Summary: Any time y/n hurts herself and shouts "fuck me" her boyfriend comes running to made good on that.
Themes/warnings: Suggestions of smut, Clumsy!reader
Word count: 847
Y/n is focused on her phone as she walks through the apartment only to scream, glass of water flying and spilling on the floor as she trips over Jack's hockey bag.
"Fuck me!" Y/n exclaims grimacing as she pushes back onto her knees only to hear the aggressive thudding nearing her. "Ja-"
"You ask and you will receive, baby-ah, who put that water there?" He laughs almost falling on the puddle of water from her spilled water before he continues running towards her and scooping her up, a struggling a little with the angle he came at her from but managing to throw her over his shoulder.
"Jack!"
"You asked to be fucked and I'm the only one with the privilege to make your wants reality, baby." Jack declares as if he has no other option but to concede to her demand.
Y/n laughs a little before she's slammed down on the bed and with Jack suddenly looking at her with a smirk, blue eyes dragging down her body.
"I tripped over your stupid hockey bag."
"I'll make it up to you." Jack states finally climbing over her, panting in excitement. "Three times over, I promise."
"I'll hold you to that."
"As you should, baby." Jack smiles then kissing over her grazed knee.
-
Y/n rubs her own face a little feeling completely exhausted. She'd flown over to Minnesota to watch Jack and Luke playing against Quinn but since she couldn't fly with her boyfriend, she flew on her own. Though he made sure it was first class, a delay occurred and she ended up waiting 5 extra hours to get off the tarmac and back to Jersey.
All that to say, she's tired and getting home shoves the door open with Jack getting there to hold it only to watching y/n bounce her head off the door way before he can try and put his hand up to stop the hit.
"Fuck me." Y/n hisses rubbing her forehead and Jack is a little torn on whether to act on his usual response.
So he takes her bags and tosses them inside before cupping her face to force her to let him inspect the damage then deciding it's not bad and he can treat her as he always does.
"Alright, baby. Usually you wait till the door is closed but since you ask." Jack chuckles scooping y/n up and kicking the door closed. "Luckily Luke is already asleep."
"Jacky I'm so tired." Y/n whines actually not sure she has it in her for sex.
"Then this should help you get to sleep." Jack smirks while y/n yawns blinking slowly at him only for him to peck her lips. "Just head."
Y/n is never actually going to turn sex down with Jack especially when he so innocently trying to just make her feel good.
"Wait-I need to shower before you-"
"I'll clean you up." Jack smirks making her grimace as he pulls her pants down practically trembling with excitement.
There's no denying how obsessed he is with y/n.
"I wanna taste." Jack declares while y/n puffs out a breath.
-
Y/n had drunk a lot of alcohol.
"Ja-cky." Y/n squeals from on top of the counter she'd somehow climbed on in the time he'd been gone to the bathroom.
She slips on the spillages and even with Jack shoving forward to catch her, her ribs slam into the edge earning loud "Oooh"s from the surrounding crowd.
Her friends screams in a panic from the counter making the bartenders and security panic to help them down more safely than y/n's dramatic fall.
"Fuck me, ah ah-no ow-fuck-fuck, Jack." Y/n panics feel a burst of pain through her ribs before she realises what she said. "Don't you dare."
"Maybe later." Jack jokes then shaking his head. "We can't fuck in an ER."
Y/n knows Jack absolutely would try once the doctor's have given her the ok.
They do end up at the ER and y/n is diagnosed with some pretty badly bruised ribs, but by some miracle no cracks or breaks. Which actually shocked Jack.
"Will you stop?" Y/n tsks lying on the bed as Jack tries to creep his hand under the bed but he only takes that as reason to stand up and lean over the bed, planting hot wet kisses on her cheek that slowly travel down her neck.
"I'm just trying to make you feel better, baby. They said they might take a while to get you discharged. So might as well make the most of it." Jack states, voice taking on a tone that sends a shiver down her spine because he knew it works every time. "You'll have to be quiet...we don't want anyone to come in telling us off."
Getting fingered in the ER after a drunk injury is a new experience and one that proves to be more enjoyable than y/n anticipated. Being high on pain meds also added to the sensations.
You’re pretty sure you’ve never been this tired in your entire life.
Not after exams, not after pulling all-nighters for projects, not even after that one weekend you spent at three of Jack’s games in a row. This is a different kind of tired,heavy and soft and wrapped in lavender baby lotion.
Because right now, at 3:17 a.m., your eight-week-old daughter is finally asleep on Jack’s chest.
He’s half sitting, half slumped against the headboard in his childhood bedroom, hair a messy brown halo, t-shirt covered in tiny milk stains. His eyes are closed, lips parted, but one big hand is spread protectively over the baby’s back like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he doesn’t touch her.
You’re watching them from the other side of the bed with a ridiculous ache in your chest.
“Stop staring at me,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
“I’m not staring at you,” you whisper back. “I’m staring at her. You just happen to be underneath.”
His mouth curls into a sleepy smile. “Can’t blame you. She’s perfect.”
You shift onto your side, propping your head up on your hand. “She’s a tiny dictator who screams whenever I try to pee alone.”
“She gets that from you,” Jack says, cracking one eye open.
You snort softly. “I do not scream when you pee alone.”
“You text me when I pee alone,” he counters. “Same energy.”
You would roll your eyes, but you’re too busy trying not to cry from how much you love these two.
The door creaks just a little, and Quinn’s head peeks in.
“You guys alive?” he whispers.
Jack lifts his head. “Barely.”
Quinn’s eyes soften when he sees the baby. “She finally knocked out?”
“Yeah,” you answer. “Bottle number… I’ve lost count.”
“I’ll take a shift in the morning,” Quinn says. “You two actually sleep. Like, no being heroes.”
Jack frowns. “You don’t have to,”
“Jack.” Quinn raises an eyebrow. “I’m her uncle. I want to. Also, you have practice tomorrow, remember?”
Jack groans. “Don’t say that word.”
Quinn smirks and points at you. “Okay, you especially,sleep. You look like you could lose a fight with a pillow.”
“Wow, thank you,” you say flatly, even as your lips twitch.
He opens the door wider. “I’ll leave it slightly open, okay? If she wakes up and you need help, just yell. Or text. Or scream, apparently.”
“Hey, that’s my thing,” Jack mutters.
Quinn rolls his eyes and disappears, the door clicking almost shut.
You exhale slowly, looking at Jack again. “We’re really… doing this, huh?”
He looks down at your daughter, his expression going soft in that way that still shocks you every time. It’s like someone flips a switch and teenage Jack Hughes,loud, chaotic, never-sits-still,turns into this quiet, careful version of himself.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re doing this. You good, though?”
You hesitate.
He notices. He always notices now.
“Tell me,” he says quietly.
You swallow, eyes burning. “What if I mess her up, Jack? What if… what if she grows up and thinks we ruined her life because we had her when we were still kids?”
Jack’s jaw tightens, and for a second you think he doesn’t know what to say. Then he shifts very carefully, so he doesn’t wake the baby, and pats the bed next to him.
“Come here.”
You crawl closer, curling into his side. He presses his shoulder against your forehead.
“You’re not gonna mess her up,” he says. “You know why?”
“Because you’re going to be the perfect dad and balance it out?” you mumble into his shirt.
He snorts a quiet laugh. “God, no. I’m gonna mess up too. I already put her onesie on backwards today.”
“You did,” you say, lips twitching. “You really did.”
“But,” he continues, “we’re gonna show up. Every day. Even when it sucks. Even when we’re tired. Even when everyone thinks we’re too young. That’s what matters, right?”
You bite your lip. “What if showing up isn’t enough?”
Jack looks down at his daughter again, and something in his expression turns stubborn.
“Then we’ll figure out what ‘enough’ is and do that too,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. She’s stuck with us.”
You huff a little wet laugh. “Poor kid.”
He smiles, and for a moment the room is so quiet you can hear the soft little sighs your daughter makes in her sleep.
“Hey,” he says suddenly. “Ask me again.”
“Ask you what?”
“If I regret anything.”
You swallow. “Do you regret this?” Your voice trembles, no matter how hard you try to hold it steady. “Do you regret… her? Me?”
Jack’s eyes snap to yours, wide and a little offended.
“No.” His voice is sharp, certain. “No, I don’t. I regret being stupid sometimes. And I regret how scared you were when we found out. But her?” He glances down at the baby. “Never her. And never you.”
You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a soft knock on the door.
This time it’s Luke, in an oversized hoodie and socks, hair sticking up.
“Mom said to tell you two that breakfast tomorrow is non-optional,” he whispers. “Also, she sent me in here to check if you guys need anything. But I think she just wanted an excuse to stare at the baby again.”
“We’re good,” you say. “For now.”
Luke grins, stepping closer to the bed.
“Can I…?” he asks, looking at the baby.
Jack nods. “Don’t wake her up or you’re on diaper duty.”
Luke puts a hand over his heart. “I would never wake my favorite niece.”
“She’s your only niece,” you point out.
“Still my favorite,” he says, leaning down. His voice goes soft. “Hey, little one. It’s your cool uncle Luke. I’ll teach you how to chirp your dad properly when you’re older.”
“Get out,” Jack whispers, but he’s smiling.
Luke straightens. “Seriously, though. If you guys ever need me to take her so you can sleep, or shower, or just… breathe, I’m around. Okay?”
Your throat feels tight again. You nod. “Thanks, Luke.”
He shrugs, suddenly shy. “She’s family. You’re family. Kind of stuck with us, too.”
When he leaves, closing the door this time, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
“You okay?” Jack asks again.
“I’m… better,” you say. “They’re really trying, huh?”
Jack smiles. “Yeah. They are.”
The next morning, the kitchen is chaos.
There’s a stroller in the corner, a diaper bag on the table, and your daughter asleep in Ellen’s arms while she bounces gently and hums under her breath. The smell of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and coffee fills the air.
You’re half asleep at the table, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, forehead resting on your wrist.
“Eat,” Ellen says firmly, putting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “You’re breastfeeding and healing and sixteen kinds of exhausted. Food.”
“Seventeen,” you mumble. “I’m seventeen kinds of exhausted.”
She gives you a look that is simultaneously amused and deeply unimpressed. “Then you need even more food.”
Jim sits down across from you, setting a mug in front of you. “Decaf for now. I know, I know, it’s a tragedy.”
You wrap your hands around the mug anyway. “You guys don’t have to do all this.”
Jim raises an eyebrow. “We absolutely do.”
“Yeah,” Ellen adds. “Besides, if we don’t spoil you, Luke will. Have you seen the tiny jerseys he ordered?”
You groan. “Don’t remind me.”
Jack wanders in, hair damp from a quick shower, yawning so wide you can practically hear his jaw crack.
Quinn glances over his cereal bowl. “Wow. A rare Hughes in the wild before noon.”
