hearts-4-luke - Tumblr blog

hearts-4-luke · 2 days

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take me | john marino

warnings: throat fucking, choking, spanking, p in v (unprotected + creampie | be safe and responsible!), breeding kink, use of “slut”

a/n: hope you enjoy 🤭🫧

I carefully watch Johns every move from my spot on the couch as he slams the front door shut before throwing his bag on the floor. He rips he suit jacket off of his body, throwing it next to his bag before he kicks off his dress shoes.

“Turn this shit off.” John breaks the silence between us as he begins to unbutton his dress shirt. My eyes drift to the TV where they’re showing the hundredth replay of the big fight. I bite down on my lip, internally cringing at his harsh tone and the way his face is filled with anger.

I press down on the power off button, watching as the screen goes black and the room gets much darker. The tension in the room is high and I can’t help but shift uncomfortably in my seat.

John runs a hand through his untamed curls, sighing heavily as he walks further into the room. He grabs my glass of water, chugging back the rest of it. A loud thud echos through the room and he slams it back down on the table.

I reach forward, barely ghosting my hand over his veiny wrist before he pulls away. My eyebrows furrow as I examine his face, trying to read his expression. “Johnny, are you o-” he quickly cuts me off. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He says flatly. “Okay, I’m going to bed.” I whisper and he nods, avoiding looking at my face.

I get myself ready for bed, meticulously going through my routine, overthinking and over analyzing my brief, tension-filled interaction with John.

Before I crawl into bed, I walk over to the large window in John and I’s bedroom. It’s slightly open despite the storm outside. I sigh before leaving the room to grab a towel.

I return to the bedroom and while the towel begins to soak up the puddle on the ground, I close the window.

My tired eyes follow a drop of rain that races down the glass before focusing on the city skyline. I look at all of the lights coming from various apartment buildings and stores. My eyes finally settle on my reflection for a moment before I see a tall figure standing in the doorway.

I stay standing where I am, listening to his footsteps get closer as he approaches me. His rough but soft hands brush over my hips before resting on my partially exposed thigh. Goosebumps instantly form on my arms when I feel him attach his lips to my neck.

He squeezes my thigh, dragging his tongue up my neck until he reaches my jaw. I feel my body relax as he pulls me closer to his body. “John” I breathe out as he rubs his hard bulge against my ass that’s covered by tight, short sleeping shorts.

I turn my body to face him, tilting my head to the side. He looks at me with eyes full of lust and his lips pulled into a small pout.

I lean up, pressing a soft kiss to the two beauty dots that lay close beside each other on his cheek.

He removes his right hand from my waist, dragging it up my body until he gets to my neck. His hand lightly wraps around it, giving a small squeeze.

Our lips find each others, pulling one another into a sloppy make out.

I tug at his gold chain, desperate to have him closer to me. My back is now pressed against the window, John gripping my hips tightly. “Knees, now.” He mumbles against my wet lips and I immediately drop to the ground in front of him.

I watch as he slowly pulls his boxers down. My mouth waters when I see his cock pop out and slap against his abdomen.

He grasps his cock in one hand while the other holds my face. His thumb rubs along my lips and I open my mouth for him. He shoves his thumb down my throat until I gag.

“Open your mouth, pretty girl.” John voice is coated with need as he runs his hand along the top of my head, smoothing my hair out.

I open my mouth wide, ready to take him down my throat. He pumps his cock once, twice, three times before placing his precum coated tip on my tongue. He moves his hips forward until his tip is pressed against the back of my throat.

I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on breathing through my nose as he stays still for a few moments. My tongue flicks at one of his prominent veins before he suddenly pulls out.

“Eyes on me the whole time, okay?” John asks in a low voice. “Okay.” I nod, looking up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

I open my mouth again and John is quick to slide his shaft down my throat. I clench my fist, fighting the urge to gag. He slightly pushes me backwards so that I’m pressed up against the window.

He grips the top of my head with both hands, thrusting in and out of my mouth.

Gags and squelching noises fill the room along with Johns deep groans. He moans my name like it’s all he knows.

Spit runs down my chin, collecting on the red Devils shirt I’m wearing.

Johns grip on my hair gets tighter as his strokes get faster. The salty taste of precum fills my mouth as he uses my throat for his pleasure.

After three more harsh strokes into my mouth, he pushes my head fully down, nose pressed against his skin, holding me there. I maintain eye contact the whole time, tears streaming down my face. After 6 seconds, I squeeze his thigh hard and he pulls our of my throat completely.

I cough and breath rapidly, trying to catch my breath. John runs his hand along my hair and gets down on his knees in front of me. He grabs my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the spit off of my face before pressing two sweet kisses to my lips, one to each cheek, and then two to my forehead to total 6 kisses, something he always does when we’re rough to assure me that he loves me and cares about me.

“Can I see this pretty pussy?” John asks after placing the final kiss to my forehead. He runs his long, slender fingers along my black panties, gently pushing down on my clothed clit to apply some pressure to the needy, swollen bud.

I lazily nod before mumbling a simple yes.

“Turn around, get on your knees.” John pats my thigh and I get into position on all fours looking out the window.

I feel Johns big hands brush across my ass before he places to harsh spanks on each cheek. I whimper at the stinging sensation as he presses a kiss to the back of my thigh.

His fingers slide into the sides of panties, pulling them down until the bunch at my knees.

He grips my hip tightly while running his tip through my soaked folds. He circles my clit a few times before pushing into my aching hole.

I immediately clench around his large cock, a soft moan leaving my lips as he brushes along my velvet spot.

He begins to move in and out of my wet pussy, our skin slapping with each perfect, deep stroke.

“Love fucking you with my last name across your back. You love being my slut, huh? Love being Marinos slut?” His voice is hoarse as he continues to pound into me. I hum and nod in response. “Words or I’ll stop.” He threatens, placing another harsh smack on my ass.

“Yes” I scream out, tipping my head back. John takes that as his opportunity to wrap his big hand around my neck. “Gonna fill you up soon. Put a baby in you.” He says against my shoulder before biting the skin gently. “Please, Johnny.” I whimper. “Please what?” He squeezes my neck a bit tighter. “Please fill me up.”

With that, he lets go of my neck and uses both of his hands to grip my hips. His strokes get harder and deeper. Our skin loudly claps together, filling the proximity of the room.

The knot in my stomach grows bigger with each pound into me. I scream Johns name, the glass becoming foggy from my warm breath.

His strokes begin to get sloppier and inconsistent as his groans become louder and needier.

“Fuck, gonna cum babe.” He alerts me. “Me too, Johnny. Please fill me up. I need it so bad.” I stutter my way through the sentence as I begin to feel the knot come undone.

John continues to pound into me as I release my creamy orgasm all over his large cock. Warm liquid fills my pussy and Johns strokes get slower as he rides out his intense orgasm.

My legs shake and my arms feel weak from holding myself up. John pulls out and quickly places his arms under my stomach, supporting me as I collapse to the floor.

He soothingly rubs along my bare leg skin as we both work on catching our breaths.

“Be right back, babe.” John sweetly says. A few moments he returns and I feel him clean my dripping folds with a warm towel. I watch as he cleans himself off before throwing the towel in the laundry basket at the bottom of our bed that I forgot to put away.

He pulls me into his strong arms, cradling me close to his chest. He peppers soft kisses along my hair line.

“Are you okay?” He asks, all signs of anger and annoyance gone from his voice. “Yes.” I nod, kissing his cute nose.

He presses our foreheads together and sighs. “You did so good, beautiful.” He praises and a small smile spreads across my face.

“I’m okay babe I’m sorry if I scared you” He says, referring to the fight he got into earlier in the night. I nod, biting my lip nervously. “I was worried you got hurt. My heart dropped so fast when they showed you.” I whisper. He purses his lips together before pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’m okay babe, I promise. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looks me deep in the eyes and I nod, reaching up to run a hand through his crazy curls.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah? My pretty girl needs rest.” He places a kiss my lips and I nod.

He picks me up, carrying me to our bed. He puts me on my side of the bed before curling in next to me. He pulls me close to him so that our naked, warm bodies are touching as much as possible. He sweetly praises me while placing kisses all along my face as we quickly fall into a long, peaceful sleep.

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hearts-4-luke · 2 days

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2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs: Round 1, Game 4 Canucks @ Predators | April 28, 2024

#BOES I LOVE YOU #brock boeser #vancouver canucks

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hearts-4-luke · 2 days

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𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 4.9k

summary: The one where you run into the guy who makes you believe in love all over again.

warnings: kissing, strangers to friends to lovers where they’re both a little oblivious, game mentioned is the game against philly with luke's ot goal

note: no angst?? who am i?? thank you maddy for answering my questions about luke so i could make this as accurate as possible ily

Someone once said that love comes when you least expect it and when you’re not looking for it, but you used to never believe that. You used to think that love was something you always searched for in others, that love was something everyone wanted, but you stopped believing that after it kept leaving you stranded and broken. You stopped looking for romantic love, choosing to believe that maybe it wasn’t meant for you, until one day when you’re quite literally trampled by the boy that made you believe in it all over again.

Walking the path near the water was one of your favorite pastimes since you’ve moved to the unfamiliar city. It was something that always brought you a sense of serenity whenever reality became a little too overbearing, or when you just needed a space to breathe after a particularly straining day at work. It was also your favorite way to start off your day whenever you had the time. Always a coffee in hand as you savored the peacefulness before the day truly began.

Today was one of the fortunate days when the weather wasn’t too cold that you needed more than a light jacket when you stepped outside. There weren't many people out and about as the sun had barely risen, but there were still a handful on their morning jogs or simply relaxing on the benches as they read a book. You had only looked away from the path in front of you for a brief second when you collided with something, or rather someone, and it sent your barely drank coffee to the ground, spilling all over your shoes.

“Shit,” You heard a boyish voice exclaim, his hands grasping at your biceps to keep you upright, “I’m so sorry!”

You knew it wasn’t on purpose, but you couldn’t help but grow a slight annoyance as you stared at the dropped drink. It wasn’t entirely his fault because you weren’t paying attention either and it wasn’t like you had just bought the coffee, you were just slow to drink it. Looking up at the person in front of you, your breath hitched in your throat when you saw one of the cutest guys you’d seen in the city yet. Though he looked slightly familiar, you just couldn’t place where you might have seen him.

He had a sympathetic, small smile on his face as he awkwardly dropped his hands back to his side. He had a beanie covering his hair, but there were a few strands of curls that had managed to poke out from the thick material. You were close enough to him that you can see a small scratch on the bridge of his nose that looked almost fully healed. He was quite a bit taller than you as well, his anxious eyes peering down into your own as you slowly blink at him.

“Are you okay,” He spoke again, gaze briefly filtering down to your shoes.

“Yeah,” You sigh as you step away from him, “I’m fine, but my shoes might not be.”

The both of you let out awkward chuckles before you bend down to grab the cup, slightly frowning to yourself as you bring it to your chest. When you meet his eyes again, he looks as if he was contemplating something by the way he keeps looking all around you. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie as he shifted his weight on his feet. The air is a little awkward as you think about just walking away, but he speaks before your feet ever move.

“Let me buy you a new drink,” He suggests, his voice slightly quieter than before as if he was nervous, “It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” You shake your head, “It’s no big deal. It’s just a coffee.”

“Please,” He tries, not wanting to press so hard enough he comes off desperate, “It looked almost full based on what I can see on the ground.”

You couldn’t help but notice his shy smile and hesitant eyes as he waited for your response. His cheeks and nose were slightly pink from the wind that refused to stop whipping at any exposed skin it found. He was sporting a nervous half smile as you mulled the option over in your head, trying to gather if there was any plausible reason to not let the cute boy with a crooked smile buy you another coffee.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” You agree, a smile of your own toying on your lips as you keep your gaze on him, “But only if you tell me your name first.”

“Luke,” He lightly chuckled, taking his hand out of his pocket, extending it for you to shake, “Yours?”

You gingerly took his hand in your own as you told him your name, ignoring the way his touch made your cheeks heat up and butterflies fill your stomach. You retracted your hand quickly, moving it to grasp the cup with both hands as you gestured for Luke to lead the way. You catch the way his eyes briefly dart to your cup before he began to walk the direction you had been coming from.

The two of you fell into a bit of an awkward conversation, him asking you if you were from the area and him telling you that he wasn’t either. He told you that he played professional hockey for the Devils and it clicked in your brain that that was why he looked familiar. You had seen him on TV, but you weren’t involved in the sport enough to put a name to his face. You teased him a little and playfully asked if he would get you tickets to a game, but the speed at which he said yes shocked even himself.

When Luke was handing you your new drink, that was when he told you that he was already running a bit late to some sort of meeting with his team and as much as he’d like to stay, he had to leave. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed at the news, but you ended up exchanging phone numbers before he was rushing away, still not entirely looking where he was going. You watched him leave with a smile on your face and a sort of hope filling your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

The two of you had began texting each other so often that people started to ask questions. Though it had only taken three days of you quietly giggling to yourself for your roommate to ask who the guy was. Whereas for Luke, it had only taken Jack until after practice the day he had met you. Jack had never seen his younger brother rush to check his phone while still in full gear before so quickly, and that was how he knew.

You didn’t see Luke for nearly two weeks after you had initially met courtesy of the stars, also known as his games and your work schedule, never aligning in the right way. When Luke had texted you after one of his games asking if you were free the following evening and you finally got to answer with a yes, you grew excited, and also extremely nervous.

He had given you the option to go out and do something, or to come over to his place and the two of you could order food and watch movies; just hangout, he had said. You ultimately decided on the second option since the weather had grown colder and you weren’t necessarily in the mood to join the crowds of people in the city. He subtly mentioned that his brother would be gone so it would just be the two of you, and the thought made your cheeks warm despite knowing he had no underlying intentions.

When you had texted Luke to tell him you had finally found a parking spot and he told you where to go from there, you had to take a small breather in your car to get yourself to stop shaking before finally going into the expensive looking building. You were so focused on taking in all of the little details inside the lobby that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and ran straight into someone’s chest.

You let out a surprised squeal as you squeeze your eyes closed at the impact, fully prepared to go stumbling backwards, but you never do. You can feel their hands on your hips, the pads of their fingers slightly digging into the skin separated by the material of your shirt. The soft laugh that filtered through your eyes made your eyes snap open to see a familiar face sporting an amused smile.

“At least there’s no coffee this time,” Luke teases, keeping his hands on you a tad longer than necessary before he pulls them back to his own body.

“Shut up,” You mumbled, hoping he didn’t notice the tinge to your cheeks, “I was looking at the stupid fancy decorations. I didn’t know you were going to be down here.”

“I noticed,” He chuckled, “You thought I wouldn’t meet you down here?”

“Well, no. You gave me the apartment number so I expected to meet you there,” You shrugged, forcing your gaze away from him and to your feet.

“You would’ve thought it was weird if I didn’t give you the apartment number,” He raises his eyebrows even though you aren’t looking at him, “Besides, sometimes people have trouble finding the door. It’s a little confusing.”

