itsjusthockey

[itsjusthockey]

I'm really starting to believe in the “six degrees of separation” theory, because people I have written about are getting a little too close for comfort.

[itsjusthockey]

bittersweet is sooooo freaking good i love that kind of angst !!!!! the last few lines KILLED ME “i believe you” oh man it was a knife to the heart

Thank you so much, my love! ♥️♥️♥️♥️My angsty stuff is my favorite; I feel like I do my best writing there.

(plus as a writer, nothing makes me happier than knowing I kill y'all hehe)

[itsjusthockey]

Bookish - Jack Hughes

I really can’t picture Jack reading lol

BUT

here you go. Enjoy and pls interact♥️

w.c 1,456 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

Jack Hughes doesn’t look like a guy who reads. So it continues to surprise you endlessly throughout your relationship how often he brings up books. At first, you maybe thought it was because you like to read. You self-proclaimed yourself a book extraordinaire, noting that nothing was better than curling up with a good book after a long day, dipping your favorite tea, and settling deep into your favorite spot on your new couch.

You weren’t expecting to see Jack having broken into your new apartment just doors away from his, exactly in the position you were thrilled to occupy as soon as you could.

He barely acknowledges your existence as you set your bag on the countertop, slipping off your shoes and placing them on the rack by the door.

“I should never have given you a key.”

Jack lets out a soft snort, darting his stare up to you for the first time. When those blue hues reach yours, a sheepish smile makes its way across his features.

“I picked up the next book on our list,” he gently waves the title at you. “And being in your space is a million times better than being in my own.”

You want to roll your eyes at his admission, but you don’t bring yourself to actually do it. Ever since your move to Jersey, Jack has been a leech, almost glued to your side every chance he could get. He spends ninety percent of his time with you, and you account that to the fact that you’ve been long distance for months, and all he wants is to catch up on lost time.

You’re not annoyed or anything. Truly, you aren’t. Moving to Jersey for school was the greatest gift you’ve been blessed with, but you also won’t lie that it has been a change you’ve had to get used to.

“Have you eaten?” Jack sets the book on the little table in front of him, coming to finally pull you into arm’s reach for the first time all day.

You shake your head no, pulling back to gaze at his face. He looks tired, not exhausted, but tired enough to make you believe that the excuse of reading was really so he could be alone for a little while.

“Do we want to cook? Or should we go somewhere?”

Cooking sounds tiring, but so does leaving the apartment. Instead, you picture the mental image of your fridge and freezer contents.

“What about a pizza?” you offer. “So we can wait and read.”

Jack pecks your lips as a yes and goes to work, pulling out the pizza and preheating the oven as you move to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

When you return a few moments later, the pizza is in the oven, a candle is lit, and Jack has settled into the opposite side of the couch, leaving your special space open, ready, and warm.

You plop down and read silently for a few minutes, every so often glancing up to see your boyfriend deeply rooted in his book, eyes dancing over the pages. He looks soft like this, focused and almost vulnerable, and it makes you fall a little bit more for him each time you see this side of him.

“You’re staring.”

He catches your eyes and a small smirk turns up a bit on the left side.

“I like seeing you read.”

He looks lost in thought for a moment, and then he pops a question.

“Is it surprising that I read?”

You throw up a brow. “Surprising?”

He nods.

“No, why would it be?”

He stays silent for a few more seconds.

“People think I’m dumb.”

A bubble of laughter exits your mouth before you can stop it.

“I don’t, J.”

He sighs out.

“You called me stupid yesterday.”

You think back to the day before when he deserved it, when he couldn’t figure out how to use your espresso machine.

“Oh my God, Jack, that’s because you turned the espresso machine upside down.”

Jack groans, dragging a hand down his face like he already regrets bringing it up.

“In my defense,” he mutters, “it looked complicated.”

You don’t bring up the fact that it has one button, or the fact that when he flipped it, water spilled all over the floor and you nearly watched him die trying not to slip on your new floors.

“It’s alright, baby. You just needed help.”

He laughs this time, and it warms your chest more than the tea you’re still cradling. When he stops, his smile lingers but slightly dips, and when he glances over at you again, his voice is quieter.

“But you don’t really think I’m stupid, right?”

Your heart cracks, and you see the flicker of vulnerability flash behind his question, so you scoot a little closer on the couch, nudging his knee with yours.

“Jack,” you say, tone sweet but still a little teasing, “you’re the kind of person who notices everything. You remember tiny lines from books I’ve forgotten about from our list, you pick up on things about me that I haven’t even learned yet, and you’re the best at listening because you make me feel like the center of your world. You’re smart in all the ways that matter.”

He tries to look away, but you catch the faint flush creeping up his neck, so you push a little further.

“And besides,” you continue, nudging your nose into his shoulder, “you play a game where people are trying to murder you for 60 minutes, and you somehow manage to do it better than ninety-nine percent of the planet.”

You look up at him. “So no, you’re not dumb, Jack. You’re actually kind of incredible.”

He’s bashful for another second more before his blue eyes flicker over your face like he’s trying to memorize it. Then, without a word, he leans in and connects his lips to yours.

It’s soft at first, gentle and grateful. Then a little deeper as he cups your jaw while the other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until you’re practically in his lap. You waste zero time threading your fingers through his hair and you can’t help but smile against his mouth when you feel the familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

“I love it when you say things like that,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I know.”

He kisses you again, a little hungrier this time, like maybe he’s trying to say thank you without actually saying it. You shift closer, laughing into it now, your hand drifting under the hem of his hoodie. He’s quick to introduce a little tongue and teeth into the mix, moving down to your neck when a loud ding breaks through the air.

You both freeze, foreheads still touching, and then Jack groans out and lets out the biggest dramatic sigh, burying his face in your neck. “The stupid pizza.”

“You love pizza,” you say, biting back a laugh as you climb off him.

“I was loving something else a little more.”

You scoff at him and swat his arm, heading to the kitchen while he trails behind you with mock irritation. You move around each other, grabbing glasses of water and cutting the pizza into even enough slices. Soon enough, you’re both sitting on the couch again, legs tangled together, and talking about your days. You each eat a few slices and mutually agree that you could both use a few more chapters of your novels.

The next hour is quiet, and you just enjoy each other’s company. It’s calm and almost noiseless except for the soft rustle of pages turning or the occasional murmur of Jack talking to himself. It’s the beautiful kind of silence that only exists between two people who know they’re exactly where they want to be.

But eventually, even though you try to fight it, the words start to blur together and your eyes grow heavy. Jack, ever in tune with everything about you, catches your shift.

“Wanna crash?”

You nod, setting your book aside. He takes your empty mug and pizza plate without being asked, and by the time you finish your skincare routine and make it to your bed, he’s already under the covers, hand outstretched to pull you in.

You curl into him easily, your favorite place in the world that’s now become a constant, and just before you get too comfortable, you whisper into the dark, “Wanna finish what we started earlier?”

Before you even finish the sentence, Jack is back on your neck, moving lower, and you can’t help but think about what a smart boy he is.

[itsjusthockey]

Off The Record - Luke Hughes

Just kidding it ended up being happy instead of angsty

You’re welcome for saving your heart from breaking

But the angst is coming

Hope you enjoy

Don’t forget to request and interact ♥️

w.c: 2,876 (credit to gif maker)(don’t steal my work)

Luke Hughes is a shy guy. He hates interviews, media days, and, above all else, talking about himself, especially about his performance in a game.

The questions are almost always stupid, most pointing out his flaws and where he could have done better. Or else it’s the flip side, and they’re about a good performance. Either way, good or bad, the questions are still dumb.

How did you make that move? How did you get the jump on the opposing team? How did that you score off of that?

He didn’t know the answers to any of them. He didn’t know how he did anything; he just did it.

