hugheswho

[hugheswho]

Jack is lowkey becoming the guy from Caps for Sale

[hugheswho]

you again? | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

After a disastrous first date, you and Quinn Hughes think you’ll never see each other again—until he shows up in your office… as your newest therapy client.

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

THIS IS MY WORK AND MY WORK ONLY. I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO ANY FORM OF “REWRITING” MY FICS

You agree to the date because your friend swears he’s normal.

“You’d like him,” she says. “He’s low-key. Dry humor. No red flags. And he’s hot. But like… tired hot.”

“Tired hot?”

“You’ll see.”

The app profile is vague. One picture—blurry, probably a cropped group photo. Bio says:

Hockey. Golf. Mostly quiet. Good at Mario Kart.

You message him because the Mario Kart line makes you laugh. He replies ten minutes later.

Only if you pick Yoshi. Anyone else is a war crime.

You meet him at a little place you like—a bar with decent food and mercifully low lighting. He’s ten minutes late, and when he walks in, he looks…

You squint.

He looks like he got hit by a truck, reversed over, and then forced to do media availability. His hoodie is slightly damp. His eyes are red-rimmed. He has the audacity to sniffle.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough. “Quinn.”

You blink. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not contagious.”

“Right.”

“I took DayQuil.”

“...Okay.”

You both sit.

It goes downhill immediately.

You ask normal questions. He answers in fragments.

“So, are you from around here originally?”

“Michigan. But I live here now.”

“What brought you to Vancouver?”

“Hockey.”

You sip your drink. “Right. Of course.”

He nods, sniffling.

“You play professionally?” you ask, just to clarify.

He glances at you. “Yeah. Canucks.”

“Oh. I don’t really follow hockey.”

“That’s fine.”

Silence.

You try again. “So besides that... what do you do for fun?”

He shrugs. “Not much. Golf in the offseason.”

You wait.

That’s it. That’s the whole sentence.

He reaches for his water and knocks over the salt shaker.

You press your lips together. “You know, we could reschedule.”

“I’m already here.”

“You’re clearly not feeling great.”

“I didn’t want to be a flake.”

“That’s very noble of you,” you say flatly, and he huffs a quiet breath that might be a laugh.

You spend the next ten minutes trying to scrape a conversation out of someone who answers like he’s being cross-examined in court.

Eventually, you set your fork down.

“This isn’t working, is it?”

He looks up, startled. “What?”

“This. Us. The date. It’s not going well.”

He opens his mouth. Pauses. Then nods. “No. I guess not.”

You sigh. “Okay. I’m gonna go.”

“I’ll get the check.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“I feel bad. You came out.”

You glance at him, and for a moment—just a second—you feel sorry for him. The hoodie. The puffy eyes. The way he keeps rubbing the side of his neck like he’s thinking hard about something he’ll never say.

But then he adds: “You ask questions like you’re a therapist or something.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I am a therapist.”

His face does a weird thing—like his brain short circuits and he reboots mid-sentence. “Oh. Shit. That makes sense.”

You stare at him. “Good night, Quinn.”

Two weeks later, your receptionist pokes her head into your office.

“New intake just arrived. Quinn H., 2:30 p.m.”

You freeze.

“No,” you say automatically.

She tilts her head. “No?”

“No,” you repeat, pulling up the intake form. “That can’t be right.”

You read the form. Referral: E. Pettersson Presenting concern: Work-related stress. Generalized anxiety. Difficulty with emotional processing. Client: Quinn Hughes.

You close your laptop and stare at the wall.

A minute later, there’s a knock on your door.

You don’t look up when you say, “Come in.”

You do look up when he says: “Are you serious?”

He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like someone just told him he has to retake the SATs.

You stare back. “I could say the same thing.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Petey said you were good.”

You sit straighter. “Elias sent you to me?”

“Yeah. He’s worried about me or whatever.”

“I mean… fair.”

He glances up. “You gonna refer me out?”

You pause. “Do you want me to?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t treat someone I’ve had a personal relationship with.”

Quinn snorts. “We went on one date and hated each other.”

You nod. “True. Still personal.”

He looks at the wall. Then back at you. “I just— I don’t really want to start over.”

You sigh. “You could’ve led with that.”

“Not really my style.”

You hesitate. Think. One session. One session won’t kill you.

“Alright,” you say. “Let’s try. One session.”

He sits, awkward in the chair, like it might bite him. “So what now?”

You fold your hands in your lap. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

He talks more than you expected. Not easily—but once he gets going, it’s like he can’t stop. He talks about pressure. About expectations. About how he gets stuck in his own head. About never feeling good enough even when he is good enough. About how sometimes he feels invisible, and sometimes he wishes he was.

You say very little. You let the silence do its work.

At the end of the session, he stands slowly, almost reluctant.

“That wasn’t terrible,” he says.

You give him a bland look. “High praise.”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re still kind of annoying.”

You smile sweetly. “And you’re still emotionally repressed.”

Quinn pauses at the door.

“Hey,” he says. “I didn’t mean that thing I said. On the date. About you analyzing everything.”

You shrug. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He shifts on his feet. “You were just trying to be nice. I was... sick. And stressed. And kind of a dick.”

You nod once. “Apology accepted.”

He clears his throat. “So, uh. See you next week?”

You smile. “Same time.”

Quinn’s slumped in your office chair, head tilted back, arms crossed. He's staring at the ceiling like he’s trying to count how many ways he’s trapped in his own head.

“I don’t get it,” he mutters. “Why is it still like this? I’ve done what you said—I've tried journaling, I’ve been getting sleep, I even stopped reading Reddit.”

You blink. “Wow. That one must’ve hurt.”

He gives you a weak smirk. “Little bit.”

You nod slowly. “Alright. You want to try something different?”

He looks at you. “Different how?”

“Out-of-office different.”

Quinn squints. “Like... a field trip?”

“Not officially,” you say. “But yeah. Come with me. I want you to try something.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing outside a strip mall building with blacked-out windows and a fluorescent sign that says: “Rage Room.”

Quinn looks at the door. Then back at you. “You’re kidding.”

You don’t blink. “Nope.”

“You want me to hit stuff?”

“I want you to let go of things without overthinking them.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this even—like—allowed?”

“Ethically? Not ideal,” you admit. “But you said you didn’t want to start over. So you get me. And I say you need to get out of your own head before you spiral into another three-day silent shame cycle.”

He huffs a breath. “You’re weird.”

You smile. “You’re avoidant.”

The rage room smells like old rubber and drywall. A speaker’s blasting 2000s emo music at an almost disrespectful volume. A wall of bats, crowbars, and sledgehammers hangs like a weapons rack in a zombie movie.

Quinn’s in a beat-up hoodie and safety goggles, staring at a pile of breakables like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

You hand him a metal pipe. “Start small. Smash something.”

He hesitates. “Like what?”

You gesture to the row of ceramic mugs lined up on a folding table. “Pick your least favorite and commit a crime.”

He gives you a look. “You get weirder every week.”

“You get quieter.”

He walks up to the table, lifts the pipe, and smashes a mug with one clean, decisive swing.

It shatters like a tiny explosion. Glass skitters everywhere.

You wait.

“…Okay,” he mutters. “That was kind of satisfying.”

You grin. “There it is.”

Twenty minutes later, Quinn has completely entered his rage era.

He’s sweating, muttering under his breath between swings. You only catch bits and pieces—some unholy mix of “fucking power play,” “media bullshit,” and “Jack gets away with this stuff.”

He’s wrecked three keyboards, a set of old plates, and a plastic printer you brought from home that’s been jamming since April.

And finally, finally, when he stops—breathing heavy, shoulders tense—he leans back against the wall and lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

You pass him a bottle of water. He takes it, still catching his breath.

“That helped more than I want to admit,” he says.

You sit next to him, cross-legged on the padded floor. “Then why don’t you want to admit it?”

He shrugs. “It’s dumb.”

You tilt your head. “It’s not. It's physical release. Unfiltered emotion. No expectations. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

He’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “I think that’s the part I’m bad at. Not being explainable.”

You blink. That’s… unexpectedly honest.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m not loud. Or charismatic. I don’t want to be interviewed. I don’t want to sell myself. I just want to be good at what I do.” He pauses. “But everyone’s always trying to tell a story about me.”

You nod slowly. “So you feel like you’re not allowed to write your own.”

He glances at you. “Yeah. Exactly.”

You let the silence settle between you for a second.

