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change-up | luke hughes
warnings: unprotected p in v, creampie, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, praise praise praise, fingering & masturbation, references to prior & future hookups, hookup culture, TW: hinge😩, mentions of size difference pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: “because of how shy luke was when he first met reader, she thinks that he’s going to be inexperienced in bed and she‘ll to have to take the lead..but really lukey absolutely ruins her”, “could I please request luke Hughes smut where he loves being so much bigger than you”, “LOVEEDD the luke hughes one def write more dom stuff” wc: 4382
“Do you, maybe, want to go back to mine?” Luke asks quietly, his lips a mere nudge against the shell of your ear. Even in the loud bar, his voice cuts through the chatter like a flash of light.
You’d only met Luke earlier that night, a Hinge date gone right for you and your best friend. When Luke had invited you out to the bar he was at with some of his teammates, your best friend had jumped to point out that this could be your Kylie Kelce moment– you had to go and meet your Jason, even though Luke didn’t resemble the football player at all. Not that you minded.
You consider his words– Luke’s arm is thrown over your shoulder comfortably. His body is warm against yours. He’s been pretty shy all night, quiet enough that you felt like you had to control the conversation, but while Luke was in the bathroom, one of his buddies had revealed that that was normal for Luke. He was a quiet boy around new people– it didn’t mean he didn’t like you.
Clearly, it didn’t mean he didn’t like you. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be inviting you back to his apartment. You’re not a fool. You know what that means.
Regardless, you agree. “Sure,” you say with a smile.
Luke returns the smile, leaning over you to gesture towards the bartender. He closes his tab, which houses both his and your drinks. You each had only had two drinks, so you’re feeling tipsy, but not drunk enough to stop what’s about to happen.
Once Luke has closed out, he guides you to his car and opens the door in a gentlemanly way for you. The ride to his home is silent save for the country music playing from the radio. Luke’s hand rests on your knee, a weight that has you squirming.
As shy as he is, you’ve come to realize that Luke’s love language is easily physical touch. He’s been sweet when he speaks with you, and he paid for all of your drinks, which kept words of affirmation and gift giving in the running for a while, but he’s kept a hand on you all night.
He had seemed hesitant to do so, playing it safe by touching your arm or your knee or your shoulder. When you hadn’t shrugged him off, but rather presented him with a smile and a lean into his heat, Luke had become more sure with it.
You don’t know anything about his sex life or how experienced or inexperienced he is, but you expect that you’ll have to do the same thing in bed. You’ll have to reassure him that yes, you actually want to do this, and you actually like this. He’ll want to make sure he’s being good for you, because he’s the sweetest, but if you’re honest, you’re a little disappointed that you’ll have to take the lead.
One of the reasons why you had matched with Luke on Hinge, aside from how cute he was, was that he looked like an athlete. You’ve always been someone who likes to be overpowered a bit, liking someone bigger than you, and Luke looked like he could throw you around easily. You wanted him to do so, but that just doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards tonight, and you can accept that. You’ll hook up with someone else who will toss you around eventually– but Luke is too pretty and too kind to pass up.
When he pulls into the garage and parks, Luke rounds the car and opens your door for you. He leads you by the hand into his apartment. Your purse slips down your arm and, once inside the apartment, Luke takes it from you and hangs it on a hook near his front door.
The apartment is still dark and you find yourself distracted trying to look at his furniture through the shadows. Giving up, you turn back to face Luke with a smile on your face.
Shockingly, he’s already moving toward you.
Luke pushes you against the wall, his hands on your hips. He’s kissing you, swallowing your noise of surprise. You’re frozen against him for just a moment, caught off guard by his insistent movements and confident grip on your sides. You melt into his touch when his presence finally registers, the catalyst being Luke’s fingers shifting to tug at the belt loops on your jeans. You place your forearms on his shoulders, crossing your wrists behind his head.
Luke pulls your hips against his, pressing into you with his growing length. He’s leaning over you, causing your shoulders and head to rest against the wall while your back and hips arch into him. Smoothly, he steps forward and moves one of his hands so he’s bracketing your head.
His tongue flexes when he enters your mouth, his muscle sliding against your own. You melt even further against him, moaning against his lips. You sag against the wall and Luke’s strong hands catch you, holding you upright.
His fingers roam along your skin, eventually resting on the swell of your ass. He squeezes your cheeks harshly, grunting in appreciation as your bottom fills his large hands. Luke lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, sitting prettily with your clothed core barely brushing his cock. You grind down against him, and Luke’s mouth curves in a smile, lips still touching your own.
“Eager,” he mumbles, sounding smug.
“Happily surprised,” you correct, words muffled and interrupted by your kisses. “I thought you’d be shy.”
“Mm, not when we’re alone,” Luke hums, holding you with one hand around your waist. He starts to march down the dark hallway, pushing open his bedroom door with a bang. “Not when I’m so close to getting what I want.”
Luke gently lays you on his bed, hands splayed across your back. He’s still kissing you, adamant and consistent. Now, he’s got gravity on his side. His body is covering your own, trapping you against the soft mattress. A soft curse leaves your mouth, filling Luke’s. You’re sharing the air between yourselves, aching for the other person.
“What do you want?” You ask, one of your hands finding his curls and toying with the strands.
Luke groans, parting from you to nuzzle against your neck as you continue to scratch against his scalp. He mouths over your neck messily, his tongue painting your skin like long brush strokes across a canvas.
“Want to mark you up,” Luke mutters, nipping at your neck. He sucks the fleshy skin at the base of your neck between your clavicles. “I want you to remember this night.”
You moan, curling a hand along his collar and pulling at the t-shirt adorning his body in an entirely unnecessary way, in your opinion. You expose his collarbone, sharp and smooth all at once, but you don’t get to reap the rewards.
Luke instead just chuckles and bats your hand away, capturing it in his own. He presses your wrist into the mattress above your head, exposing you further. “I want to make sure you think about me for weeks.” Luke feeds the promise to you with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip and a tiny nibble along the same path. “That every time you get yourself off, you think about how my fingers would be better than your own, or that my cock would fill you better than any toy you own, or any other boy you find.”
You knew that this would be a hook-up sort of thing, nothing more serious because Luke’s Hinge profile clearly stated he wasn’t looking for anything long term, but his possessive tone fuels a fire in you that has you whining and tugging his hair.
He shifts your hand to join the other, his fingers gripping both of your wrists while his other hand starts to explore your body. He dances over the curves of your breasts, along your elongated stomach. Your ribs are prominent and your stomach is flatter with your back against the bed– and Luke touches your skin like you’re precious to him. For a first night together, you already feel so seen.
After caressing your skin, Luke pulls your shirt up and bundles the fabric near the base of your neck, revealing your little lacy bralette to him. He licks along the band, going from your neck down the V of your chest, then back up to your other shoulder. You watch his nose bump against your curves and your jaw slackens a bit with the possibilities that are running through your head.
You’d give anything to get his mouth on your clit, already swollen and pulsing with faux-lightning shocks from each of Luke’s touches.
“Eat me out,” you say, a push in the right direction. Boys like when girls speak their mind, right?
Luke stills, his lips hovering above your sternum. You watch him smirk, then resume his kissing, sweet wet pecks marking the space where your breasts meet. “Lost your manners?” He finally asks, pulling away from your body to remove your shirt. He leaves it tangled along your wrist, wrapping it a few times and tucking the end into the band of your watch to secure the fabric in place.
You pout petulantly and Luke slides off the bed, kneeling between your legs that are bent over the side of the bed. He runs a finger along the seam of your jeans, taking extra care to rub his knuckle over your clothed entrance. You keen and he draws his hand up, resting it on your mound with his thumb stationary and heavy against your clit.
“Baby, I want to,” Luke assures you, his thumb lifting up and patting your clit a few times, causing you to jolt. “But I can’t until you ask me nicely.” He starts to rub your clothed clit, up and down in slow movements. He’s peering up at you with wide eyes, blinking like he’s innocent even though he’s driving you crazy.
“Please?” You try, your voice a little squeaky.
A tiny smile on his face, Luke tilts his head at you. “You can do better than that,” he says, shifting forward to plant a kiss where his thumb rested. “Give it a second try.”
“Please eat me out, Luke,” you say, putting another pout on your face for good measure.
“Better,” Luke teases, trailing off. He reaches for your zipper, dragging it down. He inches the denim down your legs, revealing the panties that you’re practically soaking with your slick. They match your bralette– a purposeful decision that doesn’t do unnoticed by Luke. He thumbs over your clit again, then dips lower to flick over the wet spot staining the fabric. “Keep going. I want you to beg.”