He first noticed his distaste for after-game interviews very early into his rookie season, and his irritation has grown gradually since then. There really is only one thing that makes the whole process slightly more manageable: you.

You’re a media intern, usually lurking in the back of the press, hiding away and typing on a little iPad you’re always carrying around. Of course, he noticed you before then. You were stunning, and it was hard not to, but what really got him interested was how your humor seemed to align perfectly with him.

The first interaction he’d had with you was after a rough game for him, where the GM all but dragged his ass out to media and instructed him to do his best. Everyone could tell that he was sweaty, hungry, and overall done with the day. He tried his best not to be an asshole, but the questions were getting the best of him. After a partiality terrible one, he’d let slip a sarcastic remark that had a few eyes widen, but at that back, only half visible, you’d snorted. Full-on snorted out a laugh.

You tried to recover, quickly silencing yourself and shirking away from the slight glares of the older media personnel, but Luke knew from that moment on that he’d do pretty much anything to hear that laugh again.

That was months ago, and now you’re both stuck here.

You really like Luke, you do, but you also really like your job. While you knew of attractive players before ever attempting to be employed, you did consider yourself above that temptation. You prided yourself on not being distracted and being the best at your job, but things have gotten progressively more complex, and he isn’t making it easy on you.

No, you didn’t get the job to be close to Luke Hughes or any other player; it just ended up being that he was a bonus.

A bonus is that he is really, really good at getting under your skin.

It’s a media day extravaganza, and while you’ve been excited about this day for weeks, you’re dreading every interaction you’ll have with him. A week ago, just seven days, you’d told him to stop chasing you. Word had spread about your relationship, and when your boss got wind of it, she very quickly explained that fraternization is not tolerated, and she hoped that what she’d heard was just silly rumors. They weren’t, but you weren’t about to let her know that, so you lied. You said there was definitely an attraction between you and Luke, but nothing was inappropriate or anything to worry about. She seemed unconvinced, but you, being her favorite of the media, think she just let it slide.

That night, still a bit shaken from the conversation, you let Luke into your apartment and immediately pushed him away when he leaned in to kiss you.

You held his hand as you sat him down, explaining the new situation. You thanked him for the laughs, the nights, and everything good he’d made you feel, but alas, your little relationship has ended because while you really like him, you cannot waste an opportunity such as this by getting fired.

He was understanding in the moment, nodding at the correct times and humming in approval when you’d said certain things. However, you saw it the second you’d spilled your guts, the flash of betrayal in his eyes that told without speaking how hurt he was.

You tried to explain that you could be friends, but you knew it was useless, so you just said goodbye instead.

Now, here you are. His stare is burning holes into your skull seven days later.

You’re ignoring him, strategically placing yourself everywhere he isn’t, and focusing on every other player who isn’t him. He notices this immediately, and it makes him pretty pissy.

No one nods why Luke is in such a mood, and a few media team members point it out during a little break. None of them seem to be the wiser of you being the reason; if they do, they’re keeping it to themselves.

In a moment of weakness, you flash your stare to Luke. You’re standing across the room from him at the snack table, and when you finally meet his gaze, he rolls his eyes at you and looks away.

“Healthy thing you’ve got going on there.” Marcie, a fellow intern, says before popping a grape in her mouth.

“Tell me about it.”

Marcie is one of two people who know the true extent of your relationship with Luke. She’s sworn to secrecy and won’t admit openly to any knowledge of your situation, but just like everyone else, she’s curious.

“I thought you said he took it well?”

You huff a bit. “I thought he did.”

Clearly, he didn’t, and now he was punishing you with mean glares.

“How’s everything looking so far?”

Micheal, the last intern and second keeper of your secret, interrupts your conversation, clapping hard on your shoulder as he walks up to you.

“Did you take pictures of anyone else besides Luke?”

The look he throws is cocky, annoying, and teasing. You glare and roll your eyes at him, completely ignoring his question.

“I’ll take that answer as disassociation. Which is better than panic about getting fired.”

You snort, and before you can clap back, your Marcie leans over you toward Micheal.

“It’s also better than anger.”

She throws you a wink, and you angrily pop a grape in your mouth, chewing wildly.

“Will being angry make you both leave me alone?” You ask.

You dart your stare between them, and their bright smiles tell you they’re teasing you and trying to make you feel better about the situation.

A voice calling out your full name has you snapping out of the conversation. Your boss hurriedly gestures for you to come, and you do, leaving your snickering friends behind.

“What can I do for you?”

You shouldn’t have asked because now you’re sitting in a small room with a cameraman, getting ready to ask Luke and Jack Hughes some important questions.

You’re twitching in your seat, waiting for the cameraman to give the okay. He’s had to fix the lights and adjust the audio, so he instructed you all to sit tight for a few moments. You’re doing so, and the awkward silence is killing you.

What's worse, you and Luke look like you’re both searching for an escape route, and Jack has never looked happier.

You know Jack knows about your relationship, but for the past few months, he has chosen to ignore that he knows, which was probably better for everyone. But now, he seems to have let the idea of being discreet go.

“Isn’t this fun?” He asks, clearly directing the question at both of you.

You’re about to answer before Luke beats you to it.

“Not really.”

Luke’s blunt response causes Jack to snicker, and you can’t help but crack a small smile. You feel the tension break just a little, your instincts pulling you back into the groove of things.

You glance back at Luke, your gaze lingering just a moment longer than you intended. He doesn’t meet your eyes, but there’s a slight twitch of his lips, as if he's trying to hold back his own grin.

Before you can say anything to respond, the cameraman gives a thumbs-up, signaling you’re about to start, and the camera will begin rolling. Just as he does, your boss strides in, slightly out of breath, looking like she’s had one too many cups of coffee.

“Alright, let’s get this done!” she says, quickly taking her seat. You can feel the heat of Luke’s gaze from across the room, but this time, it doesn’t sting quite as much.

The interview goes off mostly without a hitch. You manage to keep your voice steady, to ask all the right questions, and even banter lightly with Jack—who’s clearly enjoying the show, and doing his best to toe the line between playful brother and full-on menace. Luke, on the other hand, keeps it short and professional. His answers are clipped, his tone dry, and he avoids your eyes the entire time.

When it’s over, you thank them both, and your boss leaves to pull the next players. You care avoid Luke’s gaze as he rises from his seat. You’re gathering your notes when Jack leans over and mutters something under his breath to his brother that you can’t quite catch—but whatever it is makes Luke sigh heavily. And then Jack smirks at you like he knows something you don’t, claps his brother on the back, and walks off with a wave.

You busy yourself with pretending not to watch Luke leave too, but he doesn’t. Not right away.

You can feel him behind you, his presence raising bumps on your arms.

“Can we talk?”

You don’t turn around at first. You shouldn't. But you do.

“Luke…” you start, already shaking your head. “We talked. I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” he cuts in, voice low but not angry. “And I get it. I do. I’m not trying to get you fired. I’ve been trying really, really hard not to do anything that would make things harder for you.”

You swallow, guilt pooling in your stomach. He looks tired. Not the post-game tired, but something deeper, something worn.

“But I’m not going to pretend I don’t care about you,” he continues. “I tried that. I thought if I gave you space, if I didn’t push, it’d help. But it didn’t. It sucks. It really sucks seeing you and not being able to talk to you like I used to.”

You glance toward the open door, heart pounding. “Luke, you can't just say stuff like this in here.”

“I know,” he says again, nodding. “That’s why I’m telling you I’m going to talk to my GM.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“I’m not going to stay quiet about this. About us. If something’s going to happen—if they’re going to fire you for liking me—then I’d rather know now. I’d rather take the hit than keep pretending I don’t want to be with you.”

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He looks at you with the same intensity that made you fall for him in the first place—quiet, sure, unwavering.

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” he says softly. “I’m just telling you I’m not going to keep pretending I’m okay with losing you.”

