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hischierhoney · 7 months ago

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Just Friends

Jack Hughes x Best Friend!Reader

summary: You’ve been best friends with Jack for ages. He’s also been in love with you for ages, but he’s got that completely under control. Really, he does. Right? 5.2k words

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, non graphic mentions of surgery/blood/stitches, hospital stay, reference to Jack’s shoulder surgery :(

Jack finds you in his apartment kitchen, a black tie in his hand. He’s already dressed in his suit pants and shirt, and for once, he feels like hair looks almost presentable. You take the tie from him without a word, and you loop it around his neck, underneath the collar of his shirt. Meanwhile, he grabs your necklace off the counter and fiddles with the clasp.

You hum to yourself as you start to tie the tie. “Ready for the game today?”

He shrugs. “I’m always ready.”

Luke is there, too, shoveling cereal into his mouth and watching the two of you warily. As you loop the tie around your fingers, Jack slips the necklace around your neck, your skin soft under his fingers. He latches it, blindly, with expert precision, muscle memory. He’s done it a million times now.

You tug the tie into place and then smooth it out on his chest. He hasn’t put his jacket on yet, but you’ll fix the lapels of it, too. You take a half a step back and give him a once over. He stands, waiting for your approval with his breath held in his chest. It shouldn’t mean this much, you making sure he looks good, but it does. You reach up and tuck a lock of hair back into place atop his head, and he smiles happily.

“All good,” you say, dusting your hands together as if you’ve just finished a hard day’s work.

Jack squints at your face, spotting something, and he brings a finger up to brush against your cheekbone. “Eyelash,” he explains, and you hum, closing your eyes as he brushes it away. “Got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Come on, don’t wanna be late. And no cereal in the car, Luke.”

Jack rushes off to grab his jacket. When he comes back, Luke is dumping the last of his cereal into the sink, and Jack grimaces. You’re in the hallway, stepping into a pair of shoes. Luke turns to him with a smirk, and Jack shakes his head before his brother can even open his mouth.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

Luke rolls his eyes. “I just think you guys are-“

“You thinking is dangerous,” Jack says. “Save all that energy for the game.”

He walks away, down the hallway to find you. You reach up to fix his jacket for him, and then you reach for the car keys and hand them off to him. He grins and nudges his elbow against your side.

“You’re such a passenger princess,” he teases.

You shrug. “I’m very good at it!”

He’s not complaining, really. There’s nobody he’d rather see in his passenger seat than you. Your jersey hangs proudly from your shoulders, his name and number on the back, and it makes his chest feel warm. You’re his good luck charm. He just hasn’t told you that yet.

…..

Jack’s spent so much time convincing his brothers and his teammates and his parents that he’s not in love with you, that he can’t pinpoint when it actually happened. He’s not sure there was some big moment, some realization, some day where he looked at you and everything changed. You’ve just been so present in his life that maybe it was a sort of gradual thing. Maybe it’s always been there, and he’s been in denial since he was eleven and Quinn was teasing him on the playground near their house.

Now you’re in New York, closer than you have been in years, both distance wise and friendship wise. You have season tickets, because he’s playing in the NHL and he wants you at every game possible. You spend half your nights at his place when he’s home, and he ignores the funny looks Luke gives him about it. Honestly, he’s a bit tired of denying it all. He thinks maybe if someone just asked point blank he’d let it all spill out.

He reads the text from you and smiles- you’re on your way to the Rock, one of your friends in tow. He’d gotten you two seats for the season, so you wouldn’t have to sit alone. He sort of dreads the day you decide to bring a date, but then he wonders what guy would be stupid enough to go along with that. Jack’s cocky, he’ll admit it. He knows he’s good at hockey. He laughs at the thought of you dragging a date along to see him play.

Someone announces they’re ordering food before the game, from the deli down the street. Jack listens as his teammates put in their orders. Luke goes with his usual. Timo changes things up. When the assistant gets to him, he grins. He orders his go to, and then another, and asks for a can of Coke, too, for good measure. Luke gives a knowing roll of his eyes.

When the guy brings the food in, Jack takes his bag, fishes his sandwich out of it, and hands the other sandwich and the can of Coke back. “Can you get this to seat B322?” He asks, grinning widely. He knows your seat number by heart.

Luke sighs heavily next to him. The guy agrees, of course. Nico, who’s standing nearby, cocks his head in confusion.

“She’s coming straight from work,” Jack defends. The ribbing he gets from the guys will be worth it when he sees you after the game. “She’s gonna be hungry.”

“It’s a hockey arena,” Luke says drily. “There’s so much food here.”

“But she loves Krauszer’s,” Jack says, and Nico rolls his eyes. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t order her some?”

“Friend,” Nico says, drawing out the word. “Sure.”

Jack ignores him. He ignores Luke’s smirk, too. He eats his sandwich and finishes getting ready, and then he heads out onto the ice, knowing you’re there somewhere, probably sipping on a can of Coke.

…..

The issue, Jack finds, is that it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that he’s in love with you.

It was easier, before, when you were younger and he was more dumb and less aware of… everything. He could convince himself it was just puppy love, just absence making the heart grow fonder, when post high school saw the two of you split apart. But now you’re here, close, and yet not close enough. Jack wants more, and he can’t really ignore that feeling these days.

He’s out at a bar, team bonding, as Nico put it. Except that half the team is drunk, including Nico, and the only bonding Jack’s doing is the brotherly kind, trying to keep Luke from sneaking drinks, or worse, getting caught sneaking drinks. Sometimes he hates being an older brother. He’d wanted to come out, maybe talk to a girl, maybe take said girl home, or get her to take him back to her place so he wouldn’t have to worry about Luke overhearing. But it’s not really working, not with Nico hanging off his shoulder like a leech and Luke sneaking another shot, and god, Jack’s going to kill him. If you were here, you’d be keeping an eye on Luke, too. He wishes you were here.

He has a shot to take the edge of the annoyance off. Then he has another, and another, and then there’s a girl across the bar, smiling at him, and- she sort of looks like you, is the thing, but not quite. The sort of uncanny valley of it all is freaking him out. For a moment he wonders if hooking up with her would make it better- would get it out of his system, would scratch the itch. The sane, more sober part of him thinks it might just make it all worse. To have some girl under him and hear a voice that isn’t yours. Jack used to do this all the time. The thought of it makes him feel sick now. That’s new.

He downs another shot and passes his leech of a captain off on his problem of a brother, hoping the two of them will keep each other in line. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and gets an Uber.

It’s only when he’s standing at your apartment door that he realizes he probably should’ve called first. You might already be asleep. You might be out. Maybe you have a guy over. His stomach does a somersault at the thought. He raises his hand to knock anyways- he’s come all this way.

You open the door with a smile on your face. “Nico called to ask if I knew where you went. Thought you might be headed here.”

Jack lets his shoulders drop. “They were annoying me.”

That’s not the real reason he left, but he can’t exactly tell you he saw the uncanny valley version of you and decided to leave. That would be… a lot. You seem to take his answer as the truth, because Luke is annoying on a night out, and Nico can be, too. Jack still probably should’ve told them he was leaving. He’ll get an earful about it. Oh well. The way you step aside to let him into your apartment makes it worth it.

He heads for the couch, and you laugh when he flops onto it, facedown. He likes your laugh. It sounds so much like you. He remembers the years when you were in college and he was far, far away from you, when he’d crack jokes on the phone calls just to hear you giggle. He presses his face into a pillow and hopes you don’t see the blush on his cheeks, or that you’ll attribute it to his drunkenness.

“Want food?” You call out, from the kitchen, he thinks. He groans loudly in response. “I have mozz sticks.”

He turns his head to the side and says, “fuck, I love you.”

He can say it here, in the comfort and privacy of your living room, in the relative safeness of the fact that he’s been drinking. You won’t think anything of it. You won’t realize how much he really means it.

The sound of your laugh is music to his ears. “Love you too, Rowdy.”

You don’t mean it the way he wants you to. That’s okay. He came to terms with that a while ago, listening to you say it over staticky phone calls. But you’ll make him mozzarella sticks, and you’re not upset that he’s here, so he’ll take it. He’ll take anything, really.

You come into the living room a few minutes later, plate full of food in hand, and make him roll over. He sits up slightly, leaning against the arm of the couch, and you lift his legs to sit under them. He doesn’t complain when you turn on some stupid reality tv show he hates- there are mozzarella sticks for him to eat, and the warmth of you under him, the weight of your arm where it’s draped across his calves. He can put up with the host’s annoying voice for this.

He falls asleep on your couch, half a mozz stick in his hand. When he wakes up, he’s tucked in with the quilt you’ve had for years now, a pillow under his head, and water waiting for him on the coffee table. You’re probably at work by now. He’ll send you a text to say thank you, later, unless he decides to just wait here until you come home. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, really.

…..

It’s a Saturday, and Luke is out for lunch with some of the other younger players, so Jack’s fending for himself. Trevor, knowing this due to what he would call their cosmic connection, has seen it as an opportunity to talk Jack’s ear off over FaceTime. Jack has his phone propped on the kitchen counter, half listening as he cooks.

He loves Trevor- really, he does, but the guy could talk for hours upon hours and never run out of things to say. Jack lets him, because he knows Trevor likes talking, so he’s not going to be mean. He just chimes in with noises of agreement or disagreement at the right times. Then Trevor says your name, and he zones back in.

“I fucking knew you weren’t listening!” Trevor cackles, wide grin taking up most of the phone screen. “But the second I mention-“

“Shut up,” Jack groans, rolling his eyes. “I’m listening. I’m just also making lunch.”

“Right, right,” Trevor snarks. “Just for you?”

Jack knows what he’s insinuating. Honestly, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad idea. You’re not working today, and he could probably convince you to come hang out with him in exchange for free food. He’s bored enough to listen to Trevor go on and on. You could save him from it.

“Yeah,” he says, and immediately contradicts himself by picking up his phone and sending you a text.

He tries to listen this time, he really does. He cares about Trevor, he wants to hear what he has to say. He finishes cooking lunch, and then Trevor has to go, shouting something to someone in the background, and he hangs up. Jack sighs at the empty, quiet room. He thinks about texting Luke to see when he’ll be back, but that feels pathetic. Maybe Nico’s not busy.

His heart leaps when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

Lunch sounds good. I’ll be over soon.

He can’t wipe the grin off his face the whole rest of the day. You come over, and eat the rest of the food happily, sitting at the kitchen counter. He watches fondly and tells you all the drama Trevor just told him- screw you, Zegras, he was listening. You smile brightly up at him.

“Got plans for the rest of the day?” He asks, hoping desperately that you don’t.

You shrug. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

God, he wishes.

…..

Jack thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can’t really be blamed when it all comes crashing down on a Wednesday afternoon in April. It’s been coming for a while. He’s had time to prepare. It shouldn’t take him out the way it does, because he’s seen it coming from miles away. It shouldn’t, but it does anyways.

They pull him from the games and finally, finally, ship him off to Colorado to have surgery. He gets an email with the flight information, another with a hotel to stay in the night before, and instructions on how to book his flight back to Jersey after he’s released. They don’t want to book it now, for fear of something going wrong in surgery. Hockey teams are superstitious like that, even their travel management.