He removes your pants with a kiss to the inside of your knee. His hands move to your thighs, feeling up the skin, keeping you warm in the chilled apartment. His breath passes over your core as he switches sides and you ache for him. It breaks the floodgates and you give him exactly what he wants, falling into that submissive role you’re able to fill so well.
“I need to feel your mouth on me, Luke. I know it’ll be so good– I know you’ll make me feel so good. Fuck, Luke, I want to come on your tongue. Taste me, please, please fuck me with your tongue.”
Luke’s crooked grin returns, his teeth peeking out from behind his lips and glinting at you. “Such dirty words for such a pretty girl,” he teases, but he hooks his fingers along the crotch of your panties and tugs them to the side, revealing your wet folds. He flexes his tongue, pointing it into a solid spear that he uses to spread your lower lips and locate your entrance. “Let’s see how fast I can make you come,” Luke murmurs before diving in and lathering your clit in a wet kiss.
He pushes your legs apart, using his strong hands to pin your hips to the bed and keep them there. You want to wiggle out from under him and grind against his face, but Luke forces you to relinquish control with his size and strength.
It’s just what you wanted. Whining and tugging at the fabric around your wrists (easily removable, although you choose not to do so), you relax against the mattress and let Luke have his way with you.
He loves it, eating you out like he could do this for hours, like he could die happy between your leg. He’s moaning against you and massaging praise into your skin, all while licking every inch of your cunt. He fucks his tongue into you, he spits along your folds and watches the saliva drip down the crack of your behind before scooping it back up with his tongue and closing his lips around your clit. He leaves you wetter and wetter each time he pulls away, admiring his handiwork from a distance with a slack jaw before locating his next target and assaulting it with his tongue and gentle scrapes of his teeth. The first time he swept his bottom teeth against your clit, you flinched, but it quickly became a moan for more.
You’ve always been a glutton, addicted to toeing the line between pleasure and pain.
It surprises you that Luke is the same way– although he would prefer to inflict the sensation than receive it. You align perfectly.
The sharp press of his tongue inside you draws a litany of noises from your mouth and it reinvigorates Luke’s efforts, with him flicking the muscle as far as he can within your cunt. He clutches at your skin, reaching under you to envelop both of your ass cheeks in his palms and lift your pussy to meet his face. There’s no room for reprieve, no space between you, and Luke is bullying your core with inconsistent nudges of his nose to your clit.
“Luke, my clit,” you beg, chest heaving with how badly you yearn for your release. “Please.”
“You can come without that,” Luke replies, licking over the bundle once in consolation before returning to your hole, where you’re leaking fluids. Slick, saliva, and your impending orgasm all find their way onto Luke’s tongue, running down his chin and moistening the bed beneath you. You can feel the sheets growing wet beneath you, but you don’t care. Luke is making you feel even better than you imagined he would.
You come over his tongue with a series of moans, bringing your still-tied hands down to his hair and tugging at his locks. Luke flicks over clit with quick kitten licks, only stopping when you’re crying out from oversensitivity
Luke kisses up your body, capturing your nipples between his lips over the lace fabric of your bralette, leaving the peaks pointed and cold when his mouth travels further north.
He brings his lips to yours, ravishing the plush curves until they’re red and bruised. All the while, Luke mumbles praises to you until they blur together and you’re arching your back to feel his torso against yours again.
“You wanna go again?” Luke checks, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Ready to give me another one?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding and knocking your nose against his. He leans in and gives you a proper Eskimo kiss before pecking you one last time.
Luke uses his strong hands to maneuver you the way he wants– chest pressed into the bed, ass pulled up and flush with his groin as he kneels behind you. He snaps the band of your bralette against your shoulderblade, then kneads the skin of your hips.
“Close your eyes, babydoll,” Luke commands in a gentle voice. “I want you to feel this, just focus on feeling me.”
He rolls his hips against your behind, his cock still clothed but poking at the fabric like it’s trying to find its mark and sink into your heat. He pulls you against him and you wiggle your hips, obeying his command and closing your eyes. Your t-shirt fell from your wrists during the repositioning, so you clutch freely at the pillow under your head with one hand and hold your breast with the other. You squeeze the skin, moaning at the pleasure.
Luke brings your attention back to him with a sharp spank, making you yelp and clench down with both of your hands, scrambling for something to ground you. Luke chuckles and spanks you again, harder this time and on your other cheek.
“Can’t wait to see this ass bounce,” Luke announces, smirking obviously even though you can’t see it. “I’m gonna make sure it’s pretty and pink while I fill your pussy up.”
If your eyes weren’t shut, they’d be rolling in your head at his words. You’re helpless, reduced to a moaning mess beneath Luke.
You had no idea that the night would turn out like this, having fully expected to push him down and ride him until he came inside of you because he just couldn’t take the pleasure any longer. The tables have turned– now you’re the one leaking beneath him, your hole spread open from his thorough meal and positively waiting for him.
Luke disappears from behind you to remove his shorts, you assume. You keep your eyes closed and you hold your position, hoping your obedience will result in a reward.
His voice washes over you, warming you like he’s still draped over your shoulder back at the bar.
“Keep yourself full for me while I grab something, eh?” Luke asks, a prodding question that you’re scrambling to fulfill before he can even finish his sentence.
Your middle two fingers slide into your hole, a wet squelch pushing a breath of a laugh out of Luke from his distance. You grind against the heel of your hand, spreading your knees for more leverage.
“Good girl,” Luke coos, making his way back onto the bed. He’s behind you once again, naked, and you wish you could open your eyes and sneak a peek at his cock. You want to see how well endowed he is, feeling him brush against your thigh before a line of spit drips down your crack and crawls toward your hole.
You fuck yourself on your fingers, hips rocking back. There are whimpers and whines filling the room, sounding needy and desperate for more, and it takes you a minute to realize that the words are muffled into the pillow, falling from your mouth. Biting down on the pillow to silence yourself, you curl your fingers inside yourself, hoping to reach your g-spot. In this position, you fall just short.
Luke’s index finger traces over the valley of your fingers, nearing your entrance. He’s silent, his moves calculated, and his index finger presses into you. He joins your middle and ring finger, his index finger reaching your insides in a way that has you keening. You can feel his fingertips against your nailbeds, then Luke wiggles his finger in further.
You feel like you actually drip onto the bed when he pets over your g-spot, the spot that you couldn’t find on your own. Your knees are wide and your hips are slowly coming lower and lower. Your body is defaulting to the position in which you’ve gotten off so many times– hips flush against the bed, clit rubbing against your palm as you clench down on your own fingers.
Luke uses his knee to bring your ass back up to its previous height, swatting at your flesh when you let out a complaint at the loss. Your clit is feeling neglected, practically calling out for pleasure, but the feeling of your fingers– and Luke’s– inside you is too good to take away.
So Luke does it for you. He removes his finger from your heat and digs under your knuckles, removing your digits from their wet home. The loss of contact comes with a devastating empty feeling and Luke soothes you with a cooed praise when you express your discontent.
He solves the problem by slapping his thick cockhead against your open hole, resting it there until you’re squirming against him and pleas are leaving you with increasing intensity and higher pitch.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Luke murmurs, pinching your skin as a reprimand. “You’ve been so good, listening to me so well. I’m going to reward you, don’t worry. Let me take care of you.”
He inches his cock inside your pussy achingly slow. You can feel every inch of him, every vein rubbing against your walls. You can feel the precum leaking from his slit and mixing with your own wetness. His tip finally nudges at your cervix, kissing the opening with another blurt of precum, and you ache for Luke to fill you up. You wish you were facing him so that he could drop a line of spit onto your tongue in a similar way.
When Luke starts to move, drawing himself out of you then forcing his way back in, all images disappear from your mind. His cock is all you can focus on– the warmth, how it’s pulsing inside of you, how it’s stretching your hole even though you had three fingers inside of it just minutes ago.
Luke is consistent, fucking into you with hard and sure thrusts that leave you moaning. A puddle of drool is pooling on the pillow and your mouth is nearly constantly open, your tongue dry and breaths ragged. Your noises continue in their high-pitched tone, spurring Luke on. He pounds your pussy, ruining it for everyone else.
Luke was right. You’d be thinking about him for weeks to come.
He has you shrieking with each slap to your ass, the skin growing hot and becoming more red with each swat. You had no idea that you could be so loud in bed– you’ve normally got a handle on yourself. Normally, you’re not so wet that each thrust results in a pornographic sound of skin meeting skin.