You stare at him, breath shallow, your mind torn between panic and a rush of something dangerously close to hope.

“Luke…” you whisper.

“I’ll be outside when you’re done,” he says, backing away toward the door. “I’m not going far.”

And then he leaves, the door swinging closed behind him with a soft click, leaving you in silence—with your heart in your throat, and your future suddenly, terrifyingly, cracked wide open.

You don’t wait to see him talk to the GM. The moment Luke walks out, you practically sprint in the opposite direction, muttering something about needing to handle a last-minute edit and ducking past Michael and Marcie before they can stop you with more questions. The moment you step outside into the cool evening air, you can finally breathe—but it’s shallow, uneven, like you’re waiting for something to drop from the sky and crush you flat.

You don’t go to the café down the street or your favorite library corner like you usually do to clear your head. You go home. And once you’re home, you pace. You walk loops around your apartment like a lunatic, chewing your bottom lip raw and replaying Luke’s words over and over again in your head.

I’m going to talk to my GM

You want to be mad at him—for making this harder, for not just letting things go. But mostly, you’re just terrified. Terrified of what it could cost him. What it could cost you.

You're halfway into changing into sweats when your phone buzzes on the counter. You freeze when you see the name.

Boss

A tiny, horrified part of you thinks, well, this is it. You answer on the third ring.

“Hello?” you say, your voice trying—and failing—to sound casual.

“Hey,” your boss replies, her tone brisk but not icy. “Can you talk for a second?”

You practically trip over your words. “Y-Yeah. Of course. Did I… do something wrong?”

There’s a pause on the other end. Then a breath, and a softer tone than you expect.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. But I just had a very persistent Luke Hughes in my office as well as the GM.”

Your heart flatlines.

“He said he needed to come to me personally,” she continues, “and he explained everything. He was calm, respectful, and extremely adamant that whatever’s going on between you two was real. That it mattered. And more importantly—he told me he’s willing to deal with any fallout himself if it meant protecting you and your job.”

You blink rapidly, unsure if you're dreaming. “He… did that?”

“Yes,” she says. “And I’m not going to lie, I still don’t love the idea of interns and players dating. But I’ve also never seen a hockey player—let alone a Hughes—walk in and advocate for someone like that. So here’s the deal.”

You sit down on your bed, heart in your throat.

“You two can date. You’re still on the team’s media staff. You still have your job. But keep it clean. No PDA in the locker room, no sneaking off during press events. Keep it professional while you’re working. Can you do that?”

You nod so fast your teeth rattle. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I swear.”

“Good,” she says. “And for the love of God, don’t make me regret this.”

You thank her about a hundred times, heart pounding with a different kind of adrenaline now, and hang up with shaky hands. You barely have time to think before you’re scrolling through your phone and pressing Luke’s name. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, quiet, almost cautious. “Did you hear?”

Your breath hitches. “I did. Luke… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies. “I meant what I said. I wasn’t going to lose you. I just had to try.”

There’s a lump in your throat, and you press your hand to your chest, steadying yourself. “You’re kind of insane, you know that?”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, and you love that about me.”

You do. God, you really do.

“Come over,” you whisper. “Please. Just…come here.”

“I’m already in the car,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Be there in ten.”

[itsjusthockey]

can the luke fic end happy ?

Is anything truly happy? 🫣

[itsjusthockey]

Wow guys, I didn’t realize I have over a 1000+ followers

Thank you so much♥️

(maybe this mean I should write more)

[itsjusthockey]

Maria pt.2 - Jack Hughes

Finally (sorry for the delay)

I hope you enjoy ♥️

Comment, like and follow me so I know I bring value

w.c 2,545 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

“Am I going to have to put tape on your door?”

You’ve barely had two sips of coffee when Claire sits next to you, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, clearly having a much better morning than you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She takes a slow sip of her tea, raising an eyebrow at you. “No? You didn’t have a late-night visitor?”

That causes you to freeze.

“How could you have possibly known that?”

Laughter bubbles through her chest, and she shrugs her shoulders. “I know everything that happens in this hotel. Especially when it has to do with you.”

You don’t bother to try and lie. She knows you better than that, and it isn’t worth it anyway. So you bite and tell her about your visit with Jack, and how the entire night you tossed and turned, thinking about ways to make his life as fucking miserable as he makes yours. She listens, laughs at your misery, and is about to offer some advice when Mat strolls up, two chocolate muffins in hand.

“I heard you snuck Hughes into your room last night?”

You smack your head down on the table, groaning out. “Does the entire world know? And I didn’t sneak him in, he showed up at my door and threatened to cause a scene if I didn’t let him in.”

Mat quirks a smirk up, handing you the other muffin. “I’m just kidding, Claire told me earlier at skate. No one else knows about your sneaking around, so you don’t have to hemorrhage.”

You stay silent. Either way, anger spreads through your veins like venom, and whatever semblance of peace you’ve had is slowly slipping away.

You continue to eat your muffin in silence, and the other pair doesn’t ask any more questions about your night escapades, and you’re very thankful. You don’t want to begin to have to try to explain your feelings. You don’t understand them yourself, and trying to articulate them to others seems almost impossible.

I’m gonna avoid him for the rest of the trip,” you blurt out, interrupting the conversation that had moved on from Jack a while ago.

Claire offers a reassuring nod, and Mat smirks, slightly shaking his head. “Good luck with that.”

————————

Jack is an unwanted shadow, and he fully believes he’s being slick the entire morning. He feigns shock that it’s purely coincidence every time he somehow manages to be within fifteen feet of you. He’s everywhere you are, burning holes in the back of your skull, making you shudder with the reminder of his visit.

In the afternoon, you manage to avoid him like the plague for a few hours, sidestepping the rink and attending your various duties. You’re good at your job, and it’s easy to keep tabs on where he is through the Devils’ Instagram.

Once you stop thinking about him, you feel lucky—truly on top of the world with how the past days have gone. You’ve done phenomenal work, getting compliments from your boss and other teammates, and everyone seems to think that this weekend has been the best for you. It has, mostly, but you can’t wait for it to be over.

You have one last required event, and you don’t even have to work it. You’ve been instructed by your boss to enjoy the closing party and to relax after a job well done.

You try, you really do.

You walk in, your head held high, trying to focus on the task of enjoying yourself. Claire’s by your side, chatting about the people you’ll need to network with, and Mat’s keeping things light with his usual humor. Everything is good, it seems normal, until you feel it again. The tiny prickles at the back of your neck. You don’t even need to look up to know that Jack’s somewhere nearby. You ignore it. You ignore him. You focus on the people around you, the clink of glasses, the sound of laughter in the air.

But every time you focus back in, there it is again. You catch a glimpse of him at the at the edge of the room, eyes locked on you, smirk in place, and a wink thrown your way that makes your skin crawl. You try not to react, but he’s too close, and you need an escape. You throw a smile at your group and give an excuse to step away. Not ten seconds later, you feel him following you—always just a few steps behind.

You take a seat at the bar at the end, placing your purse next to you, praying that will deter him. You try to ignore him behind you as the bartender comes over, but then it happens. He slides up next to you at the bar, casually leaning in just a little too close, his hand brushing against yours.

The bartender mistakenly assumes you’re together and asks for your shared order, to which Jack easily tells your favorite order and gets a whiskey for himself. As soon as the bartender moves on, Jack’s hand grazes your shoulder, pulling away a thread that you hadn’t noticed. His touch is like a jolt straight to your chest. The audacity of it—the sheer confidence he has that you’ll still allow him into your space. You want to yell at him, tell him to back off, but the event is too public, and you can’t risk making a scene.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question, and his voice is low enough that only you can hear.

You tense all the way to the bone and wish that someone would save you. To your luck, your knight in shining armor arrives. Mat shoots Jack a warning glance as he stands beside you, extending his hand out for you to grab. You see a raw emotion flash in Jack’s eyes, his jaw clenching.