Then, gently, you ask, “So what story would you write?”

He snorts. “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Turn one good moment into a pop quiz.”

You smile. “I call it ‘holding space.’ You call it ‘being a pain in the ass.’”

“Both can be true,” he mumbles.

You nudge his arm. “Come on. Try.”

He sighs. Looks down at the dented metal bat in his hands.

“I think…” he starts, slowly, “...I’d write that I’m trying. Even if it doesn’t look like it. Even if I fuck it up. I’m still trying.”

You look at him for a long second. “That’s a good story.”

He shrugs, glancing away. “No one wants to hear that one.”

“I do.”

It’s out before you can stop it.

He blinks. His face shifts—something between surprised and soft.

You clear your throat. “Professionally speaking.”

“Right,” he says quickly. “Obviously.”

Another beat of silence.

“…But seriously,” he says, “this was good.”

You nod. “Next time we do yoga.”

He groans. “No thanks. That feels like a Jack thing.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

You walk out together. It’s raining lightly, just misty enough to make your clothes cling.

He stops at his car, hesitating before opening the door.

Then: “Hey.”

You turn.

“Thank you.”

You nod. “You’re welcome.”

Quinn’s quiet for a second. Then, very softly, “I don’t think I hated our first date as much as I acted like I did.”

Your breath catches.

You try to play it cool. “Because of me? Or the DayQuil?”

He laughs—low, real. “A little of both.”

“Noted.”

He opens his door.

“You’re still not allowed to flirt with your therapist,” you call after him.

“I know,” he says. But he smiles anyway.

Quinn stops coming to your sessions after the rage room.

At first, it’s just a reschedule.

“Practice ran late.”

Then a last-minute cancellation. “Bit of a travel day mess. Can we push to next week?”

Then nothing.

You try not to take it personally.

You’re a professional. You have to be. You remind yourself of this while reading over your clinical notes, chewing your pen cap like it might bite back.

Still, you can’t help but notice the shift.

He’s not just skipping therapy. He’s avoiding you.

Which—fine. It makes sense. The line got blurry. He opened up, got comfortable, probably caught himself too late. That happens sometimes.

But what bugs you isn’t that he stopped coming.

It’s that he didn’t say goodbye.

Three weeks pass.

You try to forget about him, but then Jack Hughes goes viral for doing donuts in a golf cart, and it’s all over your For You page.

Quinn’s in the background of the video, arms crossed, trying not to smile, and your stomach flips like you swallowed a rock.

You set your phone down and say—out loud, to your empty apartment— “Get a grip.”

It’s nearly 7 p.m. on a rainy Thursday when you hear a knock on your office door.

You glance at the clock. You don’t have anyone booked this late.

You open it slowly, cautiously.

Quinn’s standing there in a baseball cap and a hoodie like he thinks he’s undercover. His expression is unreadable.

“Hey,” he says.

You stare at him. “Are you lost?”

He huffs a soft laugh. “Kinda.”

You lean against the doorframe. “You’ve missed three sessions.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t even email.”

“I know,” he says again.

You pause. “You okay?”

He looks down. “Not really.”

You step back. “Come in.”

He doesn’t sit on the couch. He hovers, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie like he’s not sure he should be here.

You let the silence stretch until it starts to fray.

Finally, he says, “I think you should refer me out.”

Your heart sinks.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound neutral. “Okay. That’s fair. If you think someone else would be a better fit—”

“I don’t,” he cuts in. “You’re—you’re a good fit. That’s the problem.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

He drags a hand down his face. “I liked talking to you. Too much.”

You stare at him.

His voice gets quieter. “And then after the rage room… it didn’t feel like therapy anymore.”

You try to steady yourself. “We’ve kept clear boundaries—”

“I know,” he says quickly. “You’ve been... great. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you did?”

“No, I just—” he stops, frustrated. “I couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t feel like something else.”

Something thick swells in your chest.

He finally meets your eyes. “I couldn’t come back in here and keep pretending I didn’t want to see you outside of this room.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

“Look,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly, “I don’t want to mess this up, and I don’t want to put you in a weird spot, but I— I want to try again. I want to go on a real date. With you. No DayQuil. No pretending it didn’t happen. Just... you and me.”

You let out a slow breath. “You understand the rules, right?”

He nods. “Six months. After termination.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You looked it up?”

He shrugs. “I looked a lot of things up.”

You stare at him. You think about your ethics board. You think about your job. You think about the way he looked in that rage room—focused, present, real—and the way his laugh got stuck in your throat after he thanked you. The way your fingers itched to reach for him and didn’t.

And you think: maybe it’s okay to want something, too.

You exhale. “Alright.”

Quinn blinks. “Wait—really?”

“I’ll refer you out. To someone I trust. And if you still want to try... after the required time... I’ll consider it.”

His eyes flicker with something bright. “You’ll consider it?”

You smirk. “You have to earn your second date.”

He grins, small and honest. “Fair.”

He stands to go.

At the door, he pauses. Looks over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says softly. “For what it’s worth... I think I got better. Not fixed. But better. Because of you.”

Your throat tightens. “Thank you.”

Quinn nods once. “See you when I’m legally allowed to flirt with you.”

“Countdown starts now.”

[hugheswho]

why are they doing photo dumps at the beginning of summer boys what is going on

[hugheswho]

Oh hey

[hugheswho]

this made me laugh so much

im completely on the same level as luke with this one. everytime i see people live tweet/blog about love island i get so confused

“okay, well, no bombshells are entering my villa. i don’t even have a villa” cackled at this

“but he’s smiling again. he always is with you.” WHEN DO I GET A LUKEEEEE PLEASE GOD

STRONGEST CONNECTION

pairing — luke hughes x reader

SUMMARY: love island has taken over your life. and now? it’s about to take over lukes peace too. but its okay, because he loves you. even when you’re insane. especially when you’re insane.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: love island has taken over my life actually i love my amaya papaya so much and i need austin out of MY villa rn. also jeremiah and hannah leaving before huda is insane behaviour i do NOT like these islander votings i need them to STOP. also this is not edited bec i cba ❤️

masterlist <3 — reqs open!

you don’t mean to start it as a bit.

really, you don’t. you’re just lying there on the pool lounger in the backyard, the sun lazy on your skin, warm and golden and gentle, lukes arm curled around you like it was made to be there. one of his fingers is tracing little lines along your ribs. nothing special. just soft. just summer.

he smells like sunscreen and chlorine and the watermelon popsicle he just bit into too fast, brain freeze still faintly evident on his face. your leg’s thrown over his. he’s pressed up against your back, nosing at your hair occasionally, murmuring things you can’t hear, things you don’t ask him to repeat, because they make your heart feel stupid in your chest.

and maybe it’s because your brain has melted from the sun or maybe it’s because you’ve been binge-watching love island until 3 a.m. every night for the last two weeks, but suddenly you turn your head, look him dead in the eyes, and say, totally serious:

“luke can i pull you for a chat?”

luke blinks. “what?”

you sit up, all serious business now, pressing your hand to his chest dramatically. “i just — i feel like we haven’t spoken properly. and it’s really important to me that we get on the same page before the recoupling tonight.”

he looks so concerned. “the what?”

“the recoupling,” you repeat gently. “tonight. obviously.”

“baby,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “what the fuck are you talking about.”

you sigh, disappointed, pulling your legs into your lap like a girl with a lot on her mind. “i just want to know if you still see me as your strongest connection. or if you’ve been chatting with any of the other girls.”

he blinks. his mouth opens. no words come out.

“like,” you continue, tone dead serious, “are we closed off? or are you still exploring? because i’ve been loyal. i haven’t entertained any bombshells. even pepe.”

“what the hell is a bombshell?” he says helplessly, hand reaching for your knee like touching you might help anchor him to whatever reality you’re currently constructing. “what — who’s pepe?”

you shake your head solemnly. “thats besides the point. i just feel like i need some clarity.”

he’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head. like he’s not sure if you’ve had a heat stroke or if you’re trying to break up with him in the most confusing way possible.

“angel,” he tries again, “is this about that show you’ve been watching? the one with the kissing and the — the accent guy?”

“you mean iain stirling,” you say flatly. “the narrator. national treasure.”

“sure,” he says, dragging a hand down his face. “yeah. that one.”

you give him a disappointed look. “you don’t even know their names. i can’t believe i’ve been loyal to you this whole time.”

he frowns instantly, sitting up beside you like a puppy getting scolded. “wait, no, hey — what does that mean? i’ve been loyal! i’ve been so loyal. i — i let you eat the last bite of my dinner last night.”