Luke is in a league all of his own.
“So tight,” he groans. “‘M gonna come, baby.”
“Come in me,” you beg. “Fuck, Luke, come in me.”
“I will,” he promises. “I want you to come first.”
Your abdomen is tight, burning with the need to release. You feel like you could explode and the thought pops into your head– you’d never been able to before, not with another man nor when fucking yourself, but you bet you could squirt now.
“Can I touch?” You ask, desperate. “Please, wanna touch my clit. Wanna come for you. Wanna be good. Please, Luke, tell me I can.”
“Go on,” he encourages. “Let me feel you.”
It’s like an out of body experience. You have control of your hands, but your fingers feel foreign as they find your clit and start to rub frantic circles over the bundle. Your chest is snug against the bedsheets. You spread your legs even further, needing the space to keep yourself open and feel even wider. Luke notices and loops a hand under your thigh, lifting the leg and holding it up. He’s able to keep you balanced, able to keep you steady as your fingers slide over your dripping cunt.
His grunts and moans spur you on, your back arching. His tip finds your g-spot and abuses it, knocking the air out of you with each bump.
“Luke,” you whine, his name elongated on your tongue.
“I’m here, baby, let go.”
He’s reassuring and calm, so sure behind you and panting. He drapes himself over your back, kissing behind your ear.
It’s the smooth brush of his lips that sends you over the edge. Your vision, already black, turns into a staticky void that you fall down like you’re skydiving.
Luke is your parachute, fucking you through the spray of your orgasm and releasing his own seed inside of you. He fills you up with his warmth, fucking you until you’re sagging on the bed and breathing hard, barely able to move. Luke drags his cock out of your cunt and brings some of his come with it, although he promptly plugs you with his fingers and a kiss once he’s turned you over onto your back.
His fingers are mostly still inside you, slowly pumping in and out in a way that isn’t meant to derive pleasure. He simply wants to feel you. His kisses are soft and sweet, soothing you and bringing you back down to Earth.
Eventually, you regain control of your limbs. You shift one of your legs over Luke’s hips and cuddle close to him, rolling your hips against his finger. Your tongue slides against his, tasting your first orgasm on his lips.
The moment dies slowly. You’re both tired, ready to sleep. Luke draws his fingers out of your entrance, pecking your lips one last time.
“Go pee, baby,” he tells you. “You’re not getting a UTI on my account. I’ll get some PJs for you while you’re gone, then we can take a shower in the morning after I serve you some breakfast in bed.”
“Mmm,” you hum, beaming. You lean up to kiss Luke again. “How’d you get so good at aftercare? Lots of experience?”
“Just want to make sure you’re satisfied,” Luke replies, fondly smiling at you when you roll away and patter towards his ensuite bathroom. He laughs a little as you cringe, the mixture of come seeping out of your hole and dripping down your thighs.
“How about I take a quick shower now and we’ll discuss that breakfast in bed when I’m done?” You tease, already pulling back his shower curtain and turning the nozzles to find your optimum heat.
“Don’t pee in my shower,” Luke calls, pushing the covers off the bed and gathering the wet sheets to throw in the wash. He’ll put new sheets on the bed while you’re cleaning yourself.
“I’m not!” You deny, affronted. “How dare you assume such a thing?”
The last thing you hear before stepping into Luke’s shower is his cheeky, throaty laugh. You fail to bite back the smile that comes with it.
#puck-luck's fics#andy writes anything🍄#luke hughes#luke hughes smut#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#lh43#nhl smut#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#hockey smut
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wrapped 'round my finger !
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
pairings: quinn hughes x best friend!reader, quinn x sunshine!reader
warnings: angst and comfort, fluff, smut, fem!reader is described as smaller (shorter?), and swearing.
summary: you're the sweetest thing on planet earth, but you have terrible taste in guys. however, you've got the captain of the canucks wrapped around your pinky. too bad you don't see him that way...right?
trope: best friends to lovers, idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine, whipped boyfriend
word count: 1.3 k
notes: princess treatment is WHAT EVERY GIRL DESERVES!! also I just love quinn hughes :) happy reading!!
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
bsf! quinn hughes who absolutely is wrapped around your finger. he loves you so freaking much and he's so in love with you it's all over his face. bo and millsy take turns making fun of him, while petey watches his lovelorn expression with a teasing grin.
bsf! quinn hughes who treats you like a princess: he's always giving you his jacket when you pout because you're cold, even though he already told you to bring a sweater. he's always opening doors, cans of soda before he hands it to you. he grumbles when you flutter your eyelashes at him, but flushes pink anyways and does what you want.
bsf! quinn hughes who doesn't let you lift a finger when you're together. he does everything for you, because you deserve to be taken care of.
bsf! quinn hughes who has to watch you date guy after guy, something sour and heated twisting in his chest because they can't treat you right like he does.
bsf! quinn hughes who finally confesses his love for you after you complain about a guy who left you at the restaurant to pick up a package during your date, because he's so fucking fed up with you being unhappy and the fact he can't kiss you like wants to.
bsf! quinn hughes who kisses you hard and rough as you whine into his mouth and clutch at his shirt while he grips your hips hard enough to leave a bruise.
bsf! quinn hughes who doesn't let you go, instead picking you up and (gently) tossing you on the bed. he crawls up to lick into your mouth one more time before going down on you.
bsf! quinn hughes who's totally a munch, but only for you. he keeps going even after you cum all over his face twice. you're grinding against his nose, as he murmurs "just one more". you're all teary and fucked out, but he pulls two more orgasms from you: one with his fingers and the other with you canting you hips on his thigh.
bsf! quinn hughes who groans and throws his head back when he finally pushes himself into your heat, after you tell him you're on the pill. you feel so much better than his hand during roadies where he moans your name to find release. you claw at his back, grabbing at his biceps as you call his name. he wants to swallow you whole.
bsf! quinn hughes who has dreamed of you on your back in his sheets, your manicured nails scraping his scalp as he ruts into you. the pleasure is almost unbearable, and he shudders all over. he has one forearm above your head to hold his weight, the other pressed on your belly where he can feel himself moving within you.
bsf! quinn hughes who marks up your neck as you whimper and mewl at the overstimulation, trying to wiggle away. he mouths at your pulse, relishing in the way it thumps loud and fast.
bsf! quinn hughes who grunts and almost comes when you lock your legs around his waist, whining for him to fuck you harder. he grabs your chin so you can watch as he lifts one of your knees over his shoulder, both of you rolling your eyes back at the new angle.
bsf! quinn hughes who is enraptured as you come on his cock, crying and pulling him close. he murmurs, "good job, baby. that's it. ride it out". you finally settle down as he rides out your high as long as possible.
bsf! quinn hughes who is still incredibly hard and pent up, but your hole is too sensitive. he's ready to take himself in his hand, except you flip yourself over onto your tummy, tucking your chin over you shoulder with your ass in the air, all tired bedroom eyes and mussed hair. he tells you you're perfect as he fulfills another of his wet dreams. he makes a mess of you, and presses his lips to your spine as he finally releases.
bsf! quinn hughes who holds you close in the shower, as you give slow, languid kisses to his chest.
bsf! quinn hughes who asks you shyly to be his as he cuddles you to sleep from behind. you tell him yes, flipping to shove your face into his neck, hiding your massive grin. he smiles: he finally got the girl.
