#> fias 600 celly! ★ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fiapartridge · 2 months

Note

🌊 Luke Hughes is a need. congrats on 600!!!

now that we don't talk | luke hughes

"you part the crowd like the red sea, don't even get me started" - taylor swift, now that we don't talk

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: growing up, luke was your best friend, but now all he felt like was a stranger.

warning(s): drinking, unrequited love

fia's notes 💌: aaa thank u! i closed my celly last week but i wanna finish all of the requests that i didn't get to before it ended! italics are the past, normal is the present !

You met Luke when you were ten. He had moved in next door and you were elated. You had never seen any kid your age on the street where you lived, so seeing the Hughes family unloading the white moving truck with big brown boxes, you quickly offered to help.

You met Jack first. He said you were tinier than a peanut and proceeded to pat your head and tussle your hair when Quinn walked over, scolding the younger boy for bothering you in the first place. Quinn felt mature to you, already someone you felt like you could trust with anything. You never had an older brother, or siblings in general, so the two boys felt somewhat like a safe haven.

But the moment you saw Luke, you swore the wind started blowing harder, his walk was in a time-bending slow-motion, and the blue birds started to sing in their place in the trees. He was perfect and you, as much as you believed that boys were icky and gross (and definitely containing cooties), you were in love. Earth-shattering, mind-numbing, heart-stopping love.

“Lukey, get over here!” Jack yelled, waving the curly-headed boy over to the moving truck where the three of you stood.

Growing flushed, you watched as Luke ducked under Jack’s arm, avoiding his daily ‘noogie’--- especially now that there was a girl in the vicinity. Scratching the back of his neck, he let out an awkward laugh. “I’m Luke.”

You wanted to ask for his favorite color, music artist, movie, tv show—you wanted to learn everything about him. But for now, you smiled softly, allowing the pink bubbles in your stomach to float up and into your cheeks as you nodded, saying, “I’m Y/N.”

The inside of the house was loud, lights flashing across every wall and red Solo cups trashed the floor. You had hesitated saying yes to your friends’ invite to this party, wanting so badly to just put on a face mask and watch YouTube videos in the safety of your apartment, but after realizing you hadn’t spent a night out in weeks, you agreed. So now, here you were, holding hands with your best friend in a skirt so short you had to pull down the hem every couple of inches as you marched through the party, avoiding crashing into drunken bodies and touchy frat guys.

“Let’s get you drunk, okay?” your friend shouted as she guided you towards the kitchen of the house.

“Y/N?” you heard your name shouted from across the kitchen island as you looked up, meeting Ethan Edwards brown and piercing eyes. He looked confused, rightfully so. You hadn’t seen him in months without a single reason as to why you vanished. You just…disappeared, like you were a figment of their imaginations. But there you were, alive in the flesh.

You tried to look away, act like you didn’t hear him, but when he called you again, more eyes settling on your small frame, you knew there was no other choice but to throw on a shy smile and say, “Hey, Eth.”

Rounding the island, he pulled you into a tight hug. The moment he touched you, it was like your knees wanted to buckle in and melt into his body. You missed him—especially his hugs. Pulling away, his hands stayed on your shoulders, scared that you would run away if he didn’t. “Where have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been a couple months.”

“Still miss you. Luke does too, you know?”

“Eth,” you shook your head, clawing at his grip on your shoulders as his hands tightened. You didn’t want to talk about this. Not here and especially not now.

“He never told me what happened, but whatever he did, he was stupid, okay? And—”

“It’s okay,” you smiled weakly. “I’m over it. I’ve just been…busy,” you shrugged as if anything that came out of your mouth was remotely the truth.

He chose not to push you, knowing that if he did, you would probably be halfway across the house and towards the exit. As much as you were best friends with Luke, you were also best friends with Ethan, Mark, and Dylan. Losing Luke was losing everyone. And as much as it hurt seeing Ethan, it was nothing compared to seeing Luke.

“Luke!” someone shouted from the next room over. Ethan could feel you tense under his hands as you instinctively looked over your shoulder, immediately seeing him. It was like your eyes gravitated towards him no matter where he was. If Luke was in a Where’s Waldo book, you’d finish all the pages in less than 10 seconds.

He parted the crowd easily as partygoers stepped back upon his large steps and tall stature. He was known at the University of Michigan along with the rest of his family. Girls wanted to be with him, guys wanted to be his friend, professors passed him in every class just so he could play hockey. You could feel his presence in every room; it was loud and shook the walls like some sort of earthquake. You felt it in your heart and your stomach, in your legs and your chest. Luke just had that effect on people.

And when he entered the room, merely feet from you, it was like you were nothing, unrecognizable, because just as your eyes followed him everywhere, to him, you were nowhere to be found. Well, to be found, he would have to look first. But the thing was, Luke stopped looking. All you were to him was a stranger.

You were teenagers when your feelings for him began to grow more real than you had imagined them to be. You were sitting on a lounge chair in Luke’s backyard, swaddled in a blue beach towel as Luke’s curly wet hair dripped onto your exposed legs. You loved night swims and Luke loved seeing you happy. He didn’t love the cool night air and the frigid pool temperature against his pale skin, but any time spent with you was time well spent.

Your legs were in criss-cross-apple-sauce as Luke mirrored you on the other side of the chair.

“You know Brad Richards is taking Trisha Thompson to prom?” you asked. You didn’t even know they knew each other. You swore she was still dating Noah Turner, her boyfriend, well, now ex boyfriend, of three years. It made you wonder how people were just okay with going with someone they barely even knew. You went with Luke every year for every dance: homecoming, the winter ball, the spring fling, prom—everything.

And everytime he asked you, it felt like you two were real. Like he was your boyfriend and you were his girlfriend and everything was right in the world. And for a quick moment, you let yourself believe it. On nights like these, he was yours.

“Didn’t they start talking, like last week?” he responded, playing with the string of your bathing suit bottom.

“Yeah. Insane, right?”

“Super insane.”

You chewed your bottom lip, clawing at the fabric of the towel as you stared at your hands. “Are you going to prom?” He hadn’t asked yet and you were scared that he was going to take someone else; that your tradition of going together was over; that he grew up and got over you.

