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bbrissonn · 14 days

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𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which you lay alone in your bed at night wondering where your relationship with the young star went wrong

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

HUGH DISCLAIMER: this fic doesnt have a clear ending. i literally have no motivation to continue this, but i cannot find it in myself to start my next work for this album until this one is out. so yeah, sorry about that :)

warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread

pairing: jack hughes x reader

wc: 2.6k (including lyrics)

guts masterlist

Cat got my tongue

And I don’t think I get along with anyone

Blood runnin’ cold

I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke

And I hate all my clothes

Feels like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones

So I guess I should go

The party’s done, and I’m no fun, I know, I know

I know, I know

Ever since you had moved to New York in early 2022, it felt like it had been living a lie. Like this life you were living wasn’t yours, like you had just stolen it from someone. Growing up, you had always been homeschooled, meaning your social life was slime to none. So, it was safe to say that when you chose to move to New York for a job your mom’s friend had offered you, you were scared.

You only had two real friends, who you barely ever saw because of their busy scheduled with school before, and even more now since you three were all over the country doing your own things. Luckily for you, there was a girl only 2-3 years older than you at your job, meaning you had someone to talk to if you felt the need. After a month of two, the two of you became friends, growing ever closer when you realized you lived in apartment blocks next to each other.

Which is how you found yourself at a bar on a saturday night in October of that year. Mailey had convinced you to come with her, claiming the two of you needed to decompress from your busy week at work. You rolled your eyes at first, but agreed none the less. Ever since this summer, you found yourself starting to go out more, joining Mailey and her friends every once in a while. Only this time was so much different than the others.

There was a big group of maybe 20ish guys, age ranging from young adults to full grown men, taking up most of the place. The two of you were confused, seeing as this bar barely ever had people coming in, and it was mainly the same people coming here every week. So, a group of random guys neither of them had seen around before certainly peeked your interest.

“What do you think they’re doing here?” You asked as the two of you sat down at your usual spot. The group occupying the opposite side of the room.

“Don’t know. But they’re not buying that cheap booze.” Mailey mumbled, her eyes focused on the insane amount of liquor at the couple of tables they were occupying. The two of you eventually started forgetting about them, talking about random things that happened throughout the week.

“Not to freak you out, but there’s a guy that keeps looking at you. A cute guy.” The girl across from you said after about an hour of the two of you being there. You furred your brows slightly at her words, before turning your head in their direction. That’s when you met his eyes for the first time. He had a slight grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy next to him was saying. You sent him a small smile, waving slightly, which he answered with a nod.

“More like hot guy.” You mumbled, looking back over at your best friend. You had had a couple of flings here and there, but nothing ever serious, and you were never used to getting boys’ attention on a night out.

“He’s going to the bar. Go talk to him.” Mailey announced, making you turn your head to look at him. At the same time, he looked over at your table, sending you a small wink when your eyes met.

“Rich coming from someone who always says girls don’t chase, they attract.” You teased, making her roll her eyes. You eventually decided to go up to him later that night, talking for a bit before exchanging numbers. Jack, you learned his name was, didn’t seem to want to get into talking about his group of friend too much, so you kept all your questions to yourself.

Over the next couple of weeks, the two of you got to know each other. Your friendship slowly formed and the two of you grew closer each other. But, clearly Jack was still holding back on some stuff. He still refused to open up about his friends and what he does as a living exactly. You told yourself that he’d tell you when he was ready, but you were getting a little impatient, which is why you pretty much forced the answer out of him when you went over to his apartment one day.

“When are you gonna tell me?” You asked, pausing the show the two of you were watching. Your words made him look over at you, a confused expression on his face as his eyes met yours.

“What do you mean?”

“When are you gonna tell me truth, Jack. If that’s even your name.” You sassed, making the boy next to you let out a deep sigh as he threw his head back.

“D’you wanna see my birth certificate?” He answered coldly, making you scoff. “What I do doesn’t matter, Y/N, so just drop it.”

“If it doesn’t matter than why won’t you tell me, Jack? You know pretty much everything about me and my life, and barely know anything from yours. God, you won’t even tell me the names of your brothers!”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I like you, Jack! And… and I though you liked me back, but clearly I was wrong.” You admitted, standing up from your spot on the couch as you started packing up your things. “Just forget it.” You mumbled as you started making your way to the door. You were stopped right as you were about to grab onto the doornob.

“Y/N, wait!” He said, grabbing your wrist and turning you around before you could leave. “I like you too, Y/N, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but I didn’t want what I do in life to influence how you see me. I’ve had way too many people use me and I didn’t want that to happen again because I really like you.”