“Shut up,” Jack mutters, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Then he leans over and kisses the baby’s forehead in Ellen’s arms. “Morning, princess.”
You feel your heart squeeze. “What am I?”
“Very grumpy when you’re hungry,” Jack says.
You kick his leg under the table.
Jim watches the exchange with a small smile. “Practice later, Jack?”
“Yeah,” Jack says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Coach said I can ease back into it, but, you know… season’s not gonna wait for me.”
You freeze for half a second, the fork halfway to your mouth.
You know this. You knew this. You and Jack have talked about it, whispered late at night when the baby was finally asleep. But hearing it out loud makes your stomach twist.
Jack notices. Again.
“Hey,” he says quietly, nudging your knee under the table. “We talked about this.”
“I know,” you say fast. “I know, it’s fine. It’s your dream.”
He studies you for a second, then turns to his parents.
“Can you guys,?” He gestures vaguely, eyes flicking to the hallway.
Ellen nods immediately. “We’ve got her. Go.”
Jim stands and gently takes the baby from Ellen so she can refill your plate.
You let Jack lead you down the hallway to the back porch. The air is cool, the kind that wakes you up just enough.
He closes the sliding door behind you and turns to face you, leaning a shoulder against the wall.
“Okay,” he says. “What’s going on in your head?”
You wrap your arms around yourself. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Babe.”
You stare at a patch of grass.
“I’m scared,” you admit finally, your voice small. “What if everything changes when you’re back on the ice? What if you’re gone all the time and she doesn’t know you? What if I’m just… here. Alone. With diapers and late-night crying and school and,”
Jack steps forward and rests his hands on your shoulders, gently squeezing.
“I’m not leaving you alone in this,” he says. “Yeah, I’m going back to hockey. That’s my job, you know? But she’s my job too. You are my job too.”
You sniff. “That’s a weird way to put it.”
He laughs softly. “Okay, maybe not my job. You’re my,” He hesitates, cheeks turning a little pink. “My life.”
You blink at him.
“Wow,” you say. “Did Luke write that for you?”
“Shut up,” he says, but he’s smiling. “I mean it. We’re gonna make a schedule. I’ll talk to Coach, I’ll talk to my agent. We’ll figure out how to do this so you’re not doing everything alone. And we have help.” He jerks his thumb toward the house. “You’ve seen my family, right? They would literally fight each other to hold her for ten more minutes.”
You laugh, wiping at your eyes. “They really would.”
“And your parents, too,” he adds. “We’re not doing this by ourselves. We’re allowed to need people. Even if we’re teen parents and everyone thinks we’re supposed to fail or whatever? We’re not going to. Because we’re stubborn as hell.”
You sniff. “You’re stubborn.”
“You’re worse,” he says. “You’re the one who decided we were keeping her and then looked my freaked-out ass in the eye and said, ‘We’ll figure it out.’”
You remember that day so vividly your chest hurts.
“I was terrified,” you whisper.
“Me too,” he says. “Still am, sometimes. But then I look at her and I’m like… yeah. Worth it.”
You take a deep breath, the knot in your chest loosening just a little.
“Okay,” you say. “We’ll try. Both of us. And when you’re away,”
“I’ll FaceTime every day,” he cuts in. “Every break I get. I’ll be annoying, I promise.”
“You already are,” you say, but your lips curve.
He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. “We got this. Teen parents or not. You and me and her. And, unfortunately, Quinn and Luke.”
“And your mom’s pancakes,” you add.
“Those too,” he agrees.
That night, you’re at your parents’ house for dinner. Your mom takes your daughter the second you walk in, cooing in that special tone of voice she only uses for babies.
Your dad hovers awkwardly for about two seconds before offering to assemble the new swing they bought “for when she’s over.”
Jack helps him, holding screws while your dad reads the instructions.
“So,” your dad says, not looking up. “Practice went okay?”
“Yeah,” Jack says. “Rusty, but I’ll get there.”
Your dad nods. “You’ll find a balance.”
Jack glances at him. “You think so?”
Your dad stops, finally looking up. “I know so. I did, didn’t I?”
You pause where you’re standing, watching them.
“Oh my God,” you say. “Are you bonding?”
Your dad gives you a look. “We’ve been bonding. You just never notice because you’re too busy worrying about everything.”
Jack grins. “You do worry a lot.”
“I hate all of you,” you say, but you’re smiling.
Later, when your daughter finally falls asleep in her new swing, your mom sits next to you on the couch.
“You’re doing a good job,” she says quietly.
You stare at the baby. “I don’t feel like I am.”
“That’s how you know you’re a good mom,” she replies. “You care enough to worry. You ask for help. You keep showing up. That’s all any of us did when you were born. We just… tried. Every day.”
You swallow. “I’m scared, Mom.”
“I know,” she says, rubbing your back. “But look around you.”
You do.
Your dad and Jack are laughing at something in the corner, Luke is sending you pictures of the baby from earlier in the day, and Quinn just texted, Tell my niece I miss her already.
“You’re not alone,” your mom says. “You and Jack… you’re young. That’s true. But you’re not doing this by yourselves.”
You nod, eyes stinging. “I love him.”
“I know,” she says. “I can see it.”
“And he loves her,” you add.
“That too,” she says, smiling softly. “Now go steal five minutes and make out in the kitchen or something, because your daughter is not moving from that swing for at least twenty minutes.”
You choke on a laugh. “Mom!”
“What? I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “Teen parents or not, you’re still teenagers. You’re still allowed to be in love.”
You get up, heart lighter than it’s been in weeks.
Jack meets you halfway, hands sliding into yours.
“You okay?” he asks, as always.
You look at him,messy hair, hoodie, tired eyes that still light up whenever he looks at you,and you think of the tiny sleeping girl who has no idea how many people love her.
“Yeah,” you say, and this time you mean it. “We’re okay.”
He squeezes your hands. “Good. Because I was gonna say… you know how we always said we were gonna build a life together someday?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
He smiles, a little crooked. “I think… this is it. Messy and loud and not what we planned. But it’s ours.”
You take a breath, feeling the truth of it settle in your bones.
Hi can you please write a Jack Hughes x reader where they are a very close and touchy couple until at a party they play the drinking game paranoia and the reader answers a question with someone else’s name and after hearing the question Jack is hurt that she didn’t answer with his name. He gets distant and starts avoiding her. She gets really upset especially because she doesn’t know why he’s acting that way and when she asks he keeps saying he’s fine when he obviously isn’t. After another instance of him avoiding her it all gets to be too much for her and she hides to go cry, which she never does. Someone sees her crying and goes and tells Jack and he immediately freaks out, finds her, and asks her what wrong and what happened and tries to comfort her. She tells him it’s his behavior and the truth comes out about him being upset by the game. She explains why she answered the way she did and they make up and go back to being touchy and cute. Thank you
Pulling Away
summary: You and Jack have always been the couple everyone notices — the one that’s never not touching. Until a single question during a drinking game makes Jack go quiet. As he pulls away without explanation, you’re left wondering what you did wrong while he keeps saying everything is fine.
The first thing everyone knew about you and Jack was that you were never not touching.
It wasn’t even in a dramatic, obnoxious way. It was just… natural.
His hand on the small of your back when you walked through a crowded room. Your fingers hooked through his belt loop while he talked to his friends. His chin resting on your shoulder when he was tired. Your legs thrown over his lap on the couch. His thumb brushing over your knuckles under tables like he was making sure you were still there.
So when Jack started pulling away, everyone noticed.
You noticed first.
At first, you thought maybe he was tired.
The party had been loud, the kind thrown after a stretch of home games where everyone wanted to pretend they weren’t exhausted. Music shook through the house, drinks were balanced on every surface, and half the team was crowded around the living room playing stupid drinking games that always got too personal.
You were sitting beside Jack on the floor, his arm lazily looped around your waist, your back tucked against his chest while Trevor explained the rules to Paranoia for the third time because Nico kept pretending he didn’t understand.
“Okay,” Trevor said, grinning like trouble. “You whisper a question to the person next to you. They answer out loud with someone’s name. Then you flip a coin. If it lands heads, everyone hears the question. If tails, nobody does.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” you said.
Jack’s lips brushed your ear. “That’s why we’re playing.”
You laughed and tilted your head back against him, and he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.
For the first few rounds, it was harmless.
“Who would survive a zombie apocalypse?”
“Nico.”
“Who would accidentally marry someone in Vegas?”
“Trevor.”
“Who would cry during a dog movie?”
“Jack.”
“Babe,” Jack complained, while everyone laughed.
“You do cry during dog movies.”
“I get emotional.”
“You cried during Air Bud.”
“Because he was talented.”
Everything was easy. Warm. Familiar.
Then the question came to you.
One of the girls leaned in and whispered near your ear, low enough that only you could hear.
“Other than Jack, who here would you trust the most to take care of you if something bad happened?”
You barely thought about it. The answer was easy.
“Nico,” you said out loud.
Jack’s arms didn’t move from around you, but something in him went still.
The coin flipped.
Heads.
The room erupted before the question was even repeated. Someone slapped the floor. Someone else groaned, already anticipating chaos.
The girl laughed and said, “I asked: other than Jack, who here would she trust the most to take care of her if something bad happened?”
You laughed too, shaking your head. “It said other than Jack!”
But under you, Jack didn’t laugh.
You twisted slightly to look at him. “You good?”
He blinked once, then gave you a quick smile that didn’t look like his. “Yeah. Fine.”
The game moved on.
You believed him.
For about ten minutes.
Because after that, his arm slipped from your waist.
Then he stood up and said he was getting another drink.
Then he didn’t come back.
At first, you assumed he’d gotten caught in a conversation, but when you found him in the kitchen, he was leaning against the counter beside Dawson and Luke, laughing at something one of them said.
You came up beside him and slid your hand around his waist.
Usually, he’d pull you closer without thinking.
This time, he shifted just enough that your hand fell away.
Your stomach dipped.
“Hey,” you said softly.
“Hey.” He looked down at you, expression neutral.
“You disappeared.”
“Just talking.”
“Okay.”
You waited for him to touch you. Kiss your forehead. Tug you into his side. Something.
He didn’t.
So you stood there for a few more seconds, suddenly feeling awkward around your own boyfriend.
“Are you mad at me?” you asked.
Jack frowned immediately. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m fine.”
The nickname made it worse somehow. It sounded normal, but he didn’t.
You nodded, swallowing the tight feeling in your throat. “Okay.”
The rest of the night was weird.
Not terrible. Not obvious enough for anyone to call it out directly. But every time you reached for him, he was suddenly busy. Every time you moved closer, he created space. Every time you looked at him for reassurance, he gave you that same quick smile.
Fine.
Fine.
Fine.
Except he wasn’t.
And by the time you got back to his apartment, you were exhausted from pretending you didn’t feel it.
Jack went straight to the bedroom, pulling his hoodie over his head.
You stood near the door, watching him. “Jack.”
“Hm?”
“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong.”
