIRST LAKE HOUSE CHRISTMAS FIC AHHHH I have more to come!! this one dives into her dynamic with luke, along with jack and quinn wc: 3.9k lake house series masterlist

Luke’s room was shoved in between yours and Jack’s. Jack got the bigger bedroom, of course, considering he shared ownership of the lake house with Quinn. Quinn’s master bedroom sat downstairs by the kitchen, something almost everyone in the house was jealous of. Trevor and Cole had a room tucked in the back of the house, one that was big enough for the both of them to share after the bedroom fiasco of last summer. Quinn was upset that his office would be turned into another bedroom, but when he remembered the tired look in your eyes after sharing a room with Trevor and Cole, he was quick to give it up. Upstairs, you and Luke’s rooms connected with a bathroom in between. Luke knew the rules- he knew to knock loudly before entering, and he knew not to enter between the hours of 9pm and 9:20pm because that’s when you’d shower. You were a good person to share a wall with. You weren’t loud, you didn’t snore, and you definitely didn’t fuck, loudly almost every night. Unfortunately, Luke also shared a wall with Jack and he did all of those things. Luke was curled up in his bed, hoodie over his head as he scrolled through instagram. He really tried to drown out the sound of Jack with his new puck bunny in his room, but it was impossible. He scoffed, stepping out of his bed quickly. It wasn’t too late, about 11pm. No one was asleep quite yet, but the day was dying down. Luke knocked on the bathroom door and walked in when he didn’t get a response. He could see the soft light glowing from your door, hearing the faint sounds of christmas music. He knocked on your door twice before hearing a quiet. “Come in,” He opened the door, stepping into your room just a foot. He glanced at you curled up in your bed, sitting against the headboard. You had a Devil’s hoodie on, the hood over your head. You were surrounded by a plethora of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, laptop on your lap. The soft glow from both of your bedside lamps bathed the entire room in cozy, warm light as quiet christmas music streamed from your speaker. 

“Hey,” You said, glancing up from your laptop at Luke. He had his arms crossed, his curls poking out from underneath his hood. “What’s up?” 

Luke sighed, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you. “Jack and whatever that girl’s name is are fucking.” Your brows furrowed as you listened. “Like really loudly.” He said with an annoyed tone, slightly swaying his body side to side.

You pouted your lip, trying your best not to cringe as hard as you wanted to. “Aw, poor baby.” You said gently. “No one should have to hear that. Do you want to hang out with me?” Luke’s eyes lit up in an instant. He quickly got in your bed, making himself comfortable under the covers next to you. You smiled gently as he leaned back against the headboard. 

“It’s so cold in this house.” He said before shivering slightly.

You let out a gentle laugh, glancing over at him. “I know, that’s why I have so many blankets.” You pulled up another blanket, placing it over Luke’s lap. “Get comfy.” Luke took the blanket gladly, settling in further to your bed. You turned your attention back to your laptop, taking a sip of your water from the nightstand. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Luke asked, his tone laced with curiosity. 

“Cozy pinterest time.” You said like it was the most known thing in the world. Luke’s brows furrowed as he leaned his head on your shoulder, trying to get a better look at your laptop. He saw the page full of pictures of kitchens, bedrooms, room decor, and decorations as you scrolled through.

“What's-” He paused, taking a moment to clear his throat. “Cozy pinterest time?” 

You let out a soft laugh, shifting your laptop an inch closer to him. “Every night when everything dies down, I get all cozy in my bed with christmas music and hot chocolate, and I scroll through pinterest.” Luke looked over to you whose eyes were locked on the screen, and then down at the laptop in front of him.

He smacked his lips, still trying to understand. “So, you just look at pictures?”

“Yes, and save them into boards.” Luke inched closer as you spoke, his head still rested on your shoulder. “This is my christmas board, then I have my lake house board, my beach house board, my NYC apartment board, and so many others.” You glanced down at him, his eyes still on the screen. “It's just like-...ideas for stuff.”

Luke nodded slowly, still looking slightly perplexed but intrigued. “So, like...you just imagine all these lives in all these places?” he asked, voice quieter now, as if trying not to disturb the cozy bubble you’d created.

You shrugged softly. “Yeah, kind of. It’s like...planning out a future that might never happen, or just enjoying the aesthetic of it. Sometimes I’ll see a pretty living room and think, ‘If I ever get my own house, maybe I’ll decorate it like that.’ Or I’ll see a rustic kitchen and think it would be perfect for a lake house meal, you know?” You scrolled a bit, pointing out a particularly warm-toned living room scene. “See this? Picture it. A fire crackling, big blankets everywhere, mugs of cocoa on the table, and everyone piled on the couches telling stories.” You paused, glancing down at Luke. “It’s kind of fun to think about.” 

Luke let out a soft hum, his shoulders relaxing further as he pulled the blankets closer around him. He was quiet for a moment, processing. “I never really understood Pinterest,” he admitted, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his tone. “My ex-girlfriend was always on it. She once tried to show me her wedding board and it freaked me out.” He cringed a little, making you stifle a laugh. 

You patted his arm reassuringly. “Wedding boards can be intense,” you agreed, eyes dancing with amusement. “But this is just about comfort and inspiration. No pressure.” 

He looked back at the screen, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “This one’s nice,” he said, nodding at an image of a small cabin living room draped in fairy lights and evergreen garlands. “It’s like...if we had a smaller lake house, just for Christmas. Not so many people, not so much noise.” You tilted your head, catching the wistful note in his voice. Luke was younger, and sometimes you forgot he experienced this house and these family gatherings a bit differently. With all the commotion, Luke often floated in a middle space, old enough to understand the chaos, young enough to still crave the simpler comforts.

“Exactly,” you said softly. “It’s imagining all these little retreats where life’s simpler, quieter. Maybe no late-night hockey gear lying around, no weird hookups through the wall.” You scrunched your nose, making him chuckle quietly. “Hey, go get your laptop. We can pinterest at the same time.” Luke lifted his head, looking at you with a slight smile before racing to his room. He returned, laptop in hand, quickly making his way back to the bed. He sat next to you, both of you against the headboard. You helped when he got his laptop open, making him an account to save his ideas. The two of you fell into this cozy moment, the small christmas tree in the corner making his eyes sparkle a bit. Luke would lean over ever so often and say something like, “Wouldn’t this look good in my apartment?” or “This, but like in the foyer of the lake house.” You were happy to have a pinteresting buddy, and you were thankful that Luke was able to sit there for a long period of time and manage to stay quiet. The soft hum of christmas music played in the background, grounding you slightly as you tried not to think about Jack and his lady friend. You were managing your lake house board when you heard the door knock.

“Come in,” You said softly. The door opened gently, telling you that it wasn’t Jack, Cole, or Trevor. Quinn stood there, not having noticed Luke yet.

“Hey sun-” he started before glancing over at Luke. He let out a soft chuckle. “What are you guys doing?”

“Cozy pinterest time.” Luke said, his eyes not leaving his screen. 

Quinn leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a small, bemused grin. “Cozy pinterest time, huh?” he repeated, his tone gentle and teasing all at once.

Luke scoffed quietly. “You wouldn’t get it.” He mumbled. Quinn let out another soft chuckle as he made his way to your side of the bed. He leaned his head down, his hand resting on the headboard as he looked at your screen. 

“It’s uh…ideas for the lake house.” You said, whipping your head over to Quinn. He was staring at you, not your screen. It was a gentle surprise when you turned your head, seeing your faces were now only inches apart. Your cheeks flushed slightly at the sudden intimacy, trying to keep yourself content.

Quinn licked his lips, smiling softly. “Looks good,”

Your heart did a small flip at the closeness, the faint scent of Quinn’s cologne lingering in the small space between you. You managed a quiet smile, trying to focus back on the laptop. “It’s just a few designs,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of self-consciousness. “Some decorations, maybe some new furniture for the living room next summer.” Quinn nodded his head, his lips pursing slightly. “Hey, Quinny. While you’re up, could you get us some hot chocolates please?” You said with a pleading tone. 

Quinn’s brows furrowed as he stood up. “And, why would I do that?”

You and Luke looked at each other before turning back to Quinn with a pouty lip. “Because you love us.”

​​Quinn raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your playful antics. He couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his lips as he looked between you and Luke. “You two are dangerous when you team up, you know that?” You both just exchanged a knowing glance, completely synchronized in your effort to charm him.

“Please?” You added, your voice soft, almost like a challenge, as you leaned back against the headboard, batting your lashes dramatically. 

Luke joined in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “You’re basically the king of hot chocolate, Quinn. Can’t let us down now.” 

Quinn’s face softened as he sighed, clearly not immune to the collective force of your charm. He rolled his eyes but it was all in good humor. “Fine, I’ll get the hot chocolates. But only because I’m a good guy.”

“Thanks, Quinny!” you and Luke chorused in unison, both of you grinning wide, already feeling victorious.