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
bf! quinn hughes who is way more publicly affectionate with you than anyone has seen him be, especially after you guys finally get together.
bf! quinn hughes who becomes so clingy that even his brothers cringe at the way he becomes an absolute baby when you enter the room.
bf! quinn hughes who loves being cooed and fussed over. he loves when you feed him after a long game, eating straight from your fingers as he leans back on the headboard of your shared bed as you sit on his lap, pushing bites of food past his lips.
bf! quinn hughes who is so proudly a loverboy. he always has to have a hand on your back, an arm around your waist or shoulder. petey jokes that his eyes are practically magnetic to you.
bf! quinn hughes who's not that tall - especially since he's surrounded by other bigger hockey players - but you make him feel like the biggest man in the world. you always tuck your tiny hand into the crook of his elbow, clinging to his bicep as the two of you walk in public. he loves how you need to tiptoe and tug him down to kiss him, despite the neck pain.
bf! quinn hughes who loves to toss you around like a ragdoll, safely, of course. he loves to manhandle you: throwing you over his shoulder playfully and slapping your ass as you shriek, swatting his broad back. he picks you up like you weigh nothing to plop you down on the counter to hear you yap as he makes breakfast. you climb him like a tree when there's a spider in your en suite bathroom.
bf! quinn hughes who loves seeing you wear his clothes, because you look so cute drowning in his hoodies. his favourite thing to come back home to is you wrapped up in one of his jersey's - a warm flush pleasant over his skin because you're wearing his last name so proudly - and a home cooked meal after a hard game.
bf! quinn hughes loves to make you laugh, and will talk hours with you even though he has a hard time opening up to anyone else. he also loves listening to you talk, because you're just so kind and good to everyone, and it shows through the loving way you speak.
bf! quinn hughes who loves when you compliment him. a "good job, quinny. you played real good today", or a "thank you for dinner, baby" or even "please don't shave your playoff beard! you look so handsome" gets him all hot and bothered.
bf! quinn hughes who for sure has a captain kink. it's a heat of the moment thing for you, when he's got his face tucked into your neck as he grinds down into you, and you mewl his name along with his title. he stops, and you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. he tugs it off, teeth scraping at your jaw as he tells you to say it again.
bf! quinn hughes who is bossy - in bed and out - and you love it. you love when he tells you to dress nice for a date to your favourite restaurant, who orders your food for you because he already knows what you want, who tells you to buy something pretty with his credit card because he can spoil you that way.
bf! quinn hughes who just loves you so much!!
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#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x y/n#qh43#grumpy x sunshine#boyfriend#nhl fluff#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl players#lh43#jh86#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes x reader#hughes brothers#vancouver canucks#angst#mutual pining#pining#princess treatment
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Cart Girls & Curly Q’s
Luke Hughes x fem!reader
summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl
notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼
request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?
[3k]
Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.
You, however, never wake up dreading your work.
During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.
During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.
The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.
Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.
You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.
Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.
Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.
You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.
As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.
They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.
You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.
Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.
You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.
Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.
You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.
“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.
“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.
You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.
“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.
He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.
After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.
Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.
“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.
You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.
“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.
His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.
“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.
You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.
“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.
“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.
“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.
You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.
Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.
When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.
You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.
The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.
“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.
You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.
“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.
“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.
You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.
“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.
“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.
“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”
He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.
“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.
He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.
You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.
“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.
“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.
Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.
Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.
You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.
Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.
“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.
You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.
His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.
“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.
“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”
Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.
“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.
“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.
“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”
“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”
“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.
“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.
“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”
He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.
“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.
“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.
“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”
You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.
This earns another laugh from Luke.
“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.
“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”
You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.
Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.
“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.
You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”
Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.
“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.
Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.
You pause all movements, staring at Luke.
“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.
Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.
“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.
“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.
“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.
Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”
“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.
“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.
“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.
Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.
You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.
“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.
You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.
You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.
“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.
Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.
You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.
You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.
As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.
You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.
“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.
You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.
You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.
Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.
Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.
He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.
Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.
You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.
When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.
He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.
“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.
#luke hughes#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes oneshot#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes fanfic#new jersey devils#nhl blurb#nhl oneshot#nhl imagine#nhl fanfic#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#nhl#nhl hockey#hockey fic#hockey smut#hockey imagine#hockey#luke hughes smut#luke hughes imagine
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"Baby Zegras" (luke Hughes x zegras!reader)
summary: childhood friends to lovers, reader is trevor's sister, secret dating caught by jack, trevor is portrayed as a mean older brother at the start (im sorry I love him I promise he gets better), italics mean flashbacks
warnings!! heated makeout, suggestive, cursing, mentions of alcohol, mutual pining, fluff, luke being a touch starved awkward king, I feel like I did a bad job proofreading
a/n: strap in cause this one is long!! towards the end it feels kind of rushed but that's bc I need to go to bed but I also wanted to finish this by tn. anyways hope you like it!!
wc:6.6k
The game was long. Too long. The entire time you sat at the edge of your seat up in the box. Your Anaheim Ducks jersey falling slightly past your fingertips, disregarding any attempts to push back your sleeves. Your own last name on your back as you watched your brother, Trevor, race for the puck. You sat in between your mother and father who were basically screaming at the ice like they were down there themselves, but you had your knees to your chest biting your nails. Of course you were proud of your brother, and you always cheered for him any other night, but this game was different. Your attention was focused on New Jersey defenceman, Luke Hughes. When Trevor was 12, he became close with Jack Hughes. They bonded over their love for hockey, and eventually claimed each other as best friends. That summer, Trevor was invited to stay at the Hughes lake house and with how gracious and welcoming Ellen and Jim Hughes were, they offered to let you stay as well.
“Mama I don’t wanna go! This is stupid. These are Trevor’s friends. I’ve never even met these people before.” You whined as your mother dragged you by your hand out of the car. Your glance immediately caught the large house in front of you. You’d never seen anything like it, never visited a lake being from New York. A boy stood on the front porch, his mother standing beside him with a warm smile. Trevor immediately jumps out of the car, running past you and your mother. You watched as he did a secret handshake with the boy on the porch just before pulling him in for a hug. You took a moment to smell the salty freshness of the air surrounding you. Everything felt so wide and open, and for a split second you thought it might not be too bad. Just as you were enjoying the moment, your mother tugged on your hand walking closer to the house, and your stubbornness kicked back in immediately. You snatched your hand away from her, crossing your arms as you followed her up the porch steps. She hugged the boy’s mother and small conversation began to spark as you stood with a grumpy face behind her. You felt Trevor tug on your arm, pulling you to where he and the boy stood.
“Y/n, this is my friend Jack.” You kept your annoyed face as you shoved Trevors hand off your arm.
“Oh! You’re baby Zegras!” Jack greeted you with a wide smile and held out his hand for you to shake. You simply crossed your arms and let out an aggressive huff.
“I’m not a baby. I’m ten.” You tilted your head away from him as he slowly let down the hand he had up.
“Don’t pay attention to her, Jack. She’s just a brat who wants attention.” Trevor gave the back of your head a hit and you turned your focus back to him.
“I’m not a brat!” You shoved him back, and he sent you a slap to the shoulder.
“Are too!” What started as two shoves turned into a slap fight on the porch between the two of you. You took a couple hits to his face, while his slaps remained on your chest. Just as you were about to send him a friendly kick to the groin your mother came over to separate the two of you.
“Hey! Hey! Mrs. Hughes was nice enough to invite you both to her lake house which we should be grateful for! Let’s try to act like normal human beings for once!” She said sternly, but not yelling like she normally did. Probably didn’t want to scare off Mrs. Hughes.
“She was gonna kick me in the nuts!” Trevor pointed at you, to which you responded by pointing back at him.
“He started it! He called me a brat!” Your face grew angrier as you and Trevor were now in a stare off.
“Yeah, you were being a brat!” You tried to hit him through your mother’s grip, but she had caught it before you even thought about doing so. She put a hand on each of your backs as she guided the two of you into the house with Mrs. Hughes who had started laughing at the sibling tussle saying, “I have three boys. Trust me, I've seen worse. Quinn ripped out Jack’s braces at the ice rink last year.” The mother’s began to walk ahead of you, Trevor and Jack. Your arms remained crossed, still quite upset at Trevor. Before you knew it, Jack had his arm around you as the three of you broke away from your mom and Mrs. Hughes. Trevor walked up next to you mumbling something along the lines of “Don’t embarrass me or I'll kill you and dance on your grave.” Jack led you both down a flight of stairs to the basement, his arm still wrapped around your shoulder. You didn’t hate that it was there, Jack was a pretty boy and the fact that he was your brother’s best friend made the whole situation better. You knew you could use it to twist Trevor’s gears in the future. When you had made it to the bottom of the steps you were greeted by a couch full of guys you had never met.
“Y/n, this is Alex, Cole, my brother Quinn, and my brother Luke. Luke is your age, Quinn is 14 and those two dick heads are me and Trevor’s age.” Your hands fell out of the crossed position they were in, and you allowed your face to soften. “Everyone, this is Baby Zegras.”
You quickly shot him a glare “I’m not a-”
“Not a baby. I know, but the thing about hockey nicknames is that you’re supposed to hate it. You may hate it, but the team thinks it fits.” He interrupted your speech and shook you with the hand on your shoulder. You turned your attention back to the couch full of unfamiliar boys that were friends with Trevor. You’d heard countless stories about them, but now you could put faces to names. You upturned your lips into a half closed-mouthed smile and awkwardly raised your hand to wave. Everyone smiled back and several “Hi!”s echoed through the room. Jack moved his hand to grip on your shoulder as he moved you towards the couch. He took a seat next to Cole, and Trevor followed after. You made your way to the end of the couch to sit next to your brother, but he responded by putting his leg up on the seat next to him.