There’s another set of emails, too- ones from the surgeon, about his prep and things he needs to do and bring and what to expect from the healing process. He hasn’t bothered to open it. That’ll make it real. He just packs up some of his clothes, shuts himself in his room, and waits. He ignores Luke, then he ignores Nico, who he’s sure Luke has brought over. He ignores Quinn’s phone calls, too, and everyone else’s.

When you show up, though, knocking on his bedroom door and calling out his name, he can’t ignore it. He makes a noise that isn’t a go away, and you take it as an invitation in, which he supposes it was. You make a soft noise of disapproval when you see him, curled up in his bed, hood pulled up around his head to block out the world.

“Hey, J,” you murmur, padding your way across his bedroom. “What’s going on?”

He sniffles and presses his face into the mattress. “The surgery.”

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah.”

Jack’s not afraid of having surgery, really. He’s never been very squeamish, never one to shy away from blood draws or stitches or IVs. You know this. Everyone knows it, which is probably why they’re all so worried about his reaction to this. He doesn’t want to admit it really, but it’s you, so he finds the words slipping past his lips.

“Mom can’t come,” he says, voice raw and scraping. “Or dad. Too short notice. And- and Luke and Nico and Quinn are gonna be busy, obviously, and I just… all this talk about surgery all this time and I didn’t think I’d have to do it alone, you know? It couldn’t wait till after the season so I could-“

He breaks off into an embarrassing, breath stealing sob. You make a soothing little noise and lean down next to him, scooping him up into your arms. It sort of helps and sort of makes it worse. The tears flow freely now. It’s just you. All his walls are down.

“You won’t be by yourself, Jack,” you murmur, and he waits for the reassuring words, that you’ll all be with him in spirit, that he’ll be home in no time, that he’s never alone. Instead, you say, “I took some time off. I’m gonna fly out with you, be there for the surgery.”

He pries one eye open, waiting for the punch line. There isn’t one. Just you, watching him carefully, holding him close. He knows how hard it is for you to get time off right now. It’s your busy season at work. And yet, here you are. Tears start running again. The whole world goes blurry. You just brush them away, one by one.

“Oh, honey,” you soothe, voice low and soft. “You didn’t think I’d let you do it alone, did you?”

God, he loves you. And he thinks this might be the final straw, the last puzzle piece. There’s no denying it now. You brush stray hairs from his face and press warm kisses to his forehead while he admits that he’s scared, not of the surgery but of what comes after, of the healing and the rehab and everything involved in it. You draw soothing patterns on his skin and just listen, because you know him well enough to know he needs to get it off his chest. He thinks about telling you how much he loves you as he starts to drift off, but he thinks better of it. There’ll be a better time than this, tear stained and curled up in his bed like a little kid. For now, it’s enough to know you love him, in any way, shape, or form.

…..

Jack wakes up in a hospital bed in Vail, Colorado, utterly disoriented and freezing cold. The ceiling is this ugly grey color, just like the rest of the ceilings in the building have been. He’s spent a lot of time staring at them in the last 24 hours. He blinks, and the tiles blur and swirl, and he hears his name in your voice. He tries to hold on, but he’s so, so sleepy, so he closes his eyes.

He wakes up again with no idea how long he’s been out. He’s warmer now. There’s an extra blanket laid over him, and a hand holding his. Hm. It feels nice. He squeezes his fingers experimentally. He hears movement to his left. A plastic cup appears in his field of vision, and he suddenly realizes how thirsty he is. He turns, slightly, and finds you.

“You’re here,” he says, quietly.

Your face is a little out of focus, but he thinks you smile. “Yeah, of course I am. Told you I would be.”

He knows that. He knows you flew out here with him, eating snacks on the plane before he hit the 12 hours before surgery mark and he had to stop. You checked into the hotel with him, got all the supplies ready for after the surgery, got him here, promised you’d be waiting when he woke up. But now he’s here, post surgery, and you’re holding his hand, and his chest hurts in the best way.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” you murmur, lifting the cup to his lips. He takes a sip. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head gingerly. He’s a little achy, but nothing that would make him cry normally. He can’t help it, it’s probably the meds. He remembers crying when he got his wisdom teeth out, too. He tries to tell you as much, but it comes out garbled and teary and raw. You shush him, smoothing your hand over his forehead and pushing his hair out of his face. That feels nice. You’re warm.

“Okay. It’s okay,” you soothe. “Take a breath. It’s alright.”

He does his best. You help him take little sips of water, and eventually the tears dry up. He’s left sitting there, your hand running through his hair, and he suddenly feels so, so sleepy. He turns his head and blinks at you. You’re clear in his vision now, beautiful as ever.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles.

He thinks it all the time, he may as well say it. Nothing’s holding him back now. You laugh, and your face gets blurry again. He sighs.

“You’re pretty,” you say back.

He rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyways. “Hmm.”

“Are you sleepy?” You ask, thumb brushing against his temple. He nods. “You can go to sleep, okay?”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” He asks, feeling a little vulnerable, suddenly.

“Yeah, Jacky,” you murmur, and when he closes his eyes, he thinks he feels your lips against his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The third time he wakes up, you’re sitting next to him, eating ice cream out of a little plastic cup with one of the tiny wooden spoons. The tv in the room is playing that same stupid reality show. The host’s voice would piss him off if he wasn’t so focused on how adorable you look. He inches the fingers of his good hand towards you, towards where your knee is pressed against his bed. When he makes contact, you jump nearly a foot in the air. He can’t help but giggle.

“Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head at him.

“Nah, just Jack,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Someone’s feeling better.”

If he’s being honest, he still feels a little loopy. Your face is in focus, but everything feels a little softer around the edges. His fingers scramble against your knee, and you laugh, leaning close. You set down the ice cream and reach to tangle your hand up in his. That’s nice. He doesn’t get to do that a lot- hold your hand. Maybe he should have surgery more often. You smooth his hair out of his face again. It’s such a caring motion that it sends his heart stuttering.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, quietly.

You shrug. “What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn’t?”

And. That’s nice, but it’s not really what he wants to hear. He wants you to be here because you love him. He probably wouldn’t spend hours in a hospital waiting room for Nico, probably wouldn’t sit and wait for him to wake up. He’d bring him food after, when he got home, would help him however he needed. But to fly halfway across the country just to be here? He’d do that for you in a heartbeat, but he’s not sure there are many others he’d do the same for.

You seem to notice the way he’s staring, and you wave the wooden spoon at him. “You want some ice cream? The nurse said to call when you actually woke up. I’m sure she’ll give you one if you turn on the charm.”

He blinks slowly. “I love you, you know that?”

It’s past his lips before he can take it back. It should be terrifying. He should feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it’s the hospital drugs, or maybe it’s just that he’s been holding it in for so long, but it doesn’t feel scary. He sort of just feels relieved.

You smile brightly. “Yeah, I love you, too, Jack.”

He huffs. “No, you don’t get it-“

Before he can get another word out, the nurse comes in. He wonders if you pressed the button when he wasn’t paying attention, or if hospital staff just have comically bad timing. He lets out a groan. You give him an amused smile.

“Welcome back, Jack,” the nurse says. He reads her nametag- Nancy. “I’m just going to do a little checkup, alright?” She turns to you. “If you want, you can step out into the hall.”

By the time he’s squeezing your hand to keep you there, you’re holding onto him tightly, too. Huh. That’s interesting.

“She can stay,” Jack says.

You nod. So does Nancy, a knowing smile on her lips. Jack wonders if she sees this a lot. Guys with friends who sit by their bed, oblivious to the fact that said guy is hopelessly in love with them. Maybe it’s a common thing in hospitals. Maybe it’s not just Jack. That’s a nice thought.

He gets his blood pressure taken, and his pulse, and he gets asked to take a few deep breaths for what seems to be just the fun of it. She asks his pain level- a 3, at which point you break in and tell the nurse that his three is more like a five. She smiles at the two of you. When she goes to leave, Jack speaks up.

“Could I have some ice cream?” He asks, hoping the way his voice cracks on the words makes her sympathetic.

Ice cream does sound good. His throat feels raw, and his mouth is dry. And he’s starving.

Nurse Nancy smiles and looks at you. “What do you think? Has he been well behaved enough?”

Normally, Jack would take a little offense to it. But he turns to you, and you’re smiling bright, lighting up the whole room. His stomach does a somersault. He wonders if the way he feels about you is visible on the heart monitor, if his pulse picks up every time he looks at you.

“He’s the best,” you answer, and he melts. “Give him all the ice cream you’ve got.”

Ten minutes later, you sit there, holding a container of chocolate vanilla swirl. He’d been ready to eat it on his own until he remembered his arm, the surgery, the whole reason he’s here. He’d had to settle for letting you feed it to him. Maybe settle is the wrong word, really. It’s nice to be taken care of, even nicer when you’re the one who’s doing it for him.

He thinks maybe he’s still loopy, because in between bites, he pauses, looks at you, opens his mouth, and puts his foot directly in it. “I meant it, you know. I love you.”

You nod. “I know.”

He’s too far into this to stop now. “No, I-“

You interrupt, dropping the spoon in the cup to place your hand over his. “Jack, honey. Tell me later, when you’re not high off anesthesia, okay?”

Oh. He cocks his head, slightly. His mouth tastes like chocolate and vanilla. You smell like flowers. Like the lilacs in the backyard of his childhood home. There’s a light and warmth in your eyes that makes everything feel a little bit better.

“And if I tell you later,” he says, feeling braver than he ever has before, “are you gonna tell me something back?”

You laugh. It’s still music to his ears. You pick up the spoon again, scooping up a bit of ice cream. His gaze stays locked on you.

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “That I mean it the same way you mean it.”

That’s enough for Jack, for now.

He tells you again the next day, waits a full 24 hours because a part of him is worried it was all some sort of drug induced dream. But you’re packing up the suitcases, that same stupid show on the TV, and he turns to you where he sits on the edge of the bed and says it.

“I love you. Like, really love you. As more than a friend.” His heart is in his throat.

You drop the hoodie you’d been holding into the bag, walk across the room to him, and come to stand between his legs. He’s holding his breath. You hook your finger under his chin and pull his face to yours. He thinks he recognizes the look on your face, from the kitchen when you helped him tie his tie, from the living room with a plate of mozzarella sticks in your hand, from every moment he was feeling all his feelings for you.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek. “I really love you too.”

When you kiss him on the lips, soft and sweet and everything he’s wanted for ages now, he thinks that maybe the whole mess has been worth it.

…..

He sits in a wooden chair on the back deck of the lake house. It’s mid summer, the week of the 4th of July. The heat is nearly unbearable, heavy and sticky and inescapable. Trevor and Luke are on the grass, throwing a football back and forth. Jack’s trying not to check the time obsessively.

Quinn, who’s sitting next to him, gives him a look when he picks up his phone again. “She’ll get here when she gets here.”

Jack rolls his eyes and sinks further into his seat. “You’re a dick.”

“Jesus, I know she’s your friend but…” Quinn is shaking his head. “You’re being obsessive.”