“Don’t think this means I’m gonna start doing this every night,” Quinn warned, but his tone was warm. He gave you one last glance, the flicker of something unspoken passing between you two, before he headed toward the door.

“Of course not,” you called out with a playful tone, already turning your attention back to your cozy pinterest session.

Luke looked up at you, his face still relaxed from the quiet moment. “You’re good at getting people to do things for you,” he commented with a grin, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and amusement.

“No, I'm good at getting Quinn to do things for me.” You said just before turning to face Luke, a small smile twitching at his lips. You squinted your eyes, nodding your head in deep thought. “And Cole, sometimes.”

Luke let out a soft laugh. “I need to know the secret.”

You smiled slightly, your eyes widening. “Uh, I think the secret is being a hot girl.”

“Yeah, don’t think I can achieve that one.” Luke said, shaking his head “Don’t love the idea of being constantly gawked over by Cole.” 

You laughed softly, a pink tint spreading across your face. “It’s not bad, actually. It got nice after a little while,” You paused, licking your lips. “And, the little moments when Quinn does it, makes up for everything.”

Luke rolled his eyes playfully, crossing his arms. “Then there's the rare moments where it’s Jack.”

You scoffed, leaning back slightly. “Yeah, but then ten minutes later he’s got some random blonde in his bed and his baby brother comes to me for comfort.”

Luke chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, that's Jack," he teased, his tone light but with a hint of understanding. "I don't get it. He’s got the attention, the girls, the whole thing. But then he comes running to you when it all falls apart." 

You shrugged, trying to hide the slight bitterness in your tone. "Jack's Jack. He loves to make things complicated, even if it’s just his love life. But at least I know he’s always there when it gets messy. Even if it’s just because he messed things up again." 

Luke’s expression softened a little, the teasing fading as he processed your words. "He’s lucky to have you, you know?" He said quietly, looking over at you with an unexpected sincerity. 

You met his gaze, feeling a little caught off guard by the weight of his words. "I guess so," you said softly, trying to mask the emotions that stirred beneath the surface. "But sometimes it feels like I’m just the safety net, you know?" 

Luke leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on you. “Well, I think you deserve more than being a backup. You deserve someone who doesn’t just come to you when everything else falls apart.” His voice was low but clear.

You let out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, Jack and I have never been…” You looked back at Luke, your eyes narrowed. “Romantic?” Luke nodded his head, genuinely interested in your words. “But, there’s always this weird tension. I-I don’t know,” You let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes it feels like I'm like- settling? In this friendship? Like, Jack acts like we're a couple pretty much, just without the-”

“Kisses, sex, ‘I love you’s?” Luke cut you off, finishing your sentence perfectly. 

You let out a quiet laugh, looking back up at the ceiling. “Exactly. It’s so…weird. A-And it’s nice, you know? Until I realize that it’s not actually like that.”

Luke smacked his lips, his brows furrowing. “Do you…have feelings for Jack-”

“No!” You shouted, abruptly cutting him off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” You said with a soft smile. “No, I don’t. It’s just-...it’s nice for things to feel normal like that.” 

“What?” Luke asked, leaning in closer. “Like domestic, In a way?” 

You paused for a moment, chewing over your thoughts carefully. "Yeah, I guess. Like...we’ve been friends for so long that sometimes it feels like we’ve already crossed into that territory, without actually being in a relationship. It's comfortable, but it’s not real, you know?"

Luke nodded his head, relaxing his posture a bit. “Well, trust me, bunny. You’re a beautiful, smart, funny, young woman. You’re gonna find someone.”

You groaned, throwing your head back against the headboard. “Everyone’s so quick to say that, but it never happens.”

Luke chuckled slightly, glancing over at you. “It’s true! Some guy will come along someday and treat you like an absolute angel. I know it.”

You smiled, fighting back giggles as you looked over at him. “Yeah,” You said loudly, your giggles intensifying. “Because my future husband is just gonna walk right through the door-”

“Hot cocoas here!” Quinn exclaimed, kicking the door open. Your smile quickly faltered, looking over at Luke who was trying so hard not to laugh. Quinn walked over, a confused look on his face as Luke let his laughs escape. 

He finally finished laughing, leaning in closer to mumble in your ear. “So, does that mean Quinn is-”

“Shut up, Luke!” You groaned, shoving him with your elbow.

Luke smirked, clearly enjoying the playful chaos, but he quickly adjusted his expression to something more innocent, though his eyes still twinkled with mischief. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop." He leaned back against the headboard, clearly satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten.

Quinn shrugged his shoulders before handing over the mugs. “I think I'm future husband material.”

Your cheeks flushed in an instant as your heart dropped to your stomach. “Y-You uh…you heard that?” You stammered out, taking the mug from his hands. 

Quinn gave you a sly grin, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh, I heard everything," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. "But hey, you’re not the only one with ideas about future husbands, right?"

You glanced nervously at Luke, who was now struggling to hold back another laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You guys are impossible," you muttered, trying to focus on the hot cocoa in your hands to distract from the heat rising to your face.

Luke smirked, leaning closer again, his voice barely above a whisper. “So, does that mean I’m off the list, or...?” He glanced at you with a teasing look, his eyes searching yours for any sign of a reaction.

You quickly shot him a look, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up your neck. "I swear, if you two don’t stop-”

Quinn, still holding his mug, raised an eyebrow. "What? Just saying, I went all the way downstairs to make you a cup of hot chocolate. It's a quality husband trait." 

You groaned, pressing your hand to your face in exaggerated frustration. "You both are ridiculous."

Luke, unable to keep his grin at bay, nudged you gently with his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not a bad idea. I think Quinn’s onto something. Future husband material, right here.”

“Luke, you are about to get booted from cozy pinterest time.” You said with a stern voice, pointing a finger at him.

Quinn chuckled softly, putting his hands up in innocence. “I’m gonna go back downstairs. You guys have fun doing…whatever the hell this is.” You rolled your eyes as Quinn left.

You sighed dramatically the second Quinn disappeared down the hall. As his footsteps faded into the quiet hum of the house, you fixed Luke with a pointed glare. “This is all your fault,” you teased, setting your hot chocolate down carefully on the nightstand. 

Luke snorted, stretching his legs out under the blankets. “My fault? I believe you’re the one who said, ‘Because you love us,’” he replied, raising his pitch to mimic your voice. “You practically cornered him into the husband territory.” 

You scoffed, trying not to let your fluster show. “I was going for hot chocolate, not a lifelong commitment,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. The mug of cocoa still steamed gently, the scent of chocolate and marshmallows lingering in the air. You shut your laptop, setting it down on the floor, which Luke mirrored.

“You’re so in love with him. It’s so obvious.” Luke murmured, shaking his head as he attempted to stifle a laugh.

Your face turned pink as you faced him. “Wh- you- I-...I-I’m not!” You stammered out. Luke mimicked your stuttered sentence with extreme exaggeration and you pressed your lips together, determined not to give Luke any more reasons to grin. “You’re being a child,” you said, voice low but steady. The warmth in your cheeks refused to subside, and you knew Luke could see it. 

He shrugged, unabashed. “A truthful child,” he countered, leaning back into the headboard and tucking one arm under his head. “Come on, you’re not fooling me.”

You folded your arms, looking anywhere but at him. “Luke,” you began, keeping your tone calm, “I am not in love with Quinn. Can we just…not?”

Luke smirked, tilting his head. “Sure, we can not…as soon as you admit that you at least like him. Maybe a little.” His voice softened on the last part, not quite a taunt, more curious. He was your friend, after all, and he had a protective streak even when teasing. You let out a quiet sigh, fingers picking at the blanket’s edge. The truth was tangled. Quinn’s easy kindness, the way he always seemed to know when to show up with hot chocolate or a warm blanket, the subtle looks you’d share, it all made something fluttery settle in your stomach. But you weren’t about to open that up in front of Luke, not when he was enjoying this far too much.  

“Let's just…watch a movie and forget about it.” You said, reaching for the remote on the nightstand. Luke stifled a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. Luke propped himself up against the headboard, stretching his legs under the blankets as you fiddled with the remote. The tension from a moment ago clung faintly in the air, but now you were determined to let it evaporate into the soft glow of the lamp and the hum of the heating vent. You scrolled through the streaming apps, your gaze fixed on the screen, resolutely avoiding Luke’s amused glance. 

He kept quiet, respecting your wishes for a truce, though a small, knowing smile still played at the corners of his mouth. After a few beats of silence and aimless browsing through movie options, Luke gently cleared his throat. “Something lighthearted?” he suggested, his voice neutral, careful not to push your buttons again.

You paused, your thumb hovering over a title. “How about a rom-com or that animated holiday special they’ve got listed?”