“Nuh uh. No way. I didn’t even want you to be here.” You almost felt tears well up in your eyes as the only thing you wanted was the comfort of your big brother in a room filled with unfamiliar faces.
“You can come sit with me!” You heard an excited voice from behind and turned around to see the littlest Hughes scooching over and patting the seat next to him. You sucked all of your emotions back into your chest as you made your way over. You took a seat in between Luke and his older brother who was sitting back looking at his phone. The two of you sat awkwardly for a moment and watched as the older boys discussed things that happened during hockey camp. You looked over to Quinn who you were sure was only there to make sure the boys didn’t break any furniture, or light the basement on fire.
“They call me baby too. Baby Hughes. I hate it.” Luke let out with a small laugh. You smiled and let out a chuckle as the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder, with hands in laps. “We can be babies together.” He looked over at you and held out his fist for a fist bump. You quickly responded to it not wanting to ruin the chance of having an ally at this house for the summer.
Later that night after your mother left, and the house began to quiet down you were moved into the rooms you’d be sleeping in. Being the youngest child, you were prone to separation anxiety and homesickness. You missed your mom, but you were just thankful you’d be sleeping in a room with Trevor. Cole and Alex were tucked away in the spare room, Luke and Jack in Jack’s room, and you and Trevor in Luke’s room. Trevor was visibly upset that he’d be sharing a room with you, rather than his friends that he came on this trip to see. It didn’t make you sad that he didn’t want to share a room, just as long as he’d be forced in there because lord knows you couldn’t sleep alone. You and Trevor were tucked into Luke’s bed around ten. You tossed and tousled trying to sleep which was hard because you were so far away from home and your mother was nowhere to be seen. After about thirty minutes of lying in bed next to Trevor, you felt the weight of his body lift off the mattress. He had assumed you fell asleep and decided to make his way into the room with all of his friends. Without his presence beside you, you immediately felt a wave of sadness come over you. You burst into tears silently, trying to muffle your heavy breathing into the pillow. You wanted nothing more than to be safe in your own bed, in your own house with your family. You lay on your side facing away from the door, practically drowning yourself in your own tears. As you very quietly repeated the words “I just want to go home” to yourself, you heard the door creak open. You immediately sat up, pulling your knees to your chest under the blanket, wiping your nose with the back of your hand as you tried to stifle your sobs.
“Trevor?” You sniffled out with a shaky breath following behind. You had expected, wanted even, to see Trevor creep through the doorway. Despite the fights you just wanted the comfort of your big brother.
“Y/n? Are you okay?” Luke shuffled into the room with tired eyes, shutting the door behind him. You caught a sudden shock at the sight of him as he moved closer towards the bed.
“Yeah I-I’m fine.” You nodded your head trying your hardest not to cry in front of the boy, but that all went out the window when you said “I just miss my mommy.” Tears resumed spilling down your face. You bit your lip, hoping it would stop the streaming mess that was burning your face. Luke said nothing. He only walked over to you in the bed and wrapped his arms around you to pull you in for a hug. You continued to cry into his shoulder, letting out shaky breaths. The comfort of his polyester t-shirt against your chin definitely helped.
“You know when I'm away and I miss my mommy, I just hug Buttons and pretend it's her.” Luke let go of the hug and reached down to the floor to grab a beat up looking teddy bear. It had one missing eye, with a button for the other, its ears were limp, and it looked like it had been through two world wars. “I came in here to get him, but I think you need him more than I do.” Luke gave a soft smile as he handed over his teddy bear. The same bear that he’d threatened Jack to death if he dared to touch it. He’d never let another person hold Buttons except for his parents, but for some reason you were different.
Luke stayed in the room after handing over his one prized possession. He laid on the floor with a blanket and a couple pillows to let you have the bed. He talked your little ears off until you finally found the comfort to fall asleep, Buttons in hand. From that day on, you and Luke became inseparable. Everyday at the Lake it was always you two together running around in the yard. You would play together until the two of you basically dropped from exhaustion. You became the “babies” of the lake house. You were invited back the next summer. Per request, an air mattress was moved into Luke’s room which he took gladly and let you have the bed. You weren’t sad when your mother left anymore, in fact it made you happy to know you got to spend time with Luke. The Hughes continued to invite you and Trevor to the lake house every summer, and every summer you and Luke grew closer. You were close with all the other guys with them looking at you like a younger sister, but Luke's eyes turned into hearts when he caught the sight of you. He doesn’t remember exactly when, but he was around thirteen or fourteen when he realized how in love with you he was. The way you made his heart feel when you would even just brush a shoulder against him was intense, and he wanted to feel that way everyday for the rest of his life. When the two of you were fifteen, Jack, Trevor, Cole, and Alex decided to throw a party in the basement while Ellen and Jim were away. There were probably 50 people in the basement that night filled with beautiful girls who you were sure would take Luke’s attention away, but instead the two of you stood against the wall all night sipping from Coca-Cola cans since Jack and Trevor said neither of you were allowed to drink. You and Luke watched as your brothers sat in a circle playing spin the bottle with various girls you’d never seen before and would probably never see again. After realizing how lame the party was since the two of you couldn’t drink, Luke pulled you by your hand outside.
“Race you to the dock.” He said quicker than you could think as he began to run towards the water.
“Not fair Lu!” You raced after him in a fit of giggles trying to catch up. Luke of course, made it to the dock first and before you could stop in your tracks, He grabbed you by your waist. The two of you stood there laughing and collapsing into each other. A few moments later you found yourselves sitting at the edge of the dock sitting shoulder to shoulder with your feet hanging over the water. You two just sat there taking in the quiet bliss away from the obnoxious party behind you. The two of you started talking about the actions of your brothers inside the house specifically, spin the bottle.
“Never had your first kiss, Lukey?” You nudged his shoulder and he let out a soft laugh.
“No. Not yet. Who would I have kissed?” He looked over at you with a toothy grin.
“I don’t know. Sure there’s plenty of girls lined up to kiss the baby Hughes.” He gave a sheepish grin and looked down at the water “I haven’t had mine either. Feels kind of pathetic being fifteen not having kissed anyone. All of my friends have.” You shifted your gaze to the horizon in front of you, taking a sip from your coke can. What you didn’t realize is that Luke had been staring at you. Admiring your features and coming up with either the best or worst idea he’d ever had.
“You could kiss me.” He kept his sight on your face, not realizing what he’d just said. You almost choked on the soda in your mouth as you moved your head to face him. He had a smirk on his face that told you he was infatuated with the way you looked. You couldn’t understand why sitting on the dock with no makeup on, in one of his hockey sweatshirts, with your hair messily waved up from the lake water.
“Really?” You asked him with hope in your voice that he was serious.
“Yeah. I mean it wouldn’t be weird. We're comfortable with each other.” This is when he realized what he had suggested. A bright red tint covered his face as you scooched in closer to him.
“Okay.” Was all you said as you cupped his face into your hand, pulling him in closer. He placed a simple, but sweet closed-mouthed kiss on your lips. The both of you pulled back in an instant, smiling at each other. You noticed the way his blush creeped towards his ears as you rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone.