But he smiled, yelled for Jack and Quinn, and your face lit up. The two came outside with a big white cake with strawberries and blueberries and raspberries sprinkled over the top. There were light pink candles spread over the crown of the cake, and Ellen ran to Luke with a big white poster. Unrolling the paper, he held up a sign, saying, “They should call you sugar, you’re so sweet. But can I call you my date to prom?”

He dropped the poster as you threw your arms around him, whispering an excited ‘yes’ into his ears.

“You’ll go with me?” he asked, smiling. He knew you would say yes. You did every time, but he liked making you feel special. You deserved that and more.

“There’s no one else I’d rather go with.”

He walked past you and you swore you would have broken down right there. You felt suffocated, like the walls were closing in on you. You looked around, trying to find your friends but they were nowhere to be found. You were surrounded by Luke, Luke, Luke. Every turn you made, you swore you could see him ignoring you, acting like you were nothing.

But he saw you. You were the first person in that whole entire party that he saw. To be honest, he wasn’t going to even show up. He was ready to do a couple laps on the treadmill, take a shower, eat some dinner, and head to bed, but when he got a text from his teammates, telling him that you were there, he knew he had to go. He knew you weren’t going to talk to him after what he did to you, but you were still his person, and he still had to make sure you were safe.

You were at a New Years Eve party at UMich, one that Luke had invited you to. You were so excited, you thought tonight was the night. You were going to get that New Year's kiss, he was going to be your boyfriend, and you would be his girlfriend, and everything would be right in the world, something you had dreamed of since you were ten years old; since the moment you met him. You put on your best sparkly black dress, threw on some makeup, spritzed yourself with the perfume you knew he liked most, tossed on some very uncomfortable high heels, and found yourself at the party.

He was there the second you opened the door, handing you a beer upon arrival. Mark pulled you into a hug and Dylan begged you to play beer pong with him against Ethan and Luca. You agreed after sending a small smile to Luke, silently asking if it was okay.

He nodded. “I’ll be right here, okay?” he whispered in your ear as Dylan held your wrist, dragging you to the table.

You played until you sunk the ball in the last of Ethan’s and Luca’s cups, jumping into Dylan’s arms as you pranced around the table, rubbing it in the losers’ faces. You loved this feeling. With them, you felt loved, you felt excited, and electric. You never wanted that night to end.

And before you knew it, the countdown was beginning.

10…9…Dylan pushed you to the stairs, knowing you were on your way to Luke. Ethan and the rest of the boys sent each other knowing looks as you rolled your eyes, trying not to fall over as you made your way to the stairs of the house.

8…7…You knew the house like the back of your hand. You knew which bathroom to use when the rest were busy, which laundry room was strictly used for barf stains, and most importantly, which room was Luke’s.

6…5…You marched down the hall, seeing Luke’s room only a little ways away. Couples were already cuddled up against the walls, kissing before the countdown had even ended. For some reason, it made you even more excited. You were only 5 seconds away from kissing the love of your life.

4…3…Reaching his door, your hand held the knob as you pushed it open. And you swore you felt your heart plummet to the floor. Luke was there, he was right there, kissing a girl that wasn’t you. And you knew you shouldn’t be mad. He wasn’t yours. But some part of you, some big part of you, really believed he was.

2…1… “Y/N?” Luke pulled away from the girl as you stood at the door, your hand still on the knob. You were frozen. You didn’t know whether to run or cry. Did you even deserve to cry? It’s not like you guys were dating or anything. But sometimes it felt like it. And maybe he was like how everyone said he was. Maybe Luke Hughes was a fuck boy; a player.

“Happy New Year’s!” you heard everyone in the house shout as Luke replaced those words with shouts of your name. You ran. You turned around and ran down the hall, down the stairs, and past the boys. You ran outside, calling an Uber to get you, and take you away from this hell hole. You were embarrassed. You were so embarrassed. Everyone could see that you were in love with him; that you wanted that kiss to be with you. Ethan had rooted for you, Dylan had rooted for you, everyone had. But it didn’t matter if you knew his favorite color, his biggest fears, what he stored on the topshelf of his dresser. It didn’t matter if there was a picture of you on his bedside table, or that you went to every high school dance together, or if you held a Luke Hughes hoodie stash back at your dorm. Because in the end, you still weren’t enough for him.

“Y/N!” you didn’t turn around. You knew who it was based on just the sound of his voice alone. You knew it was Luke, but you were tired of being delusional and embarrassing yourself time and time again. “I didn’t mean to kiss her.”

You watched the unmoving street in front of you as if something extraordinary was going to happen. You couldn’t look at him, because surely you would have broken down the moment you were met with those green eyes.

“Y/N, please,” his hand landed on your shoulder as you blinked rapidly, trapping your tears within the walls of your eyes. You won’t let them slip. You won’t let him see you cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Luke. It was just a kiss.”

“It upset you—”

“I’m just tired,” you said harshly. “I just want to go home.”

“I’ll walk you, we can talk about this, and- and—”

You finally turned to him. He looked stressed, like he knew he was losing you, and he knew why but he was too afraid to admit it. Or maybe he was embarrassed. He knew you liked him, but the thing was, he didn’t feel that way for you. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much his friends pushed him to, his parents and siblings. You were his best friend and that’s all you ever were to him.

“I’m not mad. Whatever I felt for you, it’s okay, I think I’m done feeling that way.”

And just when he wanted to ask you what you meant by that, you hopped in the Uber that pulled up to the curb, closed the door, and drove away. You ignored his calls after that. You ignored his texts, his friends’ texts, his brothers’ texts. You were going to get over him, because just as much as it hurt to ice him out, it hurt even more to pretend to just be friends with him.

So he watched you at the party as you downed beers and danced with guys you’ve never spoken to before. He watched you play beer pong with your new friends and kiss people that he so badly wanted to keep you away from.

All he could do was watch, now that you don’t talk.