“Alright, Hughes. That’s enough,” Mat steps forward, his voice firm. “Give (Y/N) some room to breathe.”

As you step away, Jack’s cologne invades your senses—familiar, teasing, all the things that make you want to tear your hair out. You make it only one step away from him when Jack stops you, gently grabbing your arm.

“Can we please talk without your guard dog watching?”

He nods to Mat, and they exchange a testosterone-fueled glance, sizing each other up. You know they’re both professionals and won’t start anything here, but the tension is getting noticed by a few onlookers at the bar.

You take Mat’s arm, tugging him away from the stare-down, leading him toward the quieter part of the venue where you notice Claire has tucked herself into.

“Thanks, Matty,” you breathe out, and he gives a curt nod.

You stay tucked into that corner for an hour, and the few times you’ve let your gaze linger, Jack is nowhere in sight. You say a quick prayer for that, and hope he’s counted his losses and went to bed early. You don’t feel his presence, so you settle into the booth and actually try to enjoy yourself for a while. You all talk, laugh, and enjoy a few drinks while recounting some of your fondest memories since you’ve joined the team. It’s comfortable with them, and you settle into a sense of peace as the minutes tick by and the room grows less and less crowded as the hour grows late.

Eventually, you have to pee, and while Mat offers to accompany you, you politely decline and state you’ll be back in a minute. The walk is short, and you make it in without issues, doing what you need to do. It’s a nice bathroom, with pretty lighting and sweet-smelling soap, and for another long minute, you stare at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how happy you’ve been these past few days in your moments without Jack.

Then it hits you. You really haven’t been without him. It’s only been eight days, and he’s occupied almost all of your brain wavelengths. He’s been everywhere, and while you’ve been telling yourself he drives you crazy, in the moments he’s gone, you feel a sense of loss. True, actual, loss.

Maybe you’re just a little tipsy, and that’s why you’re suddenly feeling this way. Normally when you drink, he’s there: getting you water, holding your shoes, and guiding you home at the end of the night with promises of your favorite food, a hot shower, and a cuddling session that lasts until daylight. Though you’d never admit it out loud, right now, you’d give anything to have that back.

When you pull yourself together and walk out of the bathroom, you pass by the outdoor patio that’s full of bright twinkling lights and a few of those fancy tall heaters they use at events like this. It’s empty, save for one figure standing at the edge of the rail overlooking the city.

You know that back anywhere, and as if you’re on autopilot, you walk toward him until you place yourself a few feet from him.

“It’s a nice night.”

Jack swears, and you smile a bit, knowing you scared him.

“I thought you were avoiding me?”

You hum, and he turns to you, overlooking you from head to toe.

“I was. But you make it very hard to fight you. Trust me, I want to stay angry at you, but the cold truth is that you’re an expert at wearing me down. You’re relentless.”

He chuckles a bit. “I prefer persistent.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“You would,” you mutter, crossing your arms. You stare at him for a moment, the space between you filled with so many unspoken things that you wish you could articulate. It’s like this every time you’re around him—he’s a magnet, and you’re the iron, always pulled back in against your better judgment.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” you add, your voice quieter now. “For everything.”

Jack doesn’t say anything, just nods. He’s still wearing that damn smirk like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and it drives you insane. But there’s something else there too. A softness. A vulnerability, maybe.

“I know,” he finally says, voice low. “And I know I’ve messed up. I won’t pretend I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

It’s a sincere apology, so you take a deep breath and do something you’d never imagined you would at the start of this weekend.

“I need some time. Just… space, okay? To figure this out. I’m not saying we’re gonna get back together, but I’m also not saying we won’t. I just need you to let me think, without trying to influence me. It needs to be what I think is best at the end of the day.”

His expression falters for a moment, like he’s about to argue, but then he stops himself.

“I can do that. I’ll give you space,” he says, though there’s a slight edge to his voice, like he’s trying to convince both you and himself.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

I do still love you, you know,” you say softly, almost as if it’s a secret you’ve been keeping from both of you. “But I need time to work through all the mess in my head. It’s not just you, Jack. It’s me, too. And I can't keep pretending like everything's fine when it’s not.”

Jack watches you closely at your admission, his face a mixture of relief and resignation. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but instead, he just nods slowly.

"Okay," he murmurs, voice a little rough. "I get it."

You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you refuse to let yourself soften completely in-front of him. Not yet. You can’t. Not when you're still sorting through it all.

“When I’m ready... I’ll give you a call,” you add, keeping your eyes on the city lights in the distance, trying to avoid looking into his stunning green eyes that will pull you in an instant.

Jack doesn’t say anything else for a minute, just steps back a little, giving you the space you’ve asked for. You finally meet his stare, and his eyes soften, the tension between you easing. He doesn’t make any more moves, doesn’t push you further. And for once, that feels like enough.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He turns and walks away, and a real sense of peace washes over you as you look back toward the city. You know you have a lot to think about, but the world feels a little quieter, a little lighter—like you've just taken the first step toward something new, even if you're not sure what it is yet.

You know you’ll figure it out though, you always do.

[itsjusthockey]

All I Want For Christmas pt.2 - Jack Hughes

Better late than never. Enjoy

Please comment and react, I live and breath by that shit

Also request

Love you all and thanks for being patient and I hope it was worth the wait! ♥️

w.c 2,366 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

It’s late on the 31st of December when you exit the Newark airport, expecting your boyfriend to be impatiently waiting, but it’s his brother nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the terminal exit instead.

“Lukey?” You call out as you get within earshot of him.

His head snaps up at his nickname, and his usual awkward but sincere smile crosses his features. He’s quick to put his phone in his pocket and close the gap between you two, giving you a quick hug, and he lifts you slightly off the ground. Then he grabs the suitcase and trails it behind you.

“Sorry I’m not Jack, last minute he asked if I’d come instead because he wanted to pick up some “things” for tonight.” He puts up his hands in quotation marks for the last bit.

You hum. “What things?”

Luke shrugs his shoulders, beginning to walk away, trusting you’ll follow him.

“Not sure, but he said he didn’t trust me to grab them, so I got girlfriend duty instead.”

You smile at the term and follow him through waves of people until you arrive at Jack Ranger Rover, which makes you quirk up an eyebrow at him.

“Why do you have Jack's rig?”

Luke gives you a deadpan look. “I’m picking up his girlfriend, and you think I’m going to use my car?”

You shake your head, but a smile breaks across both of your faces as you climb into the passenger seat of the familiar vehicle. It’s pretty clean and has the familiar scent of Jack, which comforts you more than it probably should. Once you’re settled in, Luke speeds away from the airport and beelines to the nearest coffee shop, explaining that it’s going to be a long night ahead and you both need the extra energy to survive. You couldn’t possibly agree more, and just five minutes later, you’re sipping an iced caramel latte and devouring a strawberry cake pop in almost two bites.

The ride to the shared apartment isn’t long, and once again, you’re expecting your boyfriend to be waiting there, but again, he’s nowhere to be found. You finally check your phone and see a message from the missing man.

b back soon, want food??

You text back a simple yes because he knows what you like, and the cake pop you’d just eaten was nearly as filling as you’d hoped. You also send another text saying to get food for Luke, too, to which Jack thumbs down the text, but you know he gets the message.

You and Luke settle into the couch and barely go through an episode of Love Island when another buzz makes you grab your phone from the edge of the sofa.

Send Luke down pls

You roll your eyes and stand up from the couch, pushing off the comfortable blanket keeping you warm.

“Was that Jack?”

You nod, slipping on a pair of slides by the door. “He needs help.”

Just as you begin to open the handle, Luke shouts from the couch.

“Wait,” he moves quickly to you, pushing you slightly back toward the living room. “I got it, go sit.”