When you had reached the floor his apartment was on and saw that it was only one big hallway, you couldn’t help but give him a confused look. It wasn’t confusing at all, especially given the fact that his door was only the second one on the left. You could tell he was purposely avoiding looking in your direction as he pushed through the door, holding it open for you to slip inside, and you chose to let it be.

The rest of the night was spent with the two of you talking about anything that possibly came to mind once you got through the brief bout of awkward tension, and you quickly found that Luke could talk forever. He talked about his teammates and family in a way that made you smile because it was clear he truly loved and looked up to them. You told him about your family back home and why you moved and the way he was hanging on to every word made you flustered because no one had ever cared enough to listen to you that way.

By the time the night was winding down, you were close enough to him on the couch that your thighs would brush together and his arm was slung around the cushions behind you, but not touching you. There was a movie playing on the tv in front of you, but you would be lying if you said you were paying attention to it. All you could think about was how things with Luke flowed so naturally and how you hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone in so long that you forgot the feeling even existed.

The two of you began hanging out regularly after that, never doing anything more than something you would do with a friend, but you could feel your feelings for him grow with each passing day. It started off as small notions and things you could brush off, but then you found yourself thinking of him no matter what you were doing. You were always seeing something that reminded you of him or something that made you think ‘oh, Luke would love that. I can’t wait to show him’. However, you were far too scared to let yourself believe that he would ever feel the same, so you swallowed those urges and went on as if nothing had changed.

When Luke had asked if you would be interested in going to one of his games, you thought nothing of it. You had told him that you would gladly go, but you would only need one ticket since your roommate worked most evenings and you didn’t necessarily have anyone else to go with. He told you not to worry about that and he would figure something out for you before he asked for your email to send the ticket. What he meant by that, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t ask questions.

You asked your roommate to help you with your outfit before she left for work that day, wanting to make sure what you wore wasn’t too much but also wasn’t sloppy. Once she had settled on something that adhered to your standards, she managed to leave enough time for her to help with your hair as well. She could tell that you were nervous based on the way your hands were constantly fiddling with each other and by the way your already clumsy habits seemed to increase by the second.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were so nervous. It wasn’t like this was the first time you were hanging out with Luke, and it surely wasn’t going to be the last. For some reason, him inviting you to one of his games felt different, but then it made you queasy because you began to think about how many girls he had invited before. By the time you were on your way to the arena, you had managed to calm yourself down enough that your heart rate was almost back to normal and your self sabotaging thoughts had been long forgotten.

Luke had taken the liberty of reserving parking for you, which you tried to deny but he said he had already done it so there was no room to argue. The parking garage was full of people in various jerseys for both teams as they made their way into the arena with you following suit because you had virtually no idea where you were going. You were so focused on looking at section numbers that you kept bumping into people, quiet apologies tumbling from your lips as you rushed away from their pointed looks.

Eventually, you found the correct section and showed your ticket to the usher at the top of the stairs before following his direction as you walked down. You stopped at the row your seat was in, your eyes falling on a group of women as they talked and laughed with one another, and you suddenly felt a wave of insecurity wash over you. They clearly knew each other, and you were there by yourself, and on top of that, they were absolutely gorgeous.

You took a deep breath before you shuffled down the row and to your seat, trying to ignore the way their voices grew quiet whenever you sat down. You could feel their eyes on you as you kept yours on the rink, watching as they set up the net and as others filed down towards their seats before the game started. It wasn’t until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder that you turned to look at the one sitting right next to you.

“Hi,” One of them greeted, a bright smile on her face, “I’m Nicole!

You let out a shaky breath as you took her hand, giving her your name before returning her smile. The way her eyes lit up and she briefly glanced at the girls around her with a subtle smirk threw you off, but she was quick to ease your confusion as she moved her focus back to you.

“So you’re the girl Luke won’t stop talking about,” She playfully teases, “He made sure Jesper told me you would be coming and to look out for you so you weren’t alone.”

You can’t stop your face from heating up by being identified as ‘the girl Luke won’t shut about’, and judging by the way the other girls looked at you, it seemed to be a universal experience. They went around and introduced themselves, and their children, to you before they began to ask you questions. They started off with the easy questions such as your career, if you were in school, if you were from the area, if you were a big fan of hockey, but they quickly transferred the topic over to your relationship with Luke.

“We’re just friends,” You meekly said, eyes darting away from them as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“But you like him,” Cat asks as she raises her eyebrows, though her tone hints that she knows the answer to that.

You briefly hesitated, not sure what your response should be, but you were very graciously saved by the music blaring through the speakers followed by the announcer's voice. You hastily turned towards the ice, thanking whatever higher being saved you from the embarrassment of admitting your feelings out loud.

As the game started, you caught yourself really only focusing on Luke rather than the puck itself. If he wasn’t on the ice, you were leaning towards the girls beside you to ask questions about the game you didn’t entirely understand. When he was on the ice, you flinched every time he got hit a little too hard, or when he would trip over seemingly nothing and fall on the ice. Although, you did know to join in on the collective booing whenever he was sent to the penalty box for a bogus call.

The game ended up going into overtime with Luke, his brother, and team captain on the ice as they stood opposite the Flyers players. Your hands were clasped together as you leaned forward, waiting with baited breath as the puck dropped on the ice. You watch as they skate towards their net, hastily trying to get the puck from the other team. You’re not sure who managed to get possession, but the next thing you know Luke is taking a shot that ends up in the net to win the game.

You jump out of your seat as you scream, your eyes not leaving Luke as he learns forward into a celebratory bow that you’re positive he did when he was at Michigan. A fact you knew after you asked him “if he was even good at hockey” and he proceeded to show you his highlight reels for the next hour. His team rushes towards him with giant smiles on their faces as they crowd around him, the arena filling with cheers so loud that it made your ears ring.

By the time things had calmed down, Nicole was the first to tell you that you were supposed to go with them down to the locker room. You walked through the arena with them, only briefly stopping to talk with security because you didn’t have the correct pass. The area outside the locker room was buzzing with life as various friends and family members of the team waited for the guys, their voices meshing with the loud cheers from inside.

The guys slowly began to trickle out of the locker room clad in their fancy and expensive suits, dopey grins on their faces. You stayed tucked between Cat and Nicole as they talked, but you were only halfway listening as you kept an eye out for Luke. Some of the guys you only vaguely remembered from pictures or videos Luke had shown you, but most you knew with confidence because of how often their names popped up in conversation.

When you finally saw a familiar head of curls walking through the doors, it was a bit embarrassing how quickly a smile grew on your face. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, instead animatedly talking to his brother who had seen you, a slight smirk on his face. The girls had stepped away from you, knowing looks on their faces when Luke finally looked in front of him to see you standing there waiting for him.

If they thought Luke was excited before, it was absolutely nothing compared to the look on his face when his eyes landed on you. He quickened his pace, leaving his conversation, and his brother, behind as he only focused on getting to you. You were painfully aware of the multitude of gazes on you, the attention beginning to slightly overwhelm you, but all of the worry disappeared the moment Luke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

“Congratulations on your goal,” You mumble with your head pressed against his chest, your arms draped around the middle of his frame.

“Thank you for coming,” He quietly says, his hold on you subtly tightening as he lets out a deep breath.

You can barely hear the quiet whispers of those around you over the blood pounding in your ears, but you didn’t mind them anyways. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the way his arms felt around you and the way his entire body seemed to relax under your touch. While physical touch with Luke wasn’t uncommon, it still gave you a small sense of hope that maybe everyone was right and maybe he did like you back after all.

“Jack, you might need somewhere to stay tonight,” You heard one of the other guys tease from behind him, making your face heat up as you stepped away from Luke. Though he doesn’t entirely break away from, keeping his arm slung across your shoulders as he turns to look at his teammates.

“Oh, I planned for it don’t worry,” He laughs as he shakes his head, “You picked a good first game to come to. Luke played his ass off.”

“I always do,” Luke quickly defended himself, his voice slightly raising and his posture straightening the smallest amount.

“Yeah, but you really did tonight,” Dawson pressed with a mischievous smile on his face.

“You guys are annoying,” Luke rolls his eyes, “I’m starving, so we are going to leave. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Your gaze snaps up to Luke as he briefly looks down at you with his usual half smile, but the sound of Jack calling out to him briefly moves his attention back to his brother. You let your eyes fall back to the ground in front of you, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to ignore the way he’s slightly grazing the skin above your collarbone with his fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat, the skin involuntarily raising in wake of his touch as you try to keep yourself outwardly collected.

“Hey,” Luke’s voice breaks through the thin barrier keeping you composed, “You ready? I figured I’ll drive so you can put the chipotle order in and we can pick it up on our way back to my apartment. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” You breathe out, giving him a small smile.

The two of you bid goodbye to the others, but not before they could pass on teasing comments or not so subtle winks as you passed by them. Luke had dropped his arm from your shoulders, a small absent feeling settling over you when he did. He asked you if you ended up having a good time and if the girls were nice to you, which you, of course, told him that you did and the girls were extremely welcoming and kind.

When Luke had climbed into the driver’s seat, he fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his credit card with the subtle threat that if he didn’t see a charge on his card for the food that he would buy you the expensive hoodie you had looked at a few days ago. You rolled your eyes as you took his card, not knowing that he had already bought the hoodie anyway and was waiting to give it to you.

By the time the two of you had picked up your food and were back at his apartment, your nerves from earlier had almost entirely disappeared and things felt normal again. Before the two of you started eating, he went into his room to change, and he returned with a random pair of sweatpants you had forgotten you bought last week and a shirt you’re positive was his. He waited for you to come back before he started eating like he always did, but you couldn’t help but feel like the air surrounding you felt slightly off.

You couldn’t tell if you were overthinking things or if something really was wrong because you still felt that way when the two of you moved to the couch. Luke still sat in his usual spot directly next to you, but he was barely focusing on the movie. His eyes kept darting around the room and he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but you kept your eyes on the TV until he spoke up.

“Can I tell you something,” Luke nearly shouted, slightly startling you out of your spot on the couch, “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just– I need to tell you something.”

Your eyes were wide and full of confusion, and slight panic, as you spoke, “Yeah, of course. You can tell me anything.”

You watched as he took a deep breath, slightly turning his body so he was facing you completely, and you couldn’t help but let an almost painful sense of worry envelope you. You were running over every possible scenario you could conjure in your mind, but they were all so negative that you had convinced yourself what he was going to say was too.

“This might screw everything up and if you never want to talk to me again, that’s fine, but I can’t ignore it anymore,” His voice was serious, yet thick with an emotion you refused to place, “After I scored tonight and all the guys were around me, all I could think about was you. Not even just you being there to see it, but celebrating with you. Seeing your smile. Hugging you. Kissing you.”

He said the last part so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but you did. Those two words rang in your ears as you looked at him, your mouth slightly dropped open as the ability to form a semi coherent thought in your mind suddenly fleeing. You wanted to respond, to tell him that it was all you could think about too, but your mouth and brain were far from cooperative.

Your silence was slowly suffocating Luke, and he quickly wishes he never said anything at all. To him, he knew it was a long shot that you felt the same way he did. Early in your friendship, you had let it slip that you weren't looking for a relationship and you wanted to focus on yourself. He knew that, but he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself anymore.

“I’m sorry,” He backtracks, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have said anyth–”

You cut him off by surging forward and slamming your lips on his own, not trusting yourself to accurately say everything you felt. Luke’s reaction was almost instantaneous, his hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you onto his lip as he kisses you back. The metaphorical wall that had been keeping the two of you as friends crumbled beneath you as you pour everything you felt for him into one kiss.

His hands had moved to the small of your back, pulling you so close that there wasn’t even a millimeter of space separating you from him. Your hands were looped around his neck as your mouth moved against his own, and you couldn’t stop yourself from carefully grasping at his curls. Luke groaned against you, and he knew he had to stop before he took things too far on his living room couch.

He pulls away from you, his heavy breathing falling in sync with your own as he drops his head to your shoulder. You can feel his chest rise and fall against you as you attempt to gather your thoughts and tell yourself that this was real. That it actually happened and it wasn’t something you had dreamed up again, but you were suddenly shaken from your thoughts when Luke harshly snapped his head up to look at you.

“Wait, does this mean you like me back,” He asks, feigning a sense of seriousness, but you can see the smile threatening to shine through.

“You’re an idiot,” You playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot, ” He counters before his eyes slightly widen as he hesitantly continues, “Right?”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, a small smile decorating your face, “You are.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night wrapped up in the other, the movie halfway forgotten as you found yourself with your lips on his more often than not. You were selfishly thankful that Jack had been telling the truth when he said he found somewhere else to stay. The uninterrupted time you spent in Luke’s arms allowed you to truly soak it in. To relish in the fact that you had finally found someone who made you believe that love did exist, and you owed it all to one spilled coffee.

#luke hughes #fics!

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hearts-4-luke · 2 days

Text

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!

#I LOVE THIS LIKE PLOT AND WRITING SO MUCH #jack hughes #fics!#one of my faves!

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hearts-4-luke · 2 days

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4:12AM

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader wakes up Luke Hughes to confess her love.

“Hey.” Y/N poked Luke’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble underneath her cheek. “Luke?” She shoved his chest, making him groan as his arms tightened around her. His upper body was bare, and the warm skin against hers felt like home, but it was simply not enough to have her go to sleep. “Luke, wake up. C’mon.” She insisted, and he huffed, cracking an eye open and glaring at her through a squinted and sleep-hazed gaze.

“What?” Oh, he sounded a little tired. Maybe she should’ve let him sleep.

“You awake?” Y/N asked him, anyway.

“I am now.” He mumbled. Well, he was already awake, so she might as well indulge in it now. “Need something, baby?”

“Just missed you is all.” Y/N pouted. Hearing that made him grin despite the way he yawned, all wide and smooth even as he fought the sleep in his eyes. She felt just a bit guilty, reaching to cup his cheek and running a thumb over his eyelid carefully.

“Yeah?” Luke chuckled quietly. “I’m right here. You still miss me?”

“Yeah.” Y/N whispered. “I always miss you, even when you’re right here.”

Luke was grinning into her cheek as he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the skin. He couldn’t possibly be mad that she’d waken him up so late. He couldn’t be mad when it was her, and it was him, and it was each other. Sleep could wait, there was always time for that later. But there was never a moment where he wanted to risk counting on later when it came to her.

“What’d you miss about me?” Luke hummed, nibbling on her earlobe as his head buried into her neck.

Y/N shifted, letting his body tuck against hers as her arms wrapped around him. He felt safe like this, somehow. Infinity didn’t make him feel nearly as secure as the way her arms did, tight and warm and made just for holding him. “I don’t know.” She murmured. “Everything.”

“Love me that much?” He asked cheekily. “Me sleeping right beside you just isn’t enough?”

“No.” Y/N huffed. “You can’t pay attention to me in your sleep.”