“Jack, I made it clear hundreds of that time that I what you do in life wouldn’t change the way I see you, but you kept hiding from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” You explained with a scoff. The boy in front of you sighed before cupping your face in his head, his forehead leaning against yours.

“I know, I know, I should’ve told you a long time ago. But what we have, it’s really special to me, and it’s so good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You’d have to be a serial killer for me to change my mind about how I feel, Jack.”

“Stay. Please. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t leave me, please.” He begged, his thumbs rubbing small circles under your eyes. You swallowed harshly before slightly nodding your head yes. Jack then brough the two of you back to his couch, and he stuck to his promise. He started going on and on about his life, starting with the fact that he played hockey for the Devils. Then he moved on to telling you pretty much every single memory he had about the sport, a wide grin plastered on his face.

In exchange, you opened up to him about some of the insecurities you had because you were homeschooled, including having to attened big parties and being surrounded by large crowds. Jack had promised that was something he would never put your through, but you quickly learned that his promise meant nothing to him.

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell

I told secrets I shouldn’t tell

I stumbled over all my words

I made it weird, I made it worse

Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide

It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die

It’s social suicide

It had now been three months since Jack asked you out. You had met his brother Luke when the boy came to visit, talked to his parents through face time a while ago, but you had yet to met his friends. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it did. He didn’t want you attending his games either, claiming he didn’t want people to hate on you because you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t help but overthink the fact that maybe it was just because you were his girlfriend.

You had seen pictures of the other players wives and girlfriends, and you looked nothing like them. They all seemed so outgoing and the life of the party. Not to mention all of the models Jack followed, all of them being the exact opposite of you. You had questioned him about it one night, he just scoffed and said you were being petty and pathetic asking him a question like that.

“J?” You called out. His arms were wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mm?”

“When am I gonna meet your friends?” You asked quietly, making the boy sigh harshly against the back of your neck.

“Got to sleep, Y/N.” He mumbled.

“Could you at least answer me?”

“I don’t know, okay? Your weird fear of crowds or whatever makes it impossible for you to meet them all at the same time, and I’m not gonna go through the burden of setting up little dates with my teammates just so you can meet them. Can I sleep now, mother?” He answered harshly as his arms left your frame and he turned around, his back to yours. You felt tears prikle in your eyes at his words.

“I can handle it.” Your voice was low, not trusting your voice not to crack if you talked any louder. Jack let yet another sigh at your words.

“We’re getting together after the game tomorrow, come if you want.”

“To your game?” You asked hopeful. You were growing tired of just watching him play through your TV screen, when he was close to your home.

“No. After.” And just like that, all your hope was crushed.

“What should I wear?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He grumbled, getting out of bed making your head snap towards him as he approached the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Guest room. I need peace and you keep talking.” Was the last thing he said before leaving the room. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, no text no notes, nothing. He didn’t come back for his pregame nap either, which scared you a little. But all your nerves went away when his face appeared on your Instagram feed, a bright smile on his face as the picture the Devils posted illuminated your screen.

All of your texts to Jack had gone unanswered, as well as your calls. Thankfully, you knew where the team would be heading after the game, it was a local bar near the rink they went to almost every time after a game. You had gotten there a lot later than everyone, spending thirty minutes in your car deciding whether or not Jack would still want you there. You figured there was only one way to find out so in you went.

The place was crowded, the music loud as the bartenders prepared multiple drinks. Realistically, there wasn’t that many people here, just the team and a couple other regulars, it was just a really small room. It took you a couple of minutes to spot Jack, who was sitting at a table with a couple of his friends and lots of girls. You tried to look as confident as possible as you made your way over to him. Some of his friends and their partners started at you, wondering what someone like you was doing here.

“Jack?” You called out as you stood behind him. His arm was resting on the chair of a pretty blond girl next to him. You couldn’t quite describe the look in his eyes when his head turned to face you, but the words he was about to say completely crushed you.

“Do I know you?” He questioned, and you could feel your heart shatter inside of you. You tried your best to keep a brave face on, but you were dying on the inside.

“J, come one, this isn’t funny. I’ve been texting and calling all day, you were gone when I woke up this morning.” You mumbled, taking a step closer to him. The girl on his right could read you perfectly, and she realized that you two were a couple. When it clicked in her mind, she sent the boy a judging look before standing from her seat and walking back to her friends.

Jack got up right after her, gripping your wrist and dragging you outside the bar. “What’re you doing here?” He asked harshly once the two of you stood outside alone.