Unfortunately for the two of you, this wasn’t the moment that your relationship began. However, it was the moment that made you realize just how in love you were with Luke, the crush no longer being one sided. Throughout high school neither of you dated anyone and the only people you’d ever kissed were each other. The two of you grew out of your awkward teen stages together, remaining close. After graduation, Luke went to U Michigan to play Hockey, while you studied psychology at NYU. Though it seemed to your families and friends that the two of you had drifted, it was quite the opposite. You and Luke would stay up late nights on facetime talking about your vastly different college experiences with each other. You loved him, and he loved you. It had always been that way and you’d hoped it would stay that way. When you found out that Luke had been drafted to the New Jersey Devils and he would be living only 20 minutes away, you immediately dropped every man on your contact list. It only took Luke until the second time he visited your apartment to confess his love to you. It was the most relieving moment of both of your lives, feeling like a giant weight had been lifted from your chests. You and Luke decided to keep your relationship a secret considering if Trevor found out, he’d have to resort to physical violence. Luke recalled Trevor giving a whole speech at the lake house to all the boys saying that you were “off limits” and if he found any of them touching you in any way that wasn’t platonic he’d “beat your ass so far into the ground you’ll be able to see the core of the earth” You and Luke’s relationship consisted of a lot of secret meetups at him and Jack’s apartment after games. Jack always went out with the team for drinks after a win, so you and Luke had the place to yourself. The two of you would steal moments during the day to go out for a nice lunch date, or a stroll through the park. It was all you’ve ever wanted and more
That was almost a year ago. Now, you were sitting in the box seats watching your brother go head to head against your boyfriend on the ice. The entire scene was nerve wracking considering it was third period, with the Ducks leading the Devils 4-3. Your parents were ecstatic as they watched the plays unfold, jumping up and down every time the Ducks got the puck back. You however, were nervously making a snack out of your freshly painted nails with your knees tucked to your chest in the same way they were the night Luke found you crying in his bedroom. With the way you looked and the seats you were in, all signs pointed to “this girl is a Ducks fan” but on the inside you were secretly cheering on the Devils. You’d never seen Luke play in an NHL game before, since you both thought it would look strange showing up to one of his games when the two of you supposedly haven’t spoken in two or three years. You had however, seen Trevor play several times and you knew when he was in the game, he was really into it. Deep down you knew that Trevor wouldn’t get aggressive with the Hughes boys, but for some reason the thought lingered in your mind. Not even specifically Trevor, but the thought of any Ducks player becoming aggressive with Luke made your skin crawl. To you, he was fragile. Always the sweetest guy in the room, and you don’t know what you would do if something terrible happened. You also knew that Luke was constantly chirping at the opposing team which caused your fears to escalate.
“Baby, you gotta calm down.” Your mom placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to bring down your nerves “You’re on high alert right now, and the Ducks are winning!” She points to Trevor on the ice, who is grinning wide. Your gaze remained on Luke who was sitting on the bench, and you wished he would just look at you for two seconds.
“What? It's a stressful game!” You groaned at your mother with a hint of annoyance.
“Yeah honey, I didn’t even know you got into hockey like this.” Your dad added to which you gave a simple eye roll and returned chewing on your nails.
“Ooh! I know! Let’s play that game where we try to find your future husband on the opposing team.” You looked over at your mom who was bouncing her shoulders up and down with a mischievous grin.
“No no no. Mom, I don’t wanna play.” You leaned your head back in frustration at her attempts to distract you.
“What? You love this game! Come on. Hmm…” She skimmed through the players on the ice reading the names and numbers on their backs “Oh! Luke Hughes number 43!” She excitedly pointed at Luke from the box “You two were awfully close as kids. How about reconnecting?” Your mother’s words did nothing except make you realize that he was back on the ice. You sat up straight in your seat basically going down on your nails at this point. “He’s got nice hair and he’s tall and-”
“Mom, shush I'm trying to watch this.” She sighed in defeat as you locked your full attention onto Luke skating around the ice.
“You shouldn’t talk to your mother like that. I ruined my body for you, you know? I’m going to go get you a hot chocolate and we’ll see if that calms you down.” Your mom got up from her seat with your dad following close behind her.
“Yeah yeah that’s great, mom. Thanks.” Your eyes still strictly focused on Luke, whose figure was extremely small from the box. You watched as Jack passed him the puck. He skated fast as always, clearly attempting to go coast to coast taking a shot on goal, but it was ultimately saved by the goalie who returned the puck to the Ducks. You let your head hang for a moment in your hands before drawing your attention back to the game. You scooted to the edge of your seat, putting your legs back on the ground as you rested your elbows on your knees. You saw Luke skate closer to Trevors teammate, Ross Johnston. You knew immediately that he was chirping. He was chirping at a time like this. You stared closely, squinting your eyes, watching as Luke spat out a couple words to the taller and older man. You looked down and ran your hands through your hair as you let out a quiet “Oh my god.” Groaning through your words. You looked up from the floor, turning your attention back to the ice, only to see Luke being pushed up against the glass by Johnston.
“OH MY GOD.” You practically shouted as you rose from your seat, stepping closer to the box barrier watching the scene unfold in distress. The arena’s camera pointed to Luke who was trying to talk his way out of things as usual. Luckily, his teammates had his back and swooped in quickly with the refs following close behind. You let out a sigh of relief as Johnston was pulled away from Luke. You moved back to your seat, heart just about beating out of your chest. You tilted your head behind you to see several Ducks WAGs and parents giving you confused stares. You just widened your eyes and slowly turned your head back to the game, wanting to hide yourself in your jersey. Instead you opted to pull your legs back up to your chest, resting your head on your knees.
The game continued for another 10 minutes where Nico scored a goal to tie the game, and Luke made an assist to Jack who scored the game winning point. Your parents and everyone else in the box let out various groans and hung their heads in defeat, but you were wearing a secret smile behind your hand. No matter what it came down to, you were just proud of Luke even at the expense of your brother’s loss. People started shuffling out of the arena, including your parents who said they just wanted to make the hour drive back home and go to sleep. You told them you wanted to wait for Trevor as a cover up. You said your goodbyes to them and waited in the box for a bit longer.
lukey: Meet at my car in the parking garage. Second floor. Ily ❤️
You smiled at his message and began making your way out of the suite. All of the fans had shuffled out of the arena at this point, so you were just waiting for Luke to finish his post game interviews. Your walk to the parking garage was nicer than you expected it to be. You smiled and blushed at the way Luke looked when Jack scored the final goal. You couldn’t show it when you were sitting in the box, but you had to let out the excitement now that you were alone. The whole place that was once crowded with fans, was now almost completely empty and silent. You passed by a giant mural of Jack’s face as you walked down a hallway, and laughed to yourself about how big that guy's ego is. You made it to an elevator where you showed the security guard your pass. He looked you up and down visibly confused by your Ducks jersey paired with your Devil’s pass. He shrugged it off and let you in. You skipped your way down the parking garage until you found Luke’s car. You leaned against it, waiting for him to meet you there. After about ten minutes you finally caught sight of Luke running up to you with his duffle bag slung around his shoulder, grinning wide. His soft curls poked out the sides of his Devils baseball cap, while his black hoodie flopped up and down as he made his way over to you. He immediately engulfed you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around your waist.
“You did so good tonight, baby. I’m so proud of you.” You muffled through the fabric on his shoulder.
“I love you so much. Thank you for being here.” He huffed out as he rocked your body back and forth. He let his hold strengthen as he took in the scent of your perfume which you only wore because you knew it was his favorite.
“You have no idea how hard it was trying not to cheer when you made that pass to Jack.” You giggled through your sentence and he let out a soft laugh. He released his hold, flipping his cap backwards, and pulled you in for a kiss. His soft lips immediately washed away the anxiety that poured over you during the game. Jokingly you pushed him back.
“No! You asshole! You scared me tonight!” You giggled and pushed his chest back, as he sent you back a large grin “You have to stop chirping at guys who are bigger than you, ESPECIALLY dudes with a big temperament!” He simply laughed at your statement, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door for you and you stepped into your seat with the help of his hand. He wrapped an arm around you, resting his hand on the center console once you were settled. He planted a soft kiss on your lips.
“I will stop chirping the day you show up to a game in my jersey.” He whispered into your parted mouth before shutting the door and entering the driver's seat.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It didn’t take long for Luke to get started with you. It never did. The moment you shut the door to his apartment behind you, he had you pinned up against it. His lips placed sloppy kisses on yours which were only growing hungrier by the second. His large hands were planted on your waist making you feel like the smallest woman in the world. Your hands moved to his chest, gripping at the fabric of his hoodie, working to pull him closer. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, causing a slight moan to escape the back of your throat. He removed his lips from yours just barely to whisper “Jump.” The feel of his breath against your lips made you eager for his touch. You jumped up to let him hold you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you through the living room like you weighed nothing. Your hands moved from his chest to the nape of his neck, allowing your fingers to explore his curls. You tugged at his hair slightly to which he responded with a low groan from his throat. He moved throughout the apartment until his back slammed on the door of his bedroom. With one hand on your ass, the other very eagerly searched for the door knob. You gently bit his bottom lip as he finally managed to get the door open. Entering the room, he laid you down on his bed, positioning himself on top of you as your legs remained around his waist pulling him further up. He removed his lips from yours and began placing a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, until he found your sweet spot and began teething at it. You threw your head back and arched your back desperately for him.
“Need you now, Luke.” You spoke softly with each word interrupted with a breath as his hand hiked further up your leggings. You felt him grin against your neck as he moved his kisses up your jawline until he reached your ear.