Smiling softly, he pressed delicate kisses to her cheeks before connecting her lips, humming into the kiss as his hand rubbed up her spine. “My needy baby.” Luke snickered, rubbing circles into the small of her back with his large palm.

Luke was warm against her, she could feel the rhythm of his heart as it beat against her body. He was pressed so close to her, that not even air could slip through the cracks. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she woke Luke. She didn’t know why she couldn’t sleep, she just knew that she needed him more and more and even more.

“Luke?” Y/N asked quietly, making him hum as his eyes drooped back shut slowly. He must really be tired.

Y/N stared at him fondly, stroking his curls as he sighed happily at the feeling, and then she pressed a kiss to his forehead, to his cheek, to the corner of his eyes where they crinkle when he smiles, and to those lips of his that always found hers no matter how long it took. He always came back to her. Always. He never wouldn’t, that much she trusted.

“Got something on your mind, baby?” Luke asked slowly, voice thick with sleep. She giggled, scratching at his scalp as he smiled lightly. He was dozing off and she was watching him, hopelessly endeared.

“I love you.” Y/N whispered. “I need you to know that. I love you so, so much.”

Luke cracked an eye open, staring at her like she was the reason his heart ever started beating, like she was the only one that could ever command it to stop. Every inch of his face was laced with love so gentle, she could see the way it made his skin glow. She loved him. She was sure he loved her. That was all she needed to know it’ll be fine. Everything else was an afterthought, just as long as she had Luke.

“Woke me just to confess your love for me?” Luke gasped. “You’re down bad. Real, real bad. I must be a super handsome, totally awesome boyfriend. I do try, you know.” He said cheekily.

Y/N giggled, rolling her eyes as she pinched his cheek. “Be humble, you jerk.” She said exasperatedly. It sounded more like she was in love, too much fondness slipping into her voice that it might make her teeth hurt from how sweet. Luke’s always had a sweet tooth, though. He accepted her love graciously, like it was never too much. In fact, it might just not be enough. He needed more.

“Can’t.” Luke said slowly, yawning again. “You waking me up just to love me is a bit ego boosting.”

“This was a mistake.” Y/N scoffed. It was playful, and it was fond. It sounded like deeply falling headfirst.

“Awe, c’mon.” Luke pouted, and then he was brushing his lips against her neck a he clung closer to her, curling into her body with his six-foot-something stature as she pulled the blanket tighter around him. “I love you, too. What was it you said again? Oh, right. So, so much.”

“Good.” Y/N hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “You better.”

“I do.” He chuckled. “Can I sleep now? Or are we gonna start talking about all the things we love about each other? Because I can stay up to listen to that, of course.”

“Go to sleep, you idiot.” Y/N scoffed. He grinned, and she pressed one last kiss to his forehead as she counted the soft breaths he took while he fell back asleep. She loved him, and it was all she ever wanted to do.

#this is so wholesome 🥹#lukey pookieu #luke hughes #fics!

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hearts-4-luke · 2 days

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summer quinn ^

The Best Summer Ever | Quinn Hughes

Summary: First summer at the lakehouse, and it couldn't be better.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Teacher!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, just some pure sweetness. Part of this universe but can be read on its own!

Wc: 3.6k

As you lounge in the backyard of the lake house, with a book in hand, working on your tan, and Quinn napping beside you, you surmise that coming to Michigan with Quinn for the summer was one of the best decisions you've ever made.

Quinn lays on his stomach, with his head pillowed in the crook of his arms. He hadn't planned to nap, but the two of you had gone on a run along the waterline this morning, and then Quinn had a training session with the boys. He had conked out, less than ten minutes after he had stretched out beside you.

You glance at the time on your phone, Quinn has been asleep for almost an hour. You bookmark your page, deciding it's time to wake him up, before his lovely golden tan turns into a massive sunburn. You flip onto your stomach and delve your fingers into Quinn's hair, gently working through the tangles.

The humidity was doing wonders for his curls, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't absolutely head over heels for summertime Quinn. The tan, the curls, the way his cheeks always seemed to be flushed from heat, the smile that seemed permanently etched into his face. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, and your other hand traces light patterns along his spine.

Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders and upper back, your fingers massage his scalp steadily. He makes a low noise of contentment, and you grin against his sun-kissed skin. "Quinn," you murmur against his skin.

He doesn't respond. You press a kiss to the crook of his neck, and he stirs under you. Another behind his ear. And the underside of his jaw.

His chest rumbled with a soft hum, and he nuzzled his head against the crook of his arm with a sleepy sigh. You giggle and pull out your phone to snap a photo of him. He reminds you of a cat napping in the sun.

"Quintin," you mutter against his skin, he gives you a sleepy grunt, "wake up honey," you say softly, carding your fingers through his hair, "if you don't turn over you're going to get a horrid burn on your back," you coax, tugging ever so gently on his curly locks.

Quinn rolls over with a huff. Suddenly his arms are around you and he's pulling you on top of him. You squeal in surprise as he situates you between his legs comfortably, your forearms resting on either side of his head. He squints one eye open, with a glare. Half because you woke him up and half because the sun was so bright.

"Why'd you wake me up?" He huffs.

You snort, detangling yourself from his arms, "Cause you whine like a bitch when you're sunburnt." His jaw drops, and you grin, kissing him on the cheek sweetly.

"I can't believe you just called me a bitch," he gasps, all traces of sleep disappearing from his body.

"I'm just telling the truth," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Quinn sits up, pulling your sunglasses off, you squint your eyes, frowning at the sudden brightness.

You screech in alarm, as Quinn is suddenly grabbing you around the waist, holding you tight to his body and walking towards the dock. "Quinn," you gasp "What are you doing?"

"I think someone needs to cool down her attitude a little," Quinn smirks, his tone like he's scolding a child.

"Quinn," there's slight panic in your tone, "please no, I'm sorry" You flail your legs trying to escape his hold before he tosses you into the lake.

"Sorry baby, I can't hear you over my bitchiness," Quinn snarks, nipping at your ear playfully. You yelp, twisting in his hold.

"I didn't mean it, you aren't a bitch, you're the sweetest man to ever exist, you have never been bitchy in your life! You deserve the world and I love you with all my heart!" You ramble, pressing kisses to his face in hopes that he will have mercy.

Quinn is smiling mischievously, "Gotta do better than that baby," he's standing at the edge of the dock.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes!" You warn, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, "I swear to God if you-" Before you can finish your threat, Quinn is jumping off the dock with you wrapped around him.

The shock of being plunged into cold water after being in the sun for over an hour is brutal. You resist the urge to scream purely because you're underwater and you don't need a mouth full of water.

As your heads break the surface, you gasp for air. Quinn's grin is infectious and you can't help but grin back. "How's the attitude? Cooled off yet?" He asks smirking.

You unwrap your legs from around his waist, kicking them back and forth underwater to help keep the two of you afloat. Your arms wrap around his neck tugging on his now wet hair, "Think I'm still a bit hot," you smile teasingly, pushing on his shoulders to dunk his head under water.

Quinn gasps for air as he goes down. You cackle as he fails to drag you under with him. He comes up, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, and lunging after you with a grin. You swim away with screeching laughter. You splash Quinn aggressively in an attempt to save yourself.

Suddenly there’s a loud whooping coming from the dock, along with heavy footsteps. Then Jack is cannonballing into the water. Luke follows after him flipping off the dock in a fancy maneuver that briefly leaves your heart in your throat. As soon as their heads break the surface, they grin mischievously. The four of you lose track of time and end up fooling around in the water for hours, splashing, wrestling, racing, and every other possible game you can think of.

By the time Ellen is calling you out of the water to get ready for dinner like a bunch of children, Jack is sporting a wicked sunburn across his nose and cheeks and you and Luke have probably swallowed half of Lake Erie from the amount that Quinn and Jack have been dunking you under water and splashing you in the face.

You hoist yourself onto the dock and offer Quinn a hand to help pull him up, he takes it with a grin and pulls you back into the water with a cackle. You pout at him, as you move your wet hair out of your eyes. Quinn kisses the pout right off your face, and you can’t help but melt into it, locking your arms around his neck and kissing him back.

“Ewwww!” Luke screeches, as he and Jack begin to splash the two of you all over again.

“Children!” Ellen barks, unable to keep the smile off her face, “Out of the water or you will be late for your dinner plans!”

There is a collective grumbling amongst the four of you, but you exit the water nonetheless. This time, Quinn doesn't pull you back into the water, lest he face the wrath of his mother. Ellen and Jim had plans with a few of their friends while Luke and Jack had been invited to have dinner with a few other NHL guys who lived on the lake. Originally, you and Quinn had been invited too, but Quinn had politely declined in favour of taking you out on a good ol’ classy dinner date at the country club.

As bad as you felt about declining the invite, you were excited to have Quinn to yourself for the evening. The only time you and Quinn got a moment alone for yourselves was usually when you were going to sleep, so you were looking forward to this Dinner date.

Quinn wraps a towel over your shoulders as the four of you head up to the house, Jack and Luke sprinting ahead to fight over who gets to use their shower first. “You shower first?” Quinn mutters against your wet hair.

“We could shower together,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively “save some water.” Quinn chuckles, pressing another kiss to your hair fondly, “Trust me, baby, if we shower together, we definitely won’t be saving water.”

You laugh along with him, knowing he’s right, “I’ll be quick,” you assure, stripping out of your swimsuit and stepping under the cool spray of water. You run through your shower steps as quickly as you can and are in and out in ten minutes. While Quinn showers you do your hair and makeup, keeping it simple and sticking to your usual routine for fancier events. As you apply mascara on your lashes, you’re a bit giddy for dinner tonight.

The dress you picked out, was a classy white number that you had been saving for something fancy, and you were excited to finally be able to wear it. And also to see Quinn’s reaction to you in it. He hops out of the shower and is quick to change into a stylish short-sleeved white button-up and a pair of beige slacks.

“Do my hair?” he asks, tipping his head towards you in invitation. You smile, running some hair oil and a bit of curl product through his locks so they are nice and defined, he kisses you on the cheek in thanks, “I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he says stealing one last kiss.

He slips out of the room, and you lock the door behind him as you pull the dress out from the back of the closet. You get dressed, grab your bag and your trusty pair of nude heels, and go exit the room. As soon as you appear at the top of the stairs, Quinn's eyes are drawn to you. His jaw drops, and his eyes soften with love as you fuss over trying to fit your phone in your bag.

You look up to find Quinn staring at you and your cheeks warm. One thing about Quinn is that there is meaning in everything he does. He is purposeful and thorough, and he works hard for what he wants. So when he pins you with that look, you feel loved, purposefully, and wholeheartedly, and damn if that isn't the best feeling ever. You lock eyes with Quinn, and his lips curl into a soft, adoring smile.

Everything else falls away as you descend the stairs. It's just you and Quinn. He makes you feel like a princess, and he is your prince charming waiting at the bottom, hand extended towards you, ready to lead you to your happily ever after.

“Hi,” he whispers as you take his hand, he brushes a gentle kiss on the backs of your knuckles and your stomach flutters.

“Hi,” you smile, staring up at him through your lashes. You thought it would be impossible to love this man even more than you already did, but every day he proves you wrong, “I Love you,” you murmur softly.

“I love you too,” He smiles, and damn if you don't wanna abandon your dinner and spend the night in his arms.

Ellen rounds the corner and is immediately gushing over the two of you, “Oh, just look at you two! Come here I want pictures,” you slip on your heels as she ushers the two of you in front of the mantel, much to Quinn's chagrin.

“Mom please,” Quinn whines, “we’re not kids, and this is not prom,” you snicker at his whining, secretly happy that Ellen is making the two of you take photos.

“You may not be kids, but you're still my children, now pose,” she demands, holding up her phone.

Quinn wraps an arm around your waist and you place a hand on his chest as the two of you smile at his mom's camera. After she snaps probably over a hundred photos Quinn is practically pulling you out of the door, with the boat keys in hand, “better not get me wet,” you warn, as you carefully smooth down your dress.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Quinn chuckles as the boat hums to life. You sit in the seat across from Quinn, legs curled under your chin resting against your hand as you take in the way the dipping sun reflects on the water. The golden halo of sunlight that illuminates you makes you look like an angel. Quinn is absolutely enraptured by your beauty, if he could freeze this moment in time, he would.

The boat ride from the lake house to the country club takes less than twenty minutes, it would have been faster if Quinn wasn't trying to keep the both of you dry. He parks the boat on one of the docks, and hops over the edge of the boat, holding his hand out to you. You take it gratefully, not letting go even when you are safe on solid ground.

So far you've only been to the Country Club during the day when the boys deemed it a golf day, or to play tennis, or grab something easy for lunch before going right back out in the boat. In the early evening, it almost seemed like a completely different place.

You hold onto Quinn's bicep, fingers tapping nervously against corded muscle, as he leads you through the front foyer of the building. Quinn squeezes your hand reassuringly. It's at moments like these that you feel self-conscious about the fact that you're dating a Superstar Captain of the NHL. He could be doing much better than a lowly elementary school teacher.

It's as if Quinn can read your negative thoughts. He looks at you, face soft with concern, nodding his head to ask if you're ok. You give him a tight smile and nod, squeezing his bicep again, as you dispel all the thoughts from your head. Quinn wants you. That's why you're here.

A pretty hostess, dressed from head to toe in black, is quick to find you. “Do you have a reservation?” she asks professionally.

“Yep,” Quinn answers with a polite smile, “It should be under Hughes,”

The hostess clicks a few times on her iPad, and her eyes light up as she clocks in Quinn's reservation, “Right this way please,” she leads you through The main dining room, up a set of stairs and out onto the rooftop patio with the most magnificent view of the lake. “Someone will be right with you,” she smiles.

“Thank you,” you and Quinn say simultaneously. He pulls out your chair, and you smile at him, smoothing your dress out as you sit down.

“Quinn, this is so beautiful,” you gasp, taking in the view.

“Yeah it is,” he says smirking. His eyes are locked on you, and when you notice your cheeks flush.

“You're so cheesy,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread in your napkin.

“You love it,” Quinn smirks.

At that moment a Waiter appears, offering the two of you menus, and asking what you would like to drink. Quinn orders some kind of expensive wine, and the waiter leaves to retrieve it and give you time to look over your menus. It's much fancier than you're used to, and it's a little overwhelming, but Quinn happily takes charge, keeping a comforting hand on your thigh under the table.

Once the food is ordered and you both have a few glasses of wine in your system everything feels much easier. Along the way, your heels got discarded under the table, and your bare foot was resting on Quinn's thigh, rubbing up and down teasingly.

Your foot strays a bit too high and Quinn wraps a hand around your ankle, stopping your foot from moving any closer to his dick. He throws you a dark, lust-filled look that holds a promise for later, and you smirk at him teasingly. All in all, the dinner was absolutely amazing. The food was delicious and you were absolutely elated to have Quinn to yourself for a few hours.

“Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” Quinn asks as the two of you leave the restaurant hand in hand. The sun is just dipping below the horizon, casting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, pink and purple.