You let out a small breath. “You’ve barely touched me all night.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re tired?”
“Yeah.”
“You pulled away from me in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
His jaw tightened, just slightly. “I don’t want to fight.”
“I’m not trying to fight.” Your voice cracked, and you hated it. “I’m trying to understand why you’re acting like I did something.”
Jack looked at you for a long second.
Then he looked away.
“You didn’t do anything,” he said.
And that was somehow worse.
Because he kissed your forehead before bed, but it was brief. Automatic. Like something he was checking off a list.
And when he turned over, he didn’t pull you into him.
You lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling, feeling miles away from the person close enough to touch.
The next morning, it continued.
Jack was polite.
That was the thing that made you feel insane. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t mean. He made you coffee. He asked if you slept okay. He told you he had practice. He kissed your cheek before leaving.
But he didn’t linger.
He didn’t wrap his arms around you from behind while you made toast. He didn’t steal a bite of your food. He didn’t press his cold hands under your shirt just to make you shriek. He didn’t tug you back into bed and mumble, “Five more minutes.”
He was there.
But he wasn’t there.
By the third day, you were unraveling.
You tried giving him space. You tried acting normal. You tried being extra affectionate, thinking maybe he’d melt back into himself.
He didn’t.
At a small get-together at Nico’s apartment later that week, you finally reached your breaking point.
Everyone was scattered around the living room. Jack was on the couch, and you went to sit beside him like you always did. There was enough room. More than enough.
But as soon as you sat, Jack stood.
“I’m gonna grab water,” he said.
You stared at the empty spot beside you.
Your chest tightened so fast it almost hurt.
Across the room, Dawson glanced at you. You looked away before he could see your face.
You lasted maybe thirty seconds.
Then you stood up and walked down the hallway, away from the music, away from the laughter, away from Jack acting like touching you was suddenly something he had to avoid.
You found the guest bathroom and shut the door behind you.
For a moment, you just stood there with your hands gripping the edge of the sink.
Then your face crumpled.
You cried quietly at first, one hand pressed over your mouth because you hated crying at parties. You hated crying around people. You hated feeling like the dramatic girlfriend who couldn’t handle her boyfriend being in a mood.
But it wasn’t just a mood.
It was Jack.
Your Jack.
The person who used to reach for you in his sleep. The person who would pull you onto his lap in a room full of people without thinking twice. The person who once told you, half-asleep and completely serious, “I think I breathe better when you’re close.”
And now he wouldn’t even sit beside you.
A soft knock came at the door.
You froze.
“Occupied,” you called, but your voice betrayed you.
The door cracked open anyway, just a little.
It was Nicole, Nico’s girlfriend, her face immediately softening when she saw you.
“Oh, honey,” she whispered.
You wiped at your cheeks quickly. “I’m fine.”
She gave you a look.
You let out a wet laugh. “Okay. I’m not fine. But please don’t make it a thing.”
“I won’t,” she said gently.
But apparently, her definition of “making it a thing” did not include keeping it from Jack.
Because less than two minutes later, the bathroom door flew open.
Jack stood there, pale and panicked.
“Baby?”
Your heart twisted painfully at the sound of his voice.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, eyes scanning your face like he was looking for an injury.
“What happened?” he asked quickly. “Are you hurt? Did someone say something to you?”
You turned away from him, embarrassed. “No.”
“Then what’s wrong?” His voice softened, but the panic stayed. “Talk to me. Please.”
You laughed once, bitterly, wiping your cheeks again. “Now you want to talk to me?”
Jack went still.
You regretted it instantly, but you were too hurt to take it back.
His brows pulled together. “What?”
“You’ve been avoiding me for days, Jack.”
“I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have.” Your voice broke. “You have, and every time I ask, you tell me you’re fine, but you’re not. You barely touch me. You leave when I sit next to you. You act like being near me bothers you.”
His face fell.
“That’s not—”
“It is.” Tears spilled over again, and you hated that you couldn’t stop them. “And I don’t even know what I did. I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure it out, and you won’t just tell me. You keep saying nothing’s wrong, but something is clearly wrong, and I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Jack’s lips parted, but no words came out.
You wrapped your arms around yourself.
“I don’t cry like this,” you whispered. “You know I don’t. But you made me feel like I wasn’t allowed to touch my own boyfriend anymore.”
That broke him.
His expression cracked wide open.
“Baby,” he breathed.
He reached for you, then hesitated like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
That hurt too.
You looked at his hand, then back at his face. “See?”
His eyes shut briefly.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
You waited.
Jack dragged both hands through his hair, visibly fighting with himself.
“It was the game,” he finally said.
You blinked. “What?”
“The paranoia game. At the party.” His voice was quiet now, rough around the edges. “The question. You said Nico.”
You stared at him, confused. “Because the question was other than you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I know that now,” he said, looking ashamed. “I heard it. I did. But when you answered so fast, I just…” He swallowed. “It got in my head.”
Your hurt softened slightly, but not completely.
“Jack.”
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid if it hurt you,” you said quietly. “But you should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want to sound insecure.”
“So instead you made me feel like you didn’t want me anymore?”
His face crumpled.
“No,” he said immediately. “No, baby, never. That’s not what I wanted. I was being an idiot.”
You leaned back against the sink, exhausted. “Why did it bother you so much?”
Jack looked down.
For a second, he looked younger. Less like the confident, cocky hockey player everyone saw and more like the boy who cared too much and didn’t always know what to do with it.
“Because I want to be that person for you,” he said. “The first person. The safest person. The one you trust when something bad happens.”
“You are,” you said.
His eyes flicked up.
“You are, Jack. That’s why I didn’t say your name. Because the question specifically said other than you. In my head, you weren’t even an option because you were already the answer.”
He stared at you.
Your voice softened. “I said Nico because he’s calm. Because if you were hurt too, or if you couldn’t get to me, I’d trust him to handle things. Not because I trust him more than you. Not because he means more. Not because I’d choose him over you.”
Jack’s jaw tightened, but this time it wasn’t anger. It was emotion.
“You’re my person,” you said. “I thought you knew that.”
“I do,” he whispered.
“Then why didn’t you act like it?”
He stepped closer. “Because I got jealous and embarrassed and then I doubled down because I didn’t know how to admit that a stupid drinking game hurt my feelings.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
Then you said, “You really hurt mine.”
“I know.” His voice broke slightly. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He reached for you again, slower this time.
You let him.
The second his hands touched your waist, your body betrayed you. You melted into him like you’d been waiting days for it.
Jack pulled you in tightly, one arm around your back, the other hand cradling the back of your head. He tucked his face into your neck and held you like he was trying to apologize with every part of himself.
“I hated this,” you whispered against his shoulder.
“I know.”
“You were so cold.”
“I know, baby.”
“I kept thinking you were sick of me.”
Jack pulled back fast, his hands moving to your face.
“Never,” he said firmly. “Do you hear me? Never. I am so stupid in love with you it’s embarrassing.”
You sniffled, trying not to smile. “You have a terrible way of showing it.”
“I know.” He wiped under your eyes with his thumbs. “I’ll do better. I swear. Next time I’m upset, I’ll tell you.”
“Even if it’s embarrassing?”
“Especially if it’s embarrassing.”
“Even if Trevor makes fun of you?”
Jack grimaced. “Okay, maybe not in front of Trevor.”
You let out a small laugh, and relief washed over his face like sunlight.
“There she is,” he murmured.
You rolled your eyes weakly. “Don’t be cute. I’m still mad.”
“That’s fair.”
“You have to make it up to me.”
“I will.”
“You have to be extra clingy.”
His mouth twitched. “That’s your punishment for me?”
“Yes.”
“Baby, that’s a reward.”
You huffed, but this time when he leaned in, you didn’t stop him.
His kiss was soft at first, apologetic and careful. Then his arms tightened around you, and he kissed you again, deeper, like he’d been missing you just as much as you’d been missing him.
When you both finally left the bathroom, Jack didn’t let go of your hand.
Not in the hallway.
Not in the living room.
Not when Trevor raised his eyebrows and said, “Everything good?”
Jack just pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re good.”
You leaned into him, still a little puffy-eyed, still a little hurt, but no longer scared.
A few minutes later, Jack sat back down on the couch and tugged you into his lap without hesitation.
You gave him a look. “Subtle.”
He wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.
“Don’t care.”
Nico glanced over, amused. “You two okay?”
Jack pointed at him. “You’re still on thin ice.”
Nico blinked. “What did I do?”
You laughed, covering your face.
Jack kissed your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your temple.
“Nothing,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “He’s just dramatic.”
Jack Hughes x reader
After spending one night with Jack, you hoped to never face him again. Knowing you weren't the type of girl he would go after. But when you found out you were pregnant, you realized there was no other option.
warnings: unexpected pregnancy, Jack being an asshole, mention of reader being plus size, birth complications, angst but happy ending, not proofread
based on this request
Jack Hughes masterlist ˋ°•*⁀➷ here
You didn’t think you could get into this situation. Not someone like you.
When you woke up, the room seemed unfamiliar. Your head was throbbing so hard it felt like your skull was on the verge of breaking, making you remember the amount of shots you drank last night. You remembered being tucked away in a dark corner of the club, making out with an attractive hockey player.
Apparently, his team had decided your regular spot was the perfect place to celebrate their win.
What did he say his name was? Jacob? Jake?
No, Jack. Jack Hughes.
The rest was a blur. Your friends screaming over the music that they were leaving. An arm pulling you closer into a firm chest. And then– You shot up in the bed, sitting up straight and turning your head towards the other side.
And there he was. Sleeping soundly, looking so peaceful. And he was naked. Wait, why was he naked? Oh god– Now it all made sense. You looked around the room, taking it all in, your eyes landing on the mirror facing the bed.
The image you saw was a reality check you weren’t ready for.
He had to be drunk last night. In no world would a guy like him have looked twice at you if he was sober. Or at least, this was what the voices in your head were screaming. You weren’t the typical girl hockey players went after. Nowhere near to being a skinny and definitely not rich. Your wardrobe full of vintage thrift finds rather than designer brands.
Terrified of the look on his face if he woke up and realized who was in his bed, you quickly grabbed for your glasses on the nightstand and snatched your clothes lying on the floor. You slipped out the door with your boots in hand and prayed to God you wouldn’t run into anyone on the way out.
Hoping to never come across him again.
And that’s what would have happened. In a universe where your actions had no consequences.
Unfortunately for you, you weren’t living in one.
The positive pregnancy test was heavy in your hand. Your vision blurring more with every second you stared at it. This could not be happening. Not to you. This was not what you planned. Your period was late, but you had convinced yourself it was just the stress from work.
Suddenly, a bang on the bathroom door broke you out of the trance.
“It’s been fifteen minutes! Let me in,“ your friend shouted from the other side. With shaky hands, you unlocked the door, letting her in. She immediately snatched the test from you.