He hasn’t told any of them. Not about the hospital bed confession, or the kiss, or anything that came after it. The flight back to Jersey, his head on your shoulder. The way you took care of him before he flew to Michigan for the off season. The late night calls the two of you have shared since then. He’s itching to see you. It’s been far too long. He’s been scared to tell them because he’s scared you’ll get here and it won’t be real. He’s being ridiculous, he knows it, but he can’t help it. It’s you.

He hears it when your car pulls up in the driveway. He stands up, ignoring the look Quinn gives him. He’s not quick enough- you must’ve parked and ran inside immediately. You come racing out onto the back porch, eyes wide, smile even wider, and he could melt into a puddle right there in the hot summer sun. You’re brighter than all of it.

He pulls you into a kiss right there, in front of everyone, earning a series of surprised yelps and gasps and cheers. He doesn’t care about anything else. You’re here, and you’re kissing him back, and that’s more than enough.

“Fucking called it!” Trevor yells, and Jack laughs.

“We all did,” Quinn says. “Glad you two finally figured it out.”

You won’t be here forever. You have work, and a life in the city. But for now, for this little slice of time, he gets to have everything he’s always wanted. That’ll hold him over for the rest of the off season. Or, more likely, until he caves in and gets an early flight back to Jersey to spend more time with you. From the way you smile when you stare up at him, he thinks it probably won’t be long.

a/n: thanks for reading! have been wanting to write about Jack for a bit & he’s just so best friends to lovers coded. so here we go!

#jack hughes x reader #jack Hughes x you #Jack Hughes fic #jack Hughes fanfic #Jack Hughes fluff #Jack Hughes fanfiction #jack Hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #honey writes #jh86

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theemporium · 7 months ago

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

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“You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head to the side.

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

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

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

You shot him a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!”

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

…

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

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

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

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

But as fast as it came, it went.

And then summer happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to prove—

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

cherry🍒: actually wait

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

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

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

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

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

They needed to believe in him.

You didn’t.

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

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

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

And it was what he needed.

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

He needed you.

…

They won the first game of the season.

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

And they won that one too.

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

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

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

And then he joined the NHL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that,” you interrupted.

He frowned a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted, despite yourself.

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

“Together,” he murmured with a nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Try.”

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

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

Just like hockey.

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

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

“A little higher.”

He listened.

“Firm but gentle.”

He listened.

“Fuck, just like that, Luke.”

He listened.

“A little faster.”

Luke listened.

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

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

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

His cheeks burned hot.

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

He gulped. “You sure?”

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in his stomach flipped at your words.

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess you gotta watch every game then.”

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

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

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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jo-speaks · 2 months ago

Text

congratulations

in which...

fem! reader has her own way of congratulating quinn on all his accomplishments.

warnings: MDNI. 18+ readers only. use of sex toys (vibrating panties), slight exhibitionism, oral sex (m! receiving) while driving, mature language, brief mention of a captain kink.

~✩~

note: in honour of Quinn's one-year captain-iversary a few days ago! he's accomplished so much, and i love seeing how much he continues to develop as a player and a person.

You knew you wouldn’t be joining him for a regular team dinner once you saw that glint in his eyes. He was up to something, but you weren’t quite sure what.

“Babe! You ready?” Quinn called out to you, waiting for your presence in the living room of your shared apartment.

“Just give me another minute!” You replied, holding the top half of your lingerie set to your chest in the mirror.

A few days ago, Quinn had told you about this dinner. The team had planned it to celebrate all the successes he’s had in the past year. Being named captain, leading the team to the Stanley Cup finals, winning the Norris, being on the cover of NHL 25, and so forth.

Quinn had never been one to want to celebrate stuff like this for himself, but rather for the people who made it possible. However, he was never one to turn down free food. Originally, it was supposed to be just the team, but they were meant to be dining at one of your favourite restaurants in the city. Luckily for you, JT’s wife, Natalie shared the same love for the food here as you did. And with a few strings pulled, as JT was the one who originally planned the event, she not only managed to get you and herself a part of the occasion but a few of the other wives and girlfriends who were willing to join the celebration.

Naturally, when she told you the news, you figured it would be a great time to give Quinn a little congratulatory gift of your own. Before the event, you had ordered a Canucks blue set of lingerie, leaving very little to the imagination. It cupped your breasts in a way that was pleasing to the eye, and it did your ass the justice it deserves. The lining of the bra covered your nipples, but the rest of the material was sheer. And to add to the thrill, the bottoms of the set came with a remote. A remote that, with the click of a button, could send a silent vibrating sensation running through your body.

You didn’t want to show this number to your boyfriend quite yet, hence your decision to let him discover it later in the night. Throwing on a semi-formal dress that was appropriate for the dinner over it, Quinn was in for a surprise. You quickly strapped on a pair of heels that complemented your outfit, grabbing your purse and phone, and opening the door of your bedroom.

The reaction on Quinn’s face was one you would never get sick of seeing. His jaw dropping slightly open as his eyes trailed up and down your figure repeatedly, trying to get the image engraved in his mind.

“Wow.” Was all he managed to mutter out before you giggled and stepped closer to him, his hand instinctively wrapping around your waist as you placed a soft kiss on his lips which he gladly reciprocated.

“Looking pretty handsome yourself, Captain.” You teased, knowing what that word did to him when it fell from your lips.

He let out a sigh, almost like he was biting back words. Instead, he just pulled you impossibly closer to his body, leaving no space between the two of you.

“I can always cancel. We could stay here…” He trailed off, slowly moving his hand to the curve of your ass.

You smiled, “No way. I’ve been dying to see what’s new on their menu. Plus, it wouldn’t be very nice to leave your teammates hanging.”

He rolled his eyes jokingly, “They’ll be fine. I’m more interested in finding out what’s under this dress than some dinner.”

“Well, in that case.” You slipped your hand into your purse, pulling out the small remote.

Quinn’s eyebrows furrowed at this, his instinct being to immediately press the first button he saw. You let out a soft moan as you felt the vibrations so suddenly, reaching out to press the button to shut it off. You dropped your head to lean against his chest, taking a few deep breaths to regain your composure.

“Let me explain before you click anything else.” You mumbled, immediately gaining his attention.

He shook his head before you could even get a word out. “It’s your underwear, isn’t it? That’s what it’s for.”

“How did you-?” You began before he cut you off.

“I opened the box they came in. You set it to my billing address, so my name was on the box. Thought it was that book I ordered, but this was even better to see.” He explained.

You let out a short whine of complaint, “So you knew I had these?”

He nodded, “Just been waiting for you to use them.”

Just before you could say anything else, his phone rang, and a number unknown to you was displayed on the screen. “Hello? Yeah, we’ll be there in twenty.” He turned back to you, taking your hand into his, “Time to go.”

Moving on from the previous discussion, you gave him a bright smile, excited to feast with him and the team. You dropped his hand, walking towards the front door to grab his keys off the hook when he clicked the button yet again, the pleasurable buzz in between your thighs causing your legs to buckle slightly.

He walked up behind you, grabbing his keys for himself as you leaned your forehead against the wall, eyebrows knitted together as you tried your best to keep quiet, not wanting to give him an audible reaction to his surprise attack.

Having been with you for the past two years, he knew exactly what you were doing. So he peppered kisses alongside your neck, reaching his hand up to thumb at your covered breasts. “C’mon, baby. Let me hear those pretty noises.”

You did your best not to give in, a small whine slipping past your lips before he clicked the button again, stopping the feeling. You let out a sigh of relief and disappointment, at which Quinn let out a chuckle

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you tonight.”

He opened the apartment door, standing to the side as he watched you compose yourself before exiting the home, following you out, and shutting the door behind you. He locked the door, placing his hand on your lower back as the two of you began walking towards the parking garage where his car was parked.

You should’ve known he would mess with you from the second you left the apartment. As you walked towards the elevator, waiting for the lift to reach your floor, he pressed the button yet again, remote concealed in the pocket of his dress pants. You tensed up at the feeling, thankful you were at least alone, until the elevator dinged, revealing an elderly couple you guys had met over the time you lived at the apartment complex. They smiled warmly at the pair of you and you did your best to silently greet them with a smile.

“You two are dressed so nicely, going out on a date?” The woman asked.

Quinn looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted you to answer. Was he crazy? If you opened your mouth right now the only thing that would come out would be a loud moan of his name. But he didn’t seem to care as silence slowly started to linger.

So, in an attempt to not slip up, you settled for a smile and a “Mhm.”, hoping it would be the end of the conversation. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t.

“Where are you going? Robert and I tried this new seafood place the other day, best shrimp in the whole city!” She laughed.

You took a deep breath, knowing Quinn wouldn’t answer for you. “Was it Coast? That’s where we’re heading right now.”

She nodded, “Yes, yes. Something like that. Oh! Their crab dip was amazing!”

Doing your best to keep your composure, you let out a soft laugh, sighing in relief when the lift dinged again, stopping on their floor.

“Well, you two enjoy your dinner! Treat her to an appetizer, will ya?"

Quinn laughed, “You know I will.”

They bid you two goodbye, the doors taking what seemed for an eternity to shut. Once they did, you let out a groan of relief and pleasure, the sensation becoming too much for you to bear. Quinn let out a soft laugh as you leaned back against him, your hand searching for his in an attempt to have something to hang on to.

He had some mercy, giving you his hand and letting you squeeze it as lewd noises slipped past your glossed lips. “Gonna have to quiet down, baby.”

“Kinda hard to do that when you made me-,” He turned up the speed. “Speak!”

You could tell he was having way too much fun with this as you peered up at him through watery eyes, a smirk never leaving his face. Once again the elevator dinged, opening up the door to reveal the parking garage. He gave you a gentle push, your wobbly legs doing their best to stay upright and get you to the car.

“Think you can hold on until we get to the restaurant?” Quinn asked.

You gave him a deranged look. “What? No. No way.”

He shrugged, “Either you wait or I leave you like this the whole night.”

“Quinn, please.” You whimpered, approaching the car.

He ignored your pleas, walking ahead of you to open your door for you. Even when he’s torturing you sexually, he’s still a gentleman. You slowly stepped in, doing your best to ignore the way the buzzing intensified as you settled into the seat. Quinn walked around the car and got in next to you, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You gripped the armrest of the seat, hoping it would give you the strength to hang on.

Your boyfriend noticed the way your thighs twitched subtly under his hand, your body struggling not to give in to the pleasure. He decided to cut you some slack, reaching into his pocket to turn up the intensity. You let out a moan, leaning your head back against the seat, your nails digging into the leather.

Your brain was incredibly foggy, the only thing running through your mind being the amount of pleasure you were feeling. You hadn’t even noticed Quinn pulling out of the parking lot, and driving onto the main road.

“This is your free pass, sweet girl. Let go f’me.” He encouraged, keeping his eyes on the road, silently praying for a red light.

The traffic odds seemed to be in Quinn’s favour, the next light turning red as soon as he approached it. He turned his head, watching the way your eyes shut and your jaw dropped further, your legs trembling as you came with a cry of his name.

If he could get this moment tattooed on the inside of his eyelids, he would. He watched as you writhed in your seat, dropping your head down as you came to. Quinn reached into his pocket, shutting off the feeling to give you a chance to calm down.