“the other boys are doing really sweet things for the girls,” you say sadly, channeling your inner huda now, letting the drama seep into your bones. “and i just feel like… i’m not being appreciated.”

his jaw drops. “what? i literally bought you that little bikini you’re wearing right now.”

“yeah, but you didn’t tie the strings and say ‘you look like my wife’ while you did it.”

he opens and closes his mouth, stunned. “i—i didn’t know that was a thing you wanted.”

“and it’s like,” you sigh again, “i’m seeing these really strong couples forming around us, you know? and it’s like… where do we stand? if a bombshell came in right now, would you turn your head?”

he stares at you. truly stares. trying to follow the rabbit hole your brain has led him down. eventually, softly, he asks:

“what’s a bombshell? is it a person?”

you nod solemnly. “someone sexy. someone who enters the villa to stir things up.”

he reaches for your hand like he’s terrified you’re going to bolt if he doesn’t hold you down. “okay, well, no bombshells are entering my villa. i don’t even have a villa. i have you. and you literally live in my hoodie. and sometimes you take my socks.”

you narrow your eyes. “so what i’m hearing is, you’re closed off?”

he nods. too fast. “closed off. definitely. we are shut down. locked up. out of service.”

you squint, pretending to think. “and you’re not talking to anyone else?”

he cups your face in both hands. “baby. i’m barely keeping up with you. why would i want someone else to make me this confused?”

you let your expression waver. just a little. a smile tugging at your lips.

he softens immediately. “wait,” he says, realization dawning slow and golden, “you’re messing with me. this is a prank.”

“no,” you say, already laughing, “no it’s not.”

“it’s totally that show.” he’s grinning now, the curve of it so easy and bright it makes your heart hurt. “this is like — you’re doing that thing where they talk in that voice and say dramatic stuff like ‘i’ve got a connection with whoever but i also want to explore whoever.’”

you gasp. “you do know it.”

“you made me watch it last week.”

you lean back into him, the lounger creaking slightly as he pulls you down into his chest again, arms snug around you. “so what i’m hearing,” you mumble, head resting beneath his chin, “is that you want to keep exploring our connection.”

he presses a kiss into your hair. “i do. want to keep exploring our connection. very much.”

“and we’re exclusive?”

“super exclusive.”

“so no bombshells allowed?”

“zero bombshells,” he confirms. “i’ll put up a sign. i’ll start a petition. i’ll get it tattooed if that’s what you need.”

you giggle, soft and quiet, playing with his fingers where they rest against your stomach.

“and i make you feel appreciated?” he adds gently, voice low now, the way it always gets when you’re tucked into his arms like this.

you nod.

he hums. “good. ‘cause i’d hate for you to recouple.”

“with who?” you snort. “you think trevor’s my type?”

“no, but zegras would definitely ask to pull you for a chat just to be annoying.”

“i’d pie him off so fast.”

“pie him off?”

you shrug. “love island term. means i’d shut him down.”

“that’s so weird,” he says, but he’s smiling again. he always is with you.

the sun drips lower in the sky. your arms are tangled, your breaths slow. everything smells like warm pool water and sugar. you’re happy. you’re so, so happy.

a beat passes.

“hey luke?”

“hm?”

“would you kiss me outside of a challenge?”

he groans, half-laughing. “baby, i’d kiss you during a challenge. despite a challenge. i’d kiss you even if i had to run through a wall of foam or chug a protein shake first.”

“so romantic,” you say dryly, grinning into his neck.

he pulls you closer. “i know.”

you stay like that, limbs tangled and hearts settled, for a long time. and then, because you’re never done torturing him:

“wait, what if i got dumped from the island? would you leave with me?”

he kisses the crown of your head. “every time.”

[hugheswho]

Big Z let’s goooooo

[hugheswho]

I can’t do this rn😭😭

[hugheswho]

[hugheswho]

breakup gate canceled

Dayspring, Anthony Oliveira | x . x . x . x . x . x . x . x

[hugheswho]

°•*⁀➷ YOU & LUKE — umich hockey au blurb

kitchen discoveries 

warnings! slightly suggestive

You felt the blankets shift as Luke’s body readjusted next to you, the weight of his body on the mattress moved before he moved to press a kiss to your forehead,

“Good morning baby,” He said softly, “Gonna make your coffee for you.”

You hummed quietly in response, still fighting your body to stay asleep. You could hear a little chuckle escape from Luke in reaction before hearing him get out of your bed. 

You shuffled underneath your comforter, snuggling closer towards the pillow Luke used for the night — inhaling his scent that imprinted into the material. A mix of his cologne, your shampoo that he had used the night before, and the indescribable smell of him. The same comforting scent of the tall hockey defensemen woven into the white pillow case.

You cracked an eye open to see Luke shuffling his shorts back onto his body, and peering over his shoulder to catch you staring at his muscular back and arms. He gave you a quick wink before exiting your bedroom door and heading towards the kitchen. You sighed as the door thudded shut, knowing that you’re likely awake for the day and would not be getting any more sleep.

“What the fuck?!” Luke’s voice exclaimed from down the hall, causing you to sit up immediately. Your legs swung over the edge of your bed as you quickly slipped on Luke’s tshirt that was large on your frame. You opened your door and walked towards where Luke was.

He stood next to the kitchen island, staring at the floor, “Why the fuck are Luca and Rut asleep in your kitchen?” Luke asked, pointing at the ground.

You made your way around the kitchen island to in fact see Luca sprawled out on the small carpet in your kitchen and Rutger curled up next to the fridge.

“How did they get in?” You added before an undeniable giggle left your lips, “And why does Fants only have one shoe on?”

Luke shook his head lowly, in disbelief but also in amusement at his team mates state, “Oh man, they must’ve had a wild night out.”

“Well they definitely seem comfy and dead asleep,” You chuckled to yourself as you made your way back to your room, “I’m texting the group to let them know that both of them are here.”

You could feel Luke right behind you before his hands clasped on your hips and his foot gently kicked the door shut, “Wanna go get breakfast at some cafe instead? It doesn’t seem like Tils and Rut are planning on moving anytime soon.”

You craned your neck to press a kiss on his bare shoulder, “That sounds perfect.”

“Plus, they’re going to have a field day if they see me here with their own eyes,” Luke whispered into your ear before kissing the spot right under it, causing your stomach to erupt with butterflies, “And I want to be the only one who sees you like this.” 

His fingers tugged at the bottom of your (his) shirt, hinting at the fact that it was the only thing you were wearing that was covering your body. Heat rose to your cheeks as you swatted his hand away, “Then I’m sure you don’t want them to hear you either, right?”

Luke playfully rolled his eyes, “Alright, let’s get going then.”

[hugheswho]

I just laughed out loud there’s literally no way

[hugheswho]

everytime I thought it couldn’t get better it did omg making her beg and listing all the times they fucked im sick

“Hold it.” no yeah for sure dog anything for you

Luke's hands in the new photoshoot deserve a blurb amirite

ALWAYS SO SWEET — luke hughes x reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, sexual content, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), fem!reader, use of good/filthy/greedy/sweet girl, breeding kink if you squint, Luke is a filthy tease.

a/n: Oh, you’ve got it, my darling anon! I lowkey got so carried away with this 😵‍💫

A frail whimper escaped your parted lips as Luke’s lithe fingers traipsed up the expanse of your upper thigh, light and careful, his lips suctioning a line of kisses along the curve of your neck.

You were splayed across his crumpled bed sheets, bare and there for his taking. Your hair was dishevelled, crushed between your head and Luke’s pillow, the hair framing your face was beginning to cling to your forehead and cheeks, as the sticky heat of the room permeated the expanse of exposed flesh.

“C’mon now,” Luke’s sickeningly smooth voice vibrated through to your bones, his fingers moving to brush over your most sensitive parts, wetness seeping into his flesh. “You know you want to give in.”

Three words lodged themselves in your throat and refused to come out in a pure act of stubbornness.

Luke wanted you to beg. He wanted you to beg him to touch you, bring you towards that cliff of ecstasy and pleasure, and you were far too stuck in your ways to agree.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” his breath ghosted over your goose-bumped skin, his hand smoothing over your hips before settling on your lower stomach. “Give in for me.”