“Oh.“
“Yeah. Oh.“
“And we’re one hundred percent sure it’s his, right?“ she asked, her voice anything but judgmental.
“I haven’t had sex with anyone in months. Except for him,“ you cried. “Oh my God. What am I gonna do?“
Every possible scenario was running through your head. You could terminate the pregnancy. The list of clinics already saved on your phone. But at the same time… There was a new life growing inside of you. And your maternal instincts were starting to kick in.
“I think I wanna keep it.“
“What?!“ she almost shouted, quickly softening her tone when she saw the look on your face. “I mean… Are you going to tell him?“
“I should at least try, right?“
You spent the following days thinking about the best way to let him know without sounding like a crazy fan. You knew where he lived. But how weird would it be to turn up at his doorstep with the words ‘I’m pregnant with your child’?
So when you saw that his team won again, you settled for the only option you had. You would go back to the bar and hope to run into him. The very thing you had prayed wouldn't happen just a few weeks ago.
As you pushed the door open, you immediately knew they were there. The roars of the crowd inside were a giveaway. The party had just started. Scanning the room, you spotted Jack standing by the bar. Alone.
That was your chance.
Quickly, you made your way over to him. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might actually burst through your chest. But standing there intensively staring at him probably wasn’t the best start to the conversation.
Because he turned to you, a look of pure annoyance on his face.
“Look,“ he started, not even giving you a chance to speak. “If you want a photo, just ask. The staring is creepy.“
“Oh– Uhm. No,“ you said, the nerves kicking in. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “I… I would actuallylike to talk to you about something.“
“Yeah? About what, exactly?“ His tone was mocking you, making tears prick your eyes.
“We… We met here a few weeks ago and hooked up. And, uhm…“ you said, your gaze dropping to your feet. Whispering the last part. “I’m pregnant. It’s yours. “
“Oh God,“ Jack scoffed. “I don’t even remember you, why would I trust you?“
“But–“
“No, I’m gonna stop you right there,“ he continued, stepping closer until he was towering over you, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “I have plenty of girls trying to baby trap me or to become famous off me by lying about shit like this. I don’t know you, and don’t believe a word coming out of your mouth.“
With that, Jack grabbed his drink. He turned back to you one last time, his eyes cold. “And I highly doubt I had anything with you,“ he muttered, before walking away.
That night you left the bar in tears. You knew he was famous, so you expected him to be a little cocky. But not this arrogant and certainly not this cruel.
For days, you tried to convince yourself you could do this alone. That you would be okay. That you didn’t need a man. Especially not a man who looked offended that you had even tried to speak to him.
But as the first doctor appointment approached, the weight of your future settled in. You sat in the waiting room surrounded by other women. Some of them were still expecting, just like you. While others already had babies in their arms .
But there was one main difference between you and them. They had their partners by their sides. You were alone.
Then came the question from the doctor: ‘And where is the father?'
That was when you realized it wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about the baby. You wanted your child to have a father. Even if it was a man who didn’t even remember you.
Since confronting Jack in person hadn’t worked, you decided on a more formal approach.
Finding the name of his agent online was the easy part. You sat in front of the screen for hours, trying to think of what to write, your finger hovering over the keyboard as you deleted paragraph after paragraph.
‘Good morning, I know I sound crazy but I’m pregnant. Jack is the father.’
No. That hadn’t worked the last time.
‘Good morning. I’m pregnant with Jack’s child. I’m not trying to go after his money, I swear.’
That was even worse.
Finally, you settled for something more professional.
‘Good morning. I spent a night with Jack Hughes a few weeks ago and I believe I am pregnant with his child. Is there any way to arrange a paternity test to confirm the truth and resolve any doubts?’
Even though it wasn’t perfect, you still hit the send button. Your brain was too tired to think of something better after spending every morning next to the toilet, your hormones a mess.
They answered almost instantly, agreeing to your offer. Likely just relieved to have a woman who wanted a test rather than another woman running to the press to destroy Jack's reputation.
You didn’t even had to talk to Jack directly. His team told you that if he even knew about this yet, it would just stress him out. That he wouldn’t be able to focus on his games. That it would be better this way.
And you had no problem with that, especially after your last encounter with him.
The days leading up to the results were stressful. You spent countless hours just pacing your apartment, rubbing your belly.
What if the test said he wasn’t the father?
That wasn’t possible, you weren’t Saint Mary. You knew he was the father.
But what would be his reaction? The reaction of his team? How will this affect the rest of your life?
You didn’t want to spend your life in the spotlight just because you were carrying Jack Hughes’s firstborn. You didn’t want your kid to live in the spotlight either. You didn’t–
Your phone started ringing, snapping you out of your thoughts. The name on the screen made your stomach drop. His agent. Slowly, you hit the accept button and brought the phone to your ear.
“Hello?“
“Hi, I’m calling about the… paternity test. We just received the results.“
Your heart skipped a beat, waiting for the words that would change everything. Every second felt like an infinity.
“And?“
“Jack is the father. When is your next appointment?“
“Uhm… In two days. Why?“
“Cancel it,“ he said firmly. “We’re moving you to a private clinic. We'll get you an appointment for the same date. I’ll send all the details to your email. We will talk about the formalities later.“
“That’s not ne–“
“Great. Jack will meet you there. Speak to you soon.“
He hung up before you could protest. A second later, your phone pinged with the notification for the new appointment.
Oh, shit.
If waiting for the result was stressful, this was worse.
As you stepped inside the clinic, you noticed the difference. Instead of bright colorful walls, you were met with beige tones and a cold, minimalist design. The clinic was empty, except for a receptionist spinning in her chair, filing her nails.
She held a phone between her shoulder and ear, talking loudly, but the moment she spotted you, she did a double take. Her judging gaze looming over you.
“I have to go,“ she said before hanging up. Her tone shifted from cheerful to annoyed in a second as she turned toward you. “Name?“
“I believe it’s under… Hughes?“
“Hughes?!“ she laughed, mocking you. “With you? Okay. The door on the left, at the end of the hall.“
Without waiting for your answer, she picked up her phone again.
“Thank you,“ you murmured, turning around and walking away. As you reached the door, you could still hear her. Probably talking to the person from before.
“No way Hughes has a kid with someone like her. Seriously, if you saw her,“ her voice wasn’t even a whisper. She knew you could hear her. But you didn’t wait to hear the rest. You walked inside, closing the door behind you and plopping down on the couch.
The room was filled by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Where was he? Your head was spinning. Maybe he wasn’t even planning on showing up. There were only three minutes left.
The door opened and Jack stepped inside. He had a hoodie pulled over his head, visibly trying to be as discreet as possible. Without a word, he sat beside you, looking around the room. His gaze immediately fixing on a poster of a pregnant lady hanging on the wall opposite the couch.
He was fidgeting with his fingers, his back stiff, but from the corner of your eye, you could see the guilty expression all over his face.
“So…“ Jack started, turning his head towards you. His eyes stopped on your hand, which was resting on your belly. “I guess it’s in order for me to say sorry. I really am. For what I said about you.“
“You’re sorry for how you treated me only because it is your child,“ you whispered. “You were acting as if someone like me would be stupid enough to try to lie about being pregnant with your child.“
“What do you mean, someone like you?“
You turned your head, eyes locking onto his. You weren’t trying to be bitchy,you were just being honest, keeping your distance. You were there for the baby, he was there because of the responsibility. “You know what I mean.“
Before he could respond, the doctor stepped out, smiling at you. At least someone in this building was trying to make you feel at ease.
“Hello, mom. We’re ready for you.“
The room was dim, the only light coming from the monitor of the ultrasound machine and a small lamp in the corner. You layed back on the table, the cold gel a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Jack, who was sitting in the plastic chair pulled close to your side.
He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he stared at the ceiling.
The room was suddenly filled with a fast, rhythmic thump of a little heart. The thump-thump was suffocating. But it was a sound of a life you both made.
Beside you, Jack’s posture changed, arms dropping and gripping the edges of the chair. His knuckles turning white, eyes fixed on the screen. His mouth was slightly opened.
“That’s the heartbeat,“ the doctor whispered, pointing to the screen. “Strong and healthy.“
You looked at Jack. He swallowed hard, and for a second, you saw his eyes watering. He looked terrified. He looked amazed. But the moment he saw you watching, he blinked rapidly, his face back to stone cold.
“It’s, uh… it’s loud,“ he muttered, his voice sounding thick. He leaned back, trying to look anywhere else, but his eyes betrayed him and ended up back on the monitor everytime.
“Future hockey player,“ the doctor joked.
But Jack didn’t laugh. He just stared at the screen, realizing his life was no longer only about him.
The moment the doctor left the room, the air shifted. Jack didn’t even look at you, he stood up so fast that the chair almost fell over if you hadn’t caught it. The hoodie was back on his head, pulled tight as if to hide from the truth.
“I have practice,“ he muttered, not waiting for a response and nearly running out the door. Leaving you alone with the printed photo and the lingering scent of his cologne.
The silence in the hallway was even worse than the sound of the baby’s heartbeat. As the door clicked closed behind him, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
His heart was racing with pure panic.
The weight of reality was crushing him. The memory of the bar flashed before his eyes. The way he looked at you, the venom in his voice. That was not the man he was raised to be. The words he said to you replayed in his head.
I highly doubt I had anything with you.
Too afraid to even face you, scared to see the hurt he caused, he ran out the door. He would have to admit he fucked up, while having no idea how to fix it.
As he sat in the car with his head resting on the steering wheel, his phone buzzed. Taking it out, he saw his agent’s name on the screen.
“I hope you were at the clinic,“ the voice called out. Professional and calm. Everything Jack wasn’t at the moment.
“I already took care of the paperwork. We will keep it under the rug, so it doesn’t distract anyone from the playoffs. We will make sure she stays comfortable, but distant. We don’t want the crazy fan to reach the press.“
Jack stared out the window. He thought about the way you looked listening to the heartbeat of the baby. Vulnerable, quiet, but still so strong. Not once did you mention money. You just asked for a father.
“She’s not a crazy fan,“ Jack whispered, the realization sinking in.
“What was that?“
“Nothing,“ Jack said, his guilt turning into a knot in his stomach. “Just send me the papers.“
He told himself he was signing them to protect everyone, but as he walked into the locker room, he realized he was just a coward trying to hide.
Jack signed the papers. He did exactly what his agent and the legal team told him to do. They told him it was taken care of. That he could focus on the playoffs.
But he couldn’t get the ultrasound out of his head.
For five months, the sound of the heartbeat played on a loop in the back of his mind. Every time he stepped onto the ice, every time he sat in a luxury restaurant, the image of you on that table kept popping up.
Finally, past midnight on a random Tuesday, he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. Behind his agent’s back, he went through the contract and copied your address.
He stood in front of the apartment building, deciding if he had made the right choice by showing up, when a heavy thud came from the building, followed by a broken shout.