Luke tilted his head to get a better look at the options. “The animated one might be nice,” he said, voice softening. “Something cozy and brainless. Exactly what we need.” You hummed in agreement, selecting the animated film. The screen faded to black before the gentle opening credits rolled in soft pastels. Settling back against the pillows, you tugged the blankets tighter around yourself. Luke leaned in just a bit, not crowding you, but close enough that you felt his presence. A comforting reminder that, despite the awkward teasing, he was still on your side. A soft melody drifted from the TV speakers, and the warm animation glowed on the screen. Winter landscapes, cheerful characters, no drama or complicated love triangles to navigate. Perfect. You let your shoulders ease down, exhaling quietly. The movie’s gentle storyline began unfolding, scenes painted in soft color and gentle humor. Neither of you bothered commenting much, it wasn’t necessary. The hush of the room, the quiet breath of the house settling into the night, and the simple warmth of being here, together, provided all the comfort you needed. About thirty minutes into the film you felt a weight fall onto your shoulder. You looked down to see Luke, eyes closed as he softly snored beside you. You managed a warm smile, shifting down so your head rested on top of his. With your head resting against his, you felt the subtle warmth radiating from him. His hair tickled your cheek, a reminder of the easy closeness you both shared. Despite the teasing and the earlier embarrassment, here you were, ending the night side by side, each other’s quiet anchor as the rest of the house slowly shut down for the evening. Outside, you could imagine the wind stirring the evergreens or the lake shifting under the ice. Inside, all felt calm. The entire house seemed to hold its breath, allowing you and Luke this brief pocket of stillness. You tucked the blanket more snugly around him, careful not to wake him. Whatever happened next, you were content with this moment. Just a whisper of blankets, gentle music, and Luke’s steady heartbeat close by, perfectly enough to end the night on a note of peaceful belonging.

[chithereader]

you and me / aaron hotchner

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x singer!reader , aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff, a little angst

cw: a lot of conversation, i went a little crazy i just love interviews like zane lowe’s!!! and soft aaron

a/n: this photo just makes me think of aaron waiting backstage for popstar!reader / singer!reader

and requests are open!! would love to know what you guys want to read ◡̈

You requested that the set-up of the interview be comfortable. You knew you’d be talking about your albums which are notoriously packed with stories and emotions, personal and imagined. Now what is more comfortable than your own home? 

When you were designing your home, you knew from the start you wanted a conversation pit. You’ve always dreamed of a house that screamed cozy and comfortable, warm and inviting. Even if it cost millions to make, you had no regrets. 

But aside from the occasional family dinners, your sunken living room was only ever used when Aaron and Jack sleep over, and you had a movie marathon night. You'd throw in duvets and pillows on the pit and bunch together whether it was cold or not.

So you thought this interview is perfect to justify your design choice. To use the conversation pit for actual conversation. Which brings you to now, sat across your good friend and favorite interviewer Zane Lowe, your previous and latest album being the topic of conversation. 

“Your previous album was– you know, I mean, it was–” Zane appears to struggle for a word to encapsulate one of the lowest points in your life. Fractured was definitely an emotional album to make and an even sadder one to listen to.  

“Depressing?” you jokingly say. Talking has always been so easy with Zane. He just has this air to him that lets you know he truly just wants to know you. You sit on the couch sideways, facing Zane. Leaning on the back rest with your elbow, head resting on your hand while your other hand fidgets with the tassels on the pillow. 

He laughs, “Well, you were definitely at a low point in your life romantically.” fiddling with his chin, thinking of his next words, “You just– I think you perfectly captured in your songs that sort of loss and tangible grief that comes with letting go of a person- not because there weren’t any love anymore but more because love just wasn’t enough to keep it going.” 

Remembering what had happened– the air felt thinner. Like it was getting harder to breathe. You had to remember that that point of your life was over. You felt such real pain that time, so much so that you struggled to function in your daily life. That void. That ringing emptiness. 

You’re brought back to reality by Zane’s voice, “Could you touch on how that came about?” 

You breathe out a small sigh and with a gentle smile you recall, “Yeah, uhm.. I was in this relationship.. which in hindsight, I’m so lucky to have been in. It taught me so much and truly made me so much more mindful I guess. I mean like, smarter? More conscious definitely of what goes into making a relationship work, and what makes it strong.” 

“But like you said, it ended because as much as we both wanted it to work, as much as we loved each other, it just wasn’t happening. And it was a vicious cycle that was tiring us out. We just knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that.” You pause for a bit, reflecting. 

Flashes of you and Aaron driving home in silence after a dinner at Rossi’s play in your head. You didn’t talk the whole night. Not when you were dressing up. Not in the car ride on the way there. Not when you sat down together. And definitely not when each of you were across the room, busy in separate conversations ignoring the glaringly obvious. 

Looking down at the decorative pillow in your lap, you start, “And I think that in my experience, that’s a lot more painful. I think that break-ups that happen when one hurts the other is somehow better because you get to hold on to I deserve better or like– there’s just thing like anger that drives you to move on.”

You’re taken back to that night. Coming home and feeling the weight of it fall on both your shoulders. You sat for hours in silence, holding each other. Knowing that when the sun rises, he’ll go to work, you’ll go on tour, and your little world will be put to rest. 

“But having that overflowing love for a person who is just not meant for you– I mean how do you tell yourself to let go? How can you even try to convince yourself ? Because people say so often that as long as you love someone there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them and that’s true. I’ve been there, and even everything wasn’t enough. And that was something we really struggled with.” 

“Just admitting that we had to love each other from afar before we turned into strangers together.” 

It just didn’t make sense. The love you had for each other was real. It was deep and true, and neither of you had any doubt of what you meant to each other. There was no question of loyalty or trust. 

But the traveling, the conflict in schedules, the missed calls and messages left on read. You just became both so busy, you were worlds apart. It even reached the point that you haven’t talked for days and neither of you noticed. Or minded. You thought of each other, yeah. But there wasn’t that urge to reach out anymore. There was just… longing. 

–

“Which brings us to now. Your latest album Leftover Love– it’s a lot more hopeful isn’t it? I mean I’d even go as far as saying that it’s about falling in love all over again.” Zane sips on the tea you made him. Leaning over the makeshift coffee table to add more milk in there. 

You straighten a little. Mood instantly lifting at the mention of your favorite album to date. Images of the inspiration behind the album filling your head. 

Zane puts down his tea to gesture generously, “And hearing it live, you could just feel it in the crowd– this kind of electricity. And because there’s no other way to put it– your songs in this album feel a lot like jumping and dancing with a partner in a room full of people and everything is just in slow motion. It’s like this sort of alignment or clicking into place, finding that one person that makes those small moments feel so.. big.” 

He put it perfectly into words. You had really hoped to relay through your songs the recent turn of events in your life. People who have supported you and loved you when you were at low points in your life got you through that, and you felt so strongly that they deserved to know and feel even a fraction of the happiness that you’re feeling right now through your new songs. 

“Definitely, I mean I’m so proud to say that these songs, even if they’re a touch fictional or exaggerated or romanticized– they are based on truths, on real things that have happened or are happening in my life.” You’re getting excited. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands until only your fingertips are visible– you place both hands down on the pillow as if bracing yourself for the climax of a rollercoaster ride. 

“The song Blindly for example, it’s about that feeling or like moment of realization that you’re just so crazy in love you’d follow this person anywhere blindly. I love that the sound’s so grunge-y and messy– insane. Because that’s literally how it feels to be in that whirlwind.” 

Zane picks up on your excitement, nodding at your explanation. He relaxes more into his seat and gestures to you, “It’s a good thing you mentioned that because I actually wanted to ask you why that song slows down at the end. I think that was such a unique and beautiful thing to do to the song and it works so well. But I just want to know what made you do that–” You’re biting your lip smiling, so proud that it was recognized as a conscious choice as a musician and artist.

Zane continues, “It goes from crazy drums and guitar, and the bass– then slows down into this almost hypnotic music box sound that transitions by the end into just this beat like a pulse.” 

Your smile grows bigger which Zane mirrors, “I’m so happy you picked up on that. I have to say that’s actually one of the songs I’m most proud of because it’s one of the first songs that I was heavily involved in the engineering of the sound.”

“But yeah I guess ultimately I just wanted it to mimic that transition from being in crazy love, tornado-esque to it literally settling into this beautifully calm and serene kind of love.” 

Zane listens intently, nodding and humming in agreement and knowing. Finally understanding the point of view from which the sound was created. He has this gentle smile on his face, almost of encouragement knowing you had more to say, 

“Like you go from all these dates and the honeymoon phase, and your heart’s just beating crazy fast all the time and then it turns into that steady murmur of your fridge in the null of the night when you’re baking muffins together in silence.”

You take a deep breath, chewing on the inside of your lip. Hopelessly trying to minimize the smile fighting its way on your face, “It’s just that process of someone becoming your home.” 

-

You're ushering out the last of the production people. Walking alongside Zane who’s the last to step out your front door, you give him a big hug which he returns warmly. 

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You bury your face into his shoulder and breathe out a laugh, “Thank you.. Really.” 