“Absolutely I do,” you grin, hanging into his arm. The two of you deposit your shoes in the boat and walk along the waterline. Quinn has an arm draped over your shoulder, and yours is wrapped around his waist fingers dancing under his shirt and across the bare skin of his torso. You lean your head on his shoulder and his fingers draw patterns on your arm. You wish you could burn this moment into permanence.

“I can't wait to do this with you every summer,” you say quietly, afraid to disrupt the peace of the moment. Quinn pulls his arm from your shoulders, it takes you a few steps to realize he isn't walking, and when you turn to see what's wrong, your hands fly to your mouth with a gasp.

Quinn is down on one knee, with a ring box open in his hands. Somehow the only thing you can think is that his pants are going to get dirty from kneeling in the damp sand.

“Your pants are going to get dirty,” you croak, voice thick with emotion. Quinn chuckles, shaking his head fondly.

“Y/n,” he starts, with a soft breath, “I know we've technically only been dating for a few months. But for as long as I've known you I knew I wanted to do forever with you.” he takes a shaky breath “Honestly, I had a whole speech written, but you look so angelic in the sunset that it all left my brain.”

You let out a choked giggle, as tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You kneel down in front of him, resting your shaky hands on his knee.

“Your dress is gonna get dirty” Quinn parrots, and it's your turn to laugh at him.

Quinn takes another deep breath, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you would be special to me. Knowing you for the past six years of my life has been the greatest blessing that I could've asked for. The easiest thing I've ever done in my life is love you, and god- there aren't words to describe how much I love you and what you mean to me. I want to spend forever with you by my side.” The tears that decorate the rims of Quinn’s eyes finally spill over, “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the greatest honour in being my wife?”

An ugly sob escapes your lips and you throw your arms around his neck, “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes,” you cry, pressing kisses to his face, there is salt on your lips and at this point, you aren't sure if they are your tears or his. Quinn finds your left hand and slips the ring onto your fourth finger. You take a minute to really look at it, and all of a sudden, you're crying all over again. It's everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

You throw your arms around Quinn again, dragging him down for a kiss, he holds you tight to his body, kissing you back like it's the last time he'll ever get to do so. As Quinn licks at the seam of your lips, something in the back of your mind reminds you that you're in public, but you can't bring yourself to care enough to stop kissing him.

The clicking of a camera accompanied by sniffling is what drags you out of your moment with Quinn. You look over to find Jack and Luke. Jack holding up his old camera from back when he had a hobby in photography and Luke holding up his phone. They're both teary-eyed with huge smiles on their faces.

Quinn stands, pulling you with him, and then Luke and Jack are throwing themselves at the two of you, and everyone is holding onto each other. There are so many tears it's hard to tell who's crying and who's not. Eventually Jack and Luke detach themselves from the two of you, wiping at their eyes and grinning wildly.

“I can't believe you said yes to spending the rest of your life with our stinky big brother,” Luke wrinkles his nose.

“Shut it, Moose,” Quinn rolls his eyes, pushing his brother playfully.

“I know you said yes, but it's not too late to blink twice if you need help,” Jack says seriously.

You laugh, knowing they are joking, but nothing could pry you from Quinn at this moment. Jack convinces the two of you to pose for a few more pictures, in the fading twilight. He captures a few absolutely stunning ones of your ring, promising that everything will be sent to you after he edits them. Eventually the four of you part ways, Jack and Luke heading to their car and you and Quinn back to the boat.

The drive back to the lake house is much chiller now that the sun is almost entirely gone. Quinn smiles knowingly, pulling a hoodie out of one of the seat compartments. You slip it over your head, sighing happily as the scent of Quinn engulfs you. He pulls you into his lap, keeping an arm securely around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head against the crook of his neck.

“I love you so so much Quinny,” you whisper, “I'm excited to spend forever with you,”

“Me too, my love, me too” Quinn sighs happily, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

A sudden thought hits you, and the biggest smile blooms on your face, "I can't wait to be Mrs. Hughes," you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Quinns eyes twinkle lovingly, "That has a nice ring to it,"

"Yeah,"

Ok idk how I feel about this!

I started it and I loved it. Then I wrote the middle and I still loved it. And then I wrote the end, and I still loved it. And now that I have to post it I fucking hate it! So that's nice!

Anyways hope yall enjoy.

Leave comments cause I'm an attention whore 🥰

Also, this series likely won't be updated for a while, cause I never originally planned to make it a series anyways, but here we are! Just cause I have a lot of one-shots floating around in my notes that I wanna work on. If there's anything yall wanna see from this series, let me know and I might write that!

Also, I am working on those blurb requests! I promise! I'll start posting them eventually!

Apologies for the ramble, love yall <3

#i love this sm #quinn hughes #huggy bear 🧸#fics!

476 notes · View notes

hearts-4-luke · 2 days

Text

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — following jack’s perceived betrayal, you try your hardest to move on and put everything in the past. unfortunately, he isn’t too keen on letting you go, and a night at the bar brings the two of you together, in explosive fashion. the second part of second best.

₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — angst, reader feeling inferior, jack being an oblivious idiot, miscommunication, crying? drinking? being embarrassingly drunk, happy ending!

₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — jack hughes x fem!reader

₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — welcome back my loves! i’m deadass so sorry for the wait. life has been kicking my shit DOWN give a bitch a break. anyway! here we are with the second part of second best. thank you for all the lovely comments & reposts, yall are dolls. anyway, let me know how you guys like this one <3 all my love, emme.

₊⊹ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — @dancerbailey3, @bellstwd, @kashee-h, @crazycat-ladys-blog, @brucewaynegfreal, @love4dlr, @jackhughesily , @leavethemonsteralive, @loveforaugust , @43hughes, @nathandoe , @choppedlamphandscowboy y, @bunting58 , @angelayse , @ru-kru , @sleepretreat , @nonsensical-nonsence , @maih23 , @toasttt11 , @womanestyles , @bunbunbl0gs , @5secondsofonedirection222 , @dianascherryy , @qb1calemakar , @sarareblogsstuff , @reapstheduck , @poufsouffle21 (if your name is white, i couldn’t tag you!)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ; 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You needed to get away.

Somewhere. Anywhere. Just not there.

Not where Jack and his not-girlfriend girlfriend were currently doing God knows what in his apartment.

Images came to your mind—all unwanted, all hurling a new wave of bile up your throat.

Keys fumbling in your fingers, you managed to slip into your car, prayed to God that Brooke hadn’t mentioned your embarrassing arrival at his front doorstep, with hopeful eyes and a foolish heart that worked too slowly for its own good.

There did exist a small part of you, beaten down and ignored, that wished to see Jack’s figure silhouetted in your rear view mirror, frantically running, trying desperately to explain, or get you to stop, or anything.

But he wasn’t there. Just the lonely road, cast in the melancholic gloom of the moon.

Traffic lights and the shine of other cars blurred behind a wall of tears, crystallizing at your waterline. Heartbeat thundering like a racehorse, fingertips trembling with such force you had to white-knuckle the steering wheel to avoid crashing—you weren’t sure if anything had ever hurt this badly, not when Jack had tried to teach you to skate, which left you with a twisted ankle and him with heaps of guilt. Not even when Jack had forgone your years-long plan of boycotting senior prom in favor of taking Kaylee Hills.

It was funny, retrospectively; every hurt, every wound, every moment you looked back on to compare this pain to was tied ineffably to Jack.

Just as you were.

It wasn’t seeing Brooke, hair messed and eyes blown that cleaved your chest in two. No. It was the fact that Jack had asked you there, set a time, and forgot? Lied? Which was worse? Both equally managed to reach in and sink claws into your barely working heart, both conveyed the inexcusable message that Jack Hughes did not care about you, or your feelings.

Yellow shifted red. Feet working, brakes squealing, you barely managed to stop your car at the line. A part of you knew you shouldn’t have been driving in this condition, knew it could lead to a crushed car and broken bones—maybe even death, but right now, with a mind void of rationality, you didn’t care.

Had he done it purposefully? Your reeling mind flashed back to the night that crumbled the last bit of stability out from under you, when you’d overheard Brooke complaining to Bianca—maybe finally she’d gotten the exact same message to Jack, and maybe this was his way of severing all ties, even if it was the coward’s way out.

Flashing lights of a bar’s sign caught your watery eyes. Everything told you to ignore, ignore, ignore—speed back to your dorm and cry all night in Kaylen’s arms.

But you were mad, heartbroken, and in desperate need of something to distract you; something that would balm the burn traveling its way to the center of your heart. It made for a detrimental coalition—one you’d regret in the morning, when your mind dusted off the layer of rage and betrayal that currently chased away any semblance of reason.

But right now, it hadn’t dissipated. And right now, you needed a drink.

Eyes feathered to you. Neon lights of old-timey signs lit up your face, branded with the remnants of tears and ruined mascara. Normally, the attention would’ve rendered you self-conscious, made you think twice and just leave. Not tonight. Tonight wasn’t about having fun, or finding some boy that looked suspiciously like Jack to hook up with. It was about forgetting, and you weren’t doing a very good job at it right now.

Sliding onto one of the bar chairs, you saw the look of the bartender—a kindly middle-aged women with one too many tattoos on her left arm. Hair likely disheveled, face marred with the evidence of a breakdown, you knew you weren’t winning any beauty competitions.

Wiping your cheeks, you leant yourself on the bar top and sighed. “Um—just a gin and tonic, please.”

Had her gaze lingered any longer, you would’ve been able to see the pity, the foreknowledge only people who had lived possessed; you didn’t want any pity. The woman nods, setting down the bar glass she was wiping before going to make your drink.

Questions cleaved a cavern in your chest—one you were afraid couldn’t ever be closed, not by your desperate hands, the blood already pooling at your feet, drowning you.

Why?

That was the main one. Why had Jack invited you over if Brooke was there? To rub it in your face? A white flag of surrender he’d never waved, never keen enough to read into your hopeful looks and wanting touches; perhaps the realization had come, and with it, the itching desire to peel away the old blanket of childhood and finally toss it. Love always existed between Jack and yourself—but it wasn’t the same. Never had been. Foolish hearts plead otherwise, bent at your knees hoping for a miracle, anything that could bring you the heart of the boy I’d kept in your mind for all your life.

To Jack, you was the comfort of an old film—unchanging, seen over and over that the lines branded into his mind, jokes lost their luster. You should’ve given up when his heart fell into the claws of another, but, of course, you was nothing if not wishful. Something that was biting you in the ass at current.

Music blurred into a track of static in your head. Bodies came and went at the barstools beside you, ghosts, likely wondering about the girl hunched over the bar, halfway in the grave. The soft burn of liquor became nothing compared to the sear of heartbreak—such a visceral feeling you understood why now people claimed to die of a broken heart. Every heartstring felt a moment away from snapping, sending your barely-beating life-force into the abyss Jack had cracked inside of you.

Fraying memories, once the softest comfort, a reminder that you mattered enough to hold a place in Jack’s life became soured by the burn of new perspectives. Nights spent in his room, the glow of his TV playing some movie we weren’t paying attention to, rather captured by the conversations we’d rehashed a million times. Yet, somehow, they never got old. You thought that you’d cemented my place in Jack’s world, erected an effigy of your relationship that could never be struck down.

Regimes don’t last forever. His heart was conquered by another. And here you were, standing on the outskirts of a kingdom you’d been exiled from.

Lights smeared into multicolor, suffocating fog rolling into your headspace—it’s then the bartender ceased giving you drinks, when already you’d lost any shred of self-decency that remained in your unfortunately still-alive body. Hands on your shoulders made you start, before the kind voice of the bartender rings in your ears.

When had she come to you?

“Alright, honey,” she murmurs, helping you off the barstool and over to a booth hidden in some alcove, shielded slightly from the music and people—a migraine was already splitting open your skull. “You’ve had enough, yeah? Let’s take a seat.”

In no condition to argue, you obliged. How had I even ended up here, stood at the funeral of a love that’d never even been realized? Mourning the loss of something you’d never even had? Pathetic, obsessive—yearning for the best yet always handed the worst. Your cards were long shown, hand folded; you’d given up the game long ago, yet couldn’t escape the table, forced to watch it go on, to see the winners cheer and take home the prize.

Losing Jack’s friendship was unfathomable. Your safety net since high school, since before everything. How had one girl toppled the castle you’d built, brick by brick, lain into the framework of your heart?

Unrequited love wasn’t kind. No prisoners would be taken—killed on sight by the deadly blow of rejecting words. Jack didn’t even know. You’d never even had the chance to tell him what happened, why you’d phased from his life like a forgotten memory. Maybe that was for the best.

Maybe that was my closure.

“Okay, sweetheart—do you have anyone who could come get you? Emergency contacts?”

Jack.

Traitorous mind. Hopeful heart. He wouldn’t come, not when hooks held him back, ones he’d willingly sunk into his flesh.

You groaned, offering the bartender your phone. Only a few contacts were favorited—close friends, some family. Jack.

Barely registering the bartender dialing a number, living in the ignorance alcohol brought, you remained heartbreak of your own making, transformed into an unrecognizable mess by the rejection of a love that still remained in the shadows of your heart.

It was sad, really.

Did you even deserve to cry? When, all along, you knew this waited for you at the end? If Jack loved you—really loved you, in the way you did him—none of this would’ve happened. But the road was of your own paving, the long haul finding its end, straight off a cliff.

The bartender sets your phone down on the table, patting your arm. “Okay, I called your boyfriend to come get you. He said he’d be here soon.”

If your heart was still beating, even barely, you were sure then it absolutely stopped.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

Only one contact in my favorites was a man. One currently preoccupied by his not-girlfriend girlfriend. No…

Jack absolutely could not come here. He couldn’t see you like—this. Rended down the middle by a melancholy he caused, even if unintentionally and unknowingly. Because then questions would come, ones far too difficult for your state of mind and being. All of it would flood out, barriers stolen by inebriation, left vulnerable by sorrow and the heady rush of collapsing love schemes.

Hidden in the darkness in the corner of the bar, you waited, and waited. Each moment felt like a death knell, the call of the executioner, feet carrying you to the gallows.

If he’d come, where was Brooke?

If he’d wanted to talk, why have Brooke over?

If he loved you—

“Jesus Christ.”

Cement laid into the grooves of your spine. And so swung down the executioners axe, severing the last of your strings and truly freeing your heart from its holding in your chest. Head kept down by the terror of facing your own slow-working poison, you stayed slouched, hoping the hole in your body would materialize and suck you straight down.

Too bad you never got what you wanted.

Fingers grab your face, settling on the warm, reddened flesh of your cheek. And so there he was, in all of his devastating beauty that once opened the gates of your heart. Cast into a time-warp, an eerie similarity to similar moments from high school, when one too many drinks left your head swirling and body buzzing—moments Jack would scoop you up and bring you home.

Always the white knight.

Always the hero.

But it wasn’t just for you. It never had been. Those hints you once believed lead to the key to his heart were nothing more than a nicety—the comfort of a friend. Hopeful people saw what they want, and you surely had.