You narrow your eyes at Luke, and he offers a tight-lipped smile and points to the couch. You stand firm for a second, more confused than anything, but after a moment, you really don’t care to know, so you walk back to the couch and plop back down. When the door clicks shut behind Luke, you get comfortable again and wait for them to come back up.

They do a few minutes later, and as soon as Jack steps through the door, he all but drops every item in his hand, and they crash to the floor, which has you cringing a bit as you stand to your feet. He meets you halfway, pulling you into a bone-breaking hug and settling himself in the notch in your neck.

“Hi, baby.” His voice sends vibrations through your spine, and you gently pull away from him, placing a small peck on his lips.

“Hi, J.”

Luke follows a second later, carrying just as many bags as Jack, which he places gently on the floor.

“What’s all this?” You ask, peering to look inside the bag closest to you.

“Did you forget it’s New Year?” Jack asks, pulling out a pair of 2025 sunglasses, placing them on his face, and looking at you expectantly.

A bubble of laughter escapes you, and you can’t help but think those glasses make him look like such a loser, but one hundred percent of the time, he's your loser.

“So we’re having a party?”

He finishes pulling out an array of madness. There are festive hats, confetti poppers, and your favorite candies, snacks, and drinks. Even further, Jack pulls out a bottle of champagne. “Of sorts, yes.”

Once the supplies are entirely laid out, Jack scoffs, looking around in the mess on the floor until he spots what he’s searching for.

“Almost forgot,” He hands over a takeout box of your favorite chain restaurant. “bon appétit.”

You and Luke thank him for the meal and tear into the food. Once in a while, you share a few bites here and there with Jack as he loads the drinks into the fridge and starts setting up his decorations. You inhale your food as fast as you can, eager to join him in the prep, and moments later, you’re helping him hang streamers and a New Year’s banner.

When the apartment living room is finally decked to the proper festive nature, you’re both satisfied with your work. Time flew faster than the three of you thought, and the clock on the kitchen stove reads 10:53 pm.

“Good work, fellas, not long now.”

Jack hums in agreement, comes close, and slings his arms around your shoulders, admiring your good work.

“It’s good, perfect now.”

You’re ready to dig into some goodies, but not before Luke pipes up.

“I’m gonna head out.”

Your smile drops, and you shake your head. “Absolutely not, Lukey. We want you here. Please stay.”

He gives you a small smile but shakes his head anyway. “I appreciate that you do, but I honestly made plans to go out with a few friends. I promise Jack didn’t bribe me to leave.”

You’re not sure if you believe him, but you also like to think you can tell when he’s lying and you’re not seeing any of his usual tells.

“You promise?”

Luke holds out his pinky toward you, which you latch with your own, and that’s enough for you.

He disappears down the hall toward his room for a minute and returns with a jacket, seemingly ready to bid you a good evening. He grabs his keys, steals a few cookies and a drink for the road, and throws one last goodbye as he heads out the door.

“See you both next year.”

The joke is corny, but you snort anyway as the door clicks shut, and Luke goes away to have his own New Year’s Eve. He’s not gone more than thirty seconds before Jack invades your personal space, getting so close your noses are almost touching.

“Did I tell you how much I missed you?”

You shake your head. “Only a million and four times.”

He laughs, pulls you onto the couch, and squeezes your sides hard.

“Then let me make it a million and five,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You giggle into him, lying down fully until you’re almost morphing into one being. You both shift a little to get the most comfortable and once you are done, he gently traces your arms as your heartbeats settle into one.

“I am so fucking thankful we made this week work. I was gonna lose my mind if I had to wait any longer.”

You hum in agreement. “You’re telling me? You have fun hockey keeping you busy. I’ve just had hell.”

Jack snorts but teases. “If only you weren’t so smart, baby.”

You stay that way for a while, talking aimlessly about your finals and how his practices and games are going, and pretty soon, you check your phone, noting it’s less than ten minutes away from midnight.

“Almost midnight.” You face your phone toward Jack.

He smiles gently and taps at your screen. “Nice screensaver.”

It’s a picture of you and him after one of the Hughes bowls, where you’re smiling brightly with Jack's arms wrapped tightly around your frame. It’s one of the thousands you took that night, but it’s your favorite. You look happy, truly happy, being in his arms.

You pull yourself from Jack's hold and grab hold of his hand, pulling him from the couch and toward the kitchen. You beeline to the fridge, grabbing out the chilled champagne bottle and two glasses from the rack that you’d picked out months ago. You hang the bottle to Jack, not trusting yourself to open it, and he even lets you take a video of him popping the cork.

With the bottle open, he hands it back, and you pour out two glasses. The bubbles almost spill over, but they settle back down into the sparkling liquid.

“Two minutes.” You say as you set the bottle down. “Any last thoughts of 2024?”

Jack takes a beat, then nods.

“It was a long year, but I’m just grateful. Grateful for my family, hockey, life, and health in general, and most of all, you.”

He kisses the back of your hand, and your eyes water just a bit. What he says is gross, sappy, and definitely corny, but you love every word.

“Me too, J.”

The clock on the stove reads midnight, and suddenly, a wave of emotion crashes through your heart. You did it, made it through another year, and you’re so fucking incredibly proud of the life you’ve created for yourself and the people you’ve surrounded yourself with. Even though it’s tough, you push through, and moments like this make it all worth it.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N)”

Jack's hand gently cups your cheek, and you meet his eyes, the softness of the moment spreading. With a quiet smile, he leans in, his lips brushing yours, light and warm, like a promise of the past year and many years to come.

“I’m so in love with you.” You admit, pulling away just enough to touch your forehead with his.

A blush creeps onto his face, and he pulls you in, but not before you remember something very important and jump from his hold.

“Wait, we have to do presents.”

Jack looks a bit bewildered at your state, but then he chuckles.

“We can wait until tomorrow.” He makes grabby hands toward you again.

“No, please, let’s do it now.”

He raises an eyebrow at you but brushes it off as he lets out an okay, getting up and moving to get your present. You follow him toward the bedroom, grabbing your suitcase and pulling out the gift you meticulously wrapped.

You watch Jack shuffle through his closet, pull out a gift bag, and follow you to where you settle on his bed.

“You first.” He nods.

He places the bag in your palms, and you waste zero time pulling the tissue paper out and seeing a small blue box at the bottom.

“Jack.” You freeze.

Your wide eyes meet his, and he immediately puts his hands up.

“It’s not a ring, I promise.”

You let out a relieved laugh, not that you don’t want a ring, but you’ve both discussed not doing it like this. You pull out the Tiffany box and open it, revealing a beautiful small pendant necklace.

“Jack,” you gently brush your fingers over the jewelry piece. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiles, proud of himself, and nods.

“It’s a bit basic, I know, but you said your favorite necklace broke a few weeks ago, and I wanted to get you a replacement.”

You lean over, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I love it, J. Now, your turn.”

You shove the present into his hands, and you can hardly contain your excitement as he unwraps it. When he finally finishes tearing the paper, your favorite writing journal sits in his lap, and a wide smile crosses his face.

“I knew you’d get it. Thank you, baby.”

He moves to kiss you again, but you shake your head rapidly, tapping your hand on the journal.

“Open it.”

He does, and a folded piece of paper drops into his lap. He throws you a puzzled look as he picks it up, unfolding the creases and beginning to read. His eyes dart back and forth for a minute, and then his stare snaps to yours.

“Is this real?” His voice is a bit shaky. “I swear to god, is it?”

Tears fully do form in your eyes now as you nod your head, and in a single moment, he’s pulling you to your feet and spinning you around and around, yelling so loud you think New York will hear him.

He sets you down gently, his hands still holding you close, and for a second, all you can do is stare at each other, grinning like fools. He’s breathless, his face lit up with pure happiness and stun.