“Fuck.“
His curiosity got the best of him, and he quickly made his way inside.
You were standing in the middle of the stairs, wearing an oversized hoodie, but your bump was still very evident. Tears of frustration in your eyes, your hormones were a mess, your back ached, and you were completely alone.
Near the bottom of the stairs Jack saw a heavy looking box with a crib, which was clearly the cause of the noise. Something a pregnant woman should not carry by herself. The guilt was eating him up even more now.
“Let me help you with that.“
Your head snapped to him and before you could even process his presence, he easily gripped the box and started to make his way up the stairs. You didn’t smile, or thank him. The shock quickly turned into irritation.
“What the hell are you doing here?“ Your voice echoed in the hallway. Jack stopped on the step above you, looking down. Up close, you could see the dark circles under his eyes.
“I came to see you,“ he said softly, his eyes flickering down to your bump. “Third floor, right?“
“You came to see me?“ You let out a breathless laugh, gripping the railing tightly as you forced your tired legs to climb past him. “I signed your little NDA, remember? You don't get to just show up because you suddenly feel guilty.“
Jack froze for a second. He knew he deserved this. Still, he carried the heavy boy all the way to your door, setting it down gently before turning to face you.
“I know I messed up,“ he muttered. “But I can’t… Just let me help you, please.“
You stared at him, your hand trembling as you fished your keys out of your purse. You wanted to tell him to go to hell, but looking at the heavy box, you cracked.
“Okay.“
Jack stayed until the crib was fully built.
When he was finished, he stood up, wiping dust from his pants. He just looked around the nursery, the one you decorated by yourself. Probably assembled the rest of the furniture by yourself too.
Then he looked at you.
“I want to come to the next appointment. If that’s okay.“
You didn't agree right away. But you didn't say no, either.
Jack stayed true to his word, he showed up. And he was there for every appointment after that, too.
He started driving you to the grocery store, refusing to let you lift heavy bags alone. He would cook for you when you were too exhausted to stand in the kitchen for more than ten minutes.
Jack practically lived at your apartment on his days off. Nervously checking the safety of the nursery every time. He was right beside you when you found out you were having a boy.
He stopped hiding, slowly becoming a part of your daily life. Which brought you closer to each other. The NDA long forgotten.
One evening, sitting on your small couch, eating the takeout you preferred over his luxury restaurants, you were arguing over baby names.
“I’m not naming my kid after a hockey player, Jack,“ you laughed, putting your swollen feet up on the coffee table.
“Why not? It’s a cool name,“ he said, a grin breaking across his face. He paused, his eyes dropping to your feet. And without asking, he gently grabbed your ankles and pulled them across his lap.
“You don’t have to do that, Jack,“ you whispered, your breath catching.
“I want to,“ he answered, his thumbs starting to rub slow, soothing circles into your skin. His eyes lifted, locking onto yours, the grin replaced by a soft, genuine smile. “I want to help you. With everything.“
After that, a silence fell upon the room. It wasn't a suffocating silence, but the comfortable kind, where you just stared at each other with quiet care in your eyes. For a moment, everything felt exactly the way it was supposed to be.
Until the baby kicked hard enough to show through your shirt, making you quietly yelp.
“Is everything okay?“ Jack asked with panic in his voice.
“Yeah, he’s just fussy today,“ you said, reaching down and grabbing his wrist. Putting his palm flat on your belly.
Jack just stared at his own hand, then looked up at you when he felt the kick against his skin for himself. His eyes were wild, with an overwhelming emotion. You could see the tears starting to form.
“Oh my God,“ he whispered, not playing it cool anymore. He wasn’t scared of his own vulnerability anymore. He just held his hand there, feeling his child move, his eyes never leaving yours.
Jack knew he fell hard. But he never expected this to be the moment he realized just how much.
He was in the middle of a practice when the coach called him over, walking with an urgency toward the rink. By now, everyone on the team knew about you; it had been impossible to keep it a secret, especially with your due date coming up. Jack was anxious more and more with every passing day.
“She’s in labor, her mother just called. They’re on their way to the hospital right now.“
That was all Jack needed to hear. He frantically skated off the ice, practically running down the tunnel toward the locker room. He threw his gear off in a record time and quickly got to his car, breaking a few speed limits on his way to the hospital.
When he pushed the door to your room open, he found you with your back to him, sitting on a ball and breathing heavily through a contraction. Quietly, he crossed the room and stepped up behind you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders.
“Hi.“
“I hate you,“ you whispered softly, tilting your head backwards, resting it against his chest. Your eyes were shut, trying to forget about the pain. “But I’m glad you’re here. I wanna lay down.“
“Yeah, let me help you.“
The birth went by a blur. Just hours of pushing and Jack never leaving your side. He held your hand so tightly his knuckles turned white, whispering sweet encouragement he could think of. Trying to keep you distracted as much as he could.
And then, the room filled with a beautiful sound.
The cries of his son.
Jack let out a breathless laugh, his eyes drifting from the tiny, crying baby in the doctor’s hands back to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead.
“You did it,“ he choked out, his voice cracking with an emotion. “He’s here. You’re amazing.“
You gave him a weak, exhausted smile, your eyes closing. You were tired, all your energy went into birthing your son. All you wanted was to sleep.
“Just a bit more, we need to get the placenta out, “ the doctor said. “One more push.“
You tried, but then the dizziness hit you. The monitor beside the bed suddenly changed rhythm. The numbers dropping, fast.
“I can’t,“ you cried out with the last ounce of energy.
“We’re losing her,“ the nurse called out, the calm in her voice was no longer there and Jack’s smile vanished. His hand still holding yours, when it suddenly went limp.
“What’s happening?“ He asked. “Why is she so pale?“
“Jack,“ you whispered. The room was starting to fade into darkness. You couldn't keep your eyes open anymore. Your head dropping to the side, your hand slipping from his.
“Hey, stay with me!“ Jack said with urgency, his heart wanting to break free from his chest. “Look at me. Open your eyes.“
The room was starting to get busy, more nurses rushed in, followed by another doctor. The peaceful delivery room turned into a battlefield.
“Sir, you need to step back,“ a firm hand gripped Jack’s shoulder, dragging him away from the bed.
“No, I need to stay with her.“ Jack fought back, his eyes locking on your pale face as the doctors began working to stop the bleeding. “She needs me!“
“Mr. Hughes, we need to save her life. Out of the room!“
Before he could process the words, the door slammed shut in his face. He collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor and bringing his knees up.
The hospital hallway was quiet, a contrast to the battle going on on the other side of the door.
Jack was convinced the time in the hallway was going slower than usual as he sat on the cold floor, head buried in his hands. He didn’t know how much time had passed when the door finally opened.
He quickly scrambled to his feet as the doctor stepped out, looking tired, pulling the mask down her face. She gave him a small, reassuring smile.
“She’s stable, Mr. Hughes, completely out of danger. Go on in, she asked for you. And there’s someone new waiting for you too.“
A sobbing laugh escaped Jack’s lips. You were okay. Stepping inside the room, he noticed the chaos was over. The monitor was back to its soft hum. And then, he saw you.
You were sitting with a bunch of pillows supporting you, still looking pale and exhausted, but your eyes were open. His gaze shifted down, noticing your finger wrapped in one much smaller one.
Jack stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Seeing the two of you together, safe and alive, completely shattered his composure. He walked over to the side of your bed with slow steps, his eyes glistening with tears.
“Hi, there,“ you said, your voice raspy.
Jack didn’t say anything at first. Just sinking into the chair next to your bed, leaning his forehead against the mattress, his shoulders shaking as he finally let out the sob.
“It’s okay,“ you murmured, reaching out to lace your fingers through his hair. Gently, you turned his head to the side so you could look into his eyes. His face was wet with tears as he looked at you. “We’re okay, Jack.“
“I thought I lost you,“ he whispered. “I was so scared I would never get the chance to tell you.“
“Tell me what?“ You softly asked, brushing the hair away from his eyes. Jack sat up, holding your hand in his. He looked at the baby in your arms and then back up at you.
“That I love you. I love you so much. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m so sorry it took me this long to say it.“
“I know,“ you said, a small smile playing on your lips. “I love you too, Jack. Do you want to hold your son?“
“Yeah,“ Jack breathed out, adjusting his posture as you handed him the tiny baby. The tough hockey guy persona was gone, instead, you saw a father staring lovingly and with care at his son.
“He looks just like you,“ you said, watching him carefully caress the baby’s head.
“Poor kid.“
ufff, i think this is the longest fic I have ever written, hope yall enjoyed!
jack hughes x situationship!reader. she’s so skeptical to be in a relationship because she knows the reputation with athletes. jack is so down bad for her that he grovels and spends weeks doing whatever she wants until she finally says yes to being his gf
More than the Game
paring: Jack Hughes x situationship!reader
description: You're hesitant to commit to Jack despite his obvious devotion to you.
TW: Fluff, some angst.
masterlist
The text message lights up your phone screen and you can't help the small smile that forms on your lips despite your best efforts to remain neutral.
Just saw a dog that looks exactly like that one we saw in Hoboken. Think he misses us.
You type back quickly. Us? Or just me?
The response is almost immediate. Definitely you. I'm just the sidekick in this story.
Your heart does that stupid little flutter it always does when Jack texts you. It's been three months since you met, three months of late-night conversations, casual coffee dates and him showing up at your apartment with takeout when he knew you'd had a bad day. Three months of him trying to convince you that he's serious about you.
"You're still texting him?" Your roommate appears in your doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "I thought you were cutting him off."
"I am," you lie, locking your phone and tossing it onto your bed. "Just letting him down easy."
"Right," she says, unconvinced. "Because that's what 'I'll bring your favorite Thai food over at 8' sounds like."
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "It's complicated."
"No, it's not," she counters, entering your room and perching on the edge of your desk chair. "He's a hockey player. You know what that means. They have a different girl in every city."
"He's not like that," you defend, then immediately regret it. "I mean, that's what they're all like. I know about the reputation."
"Then why are you still talking to him?" she asks softly. "Why do you light up like a Christmas tree every time his name comes up?"
Because he's different, you want to say. Because he remembers small details about you that even your closest friends forget. Because he looks at you like you're the only person in the room, even when you're surrounded by hundreds of people.
Instead you just say, "It's just fun. Casual. That's all I want."
But even as the words leave your mouth, you know they're not true. Not anymore.
The next day you're at work when your phone buzzes with a message from Jack.
Emergency situation. Need your expertise.
You frown, typing back, What kind of emergency?
The existential kind, he replies. I'm trying to decide between two different versions of the same hockey stick and my entire future depends on this decision.
You can't help but laugh at his dramatics. I'm sure your future will survive either way. Go with the black one. It's classic.
Knew you would say that. Already ordered it in black, he responds. Also ordered lunch for you. Should be there in 20.
Your heart does that flutter again. "Damn it," you mutter to yourself, just as your coworker pokes her head into your office.