“No! What are you doing, Jack?”

“I’m enjoying a night with my buddys!”

“Yeah, the friends you said I could meet. Tonight!”

“When did I say that?” His words were harsh and rude, making your heart shatter even more. You truly did not understand why he always acted this way towards you lately, but you were growing tired of it.

“Last night! You said I could come if I wanted to, and I want to be here, so here I am. And here you are, with your arm around another girl!” You said, your tone matching his. You were tired of letting him walk over you all the time.

“I said that so you would shut up and leave me alone. God, you’re always just complaining about everything and anything. It’s like nothing’s ever enough for you, you always need more–”

“Oh, nothing’s enough for me? What about you, huh? Am I not enough for you?”

“There you go, making it about you like always.”

“Because this is about me, Jack! I am your girlfriend of three months, and I don’t know any of your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed to be with me. Do your friends even know about me?” You asked. There were tears in the back of your eyes threatening to spill, but you blinked them away. You had cried enough over him for the last couple of weeks. The boy in front of you stayed silent at your question, making you scoff.

“Of course they don’t know, just like your brother’s weren’t suppose to know, or your parents. You don’t want anyone to know that your girlfriend is me.” You spoke with your voice low. This exact though had been in the back of your mind for a long time, but saying it out loud made it feel so much more real.

“Things were better before you knew–”

“They were better for you! You lied to me for weeks, and you’re still lying. All you do is lie, Jack. I can’t believe I waisted so much time and energy on you. You never wanted this relationship, did you? You just wanted someone to fuck whenever you needed, someone to be there for you. You didn’t care who it was, you neved cared about me. You’re pathetic, seriously.” You mumbled before pushing past the hockey player and walking to your car.

You were done with Jack Hughes.

#bri writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes angst #new jersey devils #guts series

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subspaceskater · 2 years

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just another slime girl saturday!

#myart #slimegirl #slime girl #jade

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aimwigs · 2 months

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i love ur dadwig writings sm 🤧

THANK YOU!!!! you sent this a while ago but here's a little more ft middle aged lud dealing with teenagers

“Mr. Ahgren, we’re calling because your daughter has been suspended and we need you to come to the school to meet with the dean regarding her behavior.”

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shit.

“I’ll be right there,” he says before asking for any details. Unfortunately, he doesn’t need them.

During the drive over, he ponders what the fuck Lucy could have done to get suspended. She’s always been pretty spirited and combined with ADHD that they’re struggling to get formally diagnosed due to this stupid notion that girls don’t get it as much, the school hasn't let them forget how much of a distraction she is in the classroom, with afternoon and Saturday detentions for shit as simple as repeated tardies and cracking jokes that aren’t quite appropriate for school. He blames himself for the latter, honestly, because it’s something he would do.

Still, he has no fucking clue what she would do to warrant getting suspended. You have to do some serious shit to get suspended, and nothing Lucy has done has ever warranted even a warning about that.

Except, when he meets QT at the school and they find Ryan’s best friend, Marie, sitting outside the office with her parents with an ice pack on her face and tissues shoved up her nose, they seem to realize in unison that this is not what either of them fucking expected at all.

“They should have told us the specifics,” QT hisses as she knocks on the door to the office, a look of panic in her eyes. “I’m not fucking prepared for this shit!”

The door opens, revealing the dean standing there with a grim look on his face and Ryan sitting in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over her chest and gaze firmly fixed toward the window.

“Thank you for coming so quickly.”

He shakes each of their hands and they do introductions before sitting down with Ryan between them. Since Ludwig is sitting closer to the window, he can see now that her eyes are rimmed in red. He knocks their knees together and gives her a half-hearted smile in an attempt to cheer her up, earning a glare from QT. Right. She punched another girl in the face.

The story they’re told is very one-sided. Apparently, Ryan came up to Marie during the passing period and decked her so hard that she broke her nose. Lucky for Marie, the nurse was able to realign it and she probably won’t need surgery. Lucky for Ryan, Marie and her parents aren’t pressing charges.

The dean doesn’t explain any reason for why the fight might have happened, which makes sense because Ryan hasn’t opened her mouth once since she got here. He has a feeling that she wasn’t feeling particularly talkative before and if Marie did do something to warrant getting punched, it’s not like she’d going to speak up and tell people she deserved it.

The dean tells them that she’s lucky she didn’t get expelled and that if it weren’t for her impeccable record, there would be more than a two-week suspension on the table. He also reminds them that while UC Berkeley probably won’t rescind her admission, another offense like this one may make them reconsider. At that last part, Ryan does bristle a bit.