#> fias 600 celly! ★#luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes angst #new jersey devils #nj devils imagine #nj devils #njd

275 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 2 months

Note

hii 💌 with macklin celebrini and his celebrity crush! reader ?? teehee 🤭🤭

macklin celebrini x hughes!sister

summary: when a video on the bu hockey instagram blows up, you finally match the name to the most perfect face.

fia's notes: i love mack so much. he's my fave bu boy 💌 also! happy valentine's day! 💌⭐️🍓 OH! and i made this a hughes!sister because...i wanted to... enjoy!!! <3333

Who is your celebrity crush? the whiteboard read as the boys piled off the ice and down the hall towards the locker room. Monday questions were the guys’ favorite or least favorite day depending on which guy you were asking.

Case bounded off the ice, catching the question in the corner of his eye. “Mm, Margot Robbie. One hundred percent,” he pointed at the camera, winking.

Lane Hutson was next as he stumbled down the hall, smiling once he saw the board. He hummed, standing in front of the question as he thought deeply about his answer. “Can I have multiple answers? Yes? Okay, um, I like Meghan Fox sometimes, Alex Morgan is pretty cool, Livvy Dunne definitely, Taylor Swift is a favorite, maybe Ariana Grande but she’s been iffy lately—”

Pushing him off camera, Doug laughed as he read the board. “Jesus, Lane. How many crushes do you have?”

“Hey! There’s a lot of beautiful women out there,” he smiled at the camera as Doug made a gagging noise in the background.

“Aiden!” Doug called for the boy as Aiden laid his stick on the wall and threw his hands to his hips.

“Huh?” he replied.

“Celebrity crush, go.”

Aiden chuckled before shaking his head and pointing to Macklin who was trailing behind him, oblivious to the question. “Why don't we ask Mack over here,” he beamed, grabbing his brother’s shoulders and throwing him in front of the camera. “Macky definitely has someone in mind, don’t you Mack?”

Macklin would have punched his brother square in the face if he hadn’t been standing directly in front of the camera. A light tinge of pink dusted the boy’s features as Aiden teased him for his sudden shyness.

“C’mon Mack, maybe she’ll see it!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Macklin laughed awkwardly as he raked his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well, if you don’t say it, somebody else will.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he pointed as Aiden grinned at the camera.

“Macky’s in love with Y/N Hughes!” he shouted before Macklin shoved him off camera, the video cutting off as you gaped at your screen.

The video was being sent to you by everyone you knew and every single person you didn’t know, too. Your entire feed was flooded with the boy’s reddened cheeks and awkward smile. The first few times of watching it, you felt bad that the boy was getting blasted on social media for liking you, but after a couple more rounds of watching, you went down a Macklin Celebrini rabbit hole. Your search engine was consumed with his interviews and game highlights. You researched his stats, age, birthplace, which school he was currently attending, everything.

And it didn’t hurt that he was hot and your age. I mean, you weren’t new to the hockey scene being that you grew up in a house full of stars: your dad was an assistant coach for the Boston Bruins, your mom played for the US National Team at the Women’s World Championship, your brother was the captain of the Canucks, and your remaining brothers were playing on the same team in the NHL, breaking records and setting new ones. Your entire life was hockey even though you had nothing to do with the sport in the slightest. No, you were more of a figure skater—an Olympic gold figure skater, to be exact. You were on the ice in a different, less violent way. But you still supported your family and all of their endeavors, and gratefully, they supported yours, too.

So Macklin wasn’t a total stranger. You had heard talks of the projected #1 first pick at the 2024 NHL draft, but you never cared enough to match the face to the name. It’s funny that this is how you found out—sitting on your living room couch surrounded by your protective older brothers who knew his stats like the back of their hand. And they all held a bit of resentment for him.

“He was on Team Canada,” Jack scoffed. “You should not be associating with him.”

“So was Mercer!” you retorted. “And he’s still one of your best friends!”

“He’s also my teammate, Y/N/N. I can’t really not like the guy.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to the oldest who sat on the other side of you. “Quinny?”

He shrugged. “He’s a good kid, good stats, from Vancouver so you already know he’s a Canucks fan,” he smirked. “Let it go, Jack.”

Jack turned towards Luke who sat on the coffee table directly in front of you as he held your laptop on his lap, rewatching the video. “Luke? Thoughts?”

Luke looked up, watching as the three of them stared right back at him. “He’s in college, so at least you know he’s getting an education.”

Jack chuckled. “You were in college and you still have the brain of a monkey.”

Luke stood up, throwing the laptop on the couch as you and Quinn gave each other knowing looks. “And if you went to college, you would know that monkeys are actually really smart!”

You rolled your eyes, huffing as they burned glares into each other’s souls. “Can you guys just shut up!” you shouted. “I’m going to DM him and then I am going to never ask for your guys’ opinions ever again,” you smiled, standing up from the couch and walking towards your bedroom.

“I still don’t like him!” Jack yelled from the living room.

You groaned, not even making a move to turn around and talk to him. You simply shouted from the stairs, “I don’t care!”

You started a conversation with "Macklin Celebrini"!

You: Hii!

Macklin: You saw it, didn’t you?

You: What gave it away?

Macklin: The fact that you probably didn’t know I existed until that video came out.

You: Okayy, true. BUT I enjoyed it!

Macklin: Which part? The part where I was trying not to kill my brother, or the part that became a meme of my face getting so red everyone put tomatoes all over my Instagram comments?

You: Both? To be fair, I thought your blushing was cute.

Macklin: You’re kidding.

You: Not in the slightest. :) So, when are you in Michigan next? Heard there was this super fun lake house there in the summer.

Macklin: I can’t believe this is happening.

You: You would think you would be a bit more enthusiastic.

Macklin: Believe me, my face is crazier than in the video right now, and that’s saying something.

You: I believe it. And actually, that’s just all of my burner accounts commenting on your post.

Macklin: Knew something was suspicious.

You: Oh, definitely. Also…

Macklin: Bad news? I knew this was going too well.

You: No. Just thank your brother for me.

Macklin: For what?

You: For leading me to you.

Macklin: Oh, God, I’ve gone full-on tomato.

You: 🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅!