"Lunch from Jack again?" she asks with a knowing smirk.
"It's just a friendly gesture," you insist, though you both know it's more than that.
"Right," she says, completely unconvinced. "Friendly gestures don't usually come with handwritten notes asking if you're free for dinner on Friday."
You grab the bag from the delivery guy, your eyes immediately finding the folded note tucked inside. I know you said you're busy, but I was hoping we could grab dinner? Just as friends, of course. Unless you want to be more than friends. In that case, definitely not as friends. - J
You're still smiling like an idiot when your phone buzzes again. This time, it's a picture of Jack holding up two different ties, one black and one navy.
Which one says 'I'm desperately trying to impress someone who won't give me the time of day' but in a cool, non-needy way?
You bite your lip, typing back, The navy one. It brings out your eyes.
Already wearing it, he replies instantly. See you at 7?
Against your better judgment, you find yourself typing, See you at 7.
As you're getting ready, your roommate appears in your doorway again. "You're going out with him?"
"It's just dinner," you say, applying mascara with careful precision. "As friends."
"Right," she says. "Friends don't wear dresses like that to dinner with other friends."
You glance down at the little black dress you chose. "It's comfortable."
"It's stunning," she corrects. "And you know it."
Before you can respond, there's a knock at your door. Your roommate raises an eyebrow. "He's early."
"He's punctual," you defend.
When you open the door, Jack is standing there, looking unfairly handsome in the navy tie you chose, a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. "These are for you," he says, offering them to you. "I remembered you said you liked them better than roses because they look like they're trying to escape."
You take the flowers, touched that he remembered such a small detail from a conversation weeks ago. "Thank you. They're beautiful."
"Not as beautiful as you," he says and the sincerity in his voice makes your cheeks flush.
Dinner is perfect. He takes you to a small Italian place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the kind of place that feels like a secret. He asks about your day, about your dreams, about the book you're currently reading. He listens to everything you say, his eyes fixed on yours as if you're the only person in the world.
"I don't understand," you find yourself saying over dessert. "Why are you trying so hard?"
Jack sets down his fork, his expression suddenly very serious. "Because I like you. A lot. And I know you're skeptical about me, about hockey players in general. And I get it. I really do."
"But?" you prompt, though you're not sure you want to hear the answer.
"But I'm not like the stereotype makes us out to be," he says, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I'm not just looking for something casual. I'm not trying to add another notch to my belt or whatever ridiculous metaphor people use."
"So what are you looking for?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
"You," he says simply. "Just you. As much of you as you're willing to give me."
Your heart aches with the sincerity in his voice. "Jack, I..."
"I know," he interrupts gently. "You're not ready. And that's okay. I can wait."
The next few weeks he doesn't pressure you for more than you're willing to give. He shows up at your apartment with your favorite coffee on mornings he knows you have early meetings. He leaves tickets to Devils games on your desk when he knows you've had a bad week. He texts you pictures of dogs that look like the one from Hoboken, always with some ridiculous caption that makes you laugh.
One evening as you're curled up on your couch watching a movie, there's a knock at your door. It's Jack, looking exhausted but happy with a pizza box in hand.
"Long practice?" you ask, letting him in.
"The longest," he agrees, setting the pizza on your coffee table. "But I brought reinforcements."
You sit together on the couch, eating pizza and watching the movie with his arm draped casually over your shoulders. It feels comfortable, natural, like you've been doing this forever.
"I was thinking," he says during a quiet moment in the movie. "My family is having a barbecue next weekend. In Michigan. I'd really like it if you came with me."
You freeze. "Jack, that's… that's a big step."
"I know," he says, turning to face you fully. "But I'm serious about this. About us. And I want them to meet the girl who's been making me happier than I've ever been."
Tears well in your eyes at his words. "I'm scared," you admit quietly. "I'm scared of getting hurt. Of being just another girl in a long line of girls."
"You're not," he says firmly, taking your hands in his. "You're not just another anything. You're it for me."
You look at him, really look at him. At the sincerity in his eyes and the hopefulness in his expression and suddenly you're tired of being scared. Tired of holding back, of denying yourself something that could be wonderful because of what might happen.
"Okay," you say softly.
"Okay?" he asks, his eyes widening slightly. "Okay, you'll come to the barbecue? Or okay, something else?"
"Okay, I'll be your girlfriend," you clarify, a smile spreading across your face as his expression shifts from hopeful to ecstatic.
"Really?" he asks, as if he can't quite believe it. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure," you confirm. "But if you hurt me, I'll make your life a living hell."
Jack laughs, pulling you into his arms. "Fair enough. But I won't. I promise."
synopsis: jack hughes might be america's sweetheart, but he was yours first. or: six times jack showed you he loved you with everything in his big heart
part two
WARNINGS: very cute, fluffy
a/n: first jack ff!!! can't wait till hes back playing w the team 🖤
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01.
Jack knows you can't skate. You leave the athletics to him, always have and always will.
So, why on God's green earth does he send you a voice message telling you there's a family skate on Friday??
You had three days to mentally prepare for peak mortal embarassment and you spent every second of it both praying it'd go well and side-eyeing your audacious boyfriend.
When Friday rolls around, you're reluctant to get out of bed. A text from Jack saying, "Morning, love. Open the door..surprise! 😘" pushed you to finally get up.
When you open the door, you are met with a food deliveryman.
"Uhh, for Jack Hughes?", he says, obviously confused by a woman opening the door.
"Yeah, sorry, he ordered for me. Thanks!", you say with a smile and a nod.
When you come inside, you giggle (against your own will...you're technically still 'mad' at Jack) and tear into the paper bag. You stop in your over-excited tracks.
You're favorite chai from that niche little shop that's too expensive for you to justify getting more than once a month and a lemon poppyseed babka meet your eyes.
You scramble to get to your phone to thank your boyfriend.
Instead you see a phone call notification. "G'morning, love. Big day", he teases.
"Thank you for the treats, but you're still on thin ice, pal", you tease back.
"Nah, ice won't be thin later. I told you it's at 12, right?"
"Ugh, yeah you did. Am I driving there?", you question.
He scoffs. "Hell no. Just be ready at 11:30, baby", he responds.
"Alright, Mr. Hughes. Have fun at your meeting", you tease. "Yeah, yeah", he replies before he hangs up.
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02.
Before you know it, it's 12. The very dreaded family skate time.
You drag your feet in the parking lot to the sound of Jack's obnoxious laughter.
You insist they don't have your shoe size and that oh no, looks like you can't participate! Then, Jack informs you he had your skate set aside to ensure there was no backing out possible on your end.
After twenty minutes of you at your worst, Jack has laced your skates and your hand is gripping his like he's the only thing keeping you on the ice. Forget gravity, ya know?
"Jack, you can't let me go, okay? I'll slip a-and break my neck or something and you'll be single forever", you desperately mutter.
"Single forever?", he laughs through his question.
"Uh, yeah. Because if I die on this ice, I'll haunt you and this stadium forever. Good lucky trying to find a new girl when I'm haunting you, bud", you monologue.
You hadn't realize you were already skating by the time you stopped talking. Someway, somehow Jack had started moving the two of you along without you noticing.
"Good skating, Yn", Luke yells from across the ice.
"Huh? Oh- Jack! I told you to warn me before we started moving", you say through deep inhales.
"If I'd told you, we'd still be standing still. It's not too bad, huh?"
You hated to admit you were wrong, but it really wasn't all that bad.
"No, BUT, you better stay by my side, Hughes."
"Whatever you want, princess."
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03.
The "problem" with Jack Hughes is he's sweet. Too sweet.
He'd been on a roadie for two weeks. Without you realizing it, you two had established a roadie tradition.
He gets home, you two unwind together on the couch, and like clockwork he reveals his souvenir.
Tonight is no different.
"Jacky? Wine or coke?", you yell to the living room.
"Whatever you want, Yn!", he responds. So, you bring both.
"How was the roadie? I mean, I watched all the games I could but how was it for you?", you ask.
"Not awful, but too long. I swear, these roadies just get harder the older I get", he chuckles.
"You gonna start talking about the good old days now, Jacky?", you joke.
Mid-laugh he sits up straight like he just remembered something ultra important. He jumps up and runs to his backpack. You laugh, finding him absolutely and ridiculously adorable.
He comes back into the living room with his hands behind his back. "Close your eyes, baby", he tells you.
You go along with his antics and cover your eyes with your hands.
"Okay, you can open 'em now", he says.
You almost melt at the sight of him with a keychain in his hands. Not just any keychain, but a Jellycat twin marshmallow keychain.
"What's this?", you ask happily.
"For you. I found it at this place near the New York stadium and thought of you. You like these things right?", he asked, looking for your approval.
"I'd like anything you got me, you know that", you say before settling into his chest.
"It's us", he says without explantion. You look up at him, confused at what he's talking about.
"The marshmallows. You're the pink one, though", he explains.
You look up at him and realize that he's it. The mystical one for you. You'd found him at 24 and now at 26, he's just as sweet as he was on the first date.
You kiss his face till he's laughing so hard you worry he'll never stop laughing.
"Thank you, babe", you finally mutter into his chest. In response, you get a kiss on your forhead.
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04.
Jack's not picky with his food. But, before you, he had a set food schedule with no place for budging.
You, though, are a self-proclaimed foodie and have taken to making Jack into one too.
Case-in-point, today.
Luke's home (surprisingly, since he seems to dash when ever Jack gets mushy with you, which is always) and everyone's hungry.
You have the deck of take-out menus on the table in front of you as Luke settles in on the end of the couch. It's between Thai and Mongolian tonight, unbeknowst to the youngest Hughes brother.
"Spaghetti sounds good, no?", he asks you.
Suddenly, Jack appears behind your spot on the couch. "Wednesdays are 'Adventure Days'", Jack says like that explains everything.
Luke looks to you for explanation before you say, "Jack always wanted Italian or burgers and I always wanted to try something new. We settled on Wednesdays being my day to pick and Fridays being his."
As you speak, you feel Jack's warm gaze on you and he pecks your cheek before he sits down on the couch. Luke can sense the lovey-dovey of it all starting up again and leaves you both with a grunt and a murmur about chicken satay.
All Luke could think about as he walked back to his room was "He would've let me get my pasta back then. At least, he's happy.."
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05.
There's never any quiet at a Hughes family function. There's barely space, let alone silence.
Yet, you thrive at these. Birthdays, anniversaries, you name it, you love being with the Hugheses.
It's easy to figure out why. Your own family is small and you honestly don't spend much time together. Once your brother moved out, you quickly followed suit and moved away the year after. If you all see each other once a year, that's a lot.
On the other hand, the Hughes can't live without each other. Of course, Jack and Luke live together so you see Luke daily. But, Quinn and the boys' parents aren't ever too far away.