You tried to squirm, but his body and arms held you firm to the mattress, as a series of small whimpers fell from your lips.

Those three words bubble in your throat as he and his teasing touch moved upwards, his fingers circling one of your nipples before his mouth engulfed the nub. Your back arched into him, chasing the feeling of his tongue as it laved over your sensitive skin, his teeth grazing along.

“Please,” you finally and quite desperately let slip as his fingers tightly held your waist, the tips leaving little dents that claimed you as his own.

Luke’s eyes rose to meet yours, his curls brushing his brow as he lifted his head from your chest.

“Nuh uh,” he tutted lowkey, his voice thickened with a desire full of carnality. “You know what you have to do.”

Your lip jutted out, eyes widened, and pupils dilated as a wave of heat cascaded through your body, anticipation sparking down your spine. His hands trailed to your unoccupied breasts, fingers rolling each sensitive nub as you struggled, his mouth latching onto the flesh just above your collarbone, as he suckled a bruise onto the supple skin.

And then your resolve snapped.

“Make me come,” you eventually cried out, the three words he’d been waiting for rolling off of your tongue as Luke’s teeth sank into the swelling bruise. “Please, Lu, make me come!”

Luke’s pink lips twisted up into a sadistic smile, eyes dark and glinting in the faint light as he let go of your skin with a faint pop!

“Good girl,” he crooned, thumb moving to hold your chin, “all you had to do was ask.”

A whine left your bitten lips while Luke merely chuckled, his hands slithering down your body as he slowly shifted further from your face, keeping his eyes locked on you.

“So needy, look at you,” he hummed, his arms hooking beneath your thighs, completely prying them open, his gaze flitting from you to your heated cunt. He fully moved, settling between your parted legs, head hovering over your arousal.

“Please,” you begged once more, all previous stubbornness now gone straight out of the window. Luke, with his arms still hooked underneath, moved his hands to rest atop your lower stomach, the slight pressure teasing as his fingers held you still. “Please make me cum, Lu, please.”

“As you wish, sweet girl.” His laugh reverberated, breath fanning over you.

Without another word, Luke’s head dropped, his mouth suddenly making contact with your wet folds. Your hands immediately darted to his curls as shots of pleasure ricocheted through you, your eyes fluttering shut.

His tongue lapped at your sticky wetness, dipping into your tight warmth, laving and devouring you like a man starved— dehydrated. He drank down every drop of your desire as if it were the nectar of the gods, to be savoured and cherished.

You felt him suck your swollen clit into his mouth before you could even begin to process the debilitating bliss, that zinging euphoria that shook through you, latching onto every nerve and filling you with warmth.

A load moan was ripped from your throat, hands clutching harder, his curls soft yet knotted beneath your touch.

“Luke…so good,” you panted, rolling your hips before his fingers pressed down on your stomach to hold you in place. “More…please…need more.”

Your words were broken up with groans and whimpers as he relentlessly attacked your clit, tongue swirling and sucking, your heart pounding as your legs twitched and shook beneath his hold.

“More, hm?” He briefly grinned, pulling away, your wetness smeared messily across his chin and nose. “Greedy girl.”

You let out a startled cry as one of his fingers plunged deep into the sponginess of your pussy, his mouth reconnecting with your tender clit. You could feel your slick desire rolling in rivulets down onto the crumpled sheets below, as Luke slid another slickened finger into your wet hole.

“Always so tight,” he murmured against you, lips brushing your folds. “It’s like I don’t fuck you enough.”

“You…don’t,” you gasped out, mustering up any semblance of jest that you could manage.

As soon as the words slipped out, Luke’s fingers instantly withdrew, slapping down on your sopping cunt with a wet plap! A squeak flew out of your mouth, your body writhing under the slap before he buried three of his fingers, stifling any of your complaints.

“Fucked you this morning in bed, then in the shower,” he listed, eyes darkening further as he ruthlessly and rapidly pushed his fingers in and out. “Fucked you yesterday on the boat, then again in the water and then again in bed, but that’s not enough for your needy little pussy, hm?”

“Luke—” your voice was strained, vision blurring as he sped up, his fingers curling deep inside of you, grazing the very spot that made your entire body tremble.

“Gonna stretch you out all nice, sink my cock into you, maybe fuck a few loads into you and then keep you there all night,” he darkly promised, as you whimpered beneath him. “Then when you wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna fuck you over and over and over again, so that every time you sit, stand, walk, breathe, you’ll feel me.”

The coil in your stomach tightened unbearably at his words, causing you to clench down tightly on his fingers.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” He smirked, his half-lidded eyes unwavering from your screwed up face. “My filthy girl likes the idea of being all plugged up and filled by me.”

“’m gonna come,” you moaned out loudly, hands gripping his hair to ground you as his nose nudged your swollen and sopping clit. “Luke!”

“Hold it, sweet girl,” he gritted, he moved his free fingers from your stomach to your clit and furiously began circling it, your pleasure intensifying as he dove back into your sweetness. You couldn’t stop your hips from uncontrollably rolling into the sensation, desperate for more.

His tongue, the fingers in your tightness and toying with your clit drove your head into the clouds, the euphoria overwhelming your every sense as your vision blinked white, your stomach tightening as you tried to withhold your orgasm.

“Too much, Lu, please—”

“Hold it.”

His pace was unrelenting, nudging every nerve he could and sending a fiery ecstasy travelling through your veins, soul and every thought.

His long fingers continued their tirade on your saturated cunt, the others still thumbing and stroking your overly sensitive clit, all while his tongue flicked and sucked any wetness it could find.

“Good girl,” he whispered against you, his hungry voice low. “Been so good, come for me now, sweet girl.”

At his words, you shattered.

Your grip impossibly tightened on his hair, his own groan vibrating through you as your hips bucked and your body shook. A satisfied bliss washed over you, body utterly trembling and falling apart beneath Luke as he continued to plunge inside of you, tongue lapping up your dripping release.

You lost track of time, your head thrown back and vision full of stars as you melted back into the comfort of your pillows, body limp and drained. You could feel your body jerking, unable to stop the movement as Luke pulled the remaining pleasure from your body in long, lewd slurps, his fingers slipping from your stretched hole.

Eventually, your hands fell from his hair, falling onto the bed beside you as you shook, head lolling to the side.

He gave one long lap at your folds before propping himself above you, his fingers sliding between your parted lips. You hummed around them, tentatively licking your release from his digits, your cloudy and hazy mind having you staring at your boyfriend with dazed eyes.

“Taste’s so sweet,” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers and ducking to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. His tongue chased the taste of you, your arousal smudging onto your own face from his devouring kiss. He pulled away with a soft groan, tongue licking over his lips as his eyes fluttered closed. “Always so sweet.”

[hugheswho]

౨ৎ SO HIGH SCHOOL ; LUKE HUGHES !

➪ summary: going into sophomore year she had no expectations, but when luke hughes sits in front of her during trig, suddenly her sophomore year turns into a mission

➪ pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

➪ warnings: none ( i think ? ), not proofread per usual

➪ word count: 7.5k

➪ emma's notes: NOT BASED ON SO HIGH SCHOOL. i just listened to it a lot while writing it so that's what i named with. but it is a little based on what happened to me my sophomore year. i hope you guys enjoy this fic because honestly it took me way too long to write and yeah. for the sake of this fic, they're close to detroit - pls go with it for the plot thanks. UHHHH apologies if some of the scenes are short, they were important to the plot but i just didn't know what else to write. OKAY ENJOY :)

© laceyhearts ; do not copy, repost, translate, or put my work through ai generators. do not copy or remake my themes, graphics, or layouts.

She had no expectations for high school, let alone for her sophomore year. She never thought about meeting Prince Charming and having a cheesy homecoming proposal, never thought about late nights out with a guy that made her giggle at just the mere thought of him, never thought she’d have a press conference about a guy she liked with her favorite teachers. 

And she was right, for the most part. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she stayed in bed, minutes from sleep, eyes fluttering close before opening seconds later, thinking about the guy she had seen in the hallway for a brief second. But she didn’t expect any of those things to happen, and none of those things did happen. Well, except for the press conference.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She met Ms. Wilsher and Ms. McCroix bright and early on her first day of sophomore year. It was first period, all of her friends were in AP Human Geography or AP United States History, but not her. It was a new class, not many people were in it, and she felt like an outsider as a bunch of the students high-fived the two teachers like they’d known each other for years. 