“Hey, look at me,” Jack murmurs, forehead creased in concern. You wanted to tell him to relax—that he’d only give himself wrinkles, but kept a tight lock on your lips. “C’mon. I really don’t want to take you to get your stomach pumped.”

Did he care? Or was it the candied lies of a guilty man, the confessions of a criminal on trial? He had to have known—Brooke likely laughed that you came by, the stupid girl you were, and Jack might’ve laughed, too. Or he’d reddened, like always when he was nervous or panicked, recalling that it was you who was meant to invade his home that night—not his not-girlfriend girlfriend.

Mumbling a string of incoherent annoyances, you shook Jack’s hands off and wriggled away, far as the booth would allow. “No—‘m fine. Go away.”

A sigh rattled Jack’s chest. “You’re clearly not,” he grunts, hand running through his hair. Uninterested in seeing the pity you knew would be in his gaze, you kept your eyes down. “The hell were you thinking, getting this drunk?”

An argument of ‘I’m not drunk’ dies on your lips almost as quickly as it materialized—because, well, he wasn’t wrong. There was no explanation you figured would satisfy his concerned curiosity. None you wanted to give him.

Any route lead to a confession you’d locked in the vault of your heart. One you’d prepared to open to him tonight, only for him to turn away before there was any chance.

Without much thought, you found your legs, wobbling a bit before sending a glare Jack’s way. Blue eyes, ones once so adored by you, seemed a sore comfort now—with the worry swimming in them, one you saw through as a falsity. Conjured slights and fabricated feelings made you bitter. Had he ever cared? Was it a long-con he’d never managed to weasel out of until now? You’d always wondered why he’d kept you around.

Maybe Bianca had been right. Maybe it was a charity case, a memory of childhood that’d dragged on too long, unrecognizable yet unwilling to be shook off, because you hadn’t let go.

But if it was a mutual untethering, then there’d be nothing left. Clinging to a fraying rope only worked for so long; you couldn’t try and pull yourself up anymore without it snapping off completely.

“Whatever,” came your bitter response, walking past Jack on unsteady legs, made weak by heartbreak and other awful emotions. “Just… go. I—I’m fine. I don’t even know why she called you.”

Warm fingers clamp around your wrist. Part of you figured Jack wouldn’t have followed. “What? Are you serious?” Movements halted by a strong tug, Jack whirls you to face him, stood near the entrance of the bar. “Maybe it has to do with the fact that you’re shitfaced. You can barely stand up on your own, and you’re telling me to leave?”

Resisting the urge to stomp your foot like a petulant child, to shout at Jack to drop the facade—it wasn’t needed, not anymore, not with you—you instead resigned to offer a short-lived glare. “I didn’t ask for your help. She called you—not me. And I’m telling you I don’t need your help.”

Once more you darted for the escape. Night met you with the kiss of a cold wind, cars blurring by, headlights momentarily catching you in the light of sorrow. Not many people walked the sidewalk you found yourself down, hoping to escape the lingering emotions Jack carried with him, an unshakable storm cloud.

You didn’t want to be mean. To push him away. But the hurt he’d brought, the strike of a wounded and cornered animal, it was all on him.

“Would you—?” Jack calls, each footstep ringing like church bells before a funeral. “Stop. Jesus—why are you running? What the hell did I—”

His words made any restraint snap. You round on Jack. “What did you do? Oh, let me think,” you hiss. Never once had Jack and I argued—not really. Minuscule things over the years, but never had felt this much anger at him. For his obliviousness. For his failure to see who you could be. “Remember when I texted you, asked to talk? Do you remember what time you told me to come over?”

White bled into Jack’s cheek, a crook who was caught. Any doubt that he didn’t know, any assumption that he’d not intended for you to see Brooke faded into nothing.

Your fingers itched, their desired destination the bloodless flesh of Jack’s cheek.

You should’ve known. Really, it was on you. Beloved, desired Jack Hughes—the face of a franchise, the player ushering in a new era of hockey; and you? A face from his past, self-proclaimed best friend, the lackluster net of his hometown that only served to cage him, where once you thought it comforted.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Again you made to turn, to run, flee the scene of the crime, where blood splattered over years of friendship and likely left it to die. How could you ever face Jack again, when your heart still held onto the small piece he’d offered you so many years ago?

“Wait, no—” A plea, the desperate call of a forgotten worshipper. “It wasn’t… I didn’t—”

“Save it, Jack,” you interject. Burning tears made home on your lashes, ones you refused to give Jack. He’d laid claim to far too many of your sorrows.

His presence was unfortunately sobering. Chasing away any head rush, instead plaguing you with the bite of reality and understanding that the hatchet was already in the heart of your friendship, what was seemingly a simple misunderstanding on Jack’s part was a monumental discovery on your own.

That your value, your shine—none of it was worth it for him anymore. Not enough to care about making things right over finding pleasure in some other girl.

Maybe that was jealousy, the green-laced words of the part of you that wished Jack could want you in the same way he did other girls, but that was a concept to consider another time.

Steps quickened. Another pair did as well.

“Go home,” you snap, unwilling to cast a glance at the ghost you knew was biting at your heels. Streetlights flickered above head, as if sparked by the tension woven in the air between you two.

Silence met your words.

Perhaps Jack had given up. Finally. Came to an understanding that what he’d done—no matter how small to him—had unmoored your entire concept of our friendship. A body without a heart could only last so long before the rot set in—buried before the flesh had even gone cold.

The part of you, a stark betrayal of your current philosophy, prayed Jack would fight. Raise up his swords and cut down your defenses as he had when you first met, molding you into who you were now.

A simple confirmation that he did still care. No matter how little that spread now.

But his silence wasn’t promising.

If he even was still behind you. No strength came to cast a look—to confirm two very different, yet equally terrible things: that he didn’t care anymore and simply walked away, uninterested in arguing with a girl who refused to be swayed, or that he was still behind you, caring enough to fight but not enough to have remembered a simple time.

Arms curl around your waist mid-step. Corded with muscle, a familiar warmth, familiar strength. A soft yelp escapes your lips, feet unsteadied and dragged back—straight into Jack’s chest.

He heaves. “Stop running away from me,” he mutters, “and let me explain.”

Despite the confirmation that he was trying to fix things, you still writhe—still fight being sewn back together. “Explain what? I thought you broke up with her. Yet there she is, at your apartment, when I’m supposed to—”

Clearly lacking patience, Jack’s hand covered your mouth, his annoyed breaths fanning over your ear. “We did. I broke up with Brooke. For one moment in your life, be quiet, and let me explain.”

The desire to bite his head off made your blood molten, but the desire to hear him out—whatever excuse he’d conjure, was far stronger.

Ceasing your thrashing, you found content in his arms—despite the irritation flooding you, all focused on Jack, he was still, for now, your closest friend. Someone whose neck had been stained with the mark of your tears, whose arms were molded into the shape of your body. Anger, resentment—it could exist, it did, but it didn’t erase the years between the two of you.

You desperately hated that nothing would. That even if this became ash, withered by the flames of rejection and despair, nothing would ever wash the mark Jack had branded into the flesh of your heart.

When assured you wouldn’t fight him, or try to argue, Jack turns you in his arms, chin tilted down to look into your eyes—remnants of tears made marks on your cheeks, painted red under your eyes. A mess of his own making, undone by the simple idea that he didn’t—or couldn’t—love you back like you did him. Sad, embarrassing, but the truth. One you were done running from.

Maybe there was no room in Jack’s life for you anymore. Maybe the past served only as a childhood bedroom he’d outgrown. Maybe Bianca and Brooke were right.

Losing Jack would be losing apart of yourself. For years, so many years, you’d built a fortress around your friendship, the mere idea of it being lost an unfathomable thing that made sickness swell in you. Now, it seemed so definite.

How could you explain your hurt, without telling him you loved him?

Simple answer: you couldn’t.

It was terrifying. Picturing the fall of Jack’s face, a defeated soldier, realizing he’d lost his closest friend to the claws of an unrequited love. A necessary death. One gun, two graves, burial of something you thought would be lifelong.

Jack’s shoulders sag. “I broke up with Brooke,” he restates. “I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t—I’d never lie to you.”

You wish you could stop your lip from quivering, but you can’t. “So why was she at your apartment?”

“She showed up,” he responds, eyes darting, looking for answers he knew he wouldn’t find in the sorrowful lines of your face. “She—God, I don’t know. Something about grabbing clothes, or whatever, but then she answered the door and—”

Years of knowing Jack, yet you’d never seen him look as devastated as he did now. Not when the Devils got eliminated from the playoffs last year. Not when injuries cut his seasons short.

Somehow, that made it all the worse.

“I had no idea it was you,” he whispers. Cars blur by, capturing Jack momentarily in their headlights, the halo he’d always had—from everyone around us, worshiping at his alter. “If I had known… if I had known…”

Eyes falter a moment. From your watery gaze to your trembling lips. Heat blooms, such an inappropriate time for uncaged moths to eat at the lining of your stomach, but that was just what Jack did. Weathered every defense you had, bullet after bullet, finding the cracks in your armor even you hadn’t seen.

He always saw.

He always saw you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jack continues softly, a low sigh leaving him. “I know I did—I know things have been… weird between us lately, and I don’t know why. I—I just want to figure this all out. It feels like… I don’t know. Like I’m losing you.”

If any words could’ve effectively killed any fight left you had, it was those. You wanted to scream it was him—that he’d caused this, opened the rift that set you two across canyons, lit the fire under your bridge and left nothing but an empty ravine between the two of you, but how could he know any of that?

Jack didn’t know you loved him.

He didn’t know being around him wedged the knife deeper. Seeing him in love, devote himself to another in a way you wished he’d worship you, it only made it all the worse.

He deserved an answer. If this really ended it all, this night, unremarkable in every way other than its possible end, then he deserved to know why.

“I…” You stumble over your words a moment, blockade erecting in your throat. “It’s… hard, Jack.”

A lame response, but what more could you give? He’d taken every other piece of you.

Desperate eyes find yours. Hands follow, holding your cheeks with such delicacy you could’ve sobbed. “What is? I… I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me. You know I don’t want to lose this—you. So help me, give me something.”

The dam in my throat doesn’t stop the sob from falling out. “I don’t understand, Jack. Why do you keep trying? You’re different now—you… you’re this NHL golden boy. I’ve never met a person who didn’t like you. I just—I don’t get why I’m still the person you choose. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jack’s eyebrows crinkle. For a moment, he looks lost for words, tongue severed by your pleading blow. You weren’t sure what you wanted from him. To see realization dawn on him as he finally understood that this—this friendship—had overstayed its welcome, or reassurance, confirmation that no matter what happened, he’d never see you as anything less than his best friend.

And unfortunately—what started this whole mess—he’d never see you as more.

“What?” Jack shakes his head. “You don’t understand? You are my best friend. Time, money, whatever—that’s not changing that. Why the hell would I leave you behind because I’m some big-shot now?”

Couldn’t he see?

Something changed. When first he’d brought Brooke to you—when he’d gushed over their perfect first date and her perfect personality and perfect face, it all came to a halt. Because living in a world where Jack was tethered to another wasn’t one you wanted to live in, regardless of how selfish and pathetic and ignorant that made you sound.

You had always been Jack’s. He’d just never been yours.

“That’s—not my point,” you mumble, casting a glance at the stars, given light by the lack of clouds, sharing the sky with the new moon. “I’m sorry… for being distant, and not communicating. I’ve been dealing with… things.”

This conversation was devolving as time went on. You were desperately trying to avoid him digging to the root of this entire problem. Of why you’d been so hurt, of what you’d been dealing with, of why being near him made you want to tear your hair out.

Everyone saw it.

Everyone but him.

“What things?” Jack asks softly, thumb stroking the tear-tracks marred on my cheeks. “You know you can talk to me. About anything.”

You worry your lip between your teeth. Was it better to speak or take the the grave the one thing that you knew could kill any friendship between you? Choose dignity over cowardice? Safety over flames?

A pause, and then, “Why’d you break up with Brooke?”

Something flashes in Jack’s eyes, but he looks away. Hides, like always—Jack never was good with emotions, with vulnerability. He hated being picked apart, being read; but you always managed to.

“She…” he pauses, again finding your gaze. A click of bone accompanies his shifting jaw. “She said some things. About you.”

Not a shock. Brooke, for good reason, hated you since the moment she met you. Competition, another star that shone bright enough to capture attention—there was no reassurance you could ever give.

Still, she’d always seemed smarter than Jack’s other exes. Clearly, she knew of where you ranked in his life, an untouchable position if scraped would lead to consequences. Over the years, you’d seen it all—girlfriends, friends, all severed from his life because of a disparaging comment about you. That was one thing Jack had never tolerated.

Brooke kept her mouth shut about you. Until now, apparently. And it cost her Jack. Sick satisfaction wells in you like a wave, a reminder that you were important to Jack—even if not in the way you wanted.

The unfurling of your assumed truth of the situation gave clarity—but questions remained.

“So I broke up with her,” Jack mutters, the casual tone doing more harm for your delusions than good. Shouldn’t he be more upset? “I’m not going to let people talk about you like that.”

He confessed.

It was your turn.

The possibility of years of friendship toppling because of a single sentence, a confession you’d never intended to make public, it felt like an axe looming above your head, awaiting the words to cut the rope.

You breathed, deeply. Maybe the last time you’d ever share the same air as Jack, heat mingled with his own, a different form of home you’d never again find in a person.

You wouldn’t just be losing your best friend, but a possibility—a what-if, a maybe. Someone who, had the circumstances been different, could’ve given you his heart. But it’d never be yours—a small piece, never fully branded, never fully claimed.

“These past few days, since the dinner, I’ve been… considering some stuff.” Vague, too cryptic, but I couldn’t reveal my hand yet, even if everyone else at the table had already seen it but Jack. “I really care about you. I cherish our friendship more than anything, really, I do… but, I just don’t think it’s—good for me anymore.”

Disbelief paints a desperate picture on Jack’s streetlamp-lit face.

Pain rends you. The words already flew—a perfectly notched arrow sent straight for Jack’s heart. Target struck, perfect aim. Truth laid in your words; it wasn’t good for you, because you loved Jack, and it was ruining your life. You’d never brush love-imbued fingers across his face, never capture his lips, never capture his heart. People before you had—proven it could be done; yet, never did your turn come. Because it was never meant to.

Jack steps back.

“You—” Thrice again he tries to speak, each time words fail him. Fingers graze through his hair, a stress tick. The last thing you wanted was to hurt Jack.

In complete honesty, you hadn’t figured he’d be so… distraught. After all, it seemed a mutual fade away, one everyone figured was coming. Desertion of the past to build a future, tossing away that childhood shirt that no longer fit quite right.

What you forgot? Those people, the ones claiming Jack had outgrown you, they weren’t him.

Because with the way he looked now, the last thing he wanted was to let you walk away.