Today is their cousin Emma's birthday. You'd come prepared with a gift set from Sol de Janeiro and a makeup brush set. Having talked to her a few times you thought she'd liked these.
When Jack picked you up, he told you that you didn't have to get him a birthday present much less his cousin. You swatted him away and told him that was complete and utter nonsense. "Everyone deserves to feel special on their day, Jacky", you insisted.
Once you both got inside, it was hugs and smiles all around. You were immediately split up when Ellen caught sight of you and before you knew it she was telling you a childhood story in which Jack lost a tooth playing mini sticks. Jim then saw you with his wife and whisked you away to the kitchen to set you up a plate. Before you even got to eat your second bite, Quinn walked up to you and asked for some advice regarding his girlfriend. Not last and certainly not least, Luke dared you to play mini sticks against the little kids.
Jack next saw you when you got scored on by a toddler. He laughed at you, caught ahold of your sweater and lightly spun you around to be face-to-face with him. "Ms. Ln? Is that you?"
"Ha ha", you drily replied.
"Having fun?", he asked into the crown of your head.
"Yeah. I love your family. Everyone's so...warm", you confess.
"They love you. Mom's always asking how you are and Dad's always telling me you're a keeper. Y'know, even Quinn told me he's never seen me this happy?"
Your eyes water at the realization that the people who had begun to feel like family to you had long ago adopted you into theirs.
"What about Luke?", you ask in the wateriest voice Jack's ever heard come from you.
"Pfft, he loves to act like he hates how mushy you've made me. But, the other night" he says before looking around to make sure Luke can't hear him before he continues, "he said he hopes I marry you. Apparently, you're the coolest girlfriend I've ever had."
At this admission, you hug Jack just a little tighter.
You've never had anyone, much less your boyfriend, be so upfront about how much you matter to them. You think you could get used to it.
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06.
It's your company's end-of-year Christmas party and it's the first time Jack's been able to attend one with you. Being on IR has its perks!
You're all dressed up and you're putting on the finishing touches. Touch of gloss, heels, and perfume.
"Pictures?", Jack asks.
He knows the drill after years of being with you.
You don't love getting so fancy too often so when you do you like to take advantage of it with a good dozen or so pictures.
"Yeah, please", you smile up at him.
Suddenly, he's doing faux exercises to prepare for the big task of being your photographer. You giggle and hand him your phone.
"Okay. 1,2,3. Yeah, now smile softly. Hm, spin? Yeah! What about with the purse now? Okay, that's 25 pictures", he finishes.
As you look through them all, you realize Jack's come a long way from that guy who used to take blurry pictures of you and insisted he could "see you perfectly" in them.
You kiss him on the cheek and get a hold of his hand.
"I love you, sweetheart", you say as he locks up behind him.
"Love you more. Y'know that, right?"
You nod, knowing that feeling more loved by him was virtually impossible.
what was supposed to be a normal hockey game goes wrong when you and your boyfriend’s older brother, quinn, get chosen for a spontaneous kiss cam in between periods.
parings jack hughes x fem!reader (feat. quinn hughes) warnings fluff, pregnant!reader, established relationship wc 2.9k note first non smut fic, not sure how will i can write fluff-ish works so feel free to leave feedback <3
your boyfriends brother, quinn, was hyperaware of every slight movement you made.
he wasn’t shy in the way he glanced over at you with every small twitch you made with his eyes wide and full with worry. it was almost cute how attentive the older man was to you, how prepared he was to drop everything if something happened to you.
the first two times you shifted on spot he didn’t say anything and instead opted to scan your face, his body language as encouraging and patient as usual. he knew that you knew that he’d help you with anything, so he wanted to wait for you to come to him.
he knew how much him, jack, and luke have been hovering around you recently, he truly did– but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. not when jack wasn’t pressed against your side with his hand wrapped around your waist. so with jack on the ice and away from you quinn felt somewhat responsible for your wellbeing.
you’ve been dating his younger brother for years, having been with him long before jack started playing professionally. and during those years you’ve inevitably gotten closer to his entire family, quinn included. even with the distance that usually separated him for you and jack, he still didn’t stop caring any less.
now that he was visiting new jersey before the summer break, having ended his season a few days earlier, he was able to take care of you in place of his brother during the few games he was able to attend. and today, for some reason, he felt more anxious about everything concerning you.
so when you only tossed him a small smile– one that admittedly looked genuine, he still felt his heart twist in his chest. because even with the distance, he knew you. which explained why he didn’t waste a second to stand up from his seat, his palm coming down to rest against your shoulder to catch your attention.
and when you looked up at the taller boy with a slightly confused expression he gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes glancing down from your eyes, to your jersey-cladded stomach, and back up. “do you want a burger or pizza?” he knew better than to suggest a hot dog, knowing you far too well to know that you’d never choose to eat one in your current state.
and at the mention of food your eyes lit up, a big smile stretching across your lips– which made quinn mentally pat himself on the back for his small but meaningful gesture. but right before you were about to answer you were suddenly reminded about the dinner plans you made with his family after the game, and you dimmed. you knew quinn wouldn’t judge you for eating– but still, you didn’t want to take the chance.
instead of you asked him for a popcorn and diet coke, your happy tone masking the hunger that was brewing in your stomach. and at your words he nodded, his eyes briefly looking up from you and down to the bench where he could see his little brother’s head tilting up towards them.
and it seemed that you too noticed the way jack was looking up at your section because your smile returned and your hand shot up with a big wave– one that pulled a laugh out of quinn and the rest of his family sitting beside you.
after jack got back on the ice quinn began asking everyone else if they wanted anything, ellen opting for the same as you before passing a small wink your way. and when quinn was about to turn his back to begin his descent to the stairs, he saw you shiver from the corner of his eye.
and without hesitation he shrugged off his jacked and wrapped it around your shoulders, his hands gentle as he tugged it over your arms to rest against your chest. he looked over at his mom who was watching the exchange with a proud smile and asked her if she had any spare gloves– which she helped you put on without any issue.
before quinn left you quickly wrapped your hand around his wrist. not enough to pull him, but enough to catch his attention. “thank you, quinny.” your voice carried hints of thankfulness within its usual warmth, “it’s no problem, you’re family.” he, once again, shot you a toothy smile before he nodded his head at his mom.
the entire time quinn was gone you were sat with your head pressed against ellen’s shoulder, her toque-cladded head resting on top of yours whilst both of your eyes followed the puck get passed around om the ice.
one of your arms was through hers– tight enough to feel her body tense every time the other team had possession of the puck. it was when the first period ended and all the players were already off the ice when quinn returned back to his seat with all the food.
within seconds of returning he was already passing you your requested snacks, to which you accepted with a thankful nod. quinn waited for you to take a sip of your drink before he gave you another two things. pizza and a burger, just the way you liked them.
“quinn…” you trailed off with an emotion heavy tone, your eyes filling with water (which you’ll later blame on your hormones). he shrugged as if he didn’t almost just make you break down in front of your boyfriend's fans. “you were hungry and dinner is still a few hours away.”
you slightly pouted at his words, your expression still softened as you looked at all the food on your lap. “i won’t be able to eat this all…” and once again, he shrugged. “that’s fine. eat as much as you can and if you don’t finish then we can figure something out later.”
after giving his mom her food he sat back down beside you, his arm slightly knocking against yours. he himself chose to buy a gatorade, having eaten before the game.
and instead of talking to ellen again you decided to talk to quinn instead– not that she minded, she was already deep in a conversation with jim. and even though quinn wasn’t very good at small talk he was more than happy to entertain you, the conversation coming easy due to how well you knew each other.
but due to your conversation, you both weren’t paying attention to what was happening around you– both of your arms pressed together as you showed him a few outfits you were planning on buying for your baby. and for that reason, you didn’t see your faces plastered on the big jumbotron with a red heart overlay and big pink cursive letters that read ‘KISS CAM’.
but both of your heads swung over to look at ellen when she let out a loud gasp, her hand resting over her mouth in shock. quinn was the first one to follow her eyes, and that’s when he froze in his seat with his mouth ajar.
but when you finally looked up to what they were both staring at a loud unbelievable scoff left your lips. it was humourous really. you thought everyone knew that you were dating jack, having been public about it your entire lives. but after seeing the camera zoomed in on your and quinn’s faces, you were proven wrong.
the arena practically shook due to how loud the fans were screaming, the floor vibrating beneath your feet due to the increased volume. you could barely hear the voices of the fans sitting near you, barely making out their scandalized whispers.
at first you thought it was a mistake but when the camera stayed on you for another minute you changed your mind. and after both you and quinn shook out of your shock you shared an amused smile, your eyes open in mirroring disbelief.
but instead of kissing him, which was obviously never a choice, you decided to twist on your seat so your side was facing the camera. and quinn, catching what you were doing, let out a loud laugh and reached over to help you lower his jacket far enough for his brother's number to show.
but instead of moving to different people after the number reveal the camera only zoomed in on the 86 before it zoomed out far enough for both of your faces, and his moms, to be shown.
“they really won’t give up?” ellen whispered in your ear with her arm wrapping back around yours, her eyes still looking up at the jumbotron that now showed her too. in response you just shrugged with a small giggle, “i guess not.”
both you and ellen watched as quinn made an X with his arms, shaking his head in disapproval. you slightly flinched in shock when ellen suddenly shot forward in her seat, “jack is watching.“ she pointed her hand towards the players tunnel.
once again the arena filled with cheers when the camera finally shifted. and lo and behold, your boyfriend was standing with his back towards the camera as he was visibly upset and arguing with one of the staff members that had a camera around their neck.
but when he looked up towards the screen again and saw himself he turned to nod in approval at the staff member, only to pivot on his feet and walk back out the tunnel. he was there for approximately two minutes– for good reason.
and it wasn’t until after the game, which was the second last of the season, when you finally had a chance to talk to jack again. the second he walked out of the arena’s doors, since it was safer for you to wait outside due to the little secret you were hiding, he rushed over towards you– dropping his bag on the ground near your feet in order to pull your body into his.
his cheek pressed against your hair as he let out a long exhale, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled your body as close to his as possible. he pulled away as his hands slipped down your torso to drum against your skin beneath your many layers. and when he felt your slightly cold skin, he circled his thumbs against your hip bones.
he looked between both of your eyes for a few seconds, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks with every prolonged blink. he didn’t care about his family standing around the two of you, nor the way his brother's jacket was wrapped around your body. not when it was the only thing that helped the camera miss the small swell of your belly.
“if it wasn’t for the jacket they could’ve seen you.” jack’s stress was evident in his voice, his vowels coming out far too strained to be brushed off as normal. and your heartbeat fastened in your chest as his implications. because to be honest, you didn’t even think of the way your stomach would be more obvious due to you sitting down. before being put on the screen you didn’t have to worry about the fans seeing it because of the oversized jersey you chose to wear for the intention of hiding your body.