The dean offers to reduce her suspension to a week if she apologizes to Marie but she tilts her chin defiantly and keeps her mouth shut. Ludwig wishes that she would at least have it in her to lie for her own good.

When they leave the office, QT is fucking fuming. Rightfully so, honestly. She tells her that she she needs to control her temper and try to maintain some level of peace, and reminds her that neither of them can help her if she doesn’t tell them anything. She reaches out for her car keys and says that she and Slime will pick it up tonight and that she’ll be going home with Ludwig today since she has meetings this afternoon. Then she kisses the top of her head and tells her that she loves her for good measure.

They walk toward the car in silence and he ponders what approach to take with this. He’s been a parent for more than 18 years now and he still has no fucking clue what he’s doing. His instinct is always to be nice but it’s definitely not fair to make QT the bad guy when this is a serious fucking situation that probably necessitates a firm hand.

“You’re lucky they didn’t press charges,” he finally says as he pulls his car out of the school parking lot. “You’re an adult, Ryan. You could go to jail.”

Just like that, the levee breaks and she starts sobbing, face falling into her hands as she tries to turn away from him.

He winces a little as he glances over at her, reaching out to pat her arm lightly. He can’t be firm about this if she’s crying. To be fair, he thinks that QT would probably soften up if she was here too.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

“No.”

He sighs. “Ryan, your mom is right. There’s nothing we can do for you if you don’t tell us what happened.”

She wipes at her face with her arm but still doesn’t meet his eyes. “There’s nothing you can do for me anyway.”

Even though she’s probably right, he could at least provide some comfort. “Let me try?”

Ryan lets out a bitter laugh. “If you can go back in time and stop Marie from kissing Damian behind my back then sure, I guess you can help.”

He frowns. Damian is Ryan’s boyfriend of three months whom every single adult in her life has been pretending not to hate the entire time. He’s rude, ditches her constantly, and in Slime’s words is “a serious fucking rat but not in a based way.” Even Aiden can’t stand him, and he’s Aiden. So him cheating isn’t exactly surprising. It being with Ryan’s best friend since kindergarten is.

“Did she kiss him or did he kiss her?”

The glare she gives him is enough to tell him that the distinction isn’t something that matters.

He nods. “Well, that’s a shitty thing to do but the reaction isn’t appropriate. You two have been tight since you were five. You should have tried to talk it out, even if she fucking sucks for doing that to you. I hope you dumped Damian, by the way.”

“Obviously, I fucking dumped him,” she crosses her arms and turns toward the window. “I don’t regret punching her, though. She’s a fucking bitch.”

Considering that she knowingly kissed his daughter’s boyfriend, he isn’t totally inclined to disagree even though she’s previously been a pretty nice girl.

“That doesn’t mean you resort to violence.” This he firmly believes. Sue him, he’s always been a lover and a forgiver, even if that makes him naïve.

“I knew you wouldn’t get it, considering you used to fuck around on Mom.”

He’s so taken aback that he nearly slams on the brakes in the middle of the highway. That’s out of fucking nowhere and not strictly true, though not strictly false either. Shit was complicated in his twenties, and he never slept with anyone but her then.

“Did she tell you that?” Her saying that about him would be completely out of character. Weirdly enough, he feels like he has a better relationship with QT now than he did when they were dating.

Ryan scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Your life is public record, Dad. Everyone knows that you were kissing your current husband when you were still with Mom because you said it.”

“That was different,” he tells her even though he knows that isn’t the complete truth. He knew he liked kissing Aiden and he knew QT didn’t like it, he was just convincing himself it was fine because it didn’t really mean anything even though it clearly did, based on the gold band wrapped around his finger.

“I’m sure.”

He pauses for a moment, taking in her line of logic. “Do you think it would have helped anything if your mom punched Aiden in the face for kissing me instead of having a conversation with me about it?”

She shrugs. “Maybe it would have saved her a few years.”

“You and your sister literally would not be alive,” he reminds her, knowing that she can’t argue otherwise. “And considering that your mom seems to love you guys a lot, I doubt she thinks of our time together as a total waste.”

Ryan slumps down in her seat and doesn’t reply.

“Look, kid, I’m not exactly proud of how that went down. Your mom and I had a massive fight over it and I was inadvertently leading Aiden on when I wasn’t ready to be with him yet. I fucked up. But all three of us get along pretty damn well today, and I guarantee you that a violent altercation would probably mean that our lives look very different now for a lot of reasons. You’re right when you say your mom would probably be easier to talk about this shit because I know she keyed some girl’s car for the same reason but I also know she regrets it. Using your words is always the best option to sort out this kind of thing and if that’s not working, you get the fuck out of there.”