“Take off this stupid fuckin’ jersey.” He whispered and his words sent a shiver down your spine as you grew hungrier for his touch. He leaned off of you slightly as you sat up for a moment to rip the Anaheim Ducks jersey off your body. He leaned back into you and began leaving kisses on the parts of your left breast that were uncovered by your bra. He moved his left hand to your stomach, letting the right one reach towards your back to unclasp the lacy bra you had worn just for him.
“OH LUKEY BOY! HOW BOUT THEM DEVS?” Jack's voice echoed throughout the apartment as you and Luke froze, staring at each other with widened eyes. He quickly jumped off of you, realizing the bedroom door had been left open. Jack always went for drinks after a win, so this was unexpected and quite unusual. Your fight or flight mode kicked in as you quickly remove yourself from the bed, shuffling under it. You watched as Luke quickly made his way out of the bedroom, shutting the door closed behind him. Jack passed him on his way to the kitchen, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Good job tonight, man. Seriously.” Jack glanced over at his brother as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Luke’s face was completely saturated with a red tint and his lips were still swollen. “You good, dude?”
“I-uh yeah i-i’m good.” Luke stuttered over his words as he straightened his posture and stuck his hands in his pocket, trying to look as natural as possible.
“Okay.” Jack laughed, taking a sip from his water bottle looking at the counter. “How’s your dick?” Jack looked back to his brother now with a mischievous smile on his face.
“It’s uh- it’s good.” Luke nodded his head, not fully processing Jack’s question “Wait, what?” He leaned against the door frame.
“It’s poking out quite a bit.” Jack’s smile only grew wider as he teased his little brother.
“What the fuck you lookin’ at my dick for?” Luke's voice comes out as frustrated and slightly guilty.
“I’m not! It’s looking at me!” Jack laughed through his sentence, taking another swig from his water bottle. Luke rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “So…who's the bunny in your room?” Jack asked, catching Luke off guard.
“W-what I d- I don’t know what you’re talking about. There's no ‘bunny’ in my room.” Luke flailed his arms out, trying his best to cover up the situation.
“Yeah bullshit. Who’s the girl?” Jack smirked, walking closer to his brother who just shook his head. “Tell me, or I'm gonna go in there and introduce myself.”
“No no no, Jack. You have to believe me. There’s no one in there.” Luke protested,but Jack’s hand was already on the doorknob and entering the room. Luke followed close behind him, a feeling of relief washed over when you were nowhere to be seen. “See! I told you. No girl.” Jack felt defeated for a split second, but knew not to give up as he walked towards your jersey on the floor. You silently cursed at yourself from under the bed for not grabbing itn your heart dropping straight to your stomach.
“So, this is your Ducks jersey I'm assuming?” Jack looked over to Luke with a devilish grin, jersey in hand. Luke's hands went straight to his head, as Jack crouched down to where you were hiding under the bed. Luckily the shadows of the night were in your favor, covering your face perfectly.
“Hey queen. I’m Luke's brother, Jack. Promise I don’t bite.” He reached out his hand for you to take as you sighed, and accepted the defeat. You slowly made your way out from under the bed, your head poking out first.
“Hey, Jack Attack.” You gave him a sheepish smile as he fell back into the wall in shock. His mouth gaped wide open as he looked over to Luke, then to you, then back to Luke.
“BABY ZEGRAS?” Jack yelled at Luke as you swiped your jersey from his hand, quickly putting it back on. “Baby Zegras is your bunny?!” Jack’s glances shifted back and forth between you and Luke. “Oh my god.” Jack covered his face with his hands as he leaned his head up against the wall. “How long?” You and Luke glanced at each other, unsure of what to do at the moment. “HOW LONG? OH MY GOD!” Jack whined at the idea of the two babies from the lake house being together.
“Uh um bout a year.” Luke let out as his arms fell limp beside him.
“A YEAR?” Jack turned to face him, uncovering his face “THAT’S A LONG FUCKIN’ TIME, GUYS!” You began to bite your nails, staring down at the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Luke you’re a deadman.” Luke's ears tinted pink as Jack rested his forehead against the wall.
“No no, he's not. Just please please don’t tell Trevor.” You whined at Jack, begging for the slightest bit of sympathy.
“THAT'S GONNA BE HARD CONSIDERING HE’S IN THE ELEVATOR ON HIS WAY UP HERE!” Jack muffled a scream through his spot on the wall. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Luke who had his hands on his knees, clearly stressing.
“Holy shit.” was all you could let escape your mouth, as you heard someone knocking on the door. Jack ran out of the room to let Trevor in, as you and Luke shuffled in next to each other freaking out, like you were two kids who’d been caught by their parents. You winced at the sound of Trevor’s voice when he greeted Jack at the doorway. However it was quickly interrupted, by Jack pulling him straight towards Luke’s room.
“Trevor, let me direct you to the scene of the crime!” Jack said with a shocked, manic smile on his face. You and Luke stood there shoulder to shoulder. Both of you looked a mess.
“I don’t get it. Y/n, what are you doing here?” Trevor let out a small, confused laugh. He stood there and glanced at the two of you, trying to connect the dots in his head. You felt a hard lump in your throat as Trevor took an unbelievably long time trying to figure out what was happening.
“Oh my god, Trevor. THEY FUCKIN’!” Jack spat out, flinging his arms towards the two of you. You watched in terror as Trevor’s face grew angry, his fist charging up in the air. You quickly stepped in between him and Luke.
“NO NO NO NO! STOP! We are not ‘fuckin’! I think the two of you should sit on the couch.” You motioned the boys out of Luke’s room with him following close behind.
“Yeah, you sure have a lot of explaining to do.” Trevor huffed out as his face turned tomato red, taking his seat on the couch. You and Luke stood in front of the couch facing Trevor and Jack. Your firm gaze was planted on Trevor’s, but Luke was staring at the floor in fear that these were his last moments alive. You smacked him in the chest back into reality, as he fluffed his hair and directed his gaze towards Jack with a look that said ‘fuck you’.The two of you stood there side by side taking in the final moments of your private relationship. You looked over to Luke who gave you a soft smile and nodded his head.
“Luke and I have something to share with the two of you.” You started. Jack and Trevor moved closer to the edge of the couch wearing the same concerned expression with a hint of anger. “We are not just hooking up.” You kept your stern look on Trevor as you took Luke’s hand into yours. “We are in love.” You watched as Trevor’s mouth dropped and Jack pretended to vomit, leaning over the edge of the couch. “AND, have been…for the past year.” Trevors mouth gaped open wider as he tilted his head down, looking up at the two of you through his eyebrows. Jack began to laugh nervously at the situation, looked over to Luke, and mouthed “You’re fucked.” You and Luke glanced at each other nervously, hand in hand as Trevor stepped up from the couch and made his way towards Luke. Trevor gave him the death stare of his life, to the point where he was afraid to blink. Through Trevor’s tough exterior, you hoped there was a small part of him that just wanted you to be happy. Thankfully, you were right in your instincts and Trevor held his hand out for Luke to shake. A sigh of relief left your mouth as Luke smiled slightly, taking Trevor’s hand in his.
“If my baby sister is gonna date an idiot, i’m glad it’s this idiot.” Your shared anxiety with Luke quickly left both of your bodies as Trevor made his way back to the couch. You looked over at each other with wide grins, realizing the part of your relationship that you both dread was finally over, and you could finally continue your lives without having to be so secretive.
#freeabortionslol#fanfic#imagine#x reader#hockey#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#nhl#hughes brothers
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Hockey RPF writers being known across fandoms as literary masters
When I first started reading MattDrai fics on AO3 I remember thinking “wait what the HELL is going on why is this the most consistently well-written fanfiction I’ve read in any fandom? Is this a thing? Do people know??” And apparently it is and they do.
#hockey rpf#nhl rpf#hockey fic#hockey fanfiction#hockey fandom#hrpf#nhl imagine#mattdrai#swaymark#marcheron#kreidbanejad#sidgeno#natcale#nico hischier#sidney crosby#nhl#hockey#matthew tkachuk#leon draisaitl#i read stranger things fanfiction before hrpf that place is a warzone#ao3
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ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ
[25.3k] Pairing | Quinn Hughes x afab!reader Summary | summer houses and situationships. For three years straight everyone had to watch Quinn and y/n be more than friends but less than a couple until the curse of the lake house stirs the pot Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to situationship to lovers, swearing, the Tkachuks-, underage drinking, insecurities (appearance, self-esteem), dry humping, protected p in v, suggested blowjob, jealousy, angst, making out, creepy behaviour towards y/n, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl), fingering, fluff Authors Note | my canucks pint glass arrived and i really put my whole megussy into this. Based on this after hours! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ objects in the mirror - mac miller [small worlds masterlist]
The Hughes lake house had some sort of curse to it. One that turned hot summer days, even hotter and changed the trajectory of relationships. Quinn and y/n could go through the school term smoothly, balancing homework, hockey and hanging out without stress, distracted by their friend groups until the summer. But one foot on the lake house driveway and the atmosphere would shift. Hormones would surge, and suddenly, all that mattered was who liked who, how good they looked and if they were missing out on core experiences. Something about that lake house confining them just stirred the pot too well.