You separate and smile at each other. Waving goodbye as he walks backwards to his car. You stand by your front door until they pull out of your driveway.

Once you see that your driveway is empty, you turn to your door and see him leaning against the doorframe with a smug, knowing smirk. 

Rolling your eyes playfully as you pass by him into your home, he chuckles. You hear his footsteps behind you and you know he’s following you around while you tidy up the dishes you and Zane used, “Aaron, take out the trash please.” 

This man just listened to you talk about him for hours. With headphones and a monitor set up in the other room– Aaron just got his ego inflated to a size so immeasurable he can’t hide his smile from the strangers beside him controlling lights and volumes. He has got to be humbled.

“Oh so I’m back to Aaron now?” He catches up to you, halting your movements from behind as he takes hold of your arms so you can put down whatever was in them. Then he turns you around by your shoulders so you’re facing him, grinning that smile that makes you go Fuck and then blank in your head.

“And here I was thinking I was home.” Aaron pulls you close, sliding an arm around your waist only to settle on your back as the other holds your hand against his chest, in between you. He starts swaying you both slowly as he buries his nose into the side of your head, humming a familiar tune. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

While he was listening to you go on about how you loved him all throughout your rocky start and even more well into the present– he became overwhelmed with the realization that for once in his life, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he is loved. Truly, deeply, and steadily loved. And that filled him with something that nothing and no one could ever define or measure. 

[hoe4hotchner]

Hey can you do more of Aaron x non bau rich fem!reader. Like maybe with jack

ANON!!!! I’m just out here living my rich stepmom life now, okay? Jack is so cute!!!! I swear I’m weak for domestic Hotch | WC: 423

Inside the living room, you sat on the floor, surrounded by colorful art supplies, while Jack busily worked on his latest school project. The grand space, often reserved for elegant soirées and refined gatherings, had been transformed into a cozy art studio for the day, with large sheets of paper spread out, and markers and paint scattered everywhere.

Jack, his little face scrunched in concentration, held up his creation for you to see. “What do you think?” he asked eagerly, showing off a drawing of what appeared to be a dragon, flying over a castle that looked suspiciously like your home.

You smiled warmly, leaning closer to inspect the details. “It’s perfect, Jack! I love how fierce the dragon looks. You’re getting really good at this. I'm sure your teacher will be impressed with your skills and give you a gold star for the fairy tale topic!” you praised, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

Jack beamed at your words. “I think Dad’s going to like it, too,” he said, glancing toward the doorway where Hotch had been watching the two of you quietly, his expression soft.

Aaron’s voice cut through the gentle ambiance. “I’m sure I will,” he said, walking into the room and joining you on the floor. His suit jacket was off, and his tie loosened for the first time all day, but he looked relaxed.

“Dad, look! I made the dragon like the one from the book you read to me last night,” Jack explained, already diving into another story about his creation.

You exchanged a fond look with Aaron, who smiled at the scene. This — these simple moments — they were everything to him. “I think we have a true artist on our hands,” Aaron said, his hand gently resting on your shoulder as he sat down beside you, his eyes were full of affection for the both of you.

You grinned, pulling Jack into a little side hug. “I’d say so. I think we'll need more wall space for all of his masterpieces though,” you teased, already scouting which painting you'd have to take down. It made Jack giggle.

Aaron chuckled softly too, his arm slipping around your waist as he looked between the two people he cared for most. It wasn’t the opulence of the mansion or the high-profile life that mattered to him — it was the warmth of the family you had created, the quiet joy of being together, and the love that effortlessly filled the room every time you were together.

[thewulf]

Through the Years || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Aaron Hotchner x reader, It will be like 2 moments in different years... like the first time little Jack is comfortable enough around reader to call her mom... and the other one teen Jack not taking her grounding while Aaron is away and screamimg at her something like "You are not my mom"... Read Rest Here

A/N: This was tough to write. But overall very sweet. We love a good teenage melton.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader, Jack Hotchner x Stepmom Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Yelling, intentional hurt, Jack being mean lol

Year Six: Jack’s Question

The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the cozy living room as you and Jack sat together on the couch, surrounded by an array of colorful crafting supplies scattered across the coffee table. Glue sticks, markers, and construction paper formed a creative mess as the two of you worked on a project together, a rare moment of tranquility in the chaotic life of an FBI agent's family.

As you guided Jack through the steps of creating a handmade card for his grandmother's birthday, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. His small hands moved with determination, mirroring your own movements as you carefully cut out paper hearts and glued them onto the card letting him guide how he wanted the card to turn out.

"Y/N?" Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of conversation, tentative and uncertain. He shifted back and forth on the couch letting whatever was on his mind eat away at him for the time being.

As Jack's voice broke through the soft hum of the television on, you turned your attention back to him. He looked so nervous that you could only put the supplies down and focus solely on him. "Yeah, Jack?" you replied, your voice soft and encouraging.

Jack shifted nervously beside you, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with his words. You could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the weight of his question heavy on his young shoulders.

"Can I... can I call you Mom?" His voice was barely above a whisper, filled with hesitation and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart soaring with joy and disbelief. It was a moment you had dreamed of, hoped for, but never dared to expect. Not so soon anyway. You and Aaron had been seeing each other for just over a year. And yet, here it was, unfolding before you in the most unexpected of moments.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at Jack, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion welling up inside you. You wanted to gather him into your arms, to hold him close and never let him go, to shower him with all the love and affection he deserved. But you also knew that this moment was about him, about his courage in voicing his feelings, his desire to forge a deeper connection with you. And so, you swallowed past the lump in your throat, your smile widening with genuine warmth and love.

"Of course, you can, sweetheart," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I would be honored."

As the words left your lips, a weight seemed to lift from Jack's shoulders, his face breaking into a radiant smile that mirrored your own. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your crafting adventure, you felt a profound connection form between you, one that transcended blood ties and was forged by love and mutual respect.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he leaned into your embrace. "Good, Daddy said I could," he explained, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and validation.

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, grateful for Aaron's support and understanding. It meant the world to you that he had encouraged Jack to express his feelings, to embrace the bond that had grown between you. "Your daddy is a smart man," you replied, your voice tinged with affection as you ruffled Jack's hair affectionately. "And he's right. You can call me mom whenever you want. You can also call me Y/N. Whatever you want kiddo."

Jack beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he settled back into his seat, a sense of contentment settling over him like a comforting blanket. In that moment, it felt as though the world had shifted, the connection between you and Jack deepening with each passing second. And as you returned to your crafting project, your hearts overflowing with love and gratitude, you knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

Year Fifteen: Teenage Turmoil

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated Aaron Hotchner's cluttered desk as he typed away on his laptop, the faint clicking of keys the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. It was Friday night, the end of a long week, but for Aaron, the work was far from over. His eyes flickered to the clock, noting the late hour. Jack should have been home by now, safely tucked into bed. Anxiety gnawed at him as he tried Jack's number once more, only to be met with the unwelcome sound of voicemail. He would give it until 12:30 then he was going to be calling Penelope to locate his young son. He didn’t want to be overbearing but he couldn’t help it. Not with what he’s seen, what he’s had to deal with.

In the living room, you paced back and forth, your heart pounding with worry. Each passing minute felt like an eternity. With every unanswered call, your concern grew tenfold. The clock on the wall mocked you, its hands moving relentlessly towards midnight. You too knew how dangerous it was out there. But you couldn’t lock the kid in. He’d resent the both of you for the rest of his days if you did that.

Finally, the creak of the front door announced Jack's return. Relief flooded through you, quickly replaced by a surge of frustration as you caught sight of his nonchalant expression. "Jack, do you have any idea what time it is?" you exclaimed, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

Jack's eyes flickered to you, irritation flashing in their depths before he masked it with a careless shrug. "Relax, I lost track of time," he retorted, tossing his jacket aside without any regard for how stressed both you and his father were.

Your temper flared. "You were supposed to be home over an hour ago! Do you have any idea how worried we were?" As Aaron remained in his office, you and Jack were left to confront each other alone, the tension between you palpable.

He shrugged again before attempting to make a break for his room.

"Jack, please," you implored, your voice trembling with concern. "We need to talk about what happened tonight. It's not just about breaking curfew; it's about communication and respect."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I don't need a lecture, Y/N. I'm not a kid anymore."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone, but you refused to back down. "I know you're growing up, but that doesn't mean you can disregard the rules we've set. They're there for a reason, Jack. We worry about you when you're out late, especially when we can't reach you."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. I can take care of myself."

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. Your voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about taking care of yourself, Jack. There are awful people out there and…”

Jack's demeanor shifted, his expression hardening with defiance. "You're not my mom, Y/N. You don't get to tell me what to do."

His words cut deep, a pang of hurt flashing across your features. "I know I'm not your biological mother, but I love you like you're my own," you admitted, your voice wavering with emotion certainly not expecting the conversation to take such a turn so quickly.