“Not good for you?” he asks, voice so soft, it barely carries over the wind. Jersey was freezing this time of year, an unfortunate somber sight that fell victim to winter like the leaves and foliage. “Are you—did I do something? Did I hurt you? Is it the whole Brooke thing? If it is I can fix it, I’ll make it up to you—”

“No,” you whisper. “You didn’t, Jack. It’s just…”

Years of loving him.

Years of pining. Of wanting. Of hoping.

Diaries with his name scribbled beside yours. Hopes of returning to your high school reunion, his hand in mine, the whispers of your once-classmates, confirming that everyone knew it would be you and him—the only way it could ever go.

Hands that built those fantasies were, at present, trying to tear them down. You weren’t sure why you felt so destructive, why burning the friendship instead of simply trying to salvage what was left, even if it was little, seemed a better out.

You looked at Jack. Traced the curves of his face and lips with admiration—something you’d always hid, did when he couldn’t possibly catch the gleam of your eyes, but now, you couldn’t find the shame. If this was the end, if your words really did send down the axe, so be it.

At least it wouldn’t be something you’d be buried alongside, taking up your coffin.

“I love you,” it comes out weak, too shaky, too raw. “It’s ruining my life.”

There could only be so many blows before a heart stopped beating.

You expected repulsion.

You expected Jack to flinch back, the force of your words—ones he’d never want to hear from his best friend—would make him turn tail and run, the vulnerability cutting far too deep.

You’d told him you loved him before, under the guise of friendship, nothing more. But you meant it differently now, and he knew that.

What you hadn’t expected was for Jack’s lips to part, contemplatively looking down at you. As if matched with a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

The moment spanned—left uncertainties it its wake. Was he trying to search for a way to let you down easy? To save face, save your feelings, because even if he didn’t love you, he still cared?

It seemed your answer would never come, until it did.

“You love me,” he repeats, tasting the words. A slow smile comes on his face—not conniving, not plotting. Content. “You love me?”

That was all he got from that?

A slow nod.

What was he getting at?

“I—yes?” you murmur, eyebrows furrowing.

Where was the rejection, the one you’d built yourself up for? The pitiful smile of a person who just didn’t feel the same? For better or worse, it was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was that grin, the one that brought soft dimples to his face.

“I—and it’s… ruining your life?” Jack says, keeping his tone low.

In the streetlight’s glow, he almost looks watercolor—made human by hopes, made yours by want. Cars pass, unaware of the scene playing out on some deserted strip of sidewalk outside long-closed shoppes.

If you looked up now, you could almost see the stars wink at you.

“You… you don’t feel the same,” you respond, as if already convinced of some feeling he himself hadn’t disclosed. “And that’s fine. It is, Jack, really. I get it, y’know? I just—don’t want this to be weird between us because it already is and—”

Hands tilt your face—callous, warm, home. The gentle brush of fingers weathered yours cheeks time and time before, yet different now, tender in a way they hadn’t been before. Words died on your tongue, muffled only then by the gentle press of Jack’s lips. A moment to register, one to hold your breath. Cataclysmic—yet contained, no supernova to explode your body. As if coming back from a long war, he kissed you—kept you close, spoke millions of words in a single action.

Perceived slights, idealized rejection—none of it was real. Fabricated in my head like so many things, brought to life by other people’s words, people who couldn’t have ever known the depth Jack cared for you.

Childhood wasn’t a burden. It wasn’t something to outgrow. Neither were you.

He’d never outgrown you. He’s grown with you, side by side, rooted in the same crack of concrete. Even with the years, the diverging paths that kept your lives on different sides, Jack never let you go—because he’d never wanted to.

It wasn’t a matter of pity. Of concern on how to let you down easy.

Together, you’d navigated childhood. High school. Adult life. And now… it seemed, love.

Finally, Jack pulls away. Lips painted in his saliva, you look up at him, wide-eyed, made once more that schoolgirl who foolishly vied for his attention, that couldn’t understand why he was her friend. Now, you couldn’t understand why he kissed you.

“Well, it’ll definitely be weird now,” he laughs softly. Even now, he could joke—with pink cheeks and wet lips and hazy eyes. “Because I don’t think I can be your friend either.”

Thumbs brush your cheeks. Red rises in their wake.

You were a fool—but not for the reasons you’d presumed earlier. Not because you’d loved someone who didn’t love you back, because you assumed he never could. No… now you were a fool for ever thinking he didn’t. That other people knew Jack better than you.

His forehead finds yours.

A heat that’d always been him. Jack. Your best friend. Your home.

“I love you,” he whispers back, a promise, one years in the making, imbued with the comfort of distant memories and fantasies that once only lived in my dreamscapes.

A chuckle slips from Jack. Held in his arms, in the middle of the sidewalk, full view of prying eyes and listening ears—yet all you cared about were his words. His oaths, that once felt impossible to comprehend.

Love that wasn’t platonic.

Touches that didn’t spell friendship.

“You’re ruining my life, too,” he says, a kiss pressing to the top of your head, crowning you with a love you’d reached for endlessly. “But for very different reasons.”

Sometimes, love isn’t unrequited.

It’s just unsaid.

#THIS IS LIKE CRAZY GOOD #jack hughes #fics!#one of my faves!

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hearts-4-luke · 2 days

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2024 Stanley Cup Playoffs: Round 1, Game 4 Canucks @ Predators | April 28, 2024

#LORD HELP ME #quinn hughes

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hearts-4-luke · 3 days

Text

WANT ME DEAD

summary: loving and being loved by jack hughes was supposed to feel like a breath of fresh air— but the air was quickly stripped from your lungs when you realized it was never real

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, one sided love, bets, death

uhm heavily UNEDITED LOLL she kinda sucks but

you knew jack was the one for you the moment he came up to you after one of his games just to apologize for someone in the crowd accidentally pouring their beer on you— someone who he had no idea existed.

you knew jack was the one for you when he would make an effort to call you every night, always waiting for you to answer before saying, “hey, pretty girl.”

you knew jack was the one for you when he came to your house the night after your brother got into a car crash. he held you tightly— whispered sweet nothings into your ear as his hold never loosened.

you knew jack was the one for you the moment ‘i love you’ slipped through his lips; like little secrets only he wanted you to know.

but, your entire relationship wasn’t private— no it was entirely public. not public in you posting each other, but public in him telling every little detail to his best friends: trevor and cole.

you realized jack was a shitty man the day you overheard him on the phone. his voice; the one you grew to love, was speaking to trevor.

you realized jack was a cruel man the day you heard him admit out loud to his mother how this was all fake. you realized his mother was an admiring woman the moment she started to yell at him. you realized jack would never be a good person the moment he lied to you.

“was any of it real to you?” you whispered as you looked at his back. you watched him tense up before turning to you.

“what—what do you mean?” he was acting oblivious— sinking into it.

“how much of our relationship was fake to you, jack?” you spoke, your eyes held pain in them as you teared up.

“where is this coming from, baby?” he asked.

you let out a scoff mixed with a choked sob. “why are you still performing in front of me? im not stupid jack, ive heard you! you called me stupid for believing this. you just told your mom it was just because you wanted money.”

“baby..” jack spoke lowly. his eyes held guilt, anger.

“were you sent by someone? someone who wanted me dead? because you are fucking killing me, jack. ive been back and forth with myself, trying to convince my head that you were lying; or even just joking. ive tried for defending you against my head for so fucking long, jack.”

you watched as ellen stood there; clearly torn apart by the entire thing. of course she loves her son, but he was ruining you.

“you knew i loved you— you knew that and you still did this? you couldn’t have a fucking heart and just reject me?” you were desperate— desperate for his love, even after this.

“i didnt want to hurt you..” he trailed off.

you let out another scoff. “good fucking riddance”

you had tears running down your cheeks. you turned around, trying to not let him see you cry. you felt his hand touch your shoulder— which you quickly shrugged it away.

“dont you dare— you have no right.. no right to touch me right now.” you were a mess— a full on mess. “you— i let you see all of me, all of it.” you brokenly whispered.

“i let you in— you came to my brothers funeral for fucks sake, jack! i cried on your shoulder— you told me, you said so many things.” you cried out.

jack watched you break down, his brows furrowed as guilt washed over him.

“i took you to my moms grave.” you whimpered out, your lip quivering as you shakily spoke.

ellen came over, her arm wrapping around your shoulders. “come on sweetie, lets get you outside.” she whispered.

you sobbed into your hands as she began to lead you outside. “mom—“ jack tried to speak but was immediately cut off by the look she gave him.

that night, you declared ellen hughes as your savior. that night, you declared jack hughes as the shittiest man to exist. the smallest man who ever lived.

i need to make a new taglist bc i forgot everyone and it was so messy last time 😭😭 lmk if u want tags from now on babes!!

#AHHH ILY ELLEN #jack hughes #fics!

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hearts-4-luke · 3 days

Text

not-so quickie | jack hughes

warnings: morning sex, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, dirty talk, jack as a boob guy for SURE, pet names, domesticity, jack x y/n being precious partners fo'eva pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when reader and jack's morning antics leave jack rushing to get to training. wc: 1967

Whenever you wake up in the same bed as Jack, which was more often than not nowadays, his dick is poking the small of your back or it’s nestled right against the curve of your ass. Either Jack is pulling you into him in his sleep or you’re pressing back into him in your sleep, but the way you get into this position doesn’t actually matter because it always ends in the same outcome: you, awake, because Jack has his morning wood. This morning, the tight grip Jack’s hands has on your hip explains the events of the night perfectly.

Despite the closeness between your bodies, you manage to turn to face Jack without waking him up. You trace the line of his nose, the freckles on his cheeks, and thumb over his bottom lip.

Still asleep, Jack sighs at your light touch and pulls you as close as he can, slipping his thigh between your legs. You smile, feeling like a beam of light could erupt from your chest with how fond you are for this boy. His eyelashes flutter and the corner of his lip twitches. You can tell he’s fighting to stay asleep and you don’t blame him– the bed is comfortable, warm, and he doesn’t have to be at his off-season training for almost an hour and a half.

“Jacky,” you whisper, watching as his nose scrunches when he loses the battle.

“No,” he groans, voice thick with sleep. He feels blindly for the hem of your big shirt, the only thing you wore to bed last night, and pulls it up until he can pull it over his head. He kisses the space between your boobs before he relaxes and tries to fall back asleep.

You giggle when his breath washes over your chest, partially because it tickles and partially because you know that if Jack could climb into your skin, he would.

“Good morning, sweet boy,” you say, scraping your fingernails down Jack’s back in soothing movements.

“G’morning,” comes Jack’s muffled reply. “You woke me up.”

When you pull your shirt collar away from your chest to peek down at him, Jack’s got that trademark Hughes pout written across his face. His eyes reflect betrayal, but you know he’s not really mad.

“You woke me up,” you parrot back at him.

Jack lets out a “hmph!” of displeasure at that. “Clearly, one of us is lying. That’s not possible.”

“Your little friend poked me awake.” You poke Jack to emphasize your point.

He laughs and his movements shake you. He adjusts you in his arms so you can feel the press of his, still hard, “little friend” against your hip. “This guy?” He asks.

You hum, nodding. “That’s the one.”

“Poked you awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, that’s not very nice of him, is it?”

“Not at all.”

“What should we do about that?”

“I don’t think he should get to have any fun for the next week.”

Jack retreats from under your shirt at that and hovers above you. “A week?” He repeats, disbelief dripping from his words. “No, pretty girl, that’s cruel and unusual punishment. That’s against the Constitution.”

You laugh and press a hand to his chest. “Since when are you such a patriot?”

“I know my rights.” Jack leans down to kiss the side of your neck, then blows a raspberry in the same spot.

You shriek and twist away from him, but Jack’s hands keep you firmly underneath him. His thigh keeps you pinned in place and offers some solid pressure to your core. His dick is still pressed against your hip and even though you’re both laughing as you try to evade his wandering lips and fingertips, you can practically feel him throbbing with the contact.

“Jack!” You squeal when he digs his fingers into your sides. You reach down and grab his wrists, trying to stop him from making any more moves, but he easily reverses your grip so he’s holding your wrists instead. He presses them down into the pillow above your head and your breath catches. His eyes are on yours and time suspends, the air thick between you two.

You’re breathing heavily and Jack’s got that barely-there smile on his face. He bites his lip, then licks it.

You’re not even registering how your hips grind down on his thigh until he looks down to where you’re touching. You look too and gasp, remembering that you are completely bare on his thigh when you see the patch of wetness glistening on his skin.

When you look back up, Jack is staring at you with something akin to determination in his hooded eyes.

“Not so upset about being woken up now, huh?” He teases, tensing his thigh and leaning into you.

“Shut up,” you breathe out, tilting your hips up to meet him.

Jack watches you without saying a word for a few minutes, a small smile present on his lips.

Your eyes are closed, your head is tilted back, your hair is loose and falling in a halo around your head. It’s tangled and tousled from your sleep. You’ve got a fading crease from the fabric of your pillow across your cheek. Your shirt has ridden up to reveal your stomach and Jack reaches out to place a hand on it. He spreads his fingers wide and licks his lips at how his hand looks covering you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, I want to do this with you forever.

“Jack,” you moan, finally opening your eyes and looking into his. You continue to roll your hips against his thigh, so dense and strong and so there beneath you.

“Yeah, honey?” He replies, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you need?”

“Want you inside me.” Your jaw drops when Jack thrusts his leg against your core, and stays there.

Jack looks over at the clock on your bedside table and thinks. He’s got a little over an hour before training, but he’ll have to shower and that could take five or thirty minutes depending on if you join him. He needs to cook and eat, which might take twenty minutes. The drive is fifteen minutes if he speeds (he does every time). He looks back at you and melts at the way you’re staring up at him, begging him for more with just your eyes.

“Fuck, can you be quick?” He asks.

“So close already, Jacky, just want you inside.”

Jack rolls onto his back and shoves his boxers down to his knees, pulling you on top of him. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good.”

You line him up with your entrance and sink down, feeling the breath seep out of you as he fills you up. You move your hips in slow circles, feeling him drag along your walls and press every delicious spot inside of you. You lean forward and stabilize yourself by putting both your hands on Jack’s abdomen. You can feel his abs tense as you start to move up and down on his cock.

He’s staring up at you like you’re a dream. He’s got a hand on your hip and a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down on your smooth skin with his thumb. The only noises between you are the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips and the strangled breaths that fall from Jack’s. You take him how you want him, deep and consistent rather than fast and hard, and Jack wonders if, maybe, this is how life was meant to be lived all along?

When you pull your shirt over your head, Jack’s hand shoots up to knead your breast. He stares, mouth slightly parted, at the way they move when you continue to bounce on top of him and how they fill his palm, the weight of them causing him to smirk with pride. He’s a boob man at heart, always has been, and these tits are his, you’re his. He starts to thrust up into you once he’s got his hands on your tits, loving the way they feel under his fingers so much that he loses track of the fact that you were supposed to be keeping the pace you wanted.

Not that you mind.