He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a comforting kiss to the back of your hand. He smiled as you gripped his hand, happy it was able to provide you that relief.

“Holy shit.” You eventually sighed out, relaxing into the seat.

Quinn smirked, “Oh, my beautiful girl. You have no idea what I plan on doing with you.”

Letting out a breath, you opened your eyes again and looked at him. His jaw was clenched and his grip on the wheel made his knuckles go white. You quirked an eyebrow at the intensity of his gaze. “Hey, you okay?”

He didn’t answer you, he didn’t even glance at you. Now it was your turn to trail your eyes down his figure, seeing the bulge of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. A smirk rose to your face as you glanced at the GPS that Quinn had been following, seeing you were only eight minutes away from the restaurant.

You mustered up all the strength in your body to sit up and lean across the console of the car, pressing a kiss to his flushed cheeks.

“I’m driving.” He mumbled, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control himself.

You ignored his words, trailing your hand down his upper body and stopping when it reached the now extremely prominent bulge in his pants. He groaned, nose scrunching at the feeling. Smiling at his reaction, you let your kisses trail down his neck.

You could feel his hand looking for something, too distracted with palming him to realize just what he was searching for. As you fumbled with his zipper, he grabbed the remote that he had unknowingly dropped into the cupholder when you started showing him affection. He ran his thumb over the bumps of the buttons, finding the ‘on’ button yet again, but not pressing it quite yet.

You felt the object on your lower back as Quinn placed his hand there, needing to touch you as you got the zipper undone, freeing him from the constraints.

“How much longer?” You whispered, kissing down his happy trail.

He glanced to the side where his phone was, “Five minutes.”

You hummed, your kisses now finding his way to the base of his cock. He let out a deep moan as you took him in your mouth, the weight of it resting comfortably on your tongue. It took him a minute to adjust to the situation, trying his best to focus on driving and you at the same time.

Quinn visibly relaxed, well, as much as he could while seeing how desperate you could be for him no matter the setting. He set the remote down, his calloused hand finding the back of your head, slowly pulling on your hair, then pushing. He sped up slowly, testing the waters. You grew frustrated at the pace, knowing you had limited time.

As your patience grew thin, so did his. So, you reached behind to grab his hesitant hand, pushing and pulling for him. Thankfully, he got the hint and started his attack on your mouth. The gagging sound emanating from your throat made him throw his head back with a groan, immediately perking back up as he started driving off the road.

Tears started forming in your eyes as Quinn kept pushing you far enough to reach the back of your throat. It wasn’t the most pleasurable feeling but the whimpery groans leaving his mouth were distractions enough.

You became too entranced with his reactions to realize your hand was now resting on his knee, his hand no longer gripping your hair. The pace having set itself, he reached over, grabbing the control in his hand, and pressing the button that made you moan around his length.

Quinn groaned loudly at the vibration of your vocal cords, turning up the intensity of your panties before letting it drop to the ground and pressing your head impossibly further as he rutted his hips into your mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” He mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

You mumbled back something incoherent, your brain going numb at the dual sensations and lack of oxygen. You felt yourself getting close again as Quinn’s thrusts got sloppier, hinting he was there with you.

In an attempt to let Quinn know, you squeezed your hand against the bone, causing him to let out a deep whine. “You’re so close, aren’t you baby?” With the nod of your head, he sped up. “Doing so good. Come with me, yeah?”

He didn’t have to say it twice, your core tensing as your legs shook wildly, the moans escaping you enough to set Quinn off, his hips stilling as let out a groan. His hand on the steering wheel tightened, as did the one on your head, keeping you in place as you both reached your peaks.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to turn the car around and fuck you properly all over the apartment, Quinn reluctantly pulled the car into the restaurant’s parking lot, stationing the car poorly and turning off the engine.

As you came to your senses again, you winced at the feeling of the intense vibrations still going between your legs. You reached your hand down under his seat, picking up the now familiar clicker and stopping the feeling.

You pulled yourself off of him, his cum dripping from your lips. Mesmerized at the sight, Quinn couldn’t help but press his fingers to your lips, running his thumb over them before pushing the sticky liquid in. You kept your eyes trained on his as you sucked around his finger and swallowed around it.

“I can’t wait for this night to be over.” He mumbled, leaning in to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. “Gonna mess you up so bad when we get home.”

Placing the remote in his free hand, his eyes looked at it momentarily before returning to stare at yours. “Who says you have to wait for the night to be over?”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks #qh43 #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 7 months ago

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Sea Sickness

Luke Hughes x fem!reader (established relationship, but still new)

Idea: Reader gets nauseous from being on the boat at the Hughes’s Lake House and snuggles up to Luke.

Requested: Nope.

Author’s Note: I know I’m bouncing around who I’m writing for, but I’m on a NHL spree right now. I also get nauseated if I'm on a boat or in the ocean for too long. Fun Fact: I wrote the beginning part of this on a note card while working by myself in the OR today. We had a really long case where I just had to check up on people during the middle of it (hence why I wrote this on a card because I don’t like going on my phone when I’m in the OR. It's unprofessional). I don’t know any of these people personally. The closest I’ve gotten to the team (that wasn’t just playing in the band at the games or when they were walking past us down the 2023 red carpet in tampa) was a tuba was talking to some of them in his plane row on the ride back from that trip (he ended up being the tuba you see in the senior picture from 2024) and one of the coaches had to share our bus on the way back from the 2023 frozen four game with his wife and two young daughters (I kept trying to get the younger one to smile at me unsuccessfully). Someone from my hotel room also shared the elevator ride up with the entire Fantilli family the night they lost that game in 2023 (I think Adam also won the Hobey Baker award that same night). I’ve also been playing my lego lord of the rings game. Anyway, enjoy this little blurb.

Tagging some of my favorite Hughes/NHL writers, love y’all.

@wineauntie @thedevilrisen @winterbarnesblog @sc0tters

I forgot to mention that this is kinda based on the cute stuff @bedsyandco writes

I'm now sad when I'm uploading this because a friend from college drumline has an incurable brain cancer. Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers (he's only 19 or 20).

Requests are still open. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, tell me if you want to be part of a Tag List and I’ll tag you when I upload something new. If you want to only be tagged when I upload something for a certain character or shows, let me know as well.

Warning: None, just general fluff. Feeling sick on a boat.

Word Count: 488

Being on a boat wasn’t your most favorite thing in the world, mainly because the last time you were on a boat, it got stuck in the middle of the laek and had to be towed back to shore (true story), but when your boyfriend Luke invited you to spend the weekend at the lakehouse with ihs brothers and friends, you weren't going to say no. The weekend had been filled with lots of eating, playing outside, and the boys being competitive at every game they pick up (even the old board game you brought to teach them how to play). Just trying to keep up with them all was exhausting, so that’s how you ended up on the back of the boat enjoying the warm air instead of diving into the water again. The boys had been going back and forth between wakeboarding and chatting on the boat deck. With them supplying the lake with plenty of waves, the constand up and down was starting to make your stomach sick. You scooched over and made yourself comfortable laying your head on Luke’s shoulder. He then opened his arms and wrapped you in his warm embrace so you could crawl on his lap and snuggle closer to his chest.

“You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, just want to stop the constant movement.” It was getting to a point were you just wanted to stop the constant movement. It being really hot out didn’t help either.

“We’ll head to shore soon. Then we can cool off inside.”

Being wrapped up in Luke’s embrace with his fingers gently carding through your hair or down your shoulder leaving goosebumps in their wake and shading you with his fit body definitely helped keep your mind off of your stomach and the boat’s ever shifting movements. Luke wasn’t much of a pda person, but you always encouraged him to show little bits of it at least in front of his family or close friends.

Little did you know, that’s exactly who was eyeing the interaction. Jack, Quinn, Trevor, Cole, and Dylan all had stopped what they were talking about in favor of watching the interaction between you two. Eventhough they were not all related, they felt like proud older brothers seeing Luke be so considerate and affectionate in front of them. Of couse they’re all going to tease him relentlessly later about this, but they were gentlemen in regards to respecting the timing and the moment.

“Just lay down and close your eyes. We’ll be on shore soon.” You snuggled deeper into Luke’s neck keeping your eyes closed and focused on his soft skin, his natural scent, and the way his warm body curled around yours. He even tugged on your legs to pull you fully into his lap as his large frame wrapped around your body fully encasing you in his warmth and comfort.

Nothing better than enjoying the summer with those you love.

#nhl imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #hughes brothers #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #nhl #nhl players #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #nj devils #umich hockey #umich imagine #umich x reader

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cupidbedsy · 4 months ago

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𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | 𝘫𝘩86 ୨୧

➪ summary: jack struggles after their breakup, and after a little talk with his mom, he's on his way to get his girl back

➪ warnings: fights, sad jack, broken glass, breakup

➪ word count: 2.8k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: this was the first ever jack fic i wrote and i went back and read it and forget how in love with it i was. i hope you guys are enjoying the reposts, i am hoping to be done with them in the next couple of weeks and then i can start working on new fics! anyway, i decided to use the old taglist one more time because i haven't gotten the chance to sort out everyone that has filled out the form so far. so..... if you haven't already, please fill out the taglist form if you want to be added to the new one! i love you guys so much, and i appreciate each and everyone of you

jh86 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably.

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost.

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too.

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her.

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking.

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt.

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him.

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse.

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing.

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n.

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it.

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday. Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.”

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him.

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.”

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

#: ̗̀➛ sunny’s writing 📓 !#: ̗̀➛ ❝ [ fics ] ❞#: ̗̀➛ ❝ [ jack hughes ] ❞#nhl #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #njd #new jersey devils

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madlori · 28 days ago

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In Memoriam

If you're not aware, about six weeks ago, NHL superstar and Columbus Blue Jackets winger Johnny Gaudreau, known as "Johnny Hockey" around the league, was killed along with his brother while they were out riding bikes the day before their sister's wedding in New Jersey. An impatient and also drunk driver struck and killed them both. They both left behind children and pregnant wives.

The Blue Jackets had their home opener last night (for non-hockeys, that's the first game played on home ice - the Blue Jackets had already played two games on the road before last night) and instead of the usual home-opener stuff (which usually includes introducing the team - they'll do this Thursday at their second home game) they had a brief but touching ceremony for Johnny including raising a banner and playing a lovely video tribute.

But the most moving tribute happened once the game started.

youtube

The team lined up against their opponents, the Florida Panthers...but they were short a man. They left the left wing position - Johnny's position - open. At first puck drop, the center, Sean Monahan, knocked the puck towards were Johnny was supposed to be positioned, ready to receive it and begin playing.

They stayed on the ice like this for 13 seconds (Johnny was #13) while the crowd cheered and the teams stick-tapped for Johnny. Then the real starting lineup took the ice and they began the game.

This was of course arranged - note that the Florida center, Evan Rodrigues, made no effort to get the puck in that first face-off.

There's some added emotional context here. Sean Monahan was traded to Columbus earlier in the off-season specifically to play center for Johnny. They played together in Calgary and were very close friends. Sean came to Columbus so he and Johnny could play together and raise their kids together. He stood with Meredith, Johnny's widow, and held one of their kids as they raised the banner before the game.