Jack's jaw clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, right. You're just trying to control me like everyone else. Well, news flash, it's not gonna work."

Your heart shattered at his harsh words, the weight of his rejection crushing you. "I'm not trying to control you, Jack. I just want what's best for you," you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes despite your best efforts to push them away.

But Jack's frustration boiled over, his voice rising with each word. "Stop pretending like you know what's best for me! You're not my freaking mom! You can't tell me what to do!"

As Jack's explosive words hung in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the room, filling the space with tension and uncertainty. Your heart felt as though it had been squeezed tight in your chest, the sting of Jack's rejection still raw.

A gasp came from your mouth as you tried to form any sort of coherent sentence. "Oh, I'm... I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and you found yourself at a loss.

Jack's eyes widened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he took in the impact of his own words. For a moment, he seemed unsure, caught between his anger and the weight of what he had just said. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, Aaron appeared in the doorway. His expression a mix of concern and disappointment. His presence seemed to ground the room, his steady gaze sweeping over you and Jack.

"What's going on here?" Aaron's voice was calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. He saw the watery tears that threatened to spill over at any second. He heard the tail end of the conversation and knew exactly why you were so devastated. You saw Jack as your own child and for him to say something so deeply hurtful left you reeling.

You struggled to compose yourself, the turmoil of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Jack... he... I don’t… I need to go," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you turned and fled towards the kitchen, unable to even look at your stepson or Aaron in that moment. You felt utterly embarrassed. Like you hadn’t been loving that child for the last ten years of his life. Did he really feel like that or was he just lashing out?

In the living room, Aaron's expression darkened, his jaw clenched with restrained anger as he watched you leave. The weight of Jack's hurtful words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their father-son relationship.

Jack shifted uncomfortably; his eyes fixed on the ground as guilt gnawed at him. "Dad, I didn't mean..."

But Aaron's patience had worn thin with his moody son. "Not now, Jack," he interrupted, his tone stern. "Right now, I need you to think about what you said and why it was completely unacceptable."

Jack swallowed hard, the gravity of his actions sinking in as he met his father's unwavering gaze. "I know, Dad. I messed up," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

Aaron's frustration boiled over, his voice taking on the commanding tone he used when interrogating suspects. "You think you can just say whatever you want and there won't be consequences? You hurt her, Jack. You hurt someone who cares about you deeply, and I won't stand for it."

Jack's eyes widened, the full weight of his actions crashing down on him as he met his father's intense gaze. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..."

But Aaron cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Apologies won't cut it this time, Jack. You need to understand the gravity of your words and the impact they have on people." As Aaron continued to reprimand his son, he couldn't shake the worry gnawing at him. He knew he had to find you, to make sure you were alright. With a final stern look at Jack, he turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps heavy with concern.

As he entered the kitchen, his heart sank at the sight before him. There you were, hunched over on the floor, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, Aaron crossed the room and knelt beside you, gathering you into his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "You're alright, I've got you." Aaron felt a pang of anguish as he held you, his heart breaking at the depth of your pain. Gently, he lifted your chin, guiding your tear-filled eyes to meet his own.

"Honey," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "Listen to me. You may not be Jack's biological mother, but you are his mom in every sense of the word."

You shook your head weakly, unable to comprehend his words through the haze of your despair. "But I-I..."

"No buts," Aaron interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. "Every day, in every action, every moment of love and care you've shown him, you've proven yourself to be his mother. You've been there for him, supported him, loved him unconditionally. That's what a mom does. That’s what you are, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of your despair. "But Jack said..."

Aaron's expression softened, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. "Jack was angry and confused. He didn't mean what he said. And even if he did, it doesn't change the truth. You are his mother, my love, in every way that matters."

As his words sank in, a sense of warmth enveloped you, the weight of your anguish easing with each beat of your heart. In Aaron's arms, you found solace, reassurance, and a renewed sense of purpose. You leaned against Aaron's chest, letting the last of your tears fall, a sense of peace washed over you. His comforting presence wrapped you up in his warm embrace, grounding you in the certainty that together you’d be just fine. “Thank you.” You whispered as he held you in his embrace.

Aaron held you close, his hold on you a silent promise of unwavering support and love. "Anytime, honey," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of chaos. "We'll get through this together."

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed in the kitchen, and you looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway, tears glistening in his eyes. His expression was wrought with guilt and remorse as he hesitated, unsure of how to approach you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice choked with emotion. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to hurt you, but I didn't mean it. I didn’t mean it at all, I promise. I need you! You are my mom! Please don't leave me." His words came out quickly as he wiped away his own tears.

Your heart shattered at Jack's raw confession, the depth of his pain washing over you like a tidal wave. Without hesitation, you opened your arms, inviting him into the embrace. Aaron backed off letting the situation between the two most important people in his life play out.

Jack rushed over and threw his larger frame right into your arms You wrapped him up tightly as he let his own cries out. The weight of his own words crashing down on him in the instant he saw how much he had hurt you. He was just a kid, of course you could forgive him. "It's okay, Jack," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm not going anywhere."

“I can’t lose you too.” He let out a whimpered cry breaking your heart even further.

Tears streamed down your own cheeks as you held Jack close, the weight of his words settling over you. "You’ll never lose me, Jackie," you reassured him, using his old nickname, a sign of the deep love you two shared for each other.  "I'm here for you, always. Always and forever kiddo."

Jack's sobs began to subside as he clung to you, finding exactly what he needed in your embrace. "I love you. I’m so sorry." he whispered again. His voice filled with sincerity.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gently pulled away to look into his eyes. "I love you too, Jack. It’s okay. I forgive you." You said again, reassuring him.

He nodded, relief flooding his features as he buried his face in your arms once more, the weight of guilt slowly lifting from his shoulders. "You are one of the best things that's ever happened to me," you continued, your voice filled with warmth and affection. "Other than your father," you added with a playful grin, feeling Jack's chuckle rumble against your side. He gave you one more squeeze before pulling away. The remorse still heavy on his face. Carefully, you brushed the stray tears away from his face showing him the love that the both of you needed.

As Aaron joined you both in the kitchen, his presence a reassuring anchor, you shared a smile, knowing that no matter what life threw your way, you would be okay. For truly these two were the best things that had ever happened to you.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

Request Taglist: @fictionallifestuff

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. 1.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

Okay so, WOW. I am completely blown away by the response to my first fic on here, 120 followers in 6 days are you guys okay? Because I am definitely not :,). While accidents pt. II isnt quite finished just yet (thank you so much for being so patient with me<3 uni is kicking my ass already rip), I thought I'd give you all a small sneak peek, aka the first 800-ish words of the second part. I hope you enjoy and thank you all so so much for the generous feedback so far!! <333 I'll go rewatch my genetics lecture now yippie :,,,,)

here you can read the entire first part, please head the warnings! Same ones apply here. also, if you wanna get tagged in pt. II, let me know in the comments!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

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oh spencer, you weren't quite as subtle as you thought. rip my boy. also whooops another cliffhanger? haha my fingers must've slipped my bad

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[fazedlight]

Dance

It was in the small touches, the quiet laughs, the cozy cuddles.

Kara couldn’t help the way her heart would race each movie night, as she and Lena curled up into their corner of the couch - and she could hear Lena’s heart race too. Is this what friends do?, Kara thought, noting how Alex and Kelly almost mirrored their positions nearby, as did Nia and Brainy.

She turned back to the television screen - as Jack held Rose close, the two tapping along the makeshift stage as they danced to the Irish band’s jig - and Kara felt a flutter in her chest. I want to dance with Lena like that, she thought, watching the third class dance below the decks of the Titanic.

But somewhere in her mind, just friends just friends just friends rang out. What if I’m misreading things?, Kara thought, a little forlorn as she held Lena a bit tighter.

-----

Kara watched as Lena turned towards the dance floor, her hips swaying as she strode away, and Kara couldn’t help but blush.

Lena was breathtaking. She was always breathtaking, of course - but that night, as the drinks wore on, as Lena’s tiny flirtatious touches got more and more frequent, as her black dress hugged at her figure and her smokey eyeshadow - Rao.

It wasn’t on purpose. It couldn’t be on purpose. Was it on purpose?, Kara thought, feeling the slight panic in her veins. She was happy, she was giddy, she was confused - and not really sure what to do next. J’onn nudged her to go enjoy herself, to go dance where Lena had joined with Alex and Kelly. And why not?

Kara shuffled out of the booth, intent to take Lena’s hand and give her a twirl. She sensed that Lena would welcome it, that this was a feeling that went both ways.

But when she reached the floor - Lena’s dark eyes wandering over her - Kara froze in a panic. Finding the rhythm of the music, she threw her arms out, making wild and silly motions. Peak goofy Kara Danvers.

… so she chickened out. It was worth it to hear Lena’s laugh.