“I’m Ms. Wilsher, and I’m assuming you’re y/n, right?”

She flushed, wiping her hand against her skirt before holding it out, nodding, “Yeah, hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Ms. McCroix, but you can just call me Croix. We’re not too formal around here.”

“Around here?” She questioned, head tilting in curiosity as she set her things down. 

“Uh yeah, a lot of the kids kind of hang out with us, our classes intertwine sometimes, so most of the time it’s the same kids. Us and Mr. Carlson across the hall. Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.”

And she did. Sure, it took a few days, but she slowly allowed herself to feel comfortable, share things with the two teachers that she’d come to trust and rely on more than she could imagine. Soon, this classroom would become her safe space. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

Trig was next, a subject she felt comfortable in, a class she could just be and do her work where no one would bother her, and she didn’t have to second-guess everything she did. And while she thought it was going to be peaceful, she was proven wrong. 

She took her seat in the back of the class, somewhere near the middle of the row, so she could still see the board easily, her go-to spot in any class. One by one, people she knew from middle school trickled in, some more people she didn’t, and one by one, they took their seats. 

She shifted anxiously as guys who were deemed popular two years ago when they were in the height of their middle school years, guys who talked to her during a group project but now couldn’t tell you what her name was, sat next to her. She took a deep breath; she could get through 10 months with them, maybe, hopefully. 

He was the last one to walk in, and at first, she didn’t know who he was. She hadn’t seen him around, she didn’t know his name like she knew the rest of the people around her, didn’t know what he could make her feel with just a small, awkward smile, not yet anyway.

She didn’t talk, didn’t introduce herself, she just gazed at him, shrinking in her seat, acting like her friend just texted her life-changing information as he sat in front of her, dapping his friends up like they didn’t just see each other a few weeks ago at the beach. 

And it was like that for a few weeks, staying quiet because she didn’t know anyone in the class, making a connection with her teacher, Mrs. Cooper, laughing softly at the random things the boys around her said. Nothing happened, sophomore year was starting out as expected, and if she was lucky, it would stay that way.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

Her friends were assholes, it was confirmed. Somehow, someway, she started liking Luke Hughes. She didn’t mean to, didn’t plan to, but her friends were insistent, and professional gaslighters.

The moment they found out that Luke Hughes was sitting in front of her in trig, they knew they had to get her to like him. 

“You guys would be so cute together.” Chloe started, opening her lunchbox. 

“Yeah, you know who else would be cute together? Me and a cow.”

“Luke kind of looks like a cow, a cute one. Like one of those highland cows that stick their tongues out.” Her friend, Stephanie, offered, shrugging as she took a bite of her sandwich. 

Y/n stared at her, a blank expression on her face, before throwing her napkin at her, “Shut up.”

“Seriously, y/n/n. You guys would be cute, he’s nice and funny, and he likes hockey, which you do too. You should at least try. I know the last guy you liked didn’t end up well-”

“I asked him a question and he didn’t respond, he left me on heard. Only my mom does that.”

“Was she on her phone?”

“Yeah, what is with that? They can’t be mad at us for not being able to multitask, and then once they’re on their phone, they forget their ability to hear-”

“Hey! Focus, guys.”

Stephanie and y/n shut up, eyes snapping to Chloe, who gave them a look, “We’re sophomores-”

“Exactly, I have time to experience the high school romance life.”

“But how often are you going to have a class with Luke Hughes of all people?”

“Seriously, guys. I’m fine where I am, I don’t need to like anyone, I’m barely 16, stop acting like I’m 32, and if I don’t find someone now, I’m going to end up lonely forever.”

“Just trust me, you and Luke would break the school. You guys are adorable.”

“I haven’t even said a word to him.”

“You will, with our help. Now c’mon, let’s do this chem homework.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It took y/n until the week after homecoming to say something to him. It didn’t even happen on purpose; they were talking about hockey, and her mind was moving a million miles per hour as she tried to keep up in their conversation. And one off-handed comment later, she found herself snorting in amusement as she kept her eyes trained on her paper in front of her, filling out the unit circle in front of her. 

“What?”

She looked up, face dropping and cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “I- oh, nothing, sorry.”

Charlie, the one sitting directly next to her, raised an eyebrow. “Well, obviously something we said got you to laugh, so I want to know what it was.”

She wasn’t good at this, talking to people she barely knew. She was an introvert, the kind of girl who went through high school quietly, the kind of girl no one noticed until they were paired up with her for a group project. 

“Seriously, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about something-”

“It’s okay, really. Just say it.” She could feel herself relax at the tone of his voice. He’d always been loud with his friends, stealing their phones and laughing like he had heard the funniest joke in the world. She didn’t know why it changed when he talked to her.

“I just- you guys were talking about the Calder, right? I don’t think Dahlin is going to get it, if I’m honest.”

Some of the boys looked at her like she had grown two heads, not expecting her to know what they were talking about, some of them looked at her like she had no idea what she was saying, but Luke? Luke gave her a curious look, a small spark in his eyes as he stared at her, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“And who do you think will be?”

“Petterson. Plays for-”

“Vancouver, yeah. My brother just got drafted there.”

Her eyes narrowed before recognition lit them, “Right. Quinn. I watched the draft, congrats.”

“Thanks… Um, you are?”

“Y/n.”

“Luke.”

“Uh, yeah, I know.”

He grinned, holding his hand out to which she took carefully, their hands lingering for a moment before they pulled away.

Luke turned around, his friends laughing at the slight blush on his cheeks that she didn’t dare to believe was real. She made eye contact with Mrs. Cooper, a knowing smile on her lips that caused y/n to roll her eyes. 

It was nothing, just a fleeting moment that happened because she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself, and that’s all it would be.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

November came quicker than she anticipated. She hadn’t talked to Luke since that day, and if she did, it was brisk, one-word answers that left both of them wanting more. 

She’d been studying until 2 in the morning when it happened; she could feel herself grow exhausted quicker than usual, her nose started to run, and her cheeks flushed even if it was only 60 degrees in her room and the fan was on. 

It got worse in the morning when she woke up, the pounding headache, the twist in her stomach, every symptom of sickness hitting her like a freight train. She tried to get up, tried to take a shower and get ready for the day, but as soon as she lifted herself off the bed, she fell right back down. 

And that was the start of a long week of no school. She completed her homework in bed, binge-watched whatever new show was out, listened to music until she got bored, texted her friends who caught her up on all the random drama she missed, and before she knew it was back at school, sitting through first period with Ms. Wilsher and Ms. McCroix.

“Yeah, I don’t know, it was long, tiring. Probably just a bad flu or something.” She explained off-handedly, focusing on her work they had given out.

“You know, if you’re not ready to be back, you can go home.”

Y/n looked up at Ms. Reed, her social worker, who had stopped in to ask her how she was doing. She shook her head, “I’m going to get anxious if I miss anymore, it was already a struggle to get through today.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you need to talk. Now… how about that boy?”

“What boy?” Ms. McCroix walked over, a smile growing on her face.

Y/n flushed, “No one! There is no boy.”

“Really? Because I went to sub for Cooper the other day, and I overheard a certain someone asking about where you were.”

“As if.”

The three of them gave her a look, one that made her shrink in her seat because she knew she was going to have to talk about it, whether that was now or never.

“Fine, maybe there is, but it’s nothing. They were talking about hockey and I stated my opinion, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Uh huh. Do you like him?”

“No!”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

“Maybe…”

“Do you-”

The bell rang, effectively cutting off Wilsher from asking another question, y/n grinning at the interruption, “See you later.”

“Have fun in trig!” They sang, watching her rush out of the classroom.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She took a deep breath as she entered her trig classroom. There was no one there yet, no one besides her teacher. 

“Hi, Mrs. Cooper.”

“Y/n, welcome back. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, better than last week, felt like I was constantly getting hit by a bus.” She explained, taking the small stack of papers Mrs. Cooper had given to her.

“Don’t worry about getting caught up right away, alright? You can take the test you missed whenever, just make sure to do it before next Friday.”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

She took her seat without a second thought, riffling through the papers as more and more people filed in. The boys sat down first, none of them batting an eye at her as they talked about their game the other night, all of them going on their phones to play a game. 

Luke came in with a few seconds to spare, halfway to his desk when the bell rang, and plopped his backpack down as the announcements started. 

His eyes fell on the girl in the seat behind him, eyes lightning up once he saw her figure, “Y/n.”

She jumped, slightly startled, looking up at him, “Hi?”