Y/n L/n had lived next to Quinn Hughes since she was a child in a quiet neighbourhood in the suburbs of Toronto, where surviving winters became second nature, where watching hockey became second nature due to her father’s unhinged passion for the sport that flowed through the genes. Her mother never really understood it, but her children did, resulting in the winter’s plans revolving around the hockey schedule, but bumping into Ellen Hughes next door, she came around.
Ten-year-old y/n sat on her front porch step, huddled in her thick coat and hat while the cold bit her nose frozen. It had finally stopped snowing, the one day in January when it hadn’t snowed once, not that they needed any more, the houses constantly blanketed in white, driveways and roads shovelled and gritted clear every morning. She could’ve been building a snowman with her little brother and dad, watching TV with her mum in the warmth of the living room, or even sledging with her friends as she had originally planned. However, instead, she sat stiff, but happily, on the step and watched the Hughes boys play hockey on the road with their two beaten-up goals, sticks and a plastic ball (it used to be a puck but since Jack sent it straight into her dad’s car door last year, Jim sent the terrified boy over to apologise and told them to use hollow plastic balls while on the road). She smiled brightly the whole time, listening to the ball rattle and skid along the concrete, and Quinn scolded Jack for being too rough on Luke, who had no choice but to be the goalie, being the youngest of the three. Fortunately, she’d never had to have that experience, but Luke’s lip wobbling and Quinn pulling him into a hug was like looking into a mirror, reminding her that she had a six-year-old brother to take care of.
She’d been too focused on watching her brother fuss around with her dad, both attempting to roll the snow into their snowman’s head to notice the first time Quinn approached her. His boots crunched into the grit along the path, two hockey sticks in his hockey-glove-clad hands and stopped a small distance opposite her sitting figure. She looked up at him, almost startled that he’d approached her after ten years of being neighbours, his chubby cheeks flushed pink and tufts of brown hair sticking out from under his Maple Leafs beanie. Many days, she’d watched him from afar, out the window or school, observing his comforting demeanour in nothing but adoration like a little puppy; whatever Quinn was up to, her curiosity was piqued. Now he’d seen her physical being and why her heart raced was confusing and nothing she’d felt before.
“Would you like to join us?” he asked politely, holding one of the sticks out. That’s what he was, the quiet and polite brother, she’d noticed that at the neighbourhood barbecues at least, compared to Jack, who, while Quinn softly offered her participation with heaven in his eyes, yelled at the top of his lungs for Quinn to hurry up. The middle child, the loudest child, but the one with the biggest smile and brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“Uh,” she pursed, “yeah, but I don’t know how to play.” She lied, of course; she knew how to play, but the boys were so much better than she was and looking stupid wasn’t part of her ego; she was the eldest daughter, and failure wasn’t an option.
“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” he giggled and let her take the stick, patiently waiting for her to follow him. Stick in hand, she followed, gaze never leaving his face.
“I don’t have any gloves either.”
Quinn halted, spinning on his heel and tucking his stick under his arm. He took her free hand, gently pulled it towards him, and un-velcroed his glove, “Use mine, it’s better your hands protected from Jack.” He repeated for her other hand, flashing a smile before heading to his brothers.
“Y/n’s playing?” Jack piped up, she nodded, “Cool! Now we have a goalie so Luke can play!”
Quinn scowled at him, “No, we have even teams. Y/n’s the oldest so she can choose her teammate.” He wasn’t wrong, she was just about older than Quinn, not by much.
“I pick Quinn. He’s gonna teach me how to play though.” The choice wasn’t much of a surprise to Jack, he may have been nine but the moment his brother stopped their game - a rare occurrence - and laid eyes on her, he figured that Quinn’s priorities had shifted and all of a sudden their trio would develop to a quartet.
Jack let out an elongated whine, “She doesn’t know how to play? Quiiiiinn!!”
“So? We didn’t at one point.” Quinn asserted in his stern tone. That was the last complaint Jack made. He watched his older brother teach her visually with patience; hand positioning on the stick, stance how low she needed to be, how to shoot and manoeuvre the ball, praising her passing to him. Luke and Jack watched quietly, the latter not too convinced she was a beginner at what he was watching but Quinn had never smiled that softly before, not even with Luke, and never had that level of patience with them. Seeing how encouraging Quinn was being, either way, Jack knew exactly what kind of hockey player he wanted to be.
Five years later Toronto still wrapped itself in its white blanket, pinching civilians with its cold hands and being a safety hazard to the roads for no real reason. Y/n had grown to hate it, not because she didn’t think it was beautiful, but because she missed the months when she didn’t have to spend five minutes just layering up before she could leave the house. What she didn’t hate was watching her brother be forced into shovelling the driveway. Her father and Jim seemed to have formed this alliance involving the youngest doing manual labour before school, and let Quinn, Jack and y/n watch and sit smug. Jack said it was because they skipped hockey practice to go to the arcade, which although no one would say aloud, she knew that it was her brother’s idea, that’s just eleven-year-old boys. She and Quinn neither confirmed nor denied the story, even if they had known about it the whole time, Quinn even heard them talking about it and y/n caught them at the arcade on their hands and knees scavenging for coins.
What had changed in those five years was life itself. Fifteen years old, the age when classmates' growth spurts became the bane of every parent’s existence, boy’s voices dropped and cracked and when everyone suddenly cared about everything about anyone. What they were wearing, how big their chests had grown, if it was normal for tummies to fold when they sat down, who was dating who, where the term ‘slut’ was thrown around casually, who was hot and who was not, what was cool and what was cringe - the whole ordeal that tore teenagers up inside.
Y/n hadn’t cared too much for what she wore, or how she looked until a couple of girls at school pointed out that wearing graphic t-shirts and cargo trousers made her a boy (which was absolute bullshit, but one person’s insecurities become someone else’s in adolescence), and that having a few spots on her skin meant she was ugly. And if it wasn’t girls tearing each other to shreds over minor things such as that, then it was the boys in constant competition with one another to be ‘the alpha male’, as Quinn described to her. The other thing about the situation was that someone had projected the idea that boys and girls simply can’t be just friends. And if by chance the two groups were, the belief was that one of them was secretly in love with the other, or they were using them to get to their friend or learn how to impress. Fifteen-year-olds really couldn’t decide if they wanted to kiss or kill each other on-site. Y/n knew what she wanted, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to want it. Her friends asked her regularly; ‘do you prefer Jack or Quinn? Who’s cuter?’, to which she never replied, at least twice a month.
Bang. Swipe. Bang. Swipe. Bang. Y/n and Jack shot pucks into the net consecutively like clockwork. With Luke and her brother at practice (this time) and Quinn out with friends, she and Jack were left to entertain each other. Usually, the eldest Hughes would’ve been the one shooting pucks with Jack, but the more y/n joined him, the more Jack preferred rallying with her.
Jack took a firm shot, the puck darting but bouncing off the crossbar, thumping into the fence, and chipping the wood, “Oh come on! We had such a good thing goin’!”
She only giggled and watched him gather pucks to start rapid firing to make up for it. His eyes shined, a fire burning in them as he went on. She knew the girls fawned over him, worshipped him like some prince despite never speaking to him. She knew they thought he was pretty, she knew he was pretty with a charming smile and that Jack used to navigate his way around school. But on the ice that didn’t matter. At home that didn’t matter. Those girls would never know Jack, they’d never know that the moment something's wrong he’d run to Quinn, never know that he’d do anything for Luke and most importantly they’d never know that he and y/n spent more time together than either of them let on.
“Are girls and guys your age allowed to be friends?” she blurted out, staring blankly at him. Jack lowered his stick and turned to face her.
“What?,” he said, dumbfounded at such a random question to ask on a Saturday afternoon, “Why wouldn’t they? Someone say somethin’ to you? Someone makin’ fun of you and Quinn? Did Quinn say anything?”
He may be a little brother, but he was also, someone’s older brother. The way his boyish smile dropped and jaw tensed, the grip on his hockey stick tightened, how could anyone