“You-you're really coming here?” he asks, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he can’t quite process the gift you’ve just given him.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady and not cry again. “I didn’t think I’d get into the program here, so I didn’t tell you. But yes, I got it and I’m doing it, I’m coming here.“

He pulls you back into him, his arms tight around you. “This...this is everything."

You nod, pulling back to grab his chin. “I’m done being away from you.”

His eyes soften, his lips curving into the smile only reserved for you, making your heart swell. “You have no idea how happy you just made me,”

You chuckle, brushing back his hair from his forehead. “Well, you’re stuck with me now.”

“Good, because I was going to call and ask for a trade tomorrow.“

[itsjusthockey]

I NEED ANOTHER PART FOR ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS - JACK HUGHES. IT WAS SO AWESOME I NEED CONTINUATION ❤️

Its coming

[itsjusthockey]

hi, are you going to write part 2 of ‘All I need’? 🥹

I'm not sure. I'd like to, but I have others fics that need a part 2 first!

[itsjusthockey]

All I Want For Christmas - Jack Hughes

Wow guys, I’m back from the dead

Please interact because It’s fun

Do we want a Christmas series (I was gonna do one last year and then just didn’t because I don’t know)

I have other ideas brewing if this gets a lot of love

Anyway…enjoy

w.c 1,326 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

What do you get a man who has everything? Money? Check. Fame? Check. The best girlfriend in the world? Double check. Everything Jack Hughes could ever want, he had. And unfortunately for you, that makes it very difficult to buy him a Christmas present.

For the past almost three years, whenever you’ve asked about it, Jack always says the same thing: he doesn’t want anything, and not to waste your money on him. Normally, you'd be okay with that—college is expensive, and the savings you have go toward your future. But still, it’s your favorite time of year, and you want to get him something, anything, to show just how much he means to you.

To make your life easier, this year, you’ve come up with a new plan. If you can’t get an answer from Jack, you’ll go to the next best sources. Your first call is to Ellen and Jim, who kindly explain that Jack had gotten to them first and he doesn’t want anything from you but your undying love and affection. Well, he already has that, so the call is mostly a bust.

Next, you call the Captain. He laughs, telling you the same thing as the parents, and he even adds a “He’s got everything, kid. Don’t stress about it.”

Your final hope is a FaceTime with Luke. The second he answers, you beat him to the punch.

“If you say Jack just wants my love for Christmas, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Luke bursts out laughing, which you don’t find remotely funny.

“Sorry, champ,” he says, grinning wide through the screen. “I’ve got nothing. I don’t even know what I’m getting him.”

You let out a frustrated groan and bury your face in your pillow. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a gift for your boyfriend, and the days are counting down. You stay like that for a minute, until Luke calls your attention back to him.

“Stop stressing so much. You could get him a Yankee candle and he’d love it.” He pauses. “Or, hear me out, maybe you just listen to him and don’t get him anything.

Another groan escapes you, and you finally pick your head up. “That’s the thing, Luke. He always gets me the nicest things every year, and everything I get him feels... not as good.”

Luke rolls his eyes at your state. “Come on, you know he’s got the big bucks. Don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself to compete with him.”

You know he’s right, but it still doesn’t help. You give up on ideas for a bit and talk to Luke about whatever’s going on in his life. He’s still single, still slightly dumb, but he’s every bit still one of your best friends—much to Jack’s dismay.

“I actually do have an idea for you,” Luke says suddenly.

You sit up, eager to hear any suggestions.

“Come to Jersey for the break. Maybe the whole thing. You know that would be the only thing he’d want.”

You deflate like a ballon, a heavy weight coming in your chest. Even still, you try for a minute to work it out in your head. You’ve got your own family who expects you home, a job to manage, and grad school applications to finish. As much as you’d love to drop everything to be with Jack for a month, it just doesn’t make sense in your current situation.

Luke senses your unease like he always does and recovers. “It was just an idea. A stupid one. I forget you’ve got a lot going on.

You force a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t go away. You put on a facade and talk to Luke a bit longer until your stomach growls and you excuse yourself to make dinner.

You’re halfway through cooking a pasta recipe from TikTok when your phone lights up. You assume it’s Jack, and you’re proven right. You prop the phone up just enough so you’re in the frame and answer.

“Hey, J,” you say, sounding more tired than you want. “How was your day?”

“It was great, mostly. Except, I heard through the grapevine you’re trying to get me a present.”

He teases and you try to laugh, but the sound dies in your chest, and before you even know it, tears are welling up in your eyes.

“Wait—what’s going on, babe?” Jack’s voice is full of concern, and that makes you start crying even harder.

“I'm fine, J,” you manage, your voice is quieter than you like. “I’m just...overwhelmed.

Jack falls silent for a moment, and you want to hang up, but you know if you do, he’ll blow up your phone until you answer again.

“Is it... me?” He ask, and your heart cracks again.

You let out a sharp laugh. “No, Jack. Not by you—just by life.”

He nods slowly, and for a second, you can practically feel how much he wishes he could be there with you.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks, his voice is so sweet and so sincere that it almost kills you.

You wipe another tear away and finally give in to what you need to ask. “You can tell me what you want for Christmas.”

This time, he laughs, and it lifts your spirits just a little.

“Fine. I want one of those journals you write in. You know, the one with the prompts. That’s all I want.”

You turn the oven off and sit down at your table, making a mental note.

“Okay, that’s all I needed to know.”

The call falls silent again, and then Jack says something that makes your chest tighten all over again.

“(Y/N)... all I want, I already have. And I’m not just saying that. The only thing that could make me happier is having you here with me. But I know you’ve got your own stuff going on, and I can’t pretend to understand it. I need you to stop stressing about me. I’m good, great even. And seeing you hurt... that’s the only thing that’s making me hurt.”

You swallow hard, wiping away another stray tear. You nod silently, but finally break just a little bit more.

“I just wish I was with you,” you finally admit.

It’s true. Every time you hear his voice, things start to smooth out, and it’s even better when you’re together. You’ve done long-distance your entire relationship, and you’re starting to get really sick of it.

“I know. But we’ll have a week together soon, and it’ll be the greatest week ever, okay?”

You nod again, a small smile tugging at your lips. You finish your food and let Jack talk about whatever he feels like, the sound of his voice settling the tightness in your chest. You talk for an hour, long after you’ve finished eating and cleaned up. Finally, when your eyes are growing heavy, Jack bids you goodnight, and you hang up the call.

After your nighttime routine, you buy the journal he asked for from one of your favorite sites, and settle down under the sheets, wishing he was on the other side of the bed. You try to fall asleep right away, but of course, you think for a while, and the weight of your life situation hits you again. Maybe it’s time for a change—something to give you more time to be with the be thing that truly makes your happiness. Before you even know it, you’re pulling out your computer again and typing. You have another Christmas present idea, and you’re sure it tops anything you could ever think to buy him.

[itsjusthockey]

I truly think that Connor Bedard needs to remember that no matter how bad his first two years in the NHL are, Jack Hughes' were worse.

(and look at him now)

[itsjusthockey]

All I Need pt. 1 - Quinn Hughes

Hahhahahah angst

Not sorry

Enjoy

Part 2?

w.c: 1,141 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

The smell of Kennedy’s expensive perfume hits you long before you see her. You know she must have arrived shortly before you, and her signature Tom Ford perfume fills the space and invades your senses, clouding your already scattered thoughts.

The man clad in his server tuxedo leads you through the luxurious space, smiling and making small talk, gesturing his hands toward the bar while he tells you about their specialty drinks. It’s almost fate, you think, because God knows you need one.

After a few more smiles and nods, you make it to the reserved table. It’s on the edge of the vast space, but it sits in front of a wall of windows. It shows off a beautiful afternoon, with sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the table adorned with polished silverware and delicate china.