To watch him pass that puck to the empty space where his friend, a player widely loved and respected throughout the league and the cities where he played, should have been there to receive it was wrenching.

#johnny gaudreau #sean monahan #columbus blue jackets #nhl #hockey #Youtube

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hearts4hughes · 6 months ago

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WASHING MACHINE HEART | JACK HUGHES

fem!reader x jack hughes

summary: in which your entire heart was never enough for jack. (4.5k words)

author note: this is one of, if not my longest, writing pieces. it is very loosely based on washing machine heart by mitski. this took like two weeks to write and forgive me, i am NOT proofreading!! this is incredibly angsty so buckle up!

"jack?" your brows furrow, eyes squinting in confusion. "what are you doing here?"

he never showed up unannounced. did you miss his text or call? who are you kidding? you’d never dare to miss one of his calls.

you were in love with jack hughes. every single ounce of your body was drowning in your love for the brunette boy. you memorized every facial feature, mannerism, and breath he had. nothing about him went unnoticed to you.

if only he held mutual feelings. he loved you, he truly did. but not in the way you yearned; not in the way you craved. while your eyes followed him, it seemed like he followed every other girl.

you and jack met in the ninth grade. he was failing in every class possible (besides physical education) and you were excelling in every class possible (including physical education). in jack’s mind, he didn’t need school or an education. he was going to the nhl in a few years, so why did it matter if he was smart or not? the only iq that mattered on the ice was hockey iq.

the only problem was school rules and regulations. if he wanted to continue playing on the high school hockey team, he needed to step it up academically. with a stubborn attitude, he signed up for tutoring and was assigned you as his tutor.

you were roped into becoming a tutor by both your parents and your teachers. the school was running low on anyone willing to sign up for after—school tutoring, and you needed a little extra cash.

every tuesday and thursday, you went to jack’s house and studied with him for hours. however, as days passed into weeks, you began going over to his house every day. with his charming personality and your shyness, you quickly fell into the best kind of friendship. it only took two months before you fell in love with your best friend, and you’ve held those feelings for nine years.

"y/n, i’m sorry i didn’t call before," he apologized, his face flushed. "i have a problem," he huffed out, taking a seat on your couch.

"what are you talking about?" you scratch your neck in confusion. "and did you run here?"

when you and jack both moved to new jersey, it wasn’t a surprise when you moved into apartments within six minutes of each other.

"yes, i ran here," he answered. "but that doesn’t matter. i ran into lola at a coffee shop this morning.”

lola was jack’s most recent girlfriend. that was until she broke up with him because he wasn’t mature enough. he was heartbroken and devastated, and like the good friend you are, you held him during the hard nights as he cried and ranted about how he missed her. you ended up helping him move on after a month or two, but what made him stronger only destroyed you more.

you sighed, "jack, i don’t want to hear this—"

"no, i promise this is going somewhere," he interrupted. "i saw her and we began talking about my cousin, natalie’s wedding. she’s known natalie since high school and is attending the wedding. when she said that, i got nervous and said i was also going and i was bringing you as my date."

your heart plummeted. "what?!" your eyes widened and mouth hung open.

he squinted his eyes, lips pressed tightly together. “i’m sorry.” he said with doe eyes. he knew exactly how to make you fold. “you know how she is. she was all over me and acting flirty, like she wasn’t the one to break up with me. she thinks that i’m still not over her.”

“well, are you?”

“i think so.” his voice was unsure. “will you help me, please?”

“i don’t know—”

“before you say no, remember when i drove over here at 2am with ice cream?” he says.

your shoulders slouched. “yes,” your voice was quiet.

“remember how i said you owe me one?” you shook your head as you replayed the past interaction in your head. “well, consider this me officially cashing in my favor.”

you rested your head in your hands. “what does this entail?” you asked.

his eyes lit up like a child’s on christmas day. “you pretending to be my girlfriend for a day.”

you exhaled loudly. every bone in your body was saying— screaming— no. your brain knew it wasn’t a good idea. it would only draw you deeper into jack’s web when you were beginning to unravel from it. but your heart said otherwise.

“fine.” you said as you rubbed your temples.

jack shot to his feet with a bright smile on his mouth. “yes!” his voice was an octave higher. his arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. your stiffened body molded around him.

“fuck, i love you so much for this.”

he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him to, but you’ve learned to ignore the twinge in your heart when he says those magic words.

you don’t realize how fast your heart is beating until he pulls away from the hug. your body aches for him as he removes his arms from around you.

“since, i’m already here movie night?” he asks, his brow quirking upwards.

a giggle escapes your slouched body. for the first time since he got there, you smile— genuinely. he seems to notice as well because he mirrors your features, allowing his tense shoulders to drop.

you nod, plopping down on your couch with him. you hand him the tv remote, allowing him to put on whatever action/mobster movie that he usually did. your head rests on jack’s shoulder, an intimate action that meant more to you than it did to him.

this is what you wanted. this is what you’ve wanted since ninth grade. you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted. does it matter if your relationship with him is real or not? the more you think, the bigger the pit in your stomach grows. you ignore all impending thoughts and enjoy the feeling of your head resting against the love of your life’s shoulder.

you fall asleep against jack, soft snores falling from your pouted lips. when you wake up, you’re tucked in your bed, your alarm clock reading 2:30am, and a note with jack’s sketchy handwriting on your bedside table. you smile, a content feeling masking your earlier anxieties before you fall back into a deep slumber.

after an hour of painstakingly going over wedding details and weaving elaborate fake relationship stories, a dull ache pulses behind your temples, and the confines of your clothes suddenly feel suffocating.

“are we done yet?” your voice was whiney as you dramatically sat back in your chair.

jack giggled. “who knew that relationship talk would bore you?” you rolled your eyes. “if my family wasn’t so nosey, this would be a walk in the park,” he begins, “but they are and that means we have to tie up every loose end before they ruin our entire plan.”

you groaned. “we have enough chemistry for them to believe it, jack.” you said pointedly, your leg bouncing up and down under his dining room table.

“i guess.” he shrugged a smirk on his face. “but what we have is platonic chemistry. we need romantic, honeymoon phase chemistry.”

your fingers picked at the skin around your painted nails. blood pooled in your cuticle but you paid no mind to it, subconsciously wiping it against the denim of your jeans.

every muscle in your body tensed. platonic chemistry— the only thing you and jack possess. the subtle comment twisted your stomach— the contents from the meal before threatening to spew out.

“i, uh, have to go to the bathroom.” you blurt out, quickly leaving the seat and entering into his bathroom.

his brows furrow at your abrupt exit. “ok…”

his bathroom was cold and plain. you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you swallow harshly.

why were you doing this? why put yourself through the emotional turmoil only for jack to pretend to be in love with you? were you this desperate?

you raked your brain for any coherent answer—one that you would never find.

turning on the faucet, the icy water coated your shaky hands. you splashed some water on your flushed face—good thing you wore waterproof mascara today. quickly, you patted yourself dry, hopefully appearing more relaxed than before.

as you walk back into his dining room, jack’s faint laughter fills the room. it bounces off of the walls in a symphony of beauty. you crave his laughter like a bee craves honey. jealousy courses through you as he isn’t laughing at your joke.

he sits at the table, his phone in hand as he types on his screen. his lips are pulled upwards into a boyish grin, a pink color coating the apples of his cheeks.

his gaze adverts from his phone to you as you awkwardly stand, almost as if you were waiting for his approval to sit. “sorry, it’s just lola.”

your shoulders slouch.

you’ve met lola before. she never seemed humorous to you. she couldn’t have possibly said something that funny that he’s laughing out loud.

then it all became clear. you were merely a scheme to get her back. he wasn’t over her— he never was.

“can i ask you something?” you said while sitting in the chair beside him.

“mhm.” his attention isn’t even focused on you. silently, you scoff.

“you know what, i’m just going to head home.” you said, your voice sharp. immediately, jack put down his phone.

his forehead was creased from the furrow of his brows. “are you ok?” he mirrored your actions, standing up alongside you.

you mumbled in response, collecting your things and heading towards his front door. his hand clasped against your wrist, halting your movement. you huffed, looking back at him.

“did i do something?”

“no, jack.”

“then why are you acting like this?”

“i didn’t sleep well last night. i just want to take a nap.” you said simply. his face contorted. you were never the best liar.

“worm,” the nickname rolls off of his tongue like silk, but pierces your skin like shattered glass. it was short for bookworm— something classmates would teasingly call you. you never liked it when people said it, not until jack did. “just tell me what’s wrong.”

“are you using me as a pawn to get lola?” his face paled as the words left your lips. his hands clasped into fists and he cleared his throat.

“no.” his eyes avoided yours. “why would you think that?” he asked.

“i just want to make sure that we’re still going to be friends after this.” you spoke. “after all, i don’t think lola’s going to want me to be close with you after this.”

“good thing we aren’t together anymore and it will stay like that.” he mustered up the fakest smile. “see you on saturday, yeah?”

you sighed, “yeah.”

kissing wasn’t something foreign to you. your first kiss was in tenth grade with jake hopkins. he had blue eyes, curly brunette hair, and a similar name to jack. your kiss with him was enough to distract you from jack’s newest conquest with gina— an eleventh grade blonde who resembled a real life angel. she was older, which jack didn’t always like, but he made an exception for her.

kissing was something you were used to doing. you hadn’t been in a lot of serious relationships, but you kissed people often. however, the thought that you and jack might kiss today made your stomach do a somersault. suddenly, you knew nothing about kissing. it was as foreign to you as an alien to earth.

swiping on the darker shade of lipstick, you hoped for a confidence boost. you don’t usually wear this lipstick shade. holly, your best friend and roommate, convinced you to buy the overpriced makeup a few weeks ago. she said it would make you look sexier, more mature. you wondered if jack would like this shade. lola often wore darker lipstick. it looked good on her plump lips, but maybe a little less once left on jack’s cheek. it always made you cringe when she would press her lips against his, leaving a smudged lip print. jack knew it was there and he didn’t mind. if wore it proudly like a badge of honor, not caring what teasing remarks his teammates would make.

“i can’t believe you’re doing this for him.” holly said. she was clad in your pajama bottoms and sweatshirt, sprawled out across your bed.

“well, he is my childhood best friend.” you reply as you grab towards your perfume, spraying it across your body. you stood up, looking at yourself in the full length mirror.

you wore a maroon, silk, maxi dress. it accentuated every curve on your body, fitting you like a glove. the deep colored dress was captivating with a slit going up your lower body, showcasing your legs.

holly mutters something incoherent under her breath— you can’t quite hear what she said, but you can only imagine.

“you look like a fucking goddess.” she stood next to you, holding your arm up and twirling you around. giggles escaped your lips. “i just wish you were going out with a guy who actually appreciated you. not one who used you like this.” the corners of her lips turned downwards into a frown.

you turn to respond to her, to defend jack, but as you do, the doorbell rings.

“that’s him.” you waste no time running towards the door and opening it for him. he wore a maroon tie that matched perfectly with yours, his hair touseled, and his face clean shaven.