You let him fuck up into you, the tip of his dick hitting your deepest point and making you a mess. “Jack,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Jack grunts out, one hand dropping to your side to pull you down into him in time with his thrusts up. “Say my name, tell me who’s making you feel good.”

You’re both sweating, a light sheen of sweat glistening on your bodies as the sun peeks through the curtains. If you looked behind you, you’d see the mess that you left on Jack’s thigh earlier. The messy hair that you love so much is starting to stick to his forehead, clumping up in strands that fall across the skin in the most beautiful way. They’re like that because of you, because of how good he’s making you feel, the effort he puts in, and it’s that knowledge that brings you one step closer to your orgasm.

“You look so,” you say, losing the words when Jack tilts his hips to meet that one spot inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Jack.”

“Gorgeous,” Jack tells you, finishing the sentence that you had started and abandoned. “Everything I ever wanted, my pretty girl, my baby. Wanna see you come, love, wanna see you make a mess all over my cock. C’mon, baby, come for me.”

He continues to urge you as your moans grow in pitch. He continues to slam into you and it’s the tortured whimper he lets out when you clench down on him that sets off your orgasm. You almost collapse on top of him as you move your hips frantically with his stuttering ones. Your hands press on his chest, your breasts dangling right there, right in front of him, and Jack comes.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, looping an arm around your waist and fucking up into you wildly as he comes. He bites down and sucks on the skin of one of your tits as he comes down, pulling away to reveal a patch of his saliva that will certainly turn red, then purple, then blue over the next few hours.

You both breathe heavily after the high of your orgasms, with you gently rising off of Jack and removing him from the warmth of your pussy.

“Good morning,” Jack says again when you cuddle into his side, your head resting on his arm and your fingertips dancing over his stomach.

“Good morning,” you reply with a smile when his dick twitches at your movements.

Jack throws a glance over the top of your head towards the clock.

“Mm,” Jack groans as he pushes himself up. He kisses you, long and soft, before he gets up to go to the bathroom. “That didn’t go as quick as I needed it to. Now I have to rush.”

“You’re complaining?” You tease.

“Never. Never complaining about getting to spend time with my pretty girl.”

You beam as you hear the shower turn on. You slip on one of Jack’s dirty shirts that he left on the bedroom floor the night before and get out of bed yourself, still feeling the remains of the morning’s adventures on your thighs. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully. That one, if you can swing it, will actually have to be quick.

notes: hi good morning readers yes here i am back again on a monday morning with more smut (i fear... i be thinking about this topic too much). and yet i am running out of things to write about because i do not want to write about the same three actions (a little fingering, a little oral, a little fucking) in every post because i fear that will get old for y'all. MORAL OF THE STORY: SEND REQUESTS! SEND ASKS! SEND COMMENTS ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE PLAYERS AND PEOPLE YOU WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT! i need help <3 (yes, @johncena2020 i will eventually get to your Mr. Marino. i will.)

#jack hughes #jack hughes smut #smut recs!

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hearts-4-luke · 3 days

Text

Casual

Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex and a boy ☹️

(you said, "we're not together", so now when we kiss, I have anger issues)

Your friends always made fun of you, calling you a loser for changing yourself for a boy who would forget in months after he was done with you.

You were happy to stand at the sidelines and be the quiet, good girl, for him, especially so. You held back all thoughts that didn't pertain to him, because at that moment he enveloped you completely.

You couldn't help but hear the words that were jokes between him and his friends, the utters of "we're just casual" filled your head while the whispers of "we only fuck", tug at your heart.

You had heard the rumors of Luke sleeping around, but you had no reason to believe them because that is all they were, rumors.

You let him consume you, when all your thoughts should've been about your plans after college, rather than if he was gonna call you tonight or if he was too busy.

You spent late nights together in his car. You'd sit there after everything was done, skin to skin, where he watched you draw hearts in the fog of the glass.

You remember the few times you met his parents, and how eager he was to get away from them for a bathroom hookup.

You watched as he left the bathroom, perfectly monotone as you continued to fix your makeup, not wanting to be anything less of perfection.

As you sat back at the table, his hand found its place on your thigh, a smile graced your lips.

Him mom began to speak to you, you always loved her need to include you.

"Summer will be here in just a few weeks, and I, we, thought it be nice to have a little get together at the lake house,"

You smiled at her, gleaming, before Luke spoke up.

"She would love to, but she's got graduation to worry about."

You felt a heat rise to your cheeks, not understanding why he doesn't want you there, before you could speak up, he started talking again.

"College is so demanding, especially for someone as bright as my girl."

His arm came to rest around your shoulders, as the words "my girl" echoed through your mind.

You felt comfortable then.

But it didn't stay like that for long.

Soon the only time you'd really see each other is when he needed to blow off steam.

You would allow it, loving that you're so close to him.

You would allow him to fuck you as he shoved your face farther into the cushion of the couch.

You wanted him to need you.

You think back to the day you went shopping with friends, when as soon as you got back, he wanted a fashion show, so you did, showing off your new favorite bra, which soon became his new favorite as he tore it off.

The bra laid there in his bedroom floor for 2 months, before he shoved it into his dresser.

Every thought you had was of him, every thought you have, is of him.

You lost every piece of yourself to a boy who refused to grow up.

And you let him drag you down with him.

#luke hughes #fics!

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hearts-4-luke · 3 days

Note

noticing the indented marks left on their face from the pillow or however they were laying

^ "did you sleep well?" "mhm.." [tracing the mark with their hand] "i can tell."

prompt with Luke Hughes

ᯓ⌕ 𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟑 ༉‧₊

pairing: gf!reader x luke hughes

summary: in which taking naps on your boyfriend is your favourite pastime. and he enjoys nothing more than having his girl in his arms.

content: just some fluff.

note: thank you so much for taking part in my celly! it's time I get myself a pookie bf cause writing these are making me feel lonier and lonier 😔

luke loves sleeping. it’s one of the many joys in his life. and it’s no secret either. luke knows his teammates are well aware that when he declines their offers to go out, he goes home and knocks right out. and as much as he brushes their teasing off by saying he’s just a kid and he’s still growing, luke is pretty sure no matter how old he gets he’ll always be down for an afternoon nap.

luke only knew one other person who loved sleeping as much as him… and that was you. it’s become an integral piece of your routine. it’s almost a daily occurrence for jack to find you and luke passed out together for an hour or two.

but if there was one thing luke loved more than sleeping…it was watching you sleep. not in a creepy way, he swears. there was just something so peaceful about watching your content expression, the way your whole face would soften, the steady beat of your heart, your soft puffs of breaths against his skin. watching you sleep put him in a state of grace that even his own slumber couldn’t.

so what if he sacrificed his own two hour naps just to admire you in your sleep? it recharged him all the same and no one would ever know.

“is she asleep?” jack whispers when he enters the apartment and sees his brother on the couch. you laying completely on top of him.

“of course she is,” jack says when luke nods in response.

luke grins at the horrified expression on jack’s face when you let out a particularly loud snore. he gently runs his hand through your hair, dropping a kiss on your head.

“fuck!” jack yells suddenly and luke turns his head seeing his brother crouched over, clutching his toe.

“shut up. I just told you she was sleeping,” luke whisper-yells and jack glares at him letting out an annoyed sigh. luke glances down at you, making sure his brother’s antics didn’t wake you up.

“I stubbed my toe. It fucking hurts. but I’m okay, thanks for asking,” Jack says and Luke rolls his eyes at his brother’s dramatics

“If you wake her up you’re gonna be very not okay when I’m done with you,” luke grumbles and stills when you shift, hand clutching his shirt tightly

but he quickly forgets about the threat uttered to his brother. a warm feeling spreading through his chest when your eyes flutter open, blinking slowly up at him.

“hey baby. did you sleep well?” luke asks, gently brushing wild strands of hair out of your face.

“mhm…” you mumble, snuggling back into his chest, exposing the side of your face you were laying on and luke smiles at the indented mark on your face

“I can tell,” luke says amused, pressing a kiss to the top of your head when you hide your face in his chest from embarrassment.

luke squeezes you tight, his eyes fluttering close with a content look on his face. jack contemplates waking both of you when he sees your drift off again, knowing the two of you were on dinner duty tonight, but the peaceful look on his little brothers face makes him hesitate.

jack decided to leave the two of you be, but for no other reason other than the fact that he doesn’t want to eat luke’s burnt rice again. or so he tells himself.

#luke hughes #lukey pookie #fics!

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hearts-4-luke · 3 days

Text

WHO’S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which jack hughes should be afraid of what y/n can do to his reputation

notes: yeah, idk what this is either; there’s not much plot.

september 16th, 2023

deuxmoi

24,107 likes

deuxmoi pop sensation, y/n, is seen hands on with new boy toy?

if anyone has any information on who this man is, do come forward! we’d love to know who america’s queen of heartbreak anthems is with now!

view all 549 comments

user82 the hand placement?! HELLO?!

user3 oh great, new music where she makes herself some sad victim again

user55 a new love album next?! maybe?!

user09 let’s not get ahead of ourselves, it’s some low grade pap photos posted on a gossip blog. it could’ve been a first date for all we know

user45 @/user09 with the way they are in these pics? absolutely NOT a first date. y/n has famously said she doesn’t get “frisky” early on because of her ex. most definitely a bf

user92 oh her next song is gonna HIT

user06 that guy kinda looks…. where were these taken and when?

deuxmoi all the sender said was that they saw them in michigan last night! know something?

user06 hmm the tl matches! that looks like it could be @/jackhughes , a hockey player for the New Jersey Devils!

user98 OH MY GOD, YOU’RE RIGHT!

user67 those hands?! girlie better never let him go!

september 27th, 2023

y/nofficial

liked by sabrinacarpenter and 4,628,961 others

y/nofficial every dead end street led you straight to me 🤍

view all 7,923 comments

user72 SOFT LAUNCH OH MY GOD

user5 oh he’s got her using emojis?! she’s down BAD

user29 i’m so happy for her, she deserves so much love and happiness and it seems like he gives that to her 🫶

user6 MOTHER?!

user01 what poor boy did she sink her claws into this time?

user9 if you don’t like her, why are you on her post? obsessed much?

sabrinacarpenter he scored 😉

y/nofficial sab!! nah, i think i did!

user92 he better be treating her damn good! it’s what she deserves after ‘he who shall not be named’!

user76 i know who you meant but also started giggling at the idea of her writing an album about voldemort 😭

y/nofficial @/user76 gasp! don’t you know who lover is about?! the dark lord and i just couldn’t make it work :(

october 10th, 2023

jackhughes

liked by y/nofficial, nicohischier, and 815,736 others

jackhughes as a wise woman once said: “i was enchanted to meet you”

tagged y/nofficial

view all 2,865 comments

y/nofficial my sweet boy 🤍

jackhughes my pretty girl

user76 A HARD LAUNCH

user94 THEY’RE SO SICKENINGLY CUTE 😭 SHE DESERVES THIS

user36 JACK IS DATING Y/N?! OH THE SONGS THAT WILL COME OUT OF THIS

user8 he could do so much better

lhughes_06 about damn time

trevorzegras JACK WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE JOKING

user02 oh they’re so cute 🥹

dawson1417 did you just… hard launch with the biggest singer in america rn?

jackhughes y/n says “what? like it’s hard?” idk what that means

user16 can we talk about how happy she looks?! and i know her hockey loving self is giggling and kicking her feet over her landing a hockey player! too cute!!

john.marino97 if her next RED-like album is about you, i’m requesting a trade. can’t believe i’m gonna have to listen to songs about YOU

january 1st, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by jackhughes and 5,827,025 others

y/nofficial thank you 2023, you brought so much love and laughter 🤍 can’t wait to see what 2024 brings!

tagged jackhughes

view all 7,503 comments

user86 oh she’s so down bad she was taking pics of him at his game 😭

user9 one tour pic and three pics regarding to jack? she’s so in love

jackhughes here’s to another year with you, my talented girl

y/nofficial i can’t wait for another year with you, my love 🤍

user55 i can’t wait to see you in KC this year!!

user7 she’s truly living her best life and i’m obsessed!!

user21 i hope 2024 is just as good to you as 2023 was!

january 26th, 2024

deuxmoi

36,592 likes

deuxmoi fan submission: trouble in paradise?

pop sensation, y/n, and her boyfriend, hockey player Jack Hughes, were seen out by a fan last night. the fan claims that they overheard y/n consoling Jack about his recent injury that has left him unable to play. in the video (on our site), you can hear y/n telling Jack “i know not playing is hard, i know it’s sad-”. Jack is heard cutting her off and snapping “you don’t get to tell me about sad. you don’t get it, so stop acting like you do.”according to the fan, y/n left the date alone and in tears.

what do you guys think, is this couple over?

view all 1,251 comments

user29 wow what an asshole, she was just trying to be comforting

user4 wtf?

user07 yeah, can’t say i didn’t expect them to end soon enough

user99 she was trying to comfort him and he snapped at her? yeah, i’d hope they’re over

user20 she deserves better

user19 it’s just an argument, everyone is being so overdramatic

user3 do i think they’re over? no. if we know anything about y/n, it’s that she’s forgiving, sometimes to a fault.

user67 i don’t think they’re broken up but if she was leaving alone and crying, i hope they will be soon enough

user82 has anyone thought that maybe he didn’t need comforting?

user13 umm, obviously he did if he snapped at her

user98 idk about everyone else, but i do think they’re broken up if she left alone and was visibly upset

user23 oh i can’t wait to hear what she writes about him. i’ve known he seemed too good to be true

february 14th, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by oliviarodrigo and 7,431,846 others

y/nofficial happy valentines to my favorite boy 🤍

the most kind-hearted, respectful, and loving man i’ve ever had the pleasure of being able to call mine. nobody is perfect, but i think you’re pretty close to it. i’m so eternally grateful to have you in my life 🤍

tagged jackhughes

view all 278 comments

user6 oh, she’s still with him

user02 y/n, baby, please come to your senses

user14 i don’t like him at all after last month

jackhughes happy valentines, beautiful girl ❤️

user65 “nobody is perfect” oh, mother is telling us rn

comments on this post are now limited

march 23rd, 2024

deuxmoi

29,783 likes

deuxmoi looks like y/n and her hockey beau have called it quits! eagle eyed fans spotted last night that they’ve unfollowed each other on instagram and y/n deleted all photos of him.

previously, y/n ONLY followed jack, now she’s back down to 0, which fans seem to read as a finality to their relationship.

view all 1,736 comments

user95 about time! after that spat in january, i feel like everyone was waiting for this

user72 EVERYONE MOVE! EVERYONE REJOICE! MOTHER IS FREE!

user24 GOOD RIDDANCE!!

user61 can’t wait to hear who the catalyst was, him or her?

user3 obviously she’ll make herself out to be the victim

user61 @/user3 tell me you’ve never actually listened to y/n without telling me you’ve never actually listened to y/n 🙄 she doesn’t shy away from admitting if she was the one who ruined a relationship, she admits she has problems and that sometimes she gets in her own head

user8 it was obviously him after that video in january

user23 everyone is celebrating but have we stopped for a second to realize that she’s probably really heart broken right now?

user70 fr! like, she seemed so in love with him and i feel so bad for her. she seemed to love him a lot more than her exes and we all know she’s a hopeless romantic at heart, so she was probably imagining marriage and babies with him and then he showed his true colors

april 1st, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by tatemcrae and 14,698,276 others

y/nofficial there’s always a fool, but i guess all’s fair in love and poetry… new album THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT. out May 14 🩶

but surprise! the first and only single, Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? comes out April 19 🩶

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user18 MOTHER DOES NOT PLAY!!! AHHH

user63 may 14th 💀 she said “i’m not fucking around, y’all WILL know who this is about.”

user9 significance of may 14th?

user63 @/user9 it’s jack’s birthday 💀

user00 OH SHE MUST REALLY HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY IF SHE’S ACTUALLY DROPPING A SINGLE BEFORE THE ALBUM

user78 i wonder if jack feels stupid yet

user12 new y/n album before GTA6

user93 the vibes??? mother didn’t write an album, she wrote a EULOGY

april 19th, 2024

y/nofficial

liked by john.marino97 and 9,726,820 others

y/nofficial at this hearing, i stand before my fellow members of The Tortured Poets Department with a summary of my findings.