Macklin: IT WAS YOU

#> fias 600 celly! ★#macklin celebrini blurb #macklin celebrini #macklin celebrini imagine #macklin celebrini x reader #boston university hockey #boston university #bu hockey

167 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 2 months

Note

💌can I suggest this with Jack Hughes? (Could really use maybe a comfort as reader has a panic attack?)

jack hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): panic attack, feeling suffocated

summary: waiting for jack after electric games had never been this hard before...

fia's notes 💌: hii! i've never written about panic attacks so i hope i wrote it as accurately as i could've. these things are different for everyone, so i just tried to write from my own experiences with them. if you get triggered by these things, maybe skip out on this one <3

The Prudential Center was alive with the echoes of the final horn, the crowd erupting into a thunderous roar as the game reached its end. Amidst the jubilation, you stood in the lobby, your heart racing with a different kind of intensity. You scanned the crowd anxiously, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of fans.

You had always met Jack near the locker room after games, but this time, it felt packed and crowded. You felt suffocated and tossed around like a meaningless entity.

As the noise engulfed you, panic tightened its grip around your heart. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, your chest constricting with each passing moment. You stumbled, your legs threatening to give out as the world spun around you. Pushing through heavy bodies and shouting fans, you held your shaking hands against a cool wall, turning around and sliding your back against it and down to the ground.

You couldn’t see straight, your eyes were clouded with tears, and your chest couldn’t stop heaving. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Without looking up, you heard a worried voice from above. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Nico’s voice ripped through the chaos. He bent down a little ways away from you, too scared to touch you in fear of making things worse. “Hey!” he yelled at someone you couldn’t make out. “Go get Jack right now!”

You pulled your knees tight to your chest, your forehead resting against them as you shook uncontrollably, your sobs growing more intensely. You gasped for breath, reaching for air like it was some sort of reward that you had to compete for. Still shaking and trying to calm down your body, not wanting to make a bigger scene than you already were, you didn’t notice the large hand gently placed on your knee. He sat close but not too close that you would be overwhelmed.

"It's okay, you’re okay, Y/N,” he spoke softly. "You're safe. You’re with me—Jack," he whispered, his voice a beacon of calm in the chaos of the lobby. "I'm here with you. Just focus on my voice, okay? You're okay."

Hearing his name was like seeing a small island in a raging storm. It was there, and you felt a moment of peace, but the storm was still pelting down on you as you clung to him desperately, your fingers grasping at the fabric of his hoodie as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "I-I can't... I can't breathe," you panicked.

Jack held you gently, murmuring words of reassurance as he stroked your hair in soothing circles. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “Can you breathe with me?” he asked, not getting a response back. These moments always scared Jack, and you were always scared that these episodes would be too much for him; that he would leave you because of it, but that’s not why he was scared. He was scared that he couldn’t get you out of it; that he wasn’t what you needed. Boyfriends were meant to be protectors, they were meant to keep you safe, but if he couldn’t do that, then what good was he? Despite these fears, he was always the only one that could bring you back to shore. “Come on, baby. Can you breathe with me?”

You nodded weakly, trying to focus on Jack's voice. The lobby was almost cleared out by now, just a couple stragglers left, watching the scene from a distance. The moment was sure to be blasted on the internet later, but that was the least of your problems right now. Right now, you just had to get through this, one step at a time.

With each shaky inhale, you attempted to match the rhythm of his breathing, drawing in air in sync with him. "That's it," Jack encouraged. "Just focus on your breath. In... and out...You're safe," he whispered again. “You’re with me. You always have me.”

Slowly, gradually, the frantic pace of your breathing began to ease, the tightness in your chest loosening as you followed Jack's lead. His presence beside you was a comfort, grounding you in reality amidst the whirlwind of panic threatening to consume you.

As you continued to breathe together, the panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of calm born from the safety of Jack's embrace. You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you sought refuge from the storm raging within your mind.

"Better?" Jack asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he gently brushed a stray tear from your cheek.

You nodded, your breathing steadier now, though your heart still raced with the lingering effects of the panic attack. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Jack leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Don’t thank me. I'm always here for you," he murmured.

Your lips curled up softly, your head resting against his chest as he pulled you in closer. Despite it all; despite the fears and the panic and the intensity, you were never alone. You always had Jack.

#> fias 600 celly! ★#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes angst #jack hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #njd

259 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 2 months

Note

💌 and smitty

pretty boy | will smith

will smith x fem!reader

summary: will always knows when you're sleepy...

warning(s): supa fluffy

fia's notes 💌: i love will. that's all.

The boys gathered in the living room of their apartment, playing video games on the big screen as you cuddled up into Will’s side, a blanket draped over your body as you yawned quietly.

Will softly kissed your head upon hearing your yawn. “You tired?”

You shook your head, trying to fight off sleep. You didn’t want to seem like a Debbie Downer, but it felt like your classes ran longer today and work at the cafe downtown felt busier than usual. You were exhausted to say the least, but you were never going to admit it.

But Will knew you better than anyone. You couldn’t hide a single thing from that boy. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ve got you,” he smiled, leaning you up and taking your hand in his as he rose from the couch, trailing you along with him.

You quietly said goodbye to the boys as you followed him to his bedroom, happily allowing him to take off your makeup and find you some pajamas (which consisted of a pair of his boxers and a USNTDP shirt which ran down to the top of your knees. He laughed every time he saw you in it because you were just so adorable).

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you slipped into bed with him, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around your body.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the air of the dark room.

He furrowed his brows, yawning. “For what, baby?”

“For dragging you away from the guys.”

He scoffed, holding you tighter and adjusting the blanket on you. “You’re a lot prettier than them.”

You laughed before cuddling in closer. “You’re pretty, too.”

His lips turned up. “You think so?”

You nodded despite the pitch black darkness. “The prettiest.”

#> fias 600 celly! ★#will smith x reader #will smith imagines #will smith imagine #boston college hockey #boston college #will smith hockey

178 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 3 months

Note

🥥 adam fantilli again bc tay and adam are my 2 fav things!!!!!!