-----

Kara cheered as Alex and Kelly finished their first dance as a married couple, the slow beats of the melody coming to a poignant end. Glancing around at smiling and clapping family, her eyes briefly caught Lena’s across the floor - Kara quickly looked away.

The music transitioned into something upbeat, and Kara found herself amongst the others making their way onto the dance floor. Brainy took immediately to the center, drawing more laughter, as J’onn spun Esme, and Kara found herself goofing off with Winn.

The evening passed as guests wandered on and off the dance floor, casual chatter and warm hugs creating a gentle atmosphere as the sun set. Fairy lights added a softness to the cool night, and Kara found herself feeling quietly content.

As she set down her drink, she heard a familiar heartbeat behind her. “Hey,” Lena said.

Kara turned, smiling warmly as she hugged Lena, still reeling from the emotional conversation they had earlier in the evening. Lena curled up into Kara’s arms, and Kara could feel the cool temperature of Lena’s skin along her fingers. She held Lena tighter, warding off the chill of the evening.

“This next one will be the last dance of the night, folks,” the DJ announced, as the song started coming to an end.

Kara could feel Lena tense in her arms. Kara took a small, shaking breath. C’mon, Kara, be brave, she thought to herself. It was time to take a leap. “Would you like to dance?” Kara murmured.

Lena pulled back, smiling softly. “Yes, please.”

Kara could hear Lena’s heart start to race, drowned out only by the pounding of her own as she led her to the dance floor. Is this happening, is this happening?, Kara asked herself, taking Lena’s hand into her own, feeling Lena’s other hand drift to her waist as Kara pulled her closer.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” Lena whispered.

“For how long?” Kara asked.

“For years.”

Kara grinned. “Sorry to make you wait so long.”

Lena placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Better late than never.”

-----

They couldn’t stop.

Gala events. Karaoke nights. Weddings (they may have gone a little nuts at Brainy and Nia’s). Blasting an old stereo at home. Kara pulled Lena into her arms, and they danced.

It was one night in their living room - after an incredible date, celebrating their first year together - when Kara spun Lena particularly fast. Lena spun out a few feet away, laughing as she came to a halt. She turned back at Kara - a bit surprised to not be in the kryptonian’s arms already - when she saw the blonde on the floor, down on one knee, holding a ring in her hand.

“I never want to stop dancing with you,” Kara said. “Marry me?”

“Yes,” Lena said.

-----

Their wedding was small and private. Lena had never wanted the performance of the spotlight, as much as she was used to it. And Kara was content to have their close family and friends present.

The ceremony was simple - exchanging wedding bracelets and wedding rings, as kryptonian wind chimes sounded melodically around them. Alura and Zor-El finally met Eliza, all too grateful for the Danvers family giving their daughter a home for years.

Dinner was had and cake was cut, and then music started to play. Kara swayed slowly with Lena during their first dance, twirling her new wife under her arm, Lena smoothly following. “I can’t believe we’re here,” Lena murmured in her ear. Kara smiled back.

As their slow dance came to an end, Kara pulled Lena in to cup her face, their lips meeting to the cheers of their family and friends. Kara grinned as they broke apart again, Lena mischievously quirking her eyebrows. After all, they both knew what would happen next.

A familiar Irish jig began to play. Kara tugged Lena close, slotting perfectly up against Kara’s body, as others began to rush to the dance floor. “Ready?” Kara grinned.

“Always,” Lena smiled.

-----------------------------------------------

Third Class Dance from Titanic

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. New video for the Merc team and they rope the couple to answer questions in This or That. Which seems to be an instant hit among the internet. Feat their son, Jack. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Unscripted Moments

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Word count: 1.4k

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The sun was bright over Brackley as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzed with activity. It was a special day—media day, where the team filmed content for their social media channels and sponsors. Among the lineup of activities, one stood out as a highlight: a “This or That” video featuring the Team Principal, Toto Wolff, and his wife, Y/n. To add an extra dose of charm, their young son, Jack, would join them.

The idea had been floated around for weeks. Fans adored Toto’s serious, calculated demeanor in the paddock, but whenever he appeared with Y/n and Jack, a different side of him came to life—one full of warmth, humor, and a little bit of mischief. The media team knew this would be gold, a perfect blend of light-hearted fun and family love that would resonate deeply with fans around the world.

As the day began, Y/n and Jack arrived at the headquarters, warmly greeted by the staff. Y/n was no stranger to the world of Formula 1; she had stood by Toto’s side through every victory and defeat, offering her unwavering support. Today, however, was different. It wasn’t just about the cars, the team, or the strategy. It was about their family.

Jack, bouncing with excitement, held onto Y/n’s hand as they made their way to the set. The production crew had transformed one of the spacious lounges into a cozy, living room-like setting. There were plush sofas, soft throw pillows, and a few framed photos of the Mercedes cars in action, giving the room a personal touch.

Toto, already on set, was talking to the director when Y/n and Jack walked in. His face lit up at the sight of them. “There’s my little man!” he exclaimed, scooping Jack up in his arms. Jack giggled, his tiny arms wrapping around his father’s neck.

Y/n watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. Toto was always busy, always on the go, but when it came to his family, he made sure they knew they were his top priority.

“Ready for this?” Toto asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of playfulness. He leaned in to kiss Y/n softly, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied with a grin, adjusting the collar of Toto’s shirt before smoothing down Jack’s hair. “Jack’s been practicing his answers all morning.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I’m going to say ‘Airplane!’ every time,” he declared, which made both his parents laugh.

The director clapped his hands together, signaling the start of the shoot. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. Y/n, Toto, Jack—you’re the stars today.”

The family settled into their seats, with Toto in the middle, Y/n on his right, and Jack perched comfortably on his lap. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the easy, loving dynamic between them. Toto’s arm rested casually behind Y/n, his hand occasionally brushing against her shoulder, while Jack fiddled with the buttons on Toto’s shirt, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Okay, first question,” the producer said, his voice lively. “Coffee or Tea?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. “Tea, definitely.”

Toto shot her a mock-surprised look. “Tea? Really? I’ve been making you coffee every morning for years, and now you tell me you prefer tea?”

Y/n laughed, nudging him playfully. “You make it so well, I couldn’t break your heart by saying anything.”

Toto chuckled, shaking his head. “And all this time I thought I was being the perfect husband.”

“You are,” Y/n reassured him, leaning into his side. “Just with slightly misguided caffeine choices.”

The camera caught every bit of the banter, from Toto’s faux shock to Y/n’s playful smile. Jack, sensing the mood, contributed his own answer with a loud “Juice!” which earned a burst of laughter from everyone on set.

“Juice is a valid choice,” Toto said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “But only when Mum’s not looking.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Are you encouraging our son to sneak juice?”

Toto’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Only in emergencies,” he quipped, which caused Y/n to roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

The questions kept coming, and so did the laughs. “Mountains or Beach?” was next, and Y/n immediately answered, “Beach. There’s nothing like the sound of waves and the feeling of sand between your toes.”

Toto nodded thoughtfully. “True, but the mountains have their own charm. The peace, the quiet... Perfect for a getaway.”

“Perfect for escaping emails and phone calls, you mean,” Y/n teased.

“Exactly,” Toto admitted with a grin. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you two.”

The sweet comment made Y/n blush slightly, and the crew couldn’t help but let out a collective “aww.” Jack, who had been listening intently, chimed in with “Airplane!” again, sticking to his plan, which sent everyone into fits of laughter.

“Looks like Jack is sticking to his guns,” the producer said, still chuckling. “How about we change it up a bit? Dogs or Cats?”

“Dogs,” Y/n and Toto answered simultaneously, their voices merging into one. They exchanged amused looks, both remembering the countless times they’d been charmed by stray dogs during their travels.

“Especially the time we tried to bring one home from Monaco,” Y/n reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

Toto nodded. “That dog was convinced we were meant to adopt him. He followed us everywhere.”

“And he almost ended up in our suitcase,” Y/n added with a laugh.

“Jack would have loved him,” Toto said, glancing down at his son, who was now pretending to be a dog, barking softly.

“Maybe one day,” Y/n mused, resting her head on Toto’s shoulder.

The producer, sensing the perfect segue, moved on to the next question. “Formula 1 or Football?”

This one took a moment. Y/n grinned, knowing where her loyalties lay. “Formula 1, of course. How could I choose anything else when I’m married to this guy?”

Toto smiled, a bit bashful under the attention. “I’d have to agree, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I do enjoy a good football match. Just don’t let the drivers know.”

The cameras caught the playful exchange, the way Y/n playfully nudged Toto, the fond look in Toto’s eyes as he gazed at her. Jack, meanwhile, shouted “Cars!” in a burst of excitement, once again steering the conversation back to his favorite subject.

“You know what, Jack?” Toto said, shifting his son slightly so he was facing the camera. “One day, you’ll be in one of those cars, and I’ll be on the pit wall cheering you on.”