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? out now.

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user72 i’m speechless

user2 “you don’t get to tell me about sad” SHE REALLY FUCKING DID THAT

user33 I AM IN SHOCK!

user94 MOTHER CALLED HIM OUT

user78 once again i ask, @/jackhughes do you feel stupid yet?

user61 dude just got surgery and she still came for his neck 😭

user09 i mean, not like she was gonna change the release date just because of that but it’s still so 😭

user22 “the scandal was contained….. at all costs keep your good name” she really spoke on the january spat, didn’t she?

user12 “WHO’S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?”

user77 @/jackhughes you should be

john.marino97 🩶🩶

user82 oh he’s MESSY! i love it 💀

user50 tbh, i look at this single like a warning. it sounds like jack didn’t think it through before he broke her heart and didn’t think she would speak on him, but she’s warning him right now that he should be scared because she has a lot to say about him and their relationship

user31 she’s so— i love her

february 8th, 2025

y/nofficial posted on their story

february 10th, 2025

y/nofficial

liked by john.marino97 and 11,762,936 others

y/nofficial brand new, full throttle <3

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user93 i- did she just inadvertently tell us we’ve all been wrong about who So High School is about?

user77 this is the fastest she’s ever gotten into a new relationship and you know that means she has to be in LOVE

user04 AHHHHH Y/N AND JOHN MARINO

user82 how do you know it’s him? she didn’t even tag anyone and you can’t see his face

user04 @/user82 she posted john on her story a couple days ago! they’re on vacation together while he’s on bye-week!

user23 i don’t wanna get ahead of myself but,,, they met through jack, did they not? and now they’re dating? mother is messy

user51 is it messy? yeah, maybe- but people have already looked back through old interviews of his, and she’s been his celeb crush for a WHILE now. and i mean, hey, she’s dating someone only a couple years older than her now, one can only assume he’s more mature than j*ck

user92 the way she clings onto him 🥹

user88 she deserves happiness, i really hope he gives that to her 🫶

john.marino97 i knew what i wanted and i got her ♥️

#jack hughes #john marino #insta edits!

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hearts-4-luke · 3 days

Text

horror movies & puppy dog eyes | nico hischier

warnings: use of y/n, oral (m receiving), use of pet names, telling your crush/roommate you like them (very scary, but it goes well here!), begging (ish? Nico is giving sub in this), spelling of cum as come because i think "cum" looks ugly pairing: nico hischier x reader summary: the one when you and nico get a little too close on the couch, the tension between you finally breaks and you tell (& show) each other how you feel. wc: 2511

You’d known Nico for years, having met him while out for a jog back in the preseason of his rookie year for the Devils. It was one of those serendipitous moments when you were in a rare fitness mood and you happened to bump into a cute boy in one of the parks about a mile away from your apartment. You’d stopped running by then and slowed your pace to enjoy the scenery from a bench to catch your breath. Nico, being the precious angel he is, had stumbled and almost fallen right in front of you. You laughed, he blushed, you introduced yourself, and he gave you his number by the end of the conversation.

You two hadn’t become friends right away, considering how busy he was with his rookie year. They made the playoffs that year, but lost early on. It was the postseason after Nico’s rookie year when you two got close, hanging out when he was in Jersey and texting and calling each other when he wasn’t. When you told him you were looking for a new place to live because you were tired of your old roommate, he offered you his spare bedroom. It was in that apartment that you started watching the Devils because of Nico and it became a habit. You liked that you could talk to him about his game and he would explain things to you that you didn’t understand.

When he was named captain in 2021, things started to change between you two. It was the first time that the line started to blur between friendship and romance. You had popped a bottle of champagne as he walked through the door, you’d hung streamers from the ceiling, and you’d blown up a few balloons that were littered along the entryway. Nico was tired and you could tell, but when he saw you cheering for him with an overflowing bottle of champagne, he’d never felt so alive. The thing is, even as big of a rush as it was, you and Nico ended up cuddling on the couch into the early morning. He had a game in Washington the next day, which they lost, probably in part because of how late you had kept him up. You both knew better, but with Nico’s head on your chest and your fingers in his hair, it was too comfortable to move. You two fell asleep right there and woke up entangled. Even now, years later, that night leaves butterflies in your stomach.

You had never acted on your feelings for Nico and he had never made any move on you. After living together for almost five years, you two had fallen into an easy routine and romance would only mess that up.

Sometimes, though, like today, it was really hard to keep yourself off of Nico.

His eyes were just so brown today, his hair was falling in his eyes just right, his dimples were showing when he smiled (with his pearly whites!) at you, his accent was peeking out more than you were used to, and you only noticed all of this once you had stumbled into the kitchen for coffee and he had returned from his early workout. He was all sweaty and muscular and you were staring, of course you were. Look at him. You couldn’t help it.

You weren’t the only one, to be fair. When you had stumbled into the kitchen rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you were wearing one of Nico’s old shirts and your underwear. He was used to it, but the shirt had his number on the shoulder, and something squeezed at his heart when he saw you walking around with his number on, like you were really his. The sleepy smile you gave him after he sat you down at the counter and poured coffee for you was like a gift, too.

“What are you up to today?” Nico asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well. He blew on the hot surface of the liquid before taking a sip and burned his tongue anyway, but shook it off.

You hummed, shrugging noncommittally. “I’m working from home today, then we can hang out. Watch a movie?”

“Movie would be nice,” Nico replies. “Anything you’d like to see?”

“You pick,” you tell him. “I’m going to go hole up in my room for a bit. I’ll see you over work, okay? Take a break around noon for lunch. Will you be here?”

“I’m going to the rink in an hour or so. I’m meeting with some of the guys to run some extra drills and watch film. I’ll have whatever they have in catering.”

“Okay.” You hop down from your seat at the counter, walk around to grab a granola bar from the cabinet behind Nico. He places a hand on your other arm as you reach around him out of instinct, not intent, but he purposefully lets it linger a second longer than necessary. You press your lips together to keep any noise you might make inside of you and pull away.

“Later?” Nico asks again, voice soft. His eyes are imploring and, if you’re not mistaken, a little heated.

The spot where his hand had rested almost burns with the lack of touch. “Later,” you agree, and because he’s not the only one that can make someone feel like they’re burning up, you lean up and brush your lips over his cheek.

It leaves a small smile on his face and you don’t look back as you walk away.

After work, Nico cooks dinner for the two of you and you settle on the couch, rubbing your eyes out of exhaustion. You’d been staring at your computer screen all day, ironing out details of the latest project your boss had assigned you. It was tiresome and your eyes felt like they had been way overworked. It’s only a matter of time after this movie starts that you fall asleep.

Nico presents you with your plate and set his own on the coffee table, heading back to the kitchen to fetch your drinks. You weren’t overindulging, but Nico had picked out a red wine that paired nicely with the meal he had prepared, and you were always down for a drink and a movie.

Unfortunately, it was like Nico had something out for you, because he decided he wanted to watch a horror movie tonight. You were bundled up on the couch, eating your food, when he turned on a movie he knew you wouldn’t like, but you had told him he could choose… so you were stuck with it.

It was more of a psychological horror than one that relied on cheap scares and you really tried not to pay attention because you knew the movie would freak you out if you let it. Instead, you decide to focus on Nico.

He's barely reacting to the horror movie, just watching it with a straight face that occasionally turns inquisitive. His hand rests on the back of the couch behind you, so close to being around you. You're just so aware of him at all times. His presence is so commanding. You bite the inside of your cheek as you sneak a glance at him, focusing on the skin of his thigh that is revealed by his gym shorts.

He catches you staring once you didn’t jump at one of the very few scares in the movie.

“What are you looking at?” Nico asks, bringing his arm down to wipe at his thigh, assuming he had dropped some crumbs on it or something and not noticed.

You shake yourself out of it. “Zoned out, I guess.”

Nico cuts his eyes at you, but lets it go.

After a few more minutes, you find your eyes drifting back to Nico’s lower half. He shifts down on the couch and rests one of his heels on the coffee table, the other still on the floor. His legs were spread deliciously wide in typical man behavior and normally you’d roll your eyes, but something about it today made your stomach turn. Your eyes grow wider when Nico reaches around and puts his arm around your shoulders instead of the back of the couch.

“You okay?” He asks, pulling you closer to his side and giving you a little squeeze.

“Distracted,” you reply. You rub at your eyes for emphasis. “Tired.”

“Poor girl.” Nico rubs your arm and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Just give me a hug,” you say softly, cozying up to him. You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head right on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, strong and solid. You close your eyes and focus on that, the beat of it tiring you and lulling you into that weird in-between state of not-quite consciousness and not-quite sleep. Nico’s arm is solid around you and he smells good, manly.

You sigh, throwing a leg over his thigh. He places his other hand on the curve of your knee and pulls your leg higher.

“Y/N,” Nico murmurs quietly.

“Nico,” you reply in the same tone, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

He looks tormented.

You push back from him, but he keeps a harsh grip on your thigh to keep you from getting any distance from him. “What?” You demand, hands on his chest. The concern on your face leaks into your voice. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he whispers.

“What? What’s wrong?” You squirm away from him. “Did I do something?”

This time, Nico stays silent for just a moment too long. You look over him, trying to get some clue as to why you’ve upset him. His hands are resting on his lap and you’ve seen this move before, so your eyes linger before you look up at him.

His cheeks and the tips of his ears are burning red. “I’m sorry.” The words rush out of him in one fell swoop. “I know we’re just friends, I just didn’t mean…”

“Nico,” you interrupt, but can’t find any other words. You stare at each other, nothing but the stillness of your breath between you.

“Please.” He deflates as the word leaves him.

“Nico,” you repeat. You shift closer to him and move his hands from his lap, getting an eyeful of his bulge. When your eyes return to his face, he’s blushing even more than before, but his expression is less grave. It’s more hopeful.

“Is this…?” He asks, reaching out to touch you, but pulling back at the last second.

“Yes,” you answer, settling yourself in his lap and leaning in until your lips just barely brush against his. “If you want it.”

His breath catches. “Need it,” he admits, voice breaking. “Needed you since– God, forever.”

“Me too.”

His eyes search your face, brown and bright and pure, and he leans forward that last millimeter until you’re kissing. His lips slide over yours softly, like he’s mapping out every curve and memorizing it in case he never gets the chance to kiss you again.

You pull away and kiss over his features– a kiss to his nose, to his temples, to his forehead, to his cheeks, his eyebrows, the corners of his lips. When you sink lower to his jaw, feeling the stubble against your skin, it’s like the dam breaks.

“Thought about this so much, all the time,” Nico admits, breathless as you continue to kiss him and grind down slowly on his lap. His hands find your ass and he clutches at you. “Dreamt of it.”

“What did you dream about?” You mumble against his Adam’s apple, running your hands along the ridges of his abs. “Tell me, Neeks.”

“Fucked my hand so many times thinking about your mouth, Y/N,” he says. “Worried you’d hear me saying your name from across the hall.”

“I wish I had,” you slide off the couch until you’re between his thighs. You rub over the downy hair on his thighs, the same hair that caught your attention tonight in the first place. “I would’ve come over and shown you that the real thing was better than your imagination.”

He lets out a loud moan at that, reaching down to brush your hair out of your face. He looks down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His puppy-dog eyes never leave you, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear if he blinks for a second. He lifts his hips and you shimmy his shorts and boxers down at the same time to reveal his cock.

Your hand circles the base of his length and you take the tip in your mouth, sucking lightly until his hips buck up with pleasure. You pull off and kiss his slit, licking the precum up when it bubbles out. His cock jumps when you trace the vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue and cup his balls.

You blink up at him and bite your bottom lip coyly. “Tastes good, Neek.”

“Baby,” he whimpers. He lifts his hips. “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry, love,” you apologize. “Let me make you feel good.”

You lower your mouth onto his cock again, bobbing your head and working the bit that you can’t fit into his mouth. He tries to keep himself still, but he can only do so much until he’s bucking up into your mouth and chasing his orgasm like a man starved. You let him thrust up, loving the sounds he’s making.

He moans and whines the way you imagined he would, still in the habit of trying to keep quiet so that he doesn’t alarm his roommate. You’ll tell him after that it’s okay, especially now that you know how he feels and he knows how you feel. You’ll talk about it more after, you know you will, but right now, you just want to make him come.

You pull off and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him at a fast pace. “Gonna come, Nico?”

“Uh huh,” he groans, his hips stuttering as it becomes too much for him. “Y/N, I–” He cuts himself off with a strangled moan as he shoots off, his seed spilling over your hand and onto his stomach.

You let him breathe for a minute, catch his breath. When he opens his eyes, he catches you licking the come off your hand. His cock gives a halfhearted twitch, but he can’t go again quite yet. Plus, his mind is turning with all the ways he imagined getting you off. He had dreamt of so many things he could do to you, but his favorite fantasy involved repaying the favor: getting his mouth on you.

Nico pulls you up from where you sit and lays you down on the couch, spreading your legs. “I love you,” he whispers and presses a kiss to your thigh. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you, Nico.”

notes: here we go again, readers. in my own personal headcanon, nico is just a sweetie pie who needs some lovin from his girl (my man, my man, thank you to my man). once again, blessings to @johncena2020 for reading the fic before it was posted on her lunch break & helping me with a title. ONCE AGAIN, thank you to wheelofnames.com for picking which boy i wrote about today. originally, you chose trevor (i can't blame you), but two trevs in one day is wild for a new blog. waiting for the day the spinner wheel chooses quinn and i indulge in writing some of my favorite things (to be revealed). also, where are all the new fics? what am i supposed to read during my 9-5? the stuff i've already read? blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. loving you guys. xo! <3

#nico hischier #fics!

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