She inhales sharply. “I just don’t get why she’d fucking kiss him.”

“I don’t either. But maybe you should ask her. Fuck, if she doesn’t regret it already, she will. You guys are best fucking friends. Don’t let some fucking loser boy ruin that for you.”

“But what if I love him?”

Ludwig grips the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Well, you could try talking things out with him too.” He can’t keep his tone from becoming stilted despite being pretty damn practiced at controlling his reactions in front of an audience.

Ryan smiles slightly. “I’m messing with you, Dad. I was gonna dump him after prom anyway. He only ever talks about himself. Guess I’ll just have to find a new date now. Honestly, I was more pissed at Marie for the principle of it than caring about Damian himself. Is that dumb?”

“That’s not dumb. She betrayed your trust.” He meets her eyes through the mirror. “But that doesn’t mean that you punch her in the face.”

She snorts. “Got it, Dad.”

“You’ll talk to her?”

“I’ll talk to her,” she promises. “But I’m not fucking apologizing until she does.”

He laughs. “That sounds fair enough.”

And maybe parenting teenagers is about twice as hard as parenting younger kids but he thinks that he handled this pretty well, especially a few weeks later, when he has the privilege of taking pictures of her and Marie side by side at prom, whatever beef between them squashed.

#wrote this on my phone in a haze today waiting for my PI to be available for a meeting all day #dadwig #ludwig #my fic #answered #anxietyriddenblue

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maconthepen · 7 months

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I used to work in a bookshop.

It was a new one, and I was hired before it opened. For weeks, I was surrounded by the smell of paint and sawdust as we got the place ready for opening. When its doors revealed it to everyone else for the first time, we gave a free book to the first customer and I remembered thinking, I can't wait until this place smells of paper instead of tireless renovation.

By the time I left, it did.

Most of my colleagues just wanted a “real job”: a nine-to-five and a salary with benefits, somewhere far from a new and characterless shopping centre in low-income area of our city. I couldn’t judge them for that; I wanted one, too. I wanted job security, and I wanted not to work until midnight on Christmas Eve, slinging David Williams and Roald Dahl and Jojo Moyes at disorganised fathers and husbands with stress veins pulsing at their temples.

And then I got a “real” job, and I realised working in a bookshop was the realest job I’d ever had.

Here are the things I remember:

The peace of the nature and travel section. We had an armchair there for the adventurers and gardeners who wanted a quiet moment in their day.

The mum who thanked me for choosing the right book, for helping her child to read something for the first time in years.

The little girl who talked my ear off for half an hour after school about the Murder Most Unladylike books.

Talking to authors, and hearing — seeing, too — their unspooling, magic passion about the worlds they’d created.

The growth of our accessible kids book section from one shelf to half a bookcase, though that hardly seemed enough. The joy of a little boy who had dyslexia and could finally read the book his friends were reading.

Saturday mornings in 2018. Slime was really popular and we had to shield our books with tarp, while the kids who made their own ran around with blue-purple-glitter-stained fingers.

The teenager who came in by herself every day with scuffed shoes and a heavy backpack. Each afternoon, she would read a chapter of a book with the utmost care. When she put it back on the shelf, there were no dog-ears. There were no coffee stains, no spinal damage, no sign she'd been there at all. We were that girl's local library. The day I realised that, I started taking the book she was reading off the shelf until the next day when school was out again.

Most of all, I remember the people. My friends with beautiful Celtic names who laughed with me as we shelved and shelved, and I remember Jack, a man with a booming laugh who'd always give me a lift home and who put kippers in the fucking microwave that made the break room stink for a week.

He played the bagpipes at my wedding.

I applied for another bookseller position today, half a world away in a place where literacy rates are high and the people buy the newest Barbara Kingsolver when it's in hardback and still priced over thirty dollars. If I get the job, I'm sure I'll love it. And I do want it. I want to return to saying the alphabet under my breath as I deal with a new delivery and fill the gaps in the shelves, exactly one book wide. I want to see streams of customers walking away with whole worlds in their hands, and in the off season when there isn't anything to do, I want to tuck my own book underneath the counter and read it surreptitiously.

But there's a grief about me too, today. I will never have my old life again. I will never again have that job I took for granted with those people I cherished.

I wish I loved it more when it was mine, but all I can do is make sure I love whatever comes next, too.

Anyway, here's to books.

#my writing #original writing #books #bookselling

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