Sitting there, with a halo of light surrounding her, is Kennedy, digging through one of her Birkin bags. She flashes her eyes to you as you close in, and a broad smile dons on her signature red lips. She’s quick to her feet, and you can tell she chose her tallest heels for this special brunch occasion. She pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of you.

“About damn time,” She lets out. “I thought I would have to drink all the bottomless mimosas myself.”

You bark out a laugh as you part, setting down your own bag on one of the empty chairs. You remove the light coat from your frame as Kennedy sits back down, eyeing your choice of outfit and subtly nodding her head.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” You answer her, meeting her stare fully for the first time.

When your eyes connect to her dark blue hues, she takes you in, baring into the depths of your soul. She knows you better than you know yourself, and you’re hoping the facade of normalcy you’re putting on is convincing.

“I always understand when you have to cancel, you're a busy woman.”

Here it comes.

“So,” Kennedy sips her mimosa and smirks. "How's Max and the wedding plans? Did the planer fix the fuck up with the flowers?”

A sizeable dry lump forms in your throat, and your stomach tightens into uncomfortable knots. You avoid the question for a brief moment and take a sip of your drink. The sugary concoction coats your throat as it slides down, and you wish you could stay silent forever. The moment of unease stretches, and you can almost feel Kennedy grow more impatient with the ticking seconds.

“Yeah, they fixed it.” You break, forcing a smile.” Everything's great, Max is great.”

The words taste bitter as they leave your lips, but the lie lips easily. Kennedy's corner of her mouth twitches, but she takes the answer. Only for a moment, though, before she searches your face again and raises an eyebrow

“Come on, (Y/N), you have to give me something here. I want all the details about my best friend's wedding.”

You swallow hard again and take another drink. Then another.

“Max is wonderful," you say, your voice cracking imperceptibly. "We're just dealing with the usual pre-wedding stress, you know?"

Kennedy nods, but you don’t miss how her eyes shrink slightly in suspicion. She knows something is wrong, but thankfully, she assumes you’re telling her the truth and that the stress is about the wedding and not the actual terrible truth.

You feed her a couple more details to derail the beast, and she’s gone off your scent as a server comes to the table. A few minutes later, the food collection comes, and between your bits of some slightly dry chicken, the conversation drifts through floral arrangements and the upcoming bachelorette party. You finish your plate, pushing it to the side as you deeply discuss the possibility of flying into Vegas for one night. You find your lips being too dry for your liking, so while Kennedy rants about which clubs have the best VIP section, you lean over to grab your Dior gloss from your bag.

“Jesus, is that a hickey?” Kennedy's voice is laced with disbelief.

You quickly swat your hand up to the side of your neck, shocked that you could have missed something like that, so you try to play it off.

“What? No, of course not.”

Ken begins laughing so hard that a snort lets itself escape. She continues her fit until she's clutching her side, and a few older ladies at neighboring tables give her dirty looks.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know Max had that in him.” She lets out another giggle. “You better hope his mother doesn't come to lunch here today; she’d have a stroke.”

You don’t find her remotely funny, and you wish for nothing more than her to drop it. But knowing your best friend, stopping your utter humiliation isn't an option, and the tension building in your chest keeps growing as she pokes at it.

“Enough, Ken, please.” You finally snap.

Kennedy ceases her laughter and sits straighter in her chair, a confused, then slightly hurt, look crossing her features.

“God, (Y/N), I’m just having fun. What's up with you today? You have a massive stick up your ass.”

You scoff at her and roll your eyes. You know she’s right, but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction, and you’re not about to apologize. Instead, you return a stern look, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously, (Y/N). Are you pissed that Max had to go to that extra safety demo this weekend instead of staying back to help?”

You shake your head rapidly. That isn't what's bugging you. In fact, you were thrilled when he told you about the impromptu trip. You were fucking ecstatic.

“I’m fine, Ken; I’m just in a mood. Is that a crime?”

She rolls her icy eyes back at you.

“It is a crime when you're supposed to be having the time of your life. You’ve waited so long for this and have been acting weird for a while.”

That statement gets you.

“What do you mean?” You grit out between clenched teeth. “I have been the perfect little bride to be for everyone.”

Kennedy is quick to stick it to you. “Maybe with other people, not with me. You don't want to talk about the wedding. You don’t want to talk about Max. Like, what the hell? I’m your best friend, and we are supposed to be doing this together.”

Her face starts growing red as she continues. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

“No.” You almost break down, knowing you have to tell her. “You didn’t.”

“Then what?”

It rises in your throat, and you know your entire world is about to burn.

“I’m cheating on Max.”

[itsjusthockey]

[itsjusthockey]

Hughes Your Daddy pt.2 - Jack Hugges

wow.

It took longer than expected, but you should all be thankful because I was going to quit this blog, but I didn't give up

tell me how proud you are and how much you love it. pls & thx

Anyway, enjoy ❤️

w.c: 2,754 (credit to gif maker) (don't steal my work)

The crisp 100-dollar bill you’ve just won sits nicely tucked in your back pocket as Jack breaks the world record for sprinting and dodging almost a million cameras to get to you. As soon as he crashes into your waiting arms, he lifts you into the air and lets out a breathy laugh in your ear that’s only reserved when you’re with him. It’s light, happy, and maybe even a little giddy.

After a moment of you being suspended in the air, he gently sets you down, giving you one last tight squeeze, then backs up to see your face.

“Did I embarrass you?”

You give him a slight smirk and shrug your shoulders. “You did okay.”

He playfully rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you as he moves on to hug his waiting parents. With his attention away from you, you survey the space and catch sight of the other Hughes brothers walking toward the group.

Luke is doing his little half smile and has a slight pep in his step that comes with a nice win, and Quinn looks about unbothered with everything as usual. You make a mental note of that, knowing that your evil boyfriend is going to push his buttons later to get any sort of reaction to his loss.

“Nice game, Lukey,” you pull him into a hug as he gets within distance, patting his arm as you pull away. “You’re kinda being a stud out there.”

Luke blushes a shade darker at your comment, and you can’t help but love knowing you can still get a rise out of him. Luke moves on, too, and you’re left facing the only Hughes brother who didn’t have a win tonight.

“Tough loss cap.” You hug Quinn tightly before glancing back at your boyfriend and leaning in slightly to whisper in his ear. “But we all know you’re still the best.”

Quinn gives you a small laugh, and you can see his head is held a little higher as you pull him to join the circle with the rest of the family. As soon as you do, Jack opens his smart mouth.

“Family circles are for winners only.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Ellen hisses his name, and you pinch the back of his arm as hard as you can.

“Ow,” he yelps at you, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

You give him a look that tells him exactly what that was for, to which he rolls his eyes at you.

“He knows it’s in good fun,” Jack says. “Right Q?”

This time, Quinn rolls his eyes but nonetheless nods his head.

The group chats about the game for a couple of minutes before unanimously deciding that family dinner is a must, and then you’ll head back to Quinn’s place for one last night altogether. As soon as the decision is made, you beeline to follow when Jack holds you back for a second.

“Dinner, just you and me, okay?” He all but pleads, pulling you toward him.

You glance back at his family walking away, seemingly unaware you two fell behind.

“They want to see you too, J.”

He grabs your hands and pulls even closer, leaving no room for any personal space. “They don’t care that much, and I haven’t had a second alone with you.”

His point is fair, but you also are torn by the fact that it isn’t very often that all three brothers are together.

“C’mon (Y/N). The winner should get a reward dinner right?”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Then shouldn’t we invite Luke?”

He snorts at your comment and shakes his head.

“Please, I did the heavy lifting.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re at a nice restaurant in downtown Vancouver. It’s big yet cozy and has low lighting, making it slightly romantic. You’re impressed with Jack's pick, but you also know deep in your heart he probably asked Quinn for his recommendations.