“You’re back!” He exclaimed, sitting down and turning to face her, coughing to lower his voice, “I uh- I mean you’re back. You sick or something?”

“Uh, yeah, the flu.”

“He was really worried about you, you know?” Charlie piped in, leaning over the side of his desk to ruffle Luke’s curls. “Kept asking us if we thought you were okay.”

“I did not, shut up.” Luke huffed, batting Charlie’s hand away and fixing his hair.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with Luke on this one.” Her voice was soft, tentative, a stark difference from the usually snarky tone she had when she talked to them. 

“Why’s that, y/l/n?”

Her eyes narrowed at the use of her last name, casting a sideways glance towards the red-headed boy before letting it settle on Luke again, “Him? Worried? Yeah, sure.”

Luke felt her words low in his stomach, like she was implying that he was incapable of worrying about her. And, to some extent, he couldn’t blame her. The two hadn’t talked before the first day of school this year, hadn’t even made eye contact in the hallway before sitting next to each other. 

But somehow, that didn’t matter to him. Something about her captivated him: the way she talked about hockey, the way she smiled at her phone when she was texting her friends, the way she completed her work with speed and precision, the way she offered help to the girl who sat next to her when she asked. 

So yeah, he did care that she was out of school for a week without prior knowledge - not like it was his place to know in the first place. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It was later in the day when she saw him again, waiting for her friend in the stairwell as she came down from her eighth-period class. She hadn’t even noticed, not until Stephanie approached her, wrapping her in a hug because she hadn’t seen her in a week. 

“Hi.”

Luke’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, picking it out from the hundreds of other voices, eyes immediately finding hers, stopping in the middle of the staircase. He stumbled as people bumped into him, almost tumbling into the two girls but missing them by a few inches, “Dude, you good?”

Y/n and Stephanie had already started to make their way down the stairs by the team. Luke answered his friend’s question, both of them talking animatedly about their after-school plans, “I uh- yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure, bro? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“It’s nothing.”

And if Luke wasn’t about to combust at that moment, the distant sound of y/n squeaking his name out was enough to do it.

“Luke! No way.”

“He totally does, y/n/n. He could’ve been listening to any other conversation up there, but as soon as he heard your ‘hi’, he stopped in his tracks.”

“It’s just a coincidence.”

“Puh-lease. He’s into you, like head over heels into you.”

“We’ve talked like twice,” Y/n replied, pushing open the doors into the November air that was growing colder by the second.

“Doesn’t matter, his heart eyes are so obvious, it’s actually sickening.”

“Why don’t you date him then if you’re so intune with his eyes?” She teased, heading towards her mom’s car.  

“Shut up, I'm not. I’m just making sure he’s good for you, duh.” Stephanie started walking the other direction to find her sister.

“Whatever, later loser.”

“Bye, dweep!”

Y/n climbed into her mom’s car, throwing her backpack in the back seat as she buckled her seatbelt, “Hi.”

“What was that about? Was that about that boy?” 

“Mom.”

“What? Isn’t that him?” She pointed to the entrance of the school, where a group of boys were piling out as they hit each other.

“Mom! Put your finger down.”

“He’s cute.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” She dragged her hands down her face, slumping in her seat to avoid any stares.

“He’s looking at you!”

“He is not, would everyone stop with that?” 

But curiosity got the better of her, and she sat up slightly, peering through her fingers to see Luke, their gazes meeting for the third time that day. 

“Drive, please.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

The following week, everything seemed to slow. Luke talked to her more, his fleeting glances behind him, turning in his seat to “face his friend” when in reality all he wanted to do was talk to the girl who seemed to know hockey like the back of her hand.

Maybe he was growing feelings for her, maybe he liked it whenever she would try to hide her laugh whenever he or one of his friends said something ridiculously stupid, so what if he did? It’s not like anything was going to happen; she barely paid attention to him, acted as if he were just another one of the annoying guys who didn’t care about his academics. 

But he was determined to change that. 

He walked into second period with a plan formulating in his head, nodding to his friends as he took his seat, already taking his pencil case out. He glanced behind him a few times, failing at covering it up, unable to keep the smile off his face as he saw her focused on their homework that was due by the end of class.

“Y/n.”

He watched as her head popped up, eyebrows furrowing as she stared at him, “Luke.”

“What’d you get for number 10?”

“Uhhhh, 43.”

He nodded, turning back to his work, waving his friends off when they made snide comments in his direction. He scribbled down work that he wasn’t sure was correct, but made sense in his head, which at least counted for something. 

His pencil tapped restlessly as Mrs. Cooper started teaching, something about the law of sines, spacing out with every word said. 

It wasn’t until halfway through class that he started focusing again, noticing the stack of two papers that were placed in front of him, sheepishly turning around to hand one to the girl behind him, who was already giving him a tired expression, “Sorry.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, just nodded and grabbed the paper, knocking her pencil off in the process. She sighed inwardly, eyes darting to the writing utensil on the ground, trying not to direct Luke’s attention to it. 

Her cheeks flushed as her foot reached for it, accidentally hitting his foot just as she was about to kick it closer. She buried her head in her hands, avoiding his gaze, unbeknownst to the wide grin on his face. She felt a tap on her desk, peeking through her hands to see him holding out her pencil, “Here, gorgeous.”

His voice was soft, low enough that only she could hear his exact words. She was sure she couldn’t get any redder. 

She took the pencil from him, their hands brushing as she did so. It was innocent, nothing more than a guy being nice to her, but still, she had butterflies erupt in her stomach, a shy smile on her face as she thanked him, watching as he turned back to the board. 

It was only a few minutes later when Luke spoke again. Mrs. Cooper had walked out of the room to talk with another student, leaving the class to their own devices, in some cases literally. He turned just slightly, facing Charlie and Brandon and a few other guys that he was teammates with, “So game tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, bro. Let’s hope we don’t get our asses whooped like last time.”

Luke shot him a look, as if he was trying to hide how badly they had been crushed in the previous game from y/n. She didn’t even bat an eye at the conversation, her face back to its normal color, pulling out her phone to check something or to do anything but her work. 

He sighed, “Y/n.”

“What?’ This time, she didn’t even look at him, keeping her stare on her phone. She wasn’t sure where Luke’s sudden insistence to talk to her came from, and she wasn’t sure how she should feel about it. Giddy? Put off? Annoyed?

“You should come to the game tonight.” His voice was smooth, cool, and collected, like whatever her answer was going to be, he’d be indifferent about it, but the way his eyes moved around her face, searching for any hint as to what she was about to say, betrayed his attempt to hide his nerves.

“Yeah sure.” She snickered, finally tearing her gaze from her phone. “Let me get right on that, Hughesy.”

He frowned, his hand stilling from where he was spinning his phone around, “Why not?”

Charlie shot him a look, but once he caught whiff of his friend’s intention, he played along, “No, really, y/n. You should come. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, 1. Since when do you talk to me, Charles?” Charlie blinked, caught off guard by her sudden tone change, “And 2. Need I ask again, why do you want me to come to this hockey game of yours? I have a million other things to do tonight.”

Luke shrugged again, “Just think about it.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She ended up skipping third period, who needed to go to chemistry anyway?

She wasn’t sure what she should do, go to the game or not? Think something of Luke being worried about her and her absence, or don’t? Keep thinking about the way Luke called her gorgeous, like he was sure of it, or block it out of her mind forever?

Wilsher and McCroix were hanging around in their classroom when she entered, the room void of students, and Ms. Reed sat in the back. She spent more time in here than in her office, which only concerned y/n the tiniest amount. 

“I need your guys’ help.”

The first thing the two teachers noticed was the soft blush to her cheeks, the way she seemed out of breath even though her trig classroom was a few doors down. The first thing Ms. Reed noticed was the smile that tugged on her lips, acting like she wasn’t in a full-on mental crisis. 

“What happened?”

“Luke. Happened.” She breathed, sitting in one of the chairs, the other three gathering around the front of the table. 

“Spill.”

She stared at them for a second, trying to gather her thoughts, “Why does it feel like I’m at a press conference right now and I just had a great game?”

“Y/n.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Her cheeks heated, overcome with embarrassment, she reached for her water bottle to have something to fidget with. “We brushed hands.”

“Stop, you did not.”

“That’s lame, this isn’t middle school or a high school romance something, give us something good.” Wilsher interrupted, looking at her expectantly.