“oh… i’m sorry, jack. i didn’t even think about it-“ jack moved one of his hands up to rub against your hair, his expression melting into a more understanding one and he consoled you with small hums. “it’s okay, they should’ve known better than to show you for that crap anyways.”
he brushed a few strands of your hair behind your ear before he gently grabbed your chin in his hand to tilt your head up towards him. he lent down to press a sweet kiss against your puckered lips, his eyes closing with a small, barely audible sigh.
after pulling away he gently stepped beside you and pulled you to press against his side with his arm shifting away from your face to grab the bag that was at his feet. he kept one arm around your waist as he began guiding you to his car– quinn, luke, and his parents heading towards luke’s car.
jack knew he wanted for thank his brother for taking care of you and his unborn baby, having seen the way quinn took care of you from the ice, but right now you were his top priority. he’ll talk to his brother later at dinner, after he knew you were safe and out of the public’s view.
“i can’t believe they thought i was dating quinn.” you saw jack’s jaw clench when he reached forward to open your door for you. he dropped his bag on the ground to help you sit in the car knowing that you admittedly found it a bit harder to get into now that your stomach was bigger.
at first he didn’t respond to your statement. instead, he just bent down into the car to press another kiss against your lips before laying a singular one on your cheek.
it wasn’t until he was pulling out of the parking lot, having gone through a different exit to avoid the fans waiting for him, when he made the move to press his hand against your belly between quinn’s unzipped jacket.
he glanced at you before looking back at the road, his other hand clenching around the wheel as he recalled your words, “i guess i’ll have to show them which brother you’re actually with, hm?”
a smile pulled at his lips when you let out a small giggle, one of your hands moving to rest against his. you let his words linger as you intertwined your fingers with his before you shifted them down to rest on your lap.
“and how will you do that?” you teased your boyfriend with a small smile, your other hand wrapping around the other side of his hand to fidget with his fingertips.
jack’s smile turned into a smirk when he shot you a suggestive look, his eyebrows raising in the way you loved. “m’not sure yet.” you both knew he was lying but you didn’t care enough to say anything about it.
and by the next morning jack already a post of the two of you up and pinned on his instagram. the caption was short and sweet, ‘my girls’ with two red hearts and your username. but your lips still pulled up into a shameless smile when you clocked the photo he chose to post.
it was a recent one, taken last week during a particularly cold april night. jack was sat comfortably on a loveseat that you’d forced him to push in front of the fireplace. and you were perched all pretty on his lap with his lips pressed against your neck, both of you glowing with what could only be love.
but what really stood out in the photo was the way his palm was pressed flat against your slightly rounded stomach, his hand looking like it belonged there– and it did. not quinn’s, but his.
your eyes glanced away from the phone clutched in your hand when you felt jack shift around in the bed with his hand gravitating towards your side in an attempt to feel your skin against his.
you knew better than anyone how angsty he’s been lately when he couldn’t feel your body pressed up against his when he woke up. perhaps it was due to how protective he was over both you and your baby growing in your stomach, but you weren’t complaining.
instead, you just leaned into it with a small amused sigh– your hand carelessly discarding your phone somewhere on the bed. because there’s nowhere you’d rather be than wrapped tight in jack’s sleepy embrace with one of his hands rubbing soft circles around your stomach.
“g’morning, baby.” jack slurred with his normal morning voice, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “morning, jacky.” you replied just as quietly before you gently twisted around in his arms so you were facing him instead, his hand falling to rest against your lower back.
you pressed a small peck against his lips, to which he blindly chased when you pulled back. a cute, sleepy giggle let your lips before you leaned forward to give him another one, this one lasting slightly longer than the former. a small hum left his chest at your affection and his cheeks bloomed a bright pink, which you noticed right away. it didn’t matter how many years passed between the two of you, jack always blushed after every innocent kiss you shared.
and then you both fell back asleep knowing that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. the day can wait a few more minutes, all you needed right now was your boyfriend. and so you buried yourself closer into him, your hand moving up to comb through his hair whilst his warm cheek nestled against your neck.
and while you were both peacefully dozing off in a hypnagogic state, the rest of the world was wide awake. at the same time your fingers halted in his hair, the articles came pouring out, each one highlighting exactly what jack wanted.
and overnight everyone became aware that it wasn’t just an announcement, but also a subtle display of possession– his way of showing everyone that you chose him. and that no matter how many times you pop up on a jumbotron, you’ll only ever kiss him.
the flower brothers - quinn hughes x soon-to-be-wife!reader , jack / luke hughes x soon-to-be-sister!reader
word count:
summary: At their wedding, Quinn and the reader expect a beautiful, emotional ceremony — but Jack and Luke, serving as the most chaotic flower girls/best men in history, completely derail the aisle with dramatic petal-throwing, theatrical bows, and loud declarations of love. The reader nearly ruins her makeup trying not to cry-laugh, and Quinn can’t keep it together either. What starts as chaos turns into the perfect icebreaker, calming the reader’s nerves and making the ceremony feel authentically “them.” At the reception, she thanks Jack and Luke for easing her anxiety, and everyone agrees the drama was excessive… but they wouldn’t have had it any other way. [ inspired by this tiktok
warnings: fluff overload • secondhand embarrassment (mainly by Quinn ) • chaotic sibling energy • mild wedding-day anxiety
The music was soft. Strings and piano, delicate and romantic, the kind of song that made people sit a little straighter and blink away tears before anything had even happened. The venue glowed in warm light, white florals lining the aisle, candles flickering gently like the entire room had agreed to behave.
That lasted exactly three seconds.
The doors opened, and Jack burst through them like he had been shot out of a cannon.
Luke followed two steps behind, already mid–dramatic gasp, clutching a woven basket overflowing with rose petals like it was a sacred offering.
Instead of the expected gentle scatter, like a normal flower girl would do, Jack grabbed a full fist of petals and absolutely launched them into the air with the commitment of someone taking a playoff shot.
They didn’t fall prettily.
They exploded.
Petals rained down on guests, stuck in hair, landed in champagne flutes. Someone in the second row wheezed laughing.
“MAKE WAY FOR LOVE!” Jack announced at full volume.
Luke looked personally offended by the lack of reverence in the room. “She deserves a path worthy of a queen,” he declared dramatically, before proceeding to toss petals one by one in exaggerated slow motion like he was starring in a period romance.
Jack spun. Literally spun. His suit jacket flared out, and he added a little bow at the end of the aisle like he’d just completed a Broadway number.
Luke, not to be outdone, began walking like he was in a funeral procession, except instead of grief he radiated theatrical intensity. He paused halfway down the aisle to wipe a fake tear and whisper loudly, “This is my new sister.”
The guests were gone. Completely gone. Any attempt at quiet composure dissolved into laughter and phones being raised to record.
Behind them, you were shaking.
Not from nerves anymore — though you had been. Minutes before the doors opened, your hands had been ice cold. Your heart had been pounding so loudly you were sure someone could hear it. You had been terrified of tripping, of crying too much, of smudging the makeup you and your makeup artist had painstakingly perfected.
Now your biggest threat was losing control entirely.
You stepped forward when it was your cue, bouquet trembling slightly because you were trying so hard not to laugh that your shoulders kept jerking. You bit the inside of your cheek. You inhaled slowly. You tried to look serene.
Jack looked back at you mid-stride and, seeing your expression, dropped into the deepest, most dramatic curtsey known to man.
Luke gasped like he had just witnessed true love for the first time and threw the rest of his petals straight into the air in one grand, chaotic finale.
The entire aisle disappeared under floating pink and white.
You made a sound — half laugh, half choked sob — and covered it by pretending to adjust your veil. Tears pooled in your eyes, not emotional yet, just pure laughter. Waterproof mascara could only do so much against this level of assault.
You started walking, carefully, trying to breathe normally. Every few steps you glanced down to avoid eye contact with the two of them because you knew if you looked at their faces you would absolutely lose it. Of course, Jack chose that moment to blow you a kiss. Luke clutched his chest like he was overcome (dude was literally clutching his pearls).
By the time you were halfway down the aisle, your face hurt from holding in laughter.
And then you looked up.
Quinn was standing at the end of it all, hands clasped in front of him, suit tailored perfectly, hair neat for once. He had been laughing at his brothers — everyone had — but the second his eyes landed on you, something shifted. His expression softened. The chaos blurred. It was just you.
And that did not help.
Because now you were laughing and emotional.
When you finally reached him, petals stuck in your hair and probably your lashes, he leaned in slightly, voice low enough that only you could hear. “They were supposed to be calm.”
You squeezed his hands, trying to steady yourself. “You said they could improvise.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “That was a mistake.”
From somewhere behind you, Jack shouted, “WE HEARD THAT.”
The guests erupted again.
You and Quinn both broke. Not polite wedding smiles. Not quiet giggles. Real laughter. The kind that makes your eyes water and your shoulders shake. He leaned his forehead briefly against yours like he needed a second to collect himself.
“They’re so dramatic,” you whispered.
He smirked. “They get it from me.”
Jack made an offended noise. Luke whispered, “We are artists,” as if deeply wounded.
You shook your head, still smiling, and looked back at Quinn. There were tears in his eyes now too — not from laughter this time. Something softer. Something steady. “This is exactly how this was always going to go,” he murmured.
You nodded. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Me either,” he said, squeezing your hands like that was a promise.
The rest of the ceremony carried on with small bursts of stifled laughter every time a stray petal floated down from someone’s shoulder.
-
By the time the reception rolled around, the story had already been retold at least twenty times. Jack and Luke were reenacting their aisle performance for anyone who would listen, complete with slow-motion demonstrations and exaggerated bows. Someone had found a leftover handful of petals near the sweetheart table and immediately handed them back to Jack like ammunition.
You finally pulled them aside near the edge of the dance floor while music pulsed in the background. They both froze when you approached, expressions suspiciously guilty.
“…Are we in trouble?” Luke asked carefully.
You shook your head, your smile softer now, less chaotic. “I was so nervous before I walked out,” you admitted. “Like, couldn’t breathe nervous. And then you two did that and I forgot everything. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was just laughing.”
Jack blinked. Luke’s shoulders dropped.
“Wait, really?” Jack asked.
You nodded. “You made it feel like us. Like family. Not some big perfect scary thing. It was just… ours.”
Luke hugged you first, tight and warm. Jack joined immediately, squishing you between them. “We had one job,” Jack said dramatically. “Protect the bride.”
“Through chaos,” Luke added solemnly.
“Through chaos,” you agreed.
Quinn walked over a second later, wrapping an arm around your waist from behind and resting his chin briefly on your shoulder. “They were ridiculous,” he said.
“Extremely,” you replied.
Jack put a hand over his heart. “The disrespect on our big day.”
Quinn met your eyes over their shoulders, smiling in that quiet way that felt private even in a crowded room. “But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
You leaned back into him, the noise of the reception fading just slightly around the four of you. “Me either.” You whispered back, leaning in for the 100th kiss you two had probably shared that night.