Your reserved table is in a cozy little corner, and a bottle of wine is sitting out, ready to be poured. You’re beyond happy with the setup, but you can’t help but feel a little underdressed as you both walk toward your seats. Jack has his game-day suit, but you’re still clad in a red and black jersey with the number eighty-six plastered across the back.

“This is wonderful, J, but you couldn’t warn me to wear something a little nicer.”

He pulls out the chair for you before you sit down, and as he crosses to the seat directly opposite you, he laughs.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He smirks. “This is my favorite outfit for you to be in.”

You roll your eyes as far back as possible but let it go. You are proud to be his girlfriend, and you allow him to have this little ego boost for one evening.

You spend the next hour talking about everything and nothing, and when the bill comes, Jack hands over his card, and you two pack up the leftovers you have, knowing Luke will destroy them once you get back to the house.

Once the card returns, you head out into the chill Vancouver night with Jack's arms wrapped around your waist. The walk to the car is short and filled with your usual light banter. As soon as you're within the view of the car, you go to swat away Jack's arm when he gets a little too handsy, but not before your boyfriend reaches into your back pocket and pulls out the hundred dollar bill that was safely hidden.

He eyes the bill with curiosity and darts his eyes back and forth between you and the bill for a few seconds.

“What this?”

“Cash?” You deadpan, moving to snatch the bill away, but he holds it out of your grip.

“You never carry cash.” He narrows his eyes slightly, then a dawning look crosses his face.

“This is the fourth hundred I’ve found in your pocket after a game with my brothers.”

You give him a surprised look but shake your head no.

“It’s just a coincidence, Jack.”

He passes you back the bill, but let’s put a low whistle. “Twice is a coincidence. Four times is a pattern.”

Before you can open the passenger door to the car, Jack blocks his body with it, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you up and down.

“You wanna know how I think you’re getting the money?”

You let out a puff of air, wishing he’d drop it, but you also know your boyfriend, and he will never let it go.

“Sure.” You take a step closer to him. “Let’s hear your theory.”

He smirks again and leans toward you as if he’s going to tell you a secret.

“I think you’re betting with my dad.”

You freeze when he speaks and must admit he’s smarter than he looks. You want to deny the accusation, but you simply shrug your shoulders and lean away from him.

“An excellent theory, J, but alas, it’s none of your business.”

You meet his stare, lean into him to kiss him on the cheek, and then body-check him from the side, and he stumbles just enough to allow you to climb into the passenger seat.

He heads to the driver a second later, and when he climbs in, the conversation is merely forgotten. You go back into talking about everything you’ve missed in each other's lives until you pull into the familiar driveway.

The house is decently quiet when you walk in, and when you round into the dining room, you see Luke and Quinn on opposite sides of the table, a checkerboard between them. Luke is stressed, chewing slightly on his hand, and across from him, Quinn sits with a smug smile and a stack of chips next to him.

“C'mon Lu, you’re better than this.” You say, gently patting his shoulder as you bring the leftovers to the fridge.

He huffs and glares at Quinn. “I am better, and I think he’s cheating somehow.”

Jack pipes up from behind you. “How can you cheat at checkers?”

Luke huffs again and mutters a quiet “he’s finding a way” under his breath, returning his attention to the board.

Jack crosses the room and sits down next to Luke, saying he’s playing the next round to defeat Quinn for the second time that night, and as soon as he takes his attention off you, you beeline to the living room in hopes of finding your gambling partner.

You find Jim and Ellen in the living room, and when you enter, they’re beyond excited to see you. You sit on the opposite chair and lean over to them both, whispering so the boy in the other room won’t hear you.

“Jack is onto us.”

Jim gives you a confused look.

“He knows about the betting.”

Ellen lets a giant laugh bubble past her lips, and soon enough, you’re all laughing about the situation.

“Out of all of them to figure it out,” Jim says, shaking his head.

You smile at them both, telling them how the secret came out, and in the end, they shrug it off.

“Just because he knows doesn’t mean we should stop. If anything, maybe it will be more of an incentive.”

You smile ear to ear and relax back into the chair, knowing that the little game won’t end, even if the boys know about it. You settle back into casual conversation for a while before you hear some commotion from the dining room, and Ellen gives you a knowing look.

You walk swiftly back into the dining where the chaos is, and when you enter, you see Quinn sitting calmly with his arms crossed and Jack standing in front of him, surrounded by all the tiny checker pieces with the board flipped upside down.

You can’t stifle your laughter, and you high-five Quinn across the table as Jack turns to you with a cold stare.

“You two can laugh all you want. I still won the actual game tonight.”

Quinn shrugs his shoulders at Jack. “Well, I just won the game that clearly matters more. So who’s the real winner tonight.”

Quinn throws you a wink as he begins cleaning up the pieces on the floor, and Jack follows suit, angrily putting them into the little pouch they came in.

You watch them clean up the game and go to stand by Luke, who’s eating your leftovers and quietly watching the scene unfold in front of him.

“Did you just stand here the whole time?” You ask.

He takes another large bite. “I enjoyed the show.”

You knock your shoulder against him, and a few minutes later, all the games are put away, and you all decide to join the parents in the living room. There, you watch a few episodes of The Office under Jack's hold, and soon enough, you find yourself dozing off in the comfortable position and extra body heat.

You're not sure how long you're asleep until you wake up hearing some shuffling around you. You open your eyes and see that Ellen and Jim have already left, and Luke and Quinn are moving around, getting ready also to leave the shared space. Quinn folds up a blanket and places it on the couch when you quietly whisper at him.

“Is he asleep?” You ask, referring to the boy behind you who’s gripped has softened a bit and whose breath has gone steady.

Quinn nods and whispers back a goodnight, leaving you and Jack alone in the living room. You’re perfectly content to stay on the coach, but that doesn’t last until you feel Jack move behind you.

“What time is it?” He mutters.

You look around for your phone, and when you click on the screen, it reads about half an hour before midnight. You show him the screen, and he hums.

“Wanna go to bed?”

You nod, slinging your legs to the side and getting up. Your muscles are stiff, and you stretch them out as Jack follows close behind you to the shared bedroom you've been occupying this weekend.

As you are busy getting ready for bed, Jack joins you in your domestic bliss, washing your face together and brushing your teeth. You can’t help but smile into the toothpaste because every time you go to stare at him, he’s already looking at you, and a blush creeps into his cheeks when he gets caught.

You finish up, climbing into your pajamas, and when you walk back into the room, Jack is already under the covers, looking at his phone. As soon as he notices you, he tosses the device away and lifts the sheets, patting the space beside him.

You crawl in, and within a moment, his arms wrap securely around you, and you’re pulled to his chest. All the stress of finals, flying back and forth, and life in general melt away, and for the first time in a long while, you know you’ll get the best sleep tonight.

You settle in even deeper into Jack's hold, reading yourself to enter the dreamland until you’re slightly brought back when he gently taps your arm three times, your relationship code to see if you’re still awake.

“Yeah?” You ask, flipping over to face him in the darkness.

“I just have a question.” He whispers

You wait for him to ask, and after a second passes, he does.

“Of course, I’m not mad or anything. You betting with my dad is the funniest thing ever. But one thing is bugging me.”

You gently rub his arm, and he continues.

“How did you win?” His voice is soft. “Did you bet on us winning even though we haven’t been playing the best? Or was it something else? Do you switch teams? Or how do you decide which team you bet on?”

He throws so many questions at you that you silence him with a light kiss pressed to his lips. It effectively shuts him up, and he stays quiet until you answer.

You take a minute to speak on purpose, wanting to make him wait, but you know that his wheels are turning, and he honestly doesn’t know your secret to success, and you know you have to tell him.

It’s never a question when you’re betting with Jim; you always pick with your heart, and you’re rarely wrong, and even when you are, you’re still correct with the outcome, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I never have to decide.” You press another kiss to his lips. “I always bet on you.”