“He wants me to go to his game tonight? And he might’ve, sort’ve, maybe called me gorgeous.”

She shrank in her seat as the three adults gasped and squealed, “Can we not make this a big deal?”

“Oh no, we are absolutely making this a big deal, what do you mean?”

“You have to go to the game, right? Please tell me you’re going.”

“I don’t know, it’s a Thursday, I got homework-”

“We all know that’s bull. You have no homework, I didn’t give you homework, you always finish your trig homework, you have a test in two of your other classes, and in the other classes, you never get homework.” Wilsher gave her a blank stare, almost daring her to say no to the invitation.

“Guys-”

“You’re going.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Can we move on from the game? Let’s talk about how he called her gorgeous.” Reed sighed, conveying how much his words meant more than the game.

Y/n flushed again, her cheeks in a permanent state of red. 

“She’s blushing.”

“You like him.” McCroix teased, patting her shoulder.

“So what, maybe I do!”

“Knew it.” “Called it.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes, picking her bag up, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Go to the game!”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She ended up going to the game. Chloe and Stephanie went with her, well, more like they dragged her out of the house into the back of Stephanie’s sister’s car. 

What was even the point of going to this game? She’d make sure they would sit far enough back, out of sight from Luke and the rest of his team, so no one would know she was there. She’d follow the puck lazily, not really caring who scored or who won, but deep down, she knew she’d want to see Luke hit it into the net, celebrating with his teammates. She’d spend time outs and intermissions on her phone, acting like it was a chore even to be there at all. 

Chloe and Stephanie looped their arms through hers, the three of them making their way into the arena. She shivered slightly at the temperature change, pulling her sleeves down to cover her hands as they walked to their seats, y/n narrowing her eyes when she saw where they were leading her.

“We’re not sitting behind the bench.”

“Y/n-”

“No, I’m not. Be lucky I agreed to come anyway.”

“She’s got a point.”

Chloe just huffed, allowing the two to redirect their path, heading towards seats that were higher up and out of the line of sight of anyone sitting on the bench. 

As much as she tried not to, the whole game her eyes were focused on him; wherever he went on the ice, wherever he sat on the bench, wherever he came out after intermission, that’s where her eyes would be. She didn’t admit it, not even to herself, but her friends knew, smirking every time she would lean forward when he got close to scoring. 

“You know, you make it too obvious,” Stephanie murmured, wrapping her arm around y/n’s shoulder, walking out of the arena a little after the game ended. 

“Make what too obvious?”

“You like him. Please stop trying to convince us, and yourself, that you don’t.”

Y/n only sighed, fidgeting with her fingers, “A little.”

“A little?” Chloe scoffed.

“This is a conversation I need to have when I have some food in me. Can we please stop to get food?” She begged, slightly pouting.

“Fine. But you’re not getting out of this conversation this time.”

They waited a while before Stephanie's sister arrived, and right when they were about to climb into the car, she heard a voice behind her, one that she only heard within the walls of her Trig classroom, “Is that y/l/n?”

Her eyes widened, Stephanie and Chloe grinned and turned to face the voice, but not before they were pulled into the car, y/n already pressuring Sam to drive. 

“You guys are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.” “Not one bit.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She woke up groggy that morning, moving through her morning routine with the speed of a sloth, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, bleary-eyed, walking through the hallways. It was moments like these where she was thankful to have such a chill first period, a place where she could relax, and her teachers wouldn’t yell at her if she fell asleep 5 minutes in. 

Wilsher looked at her with an amused look, handing her a water bottle from the small fridge she had in the corner of the room, “Have fun last night?”

“I’m never letting you talk me into going to a game on a school night. That was brutal.” She plopped down in her seat, the condensation from the water bottle already seeping into the wood of her desk. 

“Did you see him?” McCroix walked in next, that stupid grin she got whenever something interesting was about to happen in one of her students' lives. 

“Yes.”

“Did you talk to him?” She looked up as Ms. Reed passed through the door like she’d been waiting for her moment to enter. 

“No. Who do you guys think I am? It took me weeks to even tell you guys my favorite food is pizza.”

“Besides the point. You’re never going to date him if you just stare at him longingly.”

“I do not stare at him longingly!”

“I walked in there one time to hand Cooper some papers, and you were drilling holes in the back of his head with your eyes.”

“I was spacing out,” she defended weakly, chin resting in her hand. 

“Mhm, whatever you want to tell yourself. Now… we talked to Cooper, and we came up with an idea so Luke can find out you were there.”

“You guys are way too invested in this.”

The three of them stared at her, blankly, blinking slowly before laughing, “Of course we are.”

“Get a life.” She grumbled but couldn’t hide the smile that was growing on her face. 

They continued to talk for the rest of the period, about the plan and about whatever homework they had last night, barely noticing the time passing after the bell rang.

“Shit-”

“Shoot!”

“Right, shoot. I gotta go, bell’s about to ring in a minute and I am not going to be late.”

“To see Luke!” They all teased, before looking back at their computers when y/n gave them a look. 

She gathered her things, heading out the door and down the hallway towards Mrs. Cooper’s room, stepping inside seconds before the bell sounded. She maneuvered her way through the desks, walking down the aisle to her own, passing by Luke before sitting.

“Oh- I was worried about you.” She furrowed her eyebrows at his statement, cocking her head more or less to herself as she pulled out her notebook. 

“Why…?”

“I don’t know, you were going to be late. You’re always like the first person here.”

Charlie leaned over, tugging at her sleeve, “Yeah, he was really worried. You know, so worried that I think he likes you.”

Y/n paused midway through grabbing a pencil from her bag, peering up through her lashes to see Luke’s already red face, turning to face his phone in front of him. A light pink dusted her cheeks too, continuing her actions like the thought of her crush liking her wasn’t admitted out loud by his closest friend. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Brandon called, eyes looking between the three of them, but no less amused than his two friends. 

Charlie shrugged, already moving onto a new task, no doubt texting someone as his thumbs moved across the keyboard on his phone. 

It was silent for a few seconds, everyone around them doing their work and chatting with their friends, but the back left corner of the classroom, sprinkling into the center, was quiet, unusually quiet. Y/n fiddled with her pencil, eventually reaching for her own phone to type a message, the three-person group chat with her, Chloe, and Stephanie, somewhat messy, filled with typos and grammatical errors the other two weren’t used to seeing.

“We ned ti alk assap at lunch!”

She could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket, but she paid no mind to it, eyes completely focused on the task at hand - do not do anything embarrassing. 

“Y/n, come here.”

She got up, walking carefully through the backpack-littered aisle, trying not to stumble as she stepped over them. Luke watched her from behind, worry in his eyes like he was about to watch her get in trouble or be talked down to because of a test score, but all he could hear was her bright laugh, one that made his stomach flutter like a schoolgirl's giggle. 

As she was walking back to her seat, she heard Mrs. Cooper’s voice, not loud but not trying to be quiet either, “How was the game last night?”

She only froze for a beat before continuing, calling out over her shoulder, “It was good. They won 5-2.”

She could hear three phones clatter as the numbers fell from her lips, looking back at the group of boys. Luke, Charlie, and Brandon stared at her, the few other guys in their friend group exchanging looks with each other, slowing their hands as they worked.

“See any cute boys?”

“Are we really talking about this in front of people?” Y/n flushed, more so than when Charlie’s stupid “You know, so worried I think he likes you” repeated through her head. 

Mrs. Cooper just smirked as she went back to grading. 

She only got halfway through a problem when she heard a cough, looking up to see Luke staring at her. “Hi?”

“So, you went to the game last night?”

She nodded, acting as if it was a casual thing to go to a random hockey game in the middle of the week, “Yep. My friends and I were bored, had nothing else to do.”

“Oh. So, did you see any cute guys?”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, “Maybe. What’s it to you, Hughes?”

He held his hands up in surrender, but jealousy swam in his eyes, “Nothing, nothing. Go back to your trig. I’ll stop bothering you.”

She smiled once he faced away from her, knowing that the stupid plan of her friends and teachers did work. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She did not want to be wearing this, okay, maybe that’s a stretch. When the idea of dressing cute today was brought up on the table, she was reluctant; she’d rather throw on a pair of sweats and her favorite hockey hoodie and go to school like she didn’t care what people thought about her. But then she put it on, and she felt cute. 

Her jeans sat comfortably on her legs, the gray crewneck with “Canucks” written in blue lettering across her chest sat atop a white undershirt that peaked out along the color, and her hair tied up in a half-up half-down hairstyle with a blue ribbon Chloe had given her however long ago. 