“hi.” you smile, your eyes trailing up and down his body. he looked godlike. “you look great.”

“thank you.” his cheeks blushed red. “you look beautiful, worm. i mean it.”

your entire body felt warm. you hadn’t even touched him and yet sparks traveled through your body. he knew you were beautiful— he even thought it— but he still didn’t want you.

holly trailed behind you, watching the interaction from the kitchen. she shook her head before returning to her room.

“we should get going.” jack clears his throat.

"yeah, we should," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

jack leads you to his car, a black range rover that’s evident he takes proud in. he opens the passenger door for you, a small gesture that makes your heart flutter, and then quickly hops into the driver's seat. as he starts the engine, you can feel the tension in the air.

"so," jack begins, glancing over at you, "let's go over the details one more time."

you nod, pulling out your phone to check the notes you had made earlier. "okay, so we've been dating for six months. we’ve always had feelings for each other,, and it was kind of a whirlwind romance," you start, reading off the fabricated history you both had created.

jack smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "right, and we decided to keep it quiet because we didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"exactly," you continue, "and we've spent a lot of time together, just not always in public. but your family knows me very well, so it shouldn't be too hard to convince them."

he nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "and we're really happy together," he adds, his tone softening. "like, really happy."

your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice. a part of you feels it’s real— though you know it's all part of the act. "yes," you agree, trying to keep your voice light. "happier than i've ever been."

jack glances over at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "you're a great actress, you know that?"

you laugh, a sound that feels both forced and genuine at the same time. "thanks."

in a way you were an actress— well, most of the time. in your everyday life with jack you played the part of a best friend who only held platonic feelings. you had mastered that part. here, now, however, there is no acting. you are entirely devoted to jack. anything you say, any touch you bestow, will be a look into your heart.

the rest of the drive, you both fall into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts. the gps guides you to a large, elegant house adorned with white ribbons and flower arrangements.

"we're here," jack says.

you take a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your stomach. "okay, let's do this."

jack steps out of the car and quickly comes around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. you take it, your fingers curling around his as you step out of the car. his touch is warm and reassuring, and for a moment, you allow yourself to savor the feeling.

as you walk towards the entrance, jack squeezes your hand gently. "ready?"

you nod, your heart pounding in your chest. "ready."

the moment you step inside, you're greeted by a flurry of activity. guests are milling about, chatting and laughing, the air filled with the sounds of celebration. jack's family members quickly spot you and rush over, their faces lighting up with genuine happiness.

"jack! y/n!" ellen exclaims, pulling you both into a warm hug. "it's so good to see you two together!"

you smile, slipping into the role effortlessly. "it's great to see you too," you reply, squeezing her hand.

as more family members gather around, asking questions and showering you both with affection, you can feel jack's hand on the small of your back.

throughout the evening, you and jack move seamlessly through the crowd, sharing inside jokes, laughing at shared memories, and playing the part of the perfect couple. there are moments when you catch his gaze, and for a split second, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be more than just an act.

but then you see lola, standing across the room, her eyes locked on jack. her presence is a stark reminder of the reality of your situation. jack's smile falters for a moment when he sees her, and you can see the conflict in his eyes.

it’s not long before lola stalks over in your direction. she stands tall in a yellow maxi dress, matching with the rest of the bride's maids. the color makes her tan skin shine. she’s the epitome of sunshine.

she greets, “jack.” her gaze lingers on jack, the corners of her lips curving into a devilish smirk.

suddenly, he drops your hand. you suck in a sharp breath, looking down at his hand besides yours. his hand is flexed. you attempt to steady your breaths.

“hello, lola.” he replies. her name slides off his tongue so perfectly. he says it seductively and yearningly. his eyes brighten and cheeks gain more color. he stares at her like she hung the stars in the sky. “you remember y/n, don’t you?”

as he says your name, neither the glimmer in his eye or the blush on his cheeks intensify. it falls off his tongue in a casual way, with no clues or cliffhangers left behind.

she chuckles, the sound bouncing off of the walls and reaching your ears like both a blessing and a curse. “i remember her very well.” she doesn’t leave it there. “though, last time i saw her, she was your friend and i was your girlfriend. funny how the tables turn.”

as if on cue, both of your bodies stiffen, the action obvious enough for her to stifle out a laugh.

“calm down, i’m just joking.”

“it’s nice to see you again.” you say, ignoring the burning sensation in your stomach. she looks you up and down, a look of indifference placed on her perfect face.

it’s almost like she can read you. she looks so majestic, you wouldn’t put it past her to behold a supernatural ability.

“it’s a pleasure to see you always, y/n.” she grins. in the background, the dj changes the upbeat music to a slower, romantic song. the atmosphere around you shifts to the music. “slow dances are starting! i want to see you love birds on the dance floor.” her comment comes out snarky, but jack is too captivated by her to notice.

lola’s small figure disappears in the sea of people on the makeshift dance floor.

“wanna dance, worm?” jack asks with a sly grin. his hand picks up yours again.

“i thought you’d never offer.”

he tugs at your hand, pulling you towards an open spot on the dance floor. as you step onto the dance floor with jack, the soft melody of lover by taylor swift fills your ears. jack's hand feels warm and reassuring in yours, but as you glance up at him, you can't shake the thought of how he dropped your hand.

"this song... it reminds me of lola," jack murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “it’s stupid, but this song was playing when we met, so it’s always resonated with her.”

you nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "yeah, i can see why. it's a beautiful song," you reply, trying to mask the ache in your chest.

it was like the universe was playing a prank on you. lover was your song, not theirs. the second it was released you fell in love with it. it was the very song you listened to when you still had hopes of a relationship with jack.

as you dance, jack's gaze keeps drifting towards where lola dances. she sways back and forth with the groom’s best man. everytime she laughs, jack’s jaw clenches.

you try to push aside the rising tide of emotion, focusing instead on the feel of jack's arms around you and the gentle sway of your bodies. but with each passing moment, the resentment grows, threatening to consume you from within.

“jack, can you at least pretend you want to be here with me?” your voice was sharp.

pity spread on his face like a wildfire. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to-”

“it’s fine.” you mutter through your teeth.

he didn’t respond, although the dim glimmer in his eyes revealed his guilt.

from the outside looking in, this seemed like a romantic, loving dance between the perfect couple. but that couldn’t have been more wrong.

as the song comes to an end, you reluctantly pull away from jack, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of hurt and anger. "you lied to me, jack." you accuse, your voice barely above a whisper.

jack's expression softens, his eyes clouded with regret. "y/n, i'm sorry," he begins, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

"i don't want to hear it," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "i thought... i thought you cared about me. the only reason i’m here is to make her jealous.”

jack reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away, your heart heavy with disappointment. "i know," he says softly, "and i'm sorry. i just... i can't help how i feel."

you take a step back, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. "i understand," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.”

“you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me, y/n. we’re only friends.”

the words hit you hard because it’s the truth. you and jack are only friends.

with that, you turn and walk away. you hear jack yelling your name as he races after you, but you ignore it. you get as far as the parking lot before his hand clasps around yours, pulling you back into his chest.

“what do you want?” you shouted. “what do you want from me, jack?”

“i don’t know.” he admits.

“exactly.” you point your finger at him. “you don’t know what you want, so you play with my feelings; you manipulate me; you flirt with me, tell me you love me, but then somehow remind me that we’re only friends.”

he stands there, speechless and guilty. his gaze stays glued to the concrete.

you let out a sharp, bitter laugh, your eyes flashing with anger. “you’ve known this entire time that i love you, and you still invited me here.” your eyes are dark with rage. “you have known your motive since before we got here and completely disregarded how it would break me.”

“worm,” he softens his voice.

“don’t call me that.”

“c’mon, don’t be like this.” he says. his hand reaches out to intertwine with yours, but you pull away.

“jack, i would do anything for you unbiased to my feelings because i thought you cared.” your voice grows weaker. tears flood your eyes and stream down your face. “but now i’m seeing the real you and it fucking sucks.”

you step back from jack, tears streaming down your face, as he stands there speechless, his guilt palpable in the air. the weight of his actions hangs heavy between you.

"i hope you're happy now because you have finally pushed me away," you choke out, your voice trembling with emotion. “goodbye, jack.” with that, you turn and walk away, leaving jack standing in the parking lot, his mouth hanging agape.

as you make your way to the street, you pull out your phone and quickly hail an uber. the car arrives, and you climb in.

as the car pulls away from the curb, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. you did the unthinkable.

you untangled yourself from jack’s web.

#nora’s writings 💐#jack hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #nhl imagine

400 notes · View notes

lovecla · 8 days ago

Text

TAKE IT EASY (OTHERWISE I’M LEAVING) | connor bedard.

ᡣ𐭩 — pair: connor bedard x fmc (olivia)

ᡣ𐭩 — synopsis: in which connor bedard’s girlfiend, olivia, is tired of seeing her boyfriend destroy himself every single day.

ᡣ𐭩 — word count: 3.1k

ᡣ𐭩 — chapter warnings: inspired by the song “you” by chase atlantic, angst, hurt with a dash of comfort.

ᡣ𐭩 — from me to you: the second chase atlantic released this album i knew i had to write something inspired by it. i missed writing for bedsy and since he’s our golden, hardworking boy, i thought this was very fitting. hope u like it 🤍

ᯓᡣ𐭩

but you've been diggin' up the truth

haven't slept in like four nights now

blame it on substance abuse

out in the deep end, i'm swimmin', i'm swimmin' again

YOU WOKE up startled with the loud bang coming from somewhere inside your apartment, your whole body jumping and your heart starting to race inside your chest.

Now, almost fully awake, you stare at the clock sitting on your bedside table, reading the time. 4:13 a.m., and when you pat the other side of the bed, where your boyfriend of two years should be laying, you frown as you find it empty and lukewarm to the touch.

“Connor?” You whisper, scared to wake him up unnecessarily, even if you knew he wasn’t lying with you in bed. Again.

You get up, the fabric of his old Blackhawks sweater heating up your skin, as you put on your slippers and leave the bedroom, noticing traces of Connor’s absence here and there— his slippers aren’t by his side of the bed, his duffel bag isn’t on the hallway like it usually is, his water bottle isn’t on the couch like he had left it last night, when you both went no sleep at one in the morning.

So that’s why you don’t understand what he’s doing by the front door, ready to leave, even if he had only slept for three hours.

“Connor?” You call again, watching as his blue eyes look at you, surprise and guilt decorating his expression like a famous painting hanging on the Louvre’s wall. “What are you doing?”

Your voice is still soft, and despite the scare, your eyes can barely stay open. You’re tired, tonight was the first night you had allowed yourself to sleep freely since now you were done with your exams. And you were happy because you managed to convince Connor to come home earlier, at eleven instead of midnight, just so you could spend some time together, like you used to do when you started dating.

“Liv, hey,” he whispers, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

That’s when you realize what he’s doing. The bag, the stick on his hand, the outfit. He’s—

“Are you serious right now?” You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. “You’re going to the rink? At four in the morning?”