Jack’s eyes widened with delight at the idea. “Really, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Toto replied, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “But first, you have to promise Mum and me that you’ll always have your juice.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head at the promise. “That’s one way to secure his focus.”

The producer smiled, flipping to the final card. “Morning person or night owl?”

Y/n and Toto looked at each other, this time with more serious expressions, though still laced with affection. “Night owl,” Y/n said with a knowing smile.

“I’m a morning person,” Toto countered, “though I’ve learned to appreciate the night more because of you.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing. “You’re sweet. But you have to admit, some of our best conversations happen late at night, after Jack’s asleep, when it’s just the two of us.”

Toto nodded in agreement, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. Those are the moments I cherish most. Even if it means less sleep.”

Jack, who had been listening carefully, suddenly yawned, earning another round of laughter from the crew. “Looks like someone’s not quite sure if he’s a morning person or a night owl yet,” Y/n said, wrapping her arm around Jack and drawing him close.

The session wrapped up soon after, with the family exchanging warm goodbyes with the crew. As they walked off the set, hand in hand, the cameras continued to roll, capturing those unscripted moments that showed just how close-knit the Wolff family truly was.

When the video was finally released, it was an instant hit. The internet exploded with love for the Wolff family, with fans praising their natural chemistry and the way they made every moment feel genuine and full of heart. Jack became an overnight sensation, with his “Airplane!” answer and infectious smile winning the hearts of millions.

“More Wolff family content, please!” was a common comment, along with “Jack is the real MVP!” and “Toto and Y/n are couple goals!”

[pinkslipxox]

hi!!! i was hoping you could do something based off of the “a boy who’s jacked and kind” trend with billie and reader! maybe they decide to join the trend and fans go crazy over billie lifting reader

hola mi amor! Ahhhh yes ofc! Hope you like it 🥰🙈

——————————————————————————

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow in Billie Eilish's cozy living room, filled with the remnants of an effortless day. Laughter floated through the air as Billie sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone. Suddenly, a particular TikTok trend caught her eye—the “a boy who’s jacked and kind” trend. The cute clips featured couples, where one partner, typically a guy, lifted the other effortlessly as they basked in the joy of their playful connection.

Glancing over at her girlfriend Y/N, who was focused on organizing a stack of vinyl records, Billie couldn't help but smile. Y/N’s eyes lit up with excitement as she spotted the video playing on Billie’s phone. “Oh my gosh, we have to do that! Please?” Y/N begged, bouncing slightly on her toes, her enthusiasm endearing.

Billie chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread in her chest at Y/N’s infectious spirit. “You really want to, huh? Alright, I’m down.”

“I’ll be your ‘jacked and kind’ boy!” Y/N declared, grinning widely.

With a playful sparkle in her eyes, Billie stood up, showing just how effortlessly strong she was. “Okay, but let’s make it cute—like a ‘jacked and sweet girlfriend.’”

Y/N laughed, their playful energy swirling around them as they prepared to film the TikTok. With a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, Billie positioned herself behind Y/N and swooped her up effortlessly, hoisting her into the air as if she weighed nothing.

“Look at you, my ‘jacked’ girl,” Y/N teased, her voice light with laughter.

“Oh, you think this is jacked?” Billie quipped, flexing an arm jokingly. “You should see me at the gym—just wait until I show you my biceps!”

Together, they created the perfect TikTok, with Billie effortlessly lifting Y/N, who was grinning from ear to ear, a picture of pure bliss. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and the soft gaze Billie cast upon Y/N made their followers swoon. After hitting the post button, they shared a satisfied glance, both dreading and anticipating the online reaction.

As the video began to circulate, fans erupted with excitement. Comments flooded in, raving about Billie’s strength and the sweetness of their relationship. The trend had captured hearts, but it was the genuine affection between Billie and Y/N that truly made it special.

“Mama, you were so cute out there!” Billie cooed, using her playful nickname for Y/N as she pulled her into a gentle embrace later that evening. Nestled against Billie’s chest, Y/N felt safe and cherished.

“You were the star, baby. You lifted me like a champion!” Y/N giggled, glancing up at Billie’s glowing face. In those moments, the world outside their little bubble faded away, leaving just the two of them with their shared laughter.

Billie caressed Y/N’s hair softly, her touch tender and sweet as they settled onto the couch together, Y/N resting her head on Billie’s shoulder. “People are going crazy about how cute we are,” Billie said, a hint of pride in her voice. “I mean, I get it. Can you blame them?”

“Right?” Y/N teased, nudging Billie playfully. “How could they not? Just look at you, you’re a literal legend. And here I am, just the lucky girl you lift up.”

“Lucky girl?” Billie repeated, her tone a mix of mock disbelief and adoration. “Nah, I’m the lucky one. You’re my world, mama.”

With that, Y/N felt a rush of warmth and happiness. In that moment, they were more than just a trending couple—they were two souls perfectly in sync, embracing love, laughter, and each other amid the whirlwind of fame. The night passed in soft whispers and warm smiles, both girls knowing that whatever the world thought, their bond was as real and as beautiful as any of their fans could ever imagine.

[jostystyles]

this mad love makes you come running | jh

a/n: me posting a fic? who'd have thought! this is my entry for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston ! i was assigned i wish you would (taylor's version). ive never written for jack before and i felt as if this song fits him perfectly and this was born. thanks to c and demi for hosting <3

word count: 2.1k

2:07 AM

The bolded white lettering of the clock on Jack’s dashboard shone at him as he glanced at it, the clicking of his turn signal drowning out the low volume of Stick Season that played through his speakers. As he rounded the corner, his chest tightened with a sense of a feeling he couldn't quite figure out. Coming into view was the street he grew up on, where he played street hockey with his brothers, the pond that would freeze over in the winters that they’d skate on for hours until their cheeks were numb. But before he arrived at his family home, he passed a house that brought back a feeling he knew. Guilt. As the memories started reeling through his mind, his foot let up on the gas slightly as his headlights crossed the yard. Illuminated was the front door his fist had knocked on too many times to remember. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, releasing pressure as he let a soft sigh fall from his lips. Jack’s heart told him to turn into the driveway, but he thought to himself, no. It’s in the past. That was his problem. The past. Something he can’t change, but he yearned to fix. Swallowing the guilt, he continued on to pass a few houses before pulling into the driveway of his parents home. He shook Luke awake lightly before exiting the car. Grabbing the bag out of his backseat, he let himself look towards the window down the street he used to throw snowballs at, seeing a dim light glow through the curtains. He threw his bag over his shoulder and crept quietly into the house, the darkness guiding him to the bedroom he once occupied when he lived there. Baggage discarded to the ground and stripped to just his sweats, he climbed under the cold covers and unlocked his phone, opening his contacts. His thumb hovered over the one he wanted, and pressed it quickly before staring at the blinking blue cursor trying to think of what he wanted to say. He hadn’t reached out since that night, when he was hung up on and he threw his phone across the room with salty tears streaming down his face silently. I can’t. She hates me. He thought to himself, before locking his phone and tossing it onto the bedside table, rolling over and waiting for sleep to overtake him and free his mind of the memories running through it. 

2:07 AM

(Y/N) glanced at the clock that sat on the desk next to her, wondering who the hell is driving down her street with those stupid LED lights this late, and why the hell they were going so slow. Shadows appeared on the wall across from her window, and she knew exactly who it was as hs he thought back to a conversation she had with her neighbor yesterday. It was Jack. The thought of him pulled at her heartstrings, just like it did when Ellen mentioned he’d be home for a few days, the Devil’s schedule giving them a few days to take maintenance and drive home. (Y/N) tried to play off the way her body was shaking was due to the bitter Michigan cold that came with the holiday season, and not the fact that just the mention of Jack’s name sent a chill through her bones. Did his mom even know? Did she know that for the past 6 months her middle son and his best friend hadn’t spoken because they had crossed the line that was once rising and crooked but fell straight down? Did she know that (Y/N) still loved him after he broke her heart? She probably didn't. So she put on a smile and said she looked forward to seeing him at the Christmas party. Blinking back to reality, (Y/N) sighed and picked up her phone. The email was still pulled up that contained her lease agreement to the apartment she just signed in Brooklyn. If things went the way she wanted, she’d have told him the second she signed it because in reality, she missed him too much to be mad anymore. She wanted badly to remember what they were fighting for, and why it turned into Jack telling her he didn't want to see her anymore and they needed to go back to being friends. She hung up the phone too quickly to give him a chance to explain. The reality of it was that neither of them knew if they could even call each other that. Friends. (Y/N) didn't realize how fast her heart was pounding until one of her cats jumped into her lap with an inquisitive purr. Giving her a pet, she sighed and opened the contact she hadn’t touched since that day 6 months ago. Just ask him. Swallowing her nerves, she pressed the call button and put the phone to ear. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. “Yo, its Jack. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you” Hearing his voice, she inhaled before letting herself talk. 