She knew this was a stupid, even useless, plan, but she went along with it. She couldn’t really be mad at how it turned out; she’d always favored being comfortable over cute when she went to school, maybe this was a nice change.

She walked the hallways of the school, her black Converse hitting the ground with each step as she made her way to Wilsher’s classroom, where they were already sitting, Chloe and Stephanie too. 

She blushed heavily when she came in, eyes widening when they saw her outfit, “Look at you.”

“Okay, okay. You’re the ones who wanted this.”

“Do a spin! Do a spin!”

She did as she was told, dropping her bag so she could turn around. Chloe stood up, walking over to inspect her hair. “Is that the ribbon I gave you like two months ago?”

“Yeah, not my fault you never asked for it back.”

The other girl shrugged, twisting the fabric in her hand before letting go, taking a step back to look at her again. “He’s going to go insane when he sees you in this.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

“Fine… I guess I look cute.”

“You guess? Girl, I’ve never seen you look hotter.”

“You guys are so annoying.”

First period flew by faster than she wanted it to, constantly fiddling with her crew neck as the nerves consumed her. She lingered in the classroom for a few minutes, waiting until the time between class starting and her arrival would be as short as possible.

She kept her head down as she entered the room, her eyes trained on her hands as she adjusted her rings before sitting down, unaware of Luke’s (and his friends’) gazes on her. 

Charlie poked her side once she settled, hand extended over the side of his desk, “Y/l/n.”

“Yes?”

“You get dressed up for something special?”

She shook her head, not looking up from where she was tracing random shapes on the wood. They could see the small tint of pink littering her cheeks, causing them to urge Luke into saying something, anything. They were tired of him whining like a puppy every time y/n wouldn’t talk to him in class.

Luke didn’t know what to do. She looked beautiful, not that he didn’t think he was beautiful before this moment, but the way she seemed to have a softness about her today, like she knew she looked gorgeous but didn’t want to admit it. 

He couldn’t deny that it flustered him; everything about her made him freeze up. She could brush her hair behind her ear, complete a problem in 30 seconds, or walk down the hallway, and he’d be in awe. He wasn’t sure if that should embarrass him or not, but at this point, he’d wear that like a badge of honor.

“Y/n/n.”

That caused her to raise her head, eyes widening at the nickname. Since when did he address me by a nickname?

She cleared her throat, nodding, “Yes?”

“You busy this weekend?”

“Uh, I don’t know-” she stuttered, eyes blinking fast as he watched her every movement, studying her as if he would have a quiz on her next period.

“We should hang out.”

Brandon coughed from next to him, giving him a look. There was no way this was how he was going to ask her out, not if he had a say in it. 

“Right. Do you want to go on a date?” 

If y/n was holding anything in her hands, the whole school could hear it clatter against the surface beneath her. She wasn’t sure what to say, if she should say anything, or nod her head. Luke saw the panic flash in her eyes, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to! I just thought-”

“No! I um- I would like that.” The two smiled at each other, stilling.

“About time.” Charlie rolled his eyes, typing away on his phone. 

Luke hit him in the arm, y/n giggled softly, causing him to smile once again.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It was too cold to be standing out on the porch waiting for Luke to show up, but it beat having to sit with her parents awkwardly in the living room while they asked her questions about him. So here she was, in almost 50-degree weather, a light frost covering the ground as the leaves fell. 

She hugged herself tightly, her jacket only providing her with a small amount of warmth. A similar pair of jeans adorned her legs, paired with a black long-sleeved shirt that did little to shield her from the growing cold weather.

She barely registered Luke’s car pulling into the driveway, too focused on shifting her weight from foot to foot, preventing herself from going frigid. It wasn’t until the door closed that she looked up, noticing his figure standing outside, a beanie on his head hiding his curls.

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

They stood there for a few minutes, neither of them moving, just watching the other’s movements, studying their faces.

She snapped out of the trance first, walking down the few steps that led to her front door to where he stood, unable to keep the smile off her face, “Hi.”

“Hey.” He repeated, chuckling softly. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, allowing him to lead her to the other side of the car, opening the passenger-side door for her. He climbed in seconds later, turning the heat on full blast to calm y/n’s shakiness, pulling out of her driveway to head to wherever they were going.

“You going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head, grinning, “Nope. Top secret.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Not enough to deter you from going on a date with me.”

“Touché.” She huffed, crossing her arms.

“How long were you standing outside for?” He stopped at the stoplight, eyes flicking over to her form, frowning when he noticed her hands still shaking. 

“Uh, like ten minutes maybe? It beat waiting inside with my parents.”

He reached for her hand like it was second nature, as if they’d done it a million times before this moment, letting the warmth of his hand encompass the coldness of hers. He heard her sigh gratefully, continuing to drive as if nothing had just happened. 

It was silent the rest of the way, y/n completely oblivious as to where they were going but paid no mind to it, watching as the trees passed, the lights changed from red to green or green to yellow, and the traffic decreased and increased. 

“One question.”

“Shoot.”

“Does this involve physical labor because I’m not dressed enough for that, and I will not look cute once we’re done?”

“You might have to climb some stairs, but that’s it. And I beg to differ, I’m sure you’d look cute no matter what, gorgeous.”

She smiled as she rolled her eyes, going back to her window-watching and listening to the music that played softly in the car. She didn’t notice the fond expression he had, barely noticed the way his hand tightened around hers because he was scared that this, she, wasn’t real.

It didn’t take long for her to realize where they were once the building came into view, the lettering across it, and the red and white clothing the thousands of people standing outside in line were wearing. Her eyes widened, looking over at him, “Really?”

“Figured you’d like it,” Luke smirked, all too cocky, but neither of them cared. 

“I wish you had told me! I would’ve worn my jersey.”

“Yeah, but then that would’ve given it away.”

The two walked hand in hand into Little Caesars Arena, y/n practically vibrating with excitement. 

“You’re excited about this, huh?”

“Shut up, let me enjoy my hockey.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leading them towards the line, y/n curling into him as they waited in the cold. 

It was the perfect first date. Nothing would ever compare. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It happened later that night, they were out at a small dinner after the game, sitting next to each other in a booth like a cliché high school movie. She didn’t mind; her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and his hand was on her thigh. They’d finished their food ages ago, paid ages ago, but none of them had the energy to move even if they wanted to. 

“Y/n/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m sleepy.” She murmured in response, curling into him more. 

He laughed softly, resting his chin on her head, “Does that change your answer then?”

“Nope. I’d still say yes, but if I weren’t tired, I’d be a mess right now.”

“You still are one.”

“Say it again, and I'll take back my answer.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She looked up at him, sleep evident in her eyes, but neither of them let it stop their lips from touching, Luke’s arm slipping around her waist to bring her closer. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She wasn’t sure when this tradition was established, all of them meeting in the morning in Wilsher’s room, her, Chloe, and Stephanie. And that wasn’t changing, not even when Luke’s hand was in hers as they walked down the hallway. 

“Okay, so they might be a little overbearing-”

“I’ll be fine, I’m extremely charming.”

Y/n gave him a look, “Mhm.”

“I am too!” He gasped, offended, “That’s how I won you over.”

“I’m still regretting that decision.”

“No, you’re not.”

She grinned, looking up at him, “Fine, I’m not.”

He kissed her temple, the two of them coming to a stop right outside Wilsher’s classroom. She went in first, noticing how her two best friends were already sitting at a table, on their phones, and how her two teachers and her social worker were talking about something, most likely another student in their class.

“Hey.” 

She watched as they did a double-take, looking at her and then noticing the figure behind her, the one who stood a few inches taller than she did. 

“Okay, let’s not-”

“So this is the boy we’ve been hearing about.”

“Guys, seriously-” 

“We’ve heard everything about you, Luke. Smart boy, mostly A’s.”

Y/n buried her head in Luke’s chest like she’d been doing it for years before this moment, like it was second nature. He laughed softly, his hands threading through her hair, keeping her head close to him. The five others smiled at them, exchanging looks. 

“Treat her right.”

“Wasn’t planning on treating her wrong.” He admitted, looking down at her with a certain fondness.

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[hugheswho]

Dont wanna alarm anyone… but..

[hugheswho]

Smiley happy giggly guys

[hugheswho]

Oh em gee they are so precious

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LET ME AT HIM ‼️