“Baby, you know I need to,” he tries to sound convincing and if it wasn’t for the fact that this is probably the hundredth time he’s done this, you would’ve actually believed him. “We have a game coming up and—”

“Yes, I am well aware of that, Connor. But you went to sleep at one. Two nights ago, you also went to sleep at one and woke up at five. And the night before, and the night before that too.”

You don’t try to hide your feelings anymore. You want him to know you’re upset, and you want him to know that this, whatever the hell he’s doing, isn’t okay.

“I know, baby, but you know I have to keep practicing so I can help the guys.” He’s now facing you, his body visibly tense.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Connor, what the hell. There are other twenty fucking people in your team, you’re not the only player there. It’s not your responsibility only!” You cover your face with your hands, truly upset.

“Liv,” he calls your name, and it hurts to even hear it, because his voice is so full of guilt and shame. It makes you feel sick. “You’re not being reasonable right now. This is the NHL. You know how hard I’ve worked for this. There are people counting on me.”

“And I’m not one of them?” You whisper, making eye contact again, only to realize you’re not strong enough to have this conversation at four in the morning.

“Liv—”

“It’s fine, Connor. Go to practice.” You sigh, making your way back to the bedroom, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

you said, "take it easy, otherwise i'm leaving

yeah, i don't wanna stay and watch you die",

ᯓᡣ𐭩

CONNOR HAD an injury.

His jaw had been fractured, and he had to go to surgery to fix it. You were in the arena watching the game with Connor’s sister when it happened, and you had never been so scared.

You know Hockey is about hitting people as much as it is about playing and winning, but you won’t lie and say your heart doesn’t hurt inside your chest whenever you see Connor getting hurt on the ice.

And you aren’t dumb. You know that some players will purposefully hurt him just because he’s good. And even if people aren’t one hundred percent sure that that is what happened that night, you still remember the terrible feeling of losing when you were in the ambulance with Connor to the hospital, trying your hardest not to cry in front of anyone because you know what they would say.

She’s not tough enough to date a NHL player.

But you believed yourself to be tough. The only problem with all of this is that you knew Bedard would never take great care of himself, meaning that you’d have to be with him twenty-four-seven, which wouldn’t be a problem, if only he accepted your help.

Now, four weeks after the surgery, you’re inside the United Center, the Blackhawks arena in Chicago, stomping your feet as you walk towards the rink, the sound of your steps being muffled by Connor’s constant skating.

“Connor.”

You have to call him a few times so that he can finally get out of his head and look at you; once again, those blameworthy eyes looking down at you, as he skates closer to the benches where you were standing.

“Liv.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Connor?” You snap. “You’re supposed to be resting. You’re definitely not supposed to be on the ice.”

“I know, but my jaw is just fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He removes his helmet, running his gloved hand through his hair.

“It didn’t seem like it was fine last night when you had to swallow a bunch of pain pills because it was hurting. Connor, don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You can feel your face heating up, and you’re trying so hard to keep your shit together but— “You have to allow your body to rest. If you keep up with this, you won’t get better—”

“That’s not an option, Liv, and you know it,” he hissed back, now looking more distressed than guilty. “This is my life. And I did allow myself to rest, I spent four weeks doing absolutely nothing, just like the doctor asked me to.”

“He said six to eight weeks, Connor,” you sigh, tired, not actually believing you’re having this conversation with him. “Please. Just think about how I feel when I know you’re not well enough to be here yet you still are.”

He pressed his lips together, placing his stick on the floor next to him and moving his helmet around his hands.

“Liv, you know I love you but this— Hockey is what I am. It’s what I do. You have to understand—”

“And I have done nothing but understand you!” You shout, finally losing your cool and snapping at him, your loud voice echoing through the empty arena’s walls. Connor takes a step back, but now you’ve already started and you won’t can’t stop. “Ever since we met, I have been nothing but understanding. I stood by your side at all times, even when what you were doing wasn’t healthy for you!”

“Olivia—”

“I went to sleep alone and cried more nights than you could ever imagine,” your voice cracks, and your stubborn tears are already rolling down your face. “I still supported you no matter what. I cooked your meals, I packed your bags, I went to those ridiculous gala dinners and I did it all with pleasure because I love you and you’re supposed to do these types of things for the people you love!”

“Baby—”

“So you don’t get to stand in front of me and ask me to understand how badly you treat yourself and how you don’t care about anything else besides Hockey when I gave up everything to be with you!” You try to wipe your face, stepping back when Connor tries to reach you. He frowns when you flinch. “I gave up my freedom because I wanted to be with you and God knows I’d do it all over again because I fucking love you.”

“Baby, I know all of this and I’m grateful, I really am but—”

You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head. “There’s always a but with you.”

“Hockey is important to me, baby.”

“And I am not.”

The silence after your words is cruel, and it tears you apart, scratching your skin and making your insides hurt. His blue eyes, your favorite color to ever exist, are also filled with tears and you hate to see it. You hate to feel bad about saying these things.

The thing about loving someone is that the thread between giving up yourself for them and giving yourself to them is really thin.

You love Connor Bedard. Have loved him for years now. He makes you happy, he listens to you, he’s your best friend.

“You know that’s not true, Liv,” he gets closer, the sound of his skates hitting the ice making you want to puke. “You know you’re more important to me than any of this. You know I love you.”

“No, Connor, I don’t,” you whisper, smiling even when all you feel is pain. “I can’t do this. I won’t watch you d-destroy yourself and not do anything.”

He removes his gloves quickly and grabs your wrist, cold fingers holding your arm down. “Olivia, wait.”

“No,” You shake your head. “I need time. Sorry.”

You don’t look at his face as you leave the arena, and you certainly don’t listen to his voice shouting your name, over and over again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

i don't know what to do

i’m stuck in a loop, stuck in a loop

ᯓᡣ𐭩

HE WATCHES you talking to the children from afar.

You’re sitting on the floor, and it’s so obvious you’re better different from everyone else at the party. The children surround you like you’re their favorite princess or superhero, all of them wanting a little bit of your attention.

Connor feels like he should be offended, since those kids were there to see his team in the first place. It was some kind of reunion Foligno arranged with the media team, inviting some of his son’s friends and some other children with less opportunities.

But he isn’t. First of all, he’s thankful because if it weren’t for your charm, he would be the one having to deal with the children, something he wasn’t very fond of. Sure, he likes kids and he’s happy they like him, but if he could avoid social interactions, he would.

Besides that, watching you happy is something that he had missed, and he feels like shit for it. He knows he hasn’t been a good boyfriend, and he knows he should do better. Ever since that one night at the rink, you haven’t been the same.

But if he thinks about it too much, he realizes that you haven’t been yourself for a long time now.

And it hurts.

It hurts because he doesn’t know what to do. He loves you, the very first girl he fell in love with, but he also loves Hockey. As a young player in the NHL, he feels like he constantly needs to prove himself to others, and since people give him so much attention, he needs to keep on being a good player.

He doesn’t know how to balance things, how not to spend hours and hours without end on the ice, muting all of his doubts and worries while he keeps throwing the puck in the net.

You smile at a little boy who’s now handing you a flower, and Connor smiles as he watches you ask the little boy to put it on your hair, laughing when the other kids stop their babbling to clap at your newest look.

You make eye contact with him, and he feels himself getting devastated when he notices that the shine in your eyes lessened a little when you looked at him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

(why do you hate me?)

i could never hate you, despite the words that you've been sayin'

i’ve been having breakthroughs

and hoping you were proud, just maybe

anxiety drives me insane, and my newest addiction is pain

i know i said it was a ‘phase’

five years later, still stuck in my brain

ᯓᡣ𐭩

CLOSING THE front door with a sigh, you let your first sob out. The tears won’t stop, and you don’t bother to wipe them, it would be pointless.

All you want to do is slide down to the floor and stay there, letting the hardwood hurt your back and get you dirty, but you can’t. Your car decided to break in the middle of the road on your way back from college, and you had to walk until you found the nearest telephone to call your insurance company, which would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the terrible storm going on, the water drops penetrating your thin shirt like you weren’t even wearing anything in the first place.

It’s just one of those days where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong, but you’re already so fed up with life lately that this all seems too much.

“Liv? What happened, baby?”

You lift your head up faster than you should've, because now you can see tiny, black dots floating around in your vision. You weren’t expecting to see Connor at your house, much less wearing the apron you gave him when he prepared his first dish by himself two years ago— a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Connor,” you whisper, not looking him in the eye. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I texted you,” he says, removing the apron that read “cook it yourself, cunt”. “What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

You don’t say anything, mostly because you’re certain that if you let one little word slip past your lips you’ll start crying uncontrollably once again, so you just shake your head and leave your things on the floor beside you, walking past him so you could get to your room.

He’s quick to follow, though, watching as you remove your wet clothes and get in the shower, both of you silent and lost in your own thoughts.

Not talking to Connor about your feelings feels weird, but you can’t help but feel like you’re holding him back. It’s sickening, because all you want is to stay with him and be happy, but sometimes loving is also letting go.

You get out of the shower, feeling the tears coming back when you spot the change of clothes Connor left for you on top of the toilet lid— his shirt, his pants, your favorite panties.

He knows you too well. He knows who you are as a person and he knows who you want to become. He knows your fears and your ambitions, he knows your dreams and hopes. He knows what you stand for and what you absolutely despise.

He knows you.

You change, and leave the bathroom quickly, wanting nothing more than to lay down and sleep for days.

“Some lady from your insurance company just called, saying your car will be ready next week,” Connor says, and only then you noticed he’d been standing next to your wardrobe the entire time, crossed arms in front of his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me your car was broken?”

You shrug. “I knew you were at practice. Didn’t want to bother you.”

“So you walked home? In the rain?” You can tell by his tone that he’s upset, but there’s nothing much you can do.

“I mean, what did you want me to do?” You scoff. “My phone died and I had no cash on me. And honestly, we both know that you would never leave the ice for something like this.”

“Liv, you know that’s not true,” he whispers, getting closer to you. “You know that I’d leave at any moment if I even knew you needed me.”

“Whatever,” you mumble before reaching for your phone in your bag, the device thankfully still dry, and put it to charge, removing the hundreds of pillows you have on top of your bed and throwing them on the carpet floor, already visualizing the amazing sleep you’d have.

“What are you doing?” You feel his hands on your back, his body closer to yours than it’s been in a while. “You haven’t had dinner yet. I cooked…”

His sad tone makes you break again, and you hate yourself for it. But you still love him so much, and it hurts to see what you’ve become.

“Liv, please, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads, turning you around and wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’ll fix it, I promise. Just tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

“Can you fix us?” You whisper, resting your head against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. He smells like home and the winter. “Can you fix what we’ve become?”

He’s quiet for a while, long fingers caressing your hair, like he used to do back when you had started dating.

“I’m trying, I swear I am,” he whispers back, and you can finally hear genuineness in his voice. “You’re everything to me, baby, and I won’t lose you.”

“I’m not asking you to give up on Hockey,” you explain, watching as your tears stain his shirt. “I’m just asking you to take care of yourself. Connor, I need you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry,” he kisses your cheek, the first time his lips touch you in more than two weeks. “I’m so sorry.”