Jack couldn't sleep. He was tired, but his body wanted otherwise. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he grabbed his phone and almost choked on the breath he didn't know he was holding when he saw a notification he never thought he'd see again. 

(Y/N) <3 voicemail 10 min. ago

Hands shaking, he clicked on it and the voice he had been longing to hear started speaking. “Hey, Jack. It’s uh, (Y/N). I saw your mom yesterday when I got to my parents. She told me you and Luke were coming home for a few days. I’ll uh, be here too until a little after Christmas. Um, I know this is like, probably not anything you were expecting but uh, if you wanna talk I’d really like that. Just let me know.” 

He couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare at the screen for a few seconds, before opening his texts and typing out a message. Hey, got ur voicemail. Meet at the pond in 10? If ur still awake. The bubble appeared that she was typing almost instantly. see you there. His heart almost exploded out of his chest as he scrambled out of bed, grabbing his Devil’s hoodie and tossing on his beanie. He crept quietly down the stairs, trying to not fall because his joints felt like jello. Coat and boots on, he let the door click shut behind him as he walked through his backyard. A million thoughts were going through his brain as he walked the path to the park in the neighborhood where the pond was. Don't mess this up. He reprimanded himself. The snow crunching under his boots, he stopped in his tracks as he approached the pond. (Y/N) stood by the streetlamp, the soft yellow glow illuminating her features. Jack’s heart leapt and his body felt warm. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her hands were shoved in the pockets of her puffer coat, the earmuffs he bought her in New York covering her ears. He smiled softly. Was it a good sign she didn't throw away something he gave her? Forcing himself to move, he walked towards her. 

“You look freezing.” A voice pulled (Y/N) from her thoughts, as she’d been staring at the giant analog pole clock that read 2:43 AM. Jack always knew how to push her buttons, especially with his stupid little chirps. “I’m sweating right now actually. Very warm.” She chirped back.  

“Hi.” he said, big blue eyes looking up at her. He was nervous, she could tell. His shoulders were hunched over and he has a look about him that resembled a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs. 

“Hey. “ She replied, giving him a soft smile as if to say, This isn’t a fight. You're ok.

“I'm really glad you called. Sorry I didn't answer right away. I’m sorry.” He said, shifting his weight back and forth. (Y/N) had a feeling that the second apology didn't have to do with the message she left. 

“Its okay, Jack.” 

He looked at her, seeing the (Y/E/C) of her eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. It took everything he had to keep his feet planted where they were and not to jump into her arms and start sobbing. Instead, he swallowed the tears he knew were bound to fall and nodded at her, a sign she took to start talking. 

“I wish I never hung up the phone like I did that day. I should've let you explain yourself. I deserved an explanation. You told me you didn't want me anymore, and I just shut down. We were doing so good, J. I mean we had finally figured out whatever the fuck had been going on between us for years and then all of a sudden you acted like none of it was true. Can’t you imagine how fucked up that is? How shitty I felt? I was so in love with you, and we were fighting over something stupid, and then you just fucking break my heart our of nowhere.” 

Jack shook his head so fast it might as well have fallen off his shoulders. “No, no. I never said I didn't want you. I’ll always want you.” 

“Then why did you forget about me? Why didn't you call me back and tell me?” She retorted, stepping towards him. 

“I’ll never forget you as long as I live. I wish I could go back and do it all over again. I never would've said all those things.” Jack replied, his frozen hands reaching out to wipe the tears falling from her eyes. 

“Then why did you say them, J?”

The nickname only she ever called him made his heart soar. “Because I was trying to push you away. When we were just friends, I knew I could never lose you. And then when we started seeing each other over the summer, I knew it was going to kill me if it ever ended. I love you so much that it terrifies me, and so I figured that if I shut you out before it got too serious it would hurt less. Especially because you still live here, and I’m in Jersey. I’d be too selfish to always wish you were with me. I’m a fucking idiot. You did deserve an explanation, and I was too caught up in my own self loathing to give you one. I figured having you hate me was better than letting you love me and then one day realizing you don’t.” By now, they were both crying, Jack’s hands still caressing (Y/N)’s face and her gloved hands resting on his hips. 

“You’re so fucking dumb, Rowdy. I could never hate you. You're the love of my life. I was so afraid you found someone else and didn't want me. I should have reached out.” 

“No. No. There's never been anyone else. I could never love anyone else. Not while I love you.” 

Silence fell between them for a moment. “You still left.” (Y/N) spoke. 

“I know. You see me in a way no one else does. And you love me for who I am, like the real Jack Hughes. Not the Jack Hughes everyone else sees. That’s, I think, a part of why I did it. I was terrified of you leaving me. So I left first. And I’m sorry. I want you. I wish you would know that.” 

“I do Jack. I wish you would've told me that from the start. You deserve love, no matter how scared it makes you. Stop thinking about if it doesn't work out, and think about if it does.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, lips brushing ever so slightly. “I love you, I’m sorry.” 

“I know, baby. I love you too.” She kissed him. It was full of force, like it would be the last. 

Jack sighed into it, thinking back to the summer when he kissed her for the first time. It was a warm summer night by the lake. Now, it was a snowy frozen night but the warmth of her lips would be a feeling he’d never grow tired of. 

6 hours later, when Luke woke up and walked past Jack’s room to see them embraced and fast asleep, he smiled to himself, glad he suggested they return home for a few days.

tagging: @wineauntie @2manytabsopen @lam-ila @fallinallincurls @laurenairay @ilyasorokinn @senditcolton @cellythefloshie

[menteycorazoncito]

Jacked and Kind - Rúben Dias

ᥫ᭡: pairing: Rúben Dias x reader

ᥫ᭡: request: Rúben doing the "boy who's jacked and kind" trend and being very smug about it. Based on this request

ᥫ᭡: a/n: Finally, a Rúben fic with many to come. I has so much fun writing this. Like, have you guys seen this man? He was made for this trend!!!!

navigation | request guidelines

The golden light of the setting sun shone in your living room, adding to the already cozy atmosphere. It was one of those evening where you and your boyfriend spent doing absolutely nothing. Rúben had come back exhausted from training, so the two of you had settled into each other’s arms on the sofa. 

You were scrolling through TikTok, like always, until you stumbled across a TikTok of a couple doing the “boy who is jacked and kind” trend. Intrigued, you went on the sound to see more videos. Beside you, Rúben looked up from his own phone, to see why the same audio was playing over and over.

“What are you up to?” he asked a bit suspicious. 

You tilted your phone towards him, showing him the latest trend. “We have to do this.” you insisted.

Rúben leaned closer, “You want me to do that?"

“Obviously,” you said, already on your feet. “You are made for this - ‘Jacked and kind’, that’s literally you.”

“Are you questioning my strength?” he smirked, clearly amused.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin on your face. “So, are you doing it, or are you scared?” 

“Scared? It’s like you don’t know me at all.” he said, this competitiveness ignited.

Rúben gets up as you prop your phone up on the vase of a nearby cabinet. He stretched his arms, showing off, to tease you some more before stepping closer behind you. 

“Don’t you dare drop me!” you warned him before starting the TikTok. 

“Never.” he reassured you. 

As Sabrina’s song echoed from your phone. Rúben came up behind you, and secured his arms around your thighs. He lifted you effortlessly off the ground and onto his shoulder like you weighed nothing. Your hand gripped his other shoulder for balance, laughter bubbling out of you. Rúben grinned smugly as he showed off his guns for the video. 

To be honest, you were enjoying this more that you would have liked to admit. 

When the recording ended, he set you back onto your feet. Both of you walked over to the phone to see the end result and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you watched your boyfriend lifting you like you were the lightest thing in the world. 

“See? Perfection.” he said with pride.

You quickly pressed your lips together faking disappointment, as an idea popped in your head. “Hmm… it’s off beat. We didn’t get the timing right. But it’s okay.” 

His eyes darted from the video to you. “No no no, I don’t do things okay.” 

“Seriously it’s fine” you tried to play it off by reassuring him. “No one will notice.”

“Give me your phone” he was not having it. He took it and set it up again to retake. “We are redoing this.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that made it’s way onto your face from excitement. The truth was, you loved watching him show off his strength, and being lifted like that made you feel giddy. Like a teenage girl with her celebrity crush. 

Rúben however caught up quickly on what you were trying to do. “... you little shit.” 

“Huh?” you asked, faking confusion. 

“We weren’t actually off-beat, were we? You just wanted an excuse for me to lift you again.” 

“No…” you lied, slightly blushing at the fact that you got caught. “I said it’s okay but you insisted.”

“Oh, so I’m the problem now?” he teased, “Come here…” 

Before you could protest, his arms were around your thighs, as he lifting you in the air again. 

As the recording ended, he put you back down to watch the video. He crossed his arms and looked at you expectantly. 

“Jacked and kind indeed.” you thought out loud, not hiding your admiration.

He leaned closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. “Only for you,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

taglist: @httpsdana