STOP ADAM AND TAY R SUCH A POWERFUL COMBO AND HE IS SOOOOO YOU BELONG WITH ME CODED LIKE IK ITS SO BASIC but it's the cutest song ever and he's the cutest

and this was actually so fucking cute to write UGH I LOVEDDD THIS

His head rested on your lap, your hands raking through his hair as he vented to you about the events that took place earlier that night. “And then she said I didn't care about her. I- I mean, I didn’t mean to make her feel that way. I just–”

“Wait, so just let me get this straight. She told you to buy her a $2,000 dress, and you said no because you couldn’t afford it—understandably—and she got mad at you? I mean, Adam—”

“You’re making her seem like she’s a bad person,” he said, sitting up and taking the spot across from you on your tiny twin sized bed. You two sat in your dorm room, doing your daily talk about what Katerina, Adam’s girlfriend, did this time. And it hurt knowing that the guy you have been in love with your entire life is in love with someone else, but he was your best friend, you had no choice but to stand back and support him.

You met Adam when you were 14 when he joined his brother at Kimball Union Academy in New Hampshire. You were initially friends with Luca having met him in the library at school. He was struggling with math and every time you heard him get an equation wrong on those flimsy little flashcards, you cringed a little. So, taking it upon yourself (you were quite the confident 14-year-old), you sat down next to him, outstretched your hand, introduced yourself as his new tutor, and shooed away the poor kid who desperately thanked you for getting him out of that.

After a year of tutoring Luca, you two became inseparable, and when you heard that his younger brother was coming to play hockey for the school, you knew you had to meet him. And, most of the time, you were glad that you did, except for nights like these.

You laughed incredulously. “Adam, she got mad at you for not being able to afford an expensive dress. She’s not really the best person.”

“She might not be the best all the time—”

You scoffed, grabbing his hands and holding them in yours as you stared at him intently. “You deserve someone who is the best all the time; someone who genuinely makes you happy; who doesn’t leave you like this every single night.” You deserve me, you wanted to say, but you clamped your lips shut before your true feelings could ever manage to escape.

Huffing and dismissing your words, he pushed you to the side, laying down on the small space beside you. His hands resting behind his head, he stared at the ceiling as you kept your arms secured to your sides. Sometimes you were scared to get too close to him, afraid of what you might do in a fit of spontaneity, scared that you could ruin your entire friendship in one heated moment.

“This whole girlfriend thing is so complicated,” he murmured absentmindedly before turning to the side, facing you. “Still up for the marriage at 30 rule?”

You shook your head, breathing out a laugh. “You wanna say that when you have a girlfriend right now?”

Adam shrugged. “Just taking extra precautions.”

Rolling your eyes, you spun onto your side, looking at him dead-on. “What if I end up in a relationship and you don’t?”

“Then I’ll ruin his fucking life,” he replied, a small smile dancing on his lips. You knew he was joking, but sometimes you wished he wasn’t. You wished he saw a life where you could be the one he marries, a life where he could be happy with you, not just as an extra precaution, but because he really wanted to.

“Will Kat be at the game tomorrow?” you asked randomly, as if the question just morphed itself out of thin air. She was never there. She was always busy with something: shopping with the girls, working out with a classmate, practicing cheer drills. You were so convinced that she has never even seen Adam in his hockey gear.

You were there every game, cheering him on from the student section, pretending not to catch the disappointed expression on his face every time he realized she wasn’t there—again.

And just like time and time before, Adam with his ever present hopeful spirit, sighed and said, “Hope so.”

—

They were up 4-1.

The children of Yost screamed so loud, you were sure that the top of the building could fly off at any minute. And just as Rutger Mcgroarty scored the last and final game-winning goal, making the score 5-1, the crowd burst into another set of chants as you watched the boys jump each other on the ice. Everyone looked so happy, and for the first time, that happiness included Adam.

You waited in the lobby, ready to congratulate him and the rest of the team on the win, like you do every game. Truth be told, you loved seeing a freshly showered Adam, high off a well-deserved win. And expecting to have to find his tall figure in the crowd of students, you jumped back as he found you immediately.

The lobby was crowded, excited conversations filing into the room, leaving Adam to shout in your direction. “I saw you out there!”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You see me every time!”

He smiled, his brows furrowing simultaneously as if realizing something. In mere seconds, he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the exit. You wanted to protest, to tell him that you had to congratulate the rest of the boys, especially Luca, but Adam was holding your hand and it felt so perfect. It felt like this was your life. Adam holding your hand, pulling you to secluded spaces, spaces meant just for the two of you. It felt like it was meant to be, like you were made for this; for him.

You guys rounded the side of the building, your arms hugging your body as the snow slowly rained down on you two. The lights outside flickered dimly, but you saw his smile, and you didn’t care about anything but him. In your mind, it was just Adam, Adam, Adam.

“It’s so easy with you,” is the first thing he said. You pulled your brows together, confused as to what he meant by that. Noticing your expression, he went on. “I mean, tell me the last time you missed one of my games.”

You scoffed. “You are a conceited little shit, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “C’mon, just tell me.”

You racked your brain, trying to think back to the last time you missed one. And then, as if a lightbulb lit in your brain, you finally remembered. You think he remembered too. “We were 16, you were playing for the Chicago Steel, and I was dying from swine flu because your ass decided to make me a grilled cheese with expired butter.”

“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in defense. “I did rush to your aid after the game, though.”

“Yeah, and you agreed to get me a wet towel if I watched an hour of your game highlights,” you retorted, the conversation replacing the chills in your body with warm, happy memories.

He stuffed his cold hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Well, my point is!” he said, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“You are so stupid!”

“And that was so uncalled for!” he chuckled, tilting his head down at you. You looked like some sort of snow princess with the white flakes delicately landing on your hair. Your cute nose was red and he watched you shiver as he slipped his arms around your torso, pulling you to his chest as your arms instinctively wrapped around him. It was foreign for the two of you to be hugging, but this one felt different.

“My point is,” he restarted. “you have been to almost all of my games.”

You nodded in response, wondering where this was going. And you were even more curious when he said, “What’s my favorite color?”

With no hesitation, you responded with, “Blue.”

“Where was I born?”

“Are you really making me do an Adam Fantilli quiz? I mean, I knew your ego was high, but—”

“C’mon,” he laughed, resting his chin on your head.

You smiled. “Nobleton.”

“My real name?”

“Adamo,” you answered before taking a step back from his grasp. “She didn’t know that?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t know anything about me—not like you do.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to do this while he was with Kat. While you didn’t like her, it felt wrong to think about him like this when you felt that, maybe just maybe, he might be thinking about you in the same way. “Adam—”

“I broke up with her last night when I left your dorm.”

Your head raised, meeting his gentle gaze. You were shocked. He liked her so much, I mean, he was defending her the entire night. What happened?

Holding your hands, just as you hand done to him the night before, he took a step closer as you felt the heat radiate off of him and onto you. “You told me I deserve someone who makes me happy. I deserve someone who won’t miss a single game unless I food poisoned her, who knows me—not just surface level me—who doesn’t make me feel bad about anything. I’m convinced I have never felt bad when I’m with you. You belong with me, Y/N, and... I have only ever belonged to you."

#> fias 600 celly! ★#adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli fluff #columbus blue jackets #adam fantilli #taylor swift #hockey imagines #university of michigan #umich hockey

130 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 2 months

Note

Can I get Quinn Hughes prompt ⭐️ to the song Grave by Tate McRae?

quinn hughes x reader

summary: you could never be what quinn wanted, so you decided to be nothing at all.

fia’s notes 💌: suuuper angsty but i love this song and i love tate mcrae!! quinn’s an asshole in this tho so.. sorry!

You were tired. You were tired of waiting for Quinn to come back home, hoping that he would be there before you fell asleep. You were tired of arguing and straining your voice only to get distant nods and unfilled promises. You were just tired—of everything. Because as much as you try, and try, and try, you could never make him want you the way you wanted to be wanted.

So you downed shots and wore a skimpy red dress and let your friends drag you halfway across town without a single care in the world. Because if he could do that, then you could too.

Four shots in, your phone buzzed in your purse as you rolled your eyes at the notification. There were 30 texts and 9 missed phone calls from Quinn. You wanted to shout at him and kiss him and walk out of his life all at once. You wanted to tell him that you were done being a second choice; that boyfriends were made to love you and protect you and be there for you, but he wasn’t that in the slightest.

And the one time you decide to choose something for yourself, the one time you decide to go out instead of holing yourself in his apartment, missing another hangout with your friends, or skipping on your sister’s invites to have dinner because you had this hope—this false hope—that he would be there if you just waited, but you were done with waiting. You were done with Quinn Hughes.

Which made you almost want to laugh when you saw him barrelling through the entrance of the bar, fury lacing his veins and an angry expression that made you chuckle to yourself. He was so ridiculous. What right did he have to stomp in here and ruin your night? He has been nothing but a ghost to you these past couple of months, and for the last week, you swallowed your pride and you took it because you were just so tired.

But you were awake now and you weren’t going to make that mistake again.

Quinn’s hand gripped yours, dragging you towards the exit. “I called you all fucking night. I was worried sick about you,” he chided, though his anger faltered for a moment when he realized you weren’t walking with him.

Your feet were planted in place as you ripped your hand away from him. “You were worried sick about me?” you scoffed. He always had this way of talking that made you think he meant it. But you were delusional little you anymore. “Do you know how fucking draining it is to be with you?”

He tongue swiped his bottom lip as he held out his hand for you. “Don’t start this shit here, Y/N. We’re going.”

To Quinn’s surprise, you laughed. You laughed right in his face because— you were always just a thing to him. You held no value other than being someone that’s there for him no matter what he did. You weren't in a relationship, and he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you weren’t his love. No, you were something to rely on even when he didn’t deserve it. You were an object that did what it was told.

That was all you ever were to him.

“Admit it, Quinn, you only want me when you know you can’t have me. You didn’t care where I was, or how I was doing, or any of that. Admit it, Quinn!” you argued, shoving him lightly.

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, taking a hold of your wrist as you stepped back, tears lining your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. You’re causing a scene, we’re going home.”

You swung your arms out wide. “No! No, I’m tired of being your little puppet, because it’s the truth isn’t it?” you shook your head, your voice drawing down to a whisper as you slowly walked closer to him. “You are so pathetic, you know that? I waited every single night for you, and you never came. You gave me nothing. And I’ve been trying and trying to figure out what I did wrong, but it wasn’t me, was it, Quinn?”

He didn’t respond, too busy trying to keep his head held high with all of the wandering gazes as you pelted bullet after bullet at him. Quinn, above all, had a reputation to uphold, and this was eating him alive.

You chuckled as you watched him eye the spectators in the bar. Even when you were screaming at him and ripping your lungs out, trying to get every single emotion and every single feeling you’ve been dealing with for the past three months out, he still couldn’t pay attention to you.

“You are the problem, Quinn. In every single aspect of your life, it is you. And I hope I never have to see you again.”

#> fias 600 celly! ★#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks

124 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 3 months

Note

💌 adam fantilli????

AAA IVE BEEN ON SUCH AN ADAM HIGH ofc ofc

"Come with me," he whispered in your ear, his voice a soft melody that painted love notes on the canvas of your mind. With Adam, everything faded away. Stars lost their sparkle, the prettiest of colors were found within his eyes, and the fictional characters you knew only in the books--who treated the girl right, who never missed a beat--were right there--with Adam.

As the ocean serenaded in the background, the expansive beach lay forgotten as you furrowed your brows, lifting your head from his chest. Wrapped in his oversized UMich hoodie, you gazed at him like a lost puppy.

He loved those eyes, your smile, and the way your laughter lit up your face. That was his favorite thing, you know--- making you laugh. Just to see that smile.

He had missed that smile since moving to Ohio. At the draft, once his name was called, you felt an exhale escape your lips. You were glad that he didn't have to be across the country had he been drafted to the Ducks, but Columbus still felt so far. You missed him. You knew it, Luca knew it, your parents knew it too. You weren't you without him, and knowingly, he wasn't Adam without you.

You furrowed your brows. "Where?"

He grinned softly. "Columbus? I just bought an apartment there. My bed is extra big," he teased, "and I hate being away from you."

"I hate it too," you whispered.

Drawing you closer, he enveloped you in his arms, your head finding solace on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair. His heart raced with the fear of rejection, afraid that moving in together might strain your relationship; that you might not want it--want him.

But then you said, "Okay," so softly that Adam wondered if he had imagined it.

"Okay?" he asked.

“Okay.”

In a surge of joy, he swept you up into his arms, showering kisses all over your face as you giggled, simultaneously pushing him away and pulling him closer.

Grinning, a rosy hue spread across his cheeks as he gazed down at you. "Good, because I can't really get a refund on the vanity I may have gotten you a couple of days ago."

#> fias 600 celly! ★#adam fantilli #adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli x reader #columbus blue jackets

102 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 3 months

Note

💌 with the sweetest boy himself, the bu boy, macklin

i loved writing this, i love him, & yes, he is the sweetest boy ugh

and i haven't seen a single mack fic on here like 👀 why we sleeping on mack?? anyways, this is fluffy to the maxxxx

Stepping into his dorm, you took off your beanie as he worked to unzip the zipper of your large puffer. You grinned, placing a soft kiss on his lips as he smiled in return.

You loved days like this: grabbing coffee from the cafe downtown, shaking off snow and laughing at how ridiculous the two of you looked, comparing yourselves to dogs after a bath, and coming back to his dorm as he removed your articles of clothing without you ever asking because that was just the boy he was. He was your perfect boy.

You moved to sit atop his bed, opening his laptop, and scrolling through Netflix to find a movie to watch before you had to head back to your own dorm and brave the cold sheets of snow outside. He shrugged off his winter coat as you eyed his new shirt that you hadn’t seen him put on this morning before leaving to grab coffee.

“Mack?” you asked as he laid in the spot next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into the comfortable curve of his body.

He hummed in response, paying more attention to the movie on the screen rather than the curious yet amused tone in your voice.

“When did you get that shirt?” you laughed as he looked down at his top as if he had forgotten he even put it on in the first place. The shirt in question? A white tee with the words “I love my girlfriend,” except the ‘love’ was replaced with a big red heart. And the back? A picture of you two on the ice during family skate at BU, smiling brightly at the cameraman (thank you, Lane Hutson).

“Oh,” he huffed out a laugh, a tinge of pink settling on his cheeks. “Case got it for me for Christmas.”

“And I’m just now hearing about this?” You rolled onto your stomach, your chin resting on his chest.

Even after a year of dating, you still made Macklin nervous. You kept him on his toes, never knowing how you'd react or if he scared you away or if he would lose you by doing one thing over another. He was very subconscious in that way. If he lost you, he wouldn’t know what he’d do. You were his whole entire life, and while many say it’s unhealthy to rely on a person that much, Macklin didn’t care. He was head over heels for the girl sitting beside him, and maybe that’s why he wore the shirt, to show people that you were his, that he was very much in love, and that he was very much taken.

“I-” he nervously stammered.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m messing with you, Celly.” You shrugged. “I think it’s hot.”

He rolled his eyes. “There is no way you think this is hot.”

Moving closer, you watched as his eyes wavered down to your lips and quickly back to your gaze. A small smirk danced on your lips as you mirrored his movements, glancing back and forth between his eyes and his lips. “I don’t know. Telling everyone you love me with a picture of us on your back? It kinda makes me feel special, you know?”

“Any other ways I can make you feel special?” he smirked.

You gasped, smacking him in the shoulder as he let out an amused chuckle. “You are so gross, Mack!”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he replied, drawing you closer to his body until you were resting on top of him.

“You implied it.”

“Mhm,” he chuckled. He gazed at you intently, admiring his girl as you looked away, feeling exposed. His hand lightly held your chin, moving your head to look back at him. “You’re the prettiest girl ever.” he whispered, holding your waist as your hands steadied yourself on his chest. He ran his thumb up and down the exposed skin on your hip.

“I hate you,” you said softly, trying to hide the light shade of blush that was increasingly spreading across your cheeks.

“Embrace it, baby,” he remarked, dragging one of his hands up your back and leaning your body down to his chest, your arms falling to either side of his head as he closed the small distance between the two of you, brushing his lips against yours before fully capturing them in a tender kiss.

Your bodies pressed together as if you were trying to melt into each other, lost in the intoxicating sensation of being so close, so connected. Your breaths were mingled, hot and ragged as you somehow pulled him closer, kissing him with so much desperation you were unsure where this fervent fire came from.

Maybe it really was the shirt.

Your lips parted reluctantly, and with a soft, breathless laugh, you traced the contours of his skin, marveling at the way his features felt as if they were made for you and only you to enjoy. They were made for you to kiss and to admire, to love. With a soft sigh, you leaned down, resting your head on his chest as his arms encircled your small frame, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

“I should wear this shirt more often, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

#> fias 600 celly! ★#macklin celebrini #macklin celebrini x reader #macklin celebrini blurb #macklin celebrini imagine #boston university #boston university hockey #bc hockey #hockey imagines

106 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 3 months

Note

🌊 will smith ur fav

i love u he's my fave boy ever

You saw him everywhere. Every newspaper, every post on Instagram, every poster strewn across stone walls haunted you with pictures of the man who could’ve been yours if you had just let him in.

“What’s happening, Y/N?” Will stood at your doorstep, his hands tucked away in the pockets of his black coat, the cold air engulfing his red nose in a hug. “Please, if something’s happening, you can tell me.”

You shook your head, your eyes willing themselves not to fill with tears. You hadn’t answered his calls, or texts, or emails, or DMs, or anything. You completely shut him out and he had no idea why the girl he was beginning to fall for was icing him out. You didn’t even give any warning signs. You just—stopped trying.

Truth be told, you saw the comments on Instagram. The comments left in your DMs and the way you had to private your account because you were tired of being compared to more beautiful girls, getting called a slut and a puck bunny, that you weren’t pretty enough for him. And a large part of you knew that that was true. He must be blind, right? Something must be wrong with his brain to look at you rather than the millions of prettier girls that walked across campus clad in his jersey and having no hesitation to tell him that they should be together.

Which brings us to the inevitable question: if the relationship was going so well, if you felt like you could trust him, like he could be the one, why the hell were you icing him out?

You were embarrassed. You were embarrassed that their comments were getting to you, that they were true, and that if he saw them, maybe he’d think they were right. Because why was he with you? It just didn’t make sense—to anyone.

“This was a bad idea,” you whispered, hiding yourself under the hood of your hoodie, willing yourself not to look at him but rather the wooden floor beneath you.

His brows pulled in. “Don’t say that.” He wanted to see you, to see that pretty perfect face he had grown to love so much, but you wouldn’t let him. You were scared that he’d see the millions of flaws you saw on yourself. His hands dipped out of his pockets, trying to pull your hands to his, but it was as if you were like water, slipping out of his fingers like they were the last thing on earth that you wanted to touch. “Baby, please. Please just look at me,” he pleaded.

Your tears managed to escape as you sniffled, running the back of your hand against your wet nose and back into the expanse of your long sleeves. “I can’t do this. You shouldn’t be with me.”

You knew that this was the best thing to do, even if you hated every second of it. You knew Will was tearing himself apart right in front of you, but it was the best thing for him, too. No more you, no more hate comments, no more bad press. He could go back to how he was before you, the way things should’ve stayed.

“Just let me in, okay?” his eyes were red and this was like torture to you. You didn’t want to hurt him, which is exactly why you were doing this. You saw the way his shoulders slumped after every game, the way he closed himself off to the boys whenever you were near, the way the team side eyed you at every social event. You were the problem. And the only way to make the problem go away was to subtract the numbers. “You’re not telling me everything, I know that. We can work this out, baby. Come on.”

You bit your lip so hard you swore you drew blood. “I’m sorry.” And you knew your next words were gonna hurt the both of you, but you also knew that it was something both of you had to hear, no matter how badly it was gonna sting. “But I can’t do this. I don’t want to be with you, Will, and I think you should leave.”

He felt his heart beat out of his chest. There was no way you were saying that; not after everything that’s been going so well. Had he been imagining it? The laughter, the kisses, everything you told him—had it all been some sort of lie? He doubted everything, but at the same time, he knew you. You hated liars almost as much as you hated spiders. So why were you doing this? Why were you wrecking everything you two had created these past couple of months?

“Baby,” he stepped closer as you mirrored his movements, taking a step back and watching his hopeful spirit die. “Everything is nothing without you. You’ve gotta believe me. If there’s something happening you can tell me—you can tell me anything, okay?”

“I don’t want you anymore.”

#> fias 600 celly! ★#will smith #will smith x reader #will smith hockey #boston college hockey

58 notes · View notes

fiapartridge · 3 months

Note

💌 and gabe!

this is like my fave ever! ugh i love fluff

“You have a little something on your nose there,” he chuckled, dotting your nose with his vanilla frosting-covered spatula.

A couple days ago, you had suggested that you two bake cupcakes together to bring to his house for the holidays. It was going to be your first time meeting his family and you couldn’t be more nervous. You had to make a good impression; you didn’t know what you would do if you weren’t with Gabe. Actually, you’d probably still be doing well given the fact that your success doesn’t depend on a man, but still—he meant a lot to you.

You gasped, swiping your now cold and currently wet nose with your index finger, inspecting the damage and also taking a light lick of the delicious mixture. “You’re dead, Perreault.”

He raised his brow, a smirk playing on the boy’s lips. “Yeah?”

He had a couple inches on you, or more so a whole foot, but that never deterred your ambitious spirit. He had always laughed at you when you stood on your tippy toes, trying to catch his lips in a kiss or whenever you jumped into his arms whenever he came home from a roadie. And while yes, you were a bit on the smaller side, you always had one thing that he couldn’t resist.

“Mhm,” you smiled up at him, your toes rising as you wrapped your arms around his neck, while his head tilted down to look at his beautiful girl. He always reminded you how beautiful you were, but you never believed him. He would spend his whole life telling you, hoping that one day you would feel it too. His hands hugged your torso. “I can’t wait to meet your family,” you said softly, the sound of the oven baking the last batch of cupcakes long gone as you gazed into his moss-green eyes.

His shit-eating smirk softened to a small twinkle, his expression so in love you could practically see hearts in his eyes. “They’re gonna love you so much I’m probably gonna have to rip my sister away from you.”

“Well, based on how much you told me about Lil, you’re gonna have to rip me away from her. Honestly, I might start liking her more than you.”

He huffed out a laugh, leaving a light kiss on your forehead. “Guess I have competition now, huh?”

You hummed in response, falling down onto your heels and resting your head on his chest. His heart beated softly, instilling a sense of calm in your anxious mind. His chin rested atop your head as you sighed, peaceful and still. You would be okay, you told yourself. As long as you have Gabe, you will be okay.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Thank you for doing this; you didn’t have to.”

“Gotta make ‘em like me, right?” you chuckled.

“They’ll like you no matter what. It’s hard not to love you.”

You grinned up at him. “Well, luckily for you, you’ll never have to know what it’s like not to.” Your words were like kisses on skin. Gabe had never been in love before you came into his life. He was so sure that he was going to end up alone; his hockey life being too much for any girl, but when you sat next to him in class, your bouncy ponytail swinging with every swish of your head and the way you raised your hand on the hardest of questions, the smartest person in class, he knew that that was it. He was done for.

“But,” you squinted your eyes.

His brow raised.

“You might hate me after this one,” you smirked, taking a handful of frosting from the bowl behind you and lathering it all over his face. Covered in a white sheet of frosting, Gabe held your cheeks, kissing every single inch of your face, consequently getting the frosting all over your face as you protested, pushing against his chest as you laughed loudly.

“GABE!” you screamed, laughing as his kisses tickled your cheeks and the frosting slid onto your eyelids.

Pulling away, Gabe gazed at his masterpiece, an evil grin planted on his lips. “I think we’re gonna have to make more frosting.”

You scoffed, grabbing a towel from the counter and swiping it across your eyes, getting a good look at the devil you call your boyfriend. “You think?”

#> fias 600 celly! ★#gabe perreault #gabe perreault fluff #gabe perreault imagines #gabe perreault x reader #gabe perreault imagine #gabe perreault blurb #boston college hockey

51 notes · View notes