You listen to his heartbeat and sigh, choosing not to say anything. You know the only way you can find out if he’s being genuine or not is with time, because only it will tell if you’re fixable or not.

But as you let yourself sleep close to his body that night, losing yourself between the sheets and his arms, you can finally breathe again.

Because he said he’ll try, and Connor Bedard always tries his hardest with everything.

#cb98 #connor bedard x oc #connor bedard x you #connor bedard fic #connor bedard angst #connor bedard #connor bedard imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #nhl hockey #hockey #chicago blackhawks

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withwritersblock · 8 months ago

Text

More Hearts Than Mine -Her Brother's Hockey Game

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~ Author's Note: I dreamed about this the other night and I wanted to write it because I think it's cute. Summary: Luke and Y/N go to her brother's championship game Warnings: swearing Word Count: 2,279 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

He delicately tapped his fingertips onto her shoulder as she stirred. “Baby,” he let out barely above a whisper. She scrunched her features together as she rolled away from him, he chuckled quietly. “Babe,” he let out as he delicately pressed his lips on her exposed shoulder.

“No,” she mumbled as she pulled the blanket closer to her face. He smiled as he slowly ran his hand up and down her arm.

“We have to go to your brother’s game in two hours,” he explained before he pressed his lips against her cheek. She took in a sharp breath as she reluctantly rolled back over to face him. She slowly opened her eyes as her lips fell into a pout. He smiled once he met her gaze. He leaned down and kissed her cheek once more.

“I can’t believe I agreed to that,” she mumbled as she rubbed her eyes. He laughed as he sat up from his lying position.

“You hate missing his games,” he offered as he ran his fingers through his curly hair.

“His games used to be in the afternoon, not nine in the morning,” she countered. She let out a huff of air.

He stood up from the bed, his body shirtless as he walked towards her side of the bed. He leaned down towards her, planting a quick kiss against her lips. He delicately ran his hand across her cheek. “I’ll make us some breakfast while you go get ready,” he smiled widely before he wandered out of her bedroom towards her kitchen.

She took in a sharp breath as she reluctantly stood up from the bed.

It had been an hour since they had woken up, Luke had prepared an amazing meal. With scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage.

After they finished eating, Luke started getting ready as it took a lot less time for him to get ready. She finished appling the last of her makeup as Luke was walking out of the shower. She met his gaze through the mirror as her phone began to vibrate on the counter. Glancing down, she saw her little brother was calling.

She pulled the phone against her ear as she walked out of the bathroom towards the kitchen. “Hey EJ, how are you feeling?” she asked.

“You and Luke are still coming, right?” he asked. Nervous. That’s what she collected from the first sentence. It was the biggest game in his young high school career. His freshman year of high school was a rough season for the entire time, not even making it to the playoffs. But EJ was riding a 0.93 save record and had four shutouts under his belt. His team was also riding on an average of five goals a game. It was the championship game.

“Yes, we are. We are leaving my apartment in like twenty minutes.”

“Luke doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to. I know he’s super busy-”

“He wants to, he has the day off today. You asked him to come, he made time,” Y/N said with a smile as she ran her fingers through her hair. She was wearing an old high school hockey sweater she had when she went to school there.

“Okay, I just don’t want him to think he has to go. I mean it’s just a dumb high school game. He’s been playing elit-”

“Elijah, you play your game. Luke isn’t there as an NHL player, he’s there as my boyfriend supporting my little brother. You don’t try to impress him, you play how you’ve always played,” she tried to be reassuring.

She watched Luke walk out of her bedroom, rubbing a towel hard against his hair. She wanted to scold him because his hair was too pretty to be towel dryed like a damn dog.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m glad you guys are going to be here,” he said before taking in a sharp breath. “I gotta go, Coach just got in the locker room,” he hung up the phone. Y/N put her phone back into her pocket.

“Is he okay?” he asked as he dropped the towel into the washer as he had began to do a load of laundry of his clothes. It was her apartment but he had spent so much time there, they were practically living together at that point.

“Yeah, he’s nervous,”

“I’m sure, it’s a big game,” he mumbled before he walked back into the bedroom. She followed him, “I mean he’s a goalie, shit’s a lot of pressure,” Luke mumbled as he took a hold of a black Devils snapback and put it on his head backwards. He looked towards Y/N for approval and she nodded with a smirk on her lips.

“He wants to impress you, I can tell,” she mumbled as she walked towards him, wrapping her arms around the center of his back. He chuckled nervously as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her head.

“He’s the starting goalie at fifteen against eighteen year olds. That’s already impressive and he’s got four shutouts too? He’s badass,” Luke expressed as he slowly ran his hand up and down her back.

~~~

The boys were already on the ice when Luke and Y/N walked through the bleachers towards her family. Her parents, sister, grandparents, and a few of her uncles were there as well. “Oh, yay!” her mom shouted as she spotted both Y/N and Luke walked towards them. Luke kept his hands in his hoodie pocket, as the ice rink was small and a lot colder than he remembered.

“Mark, Jonathan, Mom, Dad, this is Y/N’s boyfriend Luke!” her mother offered after she gave Y/N and Luke a quick hug. Mark and Jonathan were smiling widely as they offered Luke a handshake. Y/N’s grandparents only smiled politely towards him as they were not fond of their grandchildren dating. Despite Y/N being twenty.

“You’re kidding,” Jonathan said as he rested his hands on his hips.

“Hi Uncle J,” Y/N said as she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Sorry, Kiddo, it’s your fault you got a celebrity boyfriend who’s more exciting,” Jonathan said as gave Y/N a quick hug as Mark did the same thing. Luke chuckled shyly at the word celebrity.

“Oh sit, sit,” her mother offered. Luke sat down beside Y/N, delicately resting his hand on her thigh furthest from him, as he pulled her closer. “We’ve got an extra blanket if you guys want it?” she asked but before either of them could answer she was already handing it to Y/N. Y/N covered her lap with the blanket and gave Luke some of it but he brushed it off.

EJ skated towards the bench to get some water when his teammate Kyle smacked his hand onto his shoulder. “Dude, is that fucking Luke Hughes sitting with your hot ass sister?” Elijah turned around to look towards the bleachers, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He cringed at the choice of words regarding his older sister but he brushed it off.

“Uh, yeah, he’s sorta dating my sister,” EJ mumbled as he stared towards his family and Luke.

Y/N nudged Luke slightly as she leaned towards him, whispering, “You’ve been spotted,” Luke looked towards the bench to see EJ and his teammate staring towards their small group in the bleachers. Luke smiled before switching his gaze towards Y/N.

“Yay,” he said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes playfully before she rested her head onto his shoulder. Luke’s hand was still gliding slowly up and down her thigh as it felt good to feel her next to him. It calmed him down.

The teams skated off the ice to allow the zamboni to replenish the ice. Her mom bumped into Y/N’s shoulder, “Why did Elijah want to be a goalie? I just feel panic for sixty minutes, all the other mom’s get to have a few minutes to relax,”

Luke smiled as he replied for Y/N, “My mom always had trouble finding us on the ice, at least you’ll know where EJ is the whole game,” her mom laughed as she nodded her head.

“I never thought of it that way!” she let out as she chuckled.

The game finally started and it was evident that EJ was going to have a busy game. It was only the first five minutes of the game and he had to stop seven shots already as one of his teammates got a penalty.

Luke was fully involved in the game, his head moving back and forth as the puck was up and down the ice. He would cringe and jerk his head back any time the puck would hit EJ. Letting out a sigh of relief any time he would make a save.

Sure, he loved the game of hockey. Of course, he was going to be fully involved in the game but it was the way he cared. He cared about EJ and has shown that he cares about him since the first time he met him.

They watched as the opposing team wristed a shot from the blue line and after a deflection it went past EJ. He dropped his head as he immediately went to dig the puck out of his net. Half of the rink erupted into cheers as her family slumped slightly. “He’s solid, that was impossible to see. He’s got this,” Luke reassured as he squeezed her thigh.

She smiled towards him as she rested her hand on top of his. Within thirty seconds his teammates tied the game and her family shot up and cheered. “His boys got ‘em,” Luke mumbled as he kissed her cheek.

Right off the face off, the defensemen practically fell as they allowed the centerman of the opposing team skate one on one with Elijah. With a glove save, the game reamined tied.

Luke let out a huff of air as he shook his head, “That was nasty,” he said as he leaned forward, completely utterly invested in the game. “There better be scouts in this building because goddamn,”

The game remained tied at 1-1 for the rest of regulation. EJ had stopped the remainder of the thirty-six shots he faced. The boys were skating around on the ice waiting for the referees to get set up from the overtime period.

“Does he do that every game?” Luke asked as they watched EJ face the net and tap his stick against the pipes. Y/N nodded as she stared towards her little brother, who keeps growing.

She pictures her little brother at five years old with his stick that was as tall as him. To now, ten years later, six foot three and towering over many of his teammates. He bowed his head against the pipes before he got in position as the puck dropped.

“He’s done the same ritual since he was like eight,” she mumbled as she looped her arm around his own.

For the first two minutes, the puck seemed to be stuck in the neutral zone. “My heart is beating out of my chest,” Y/N mumbled as she watched the puck be tossed into the offensive zone.

After a few passes, there was a turn over and two players of the opposing team were heading straight towards EJ. “Oh fuck,” Luke muttered as his hands covered his mouth. One of EJ’s defensman was able to get back to try and help stop the shot.

After looking off his teammate, he fires the puck towards EJ. He makes the stop but the puck bounces out towards the other player. EJ was left in an awkward position, which practically allowed the other team to get an easy empty net. But EJ flew his body towards the player as he released the puck. EJ saved the puck with a glove save as he collapsed on the side. The entire ice rink gasped.

Luke tilted his head back as he let out a laugh, “Oh my god!” he said in disbelief. The referee blew his whistle to stop the play. “How the hell did he save that?” Luke turned and looked towards Y/N. She let out a nervous laugh.

After a few more minutes of overtime, his team did it. They scored the game winning goal. His entire family jumped into the air excitedly. Luke quickly wrapped Y/N tightly in a hug. Their gaze returned to the ice to see his entire team skating towards him, pummiling him in hugs.

The families were allowed to come onto the ice to celebrate with the players. Luke and Y/N hung back, allowing her parents to get photos and celebrate with EJ. After a few minutes, EJ wandered towards Luke and Y/N. He quickly hugged Y/N. “Thank you for coming, sis,” he mumbled as he pulled away.

“I’ll always be here for the big ones, you know that,” she let out as she wiped a tear that had suddenly fallen onto her cheek. EJ smiled towards Luke, Luke initiated the hug. EJ hugged him quickly.

“Dude, you’re fucking nasty.” Luke said as he pulled away while laughing.

“Thanks man,” EJ let out while smiling.

“You’re teammates better be kissing your feet after that performance,” Luke let out as he crossed his arms over his chest. EJ shrugged with a wide smile. “I’m serious, EJ. One of these days I’ll be shooting against you,” Luke praised.

“You mean that?”

“Hell yeah, Scouts are going to be all over your ass after today,”

“Let me get a photo!” her mom shouted towards them.

#luke hughes #luke hughes series #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagines #jack hughes #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #hockey #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic #nj devils

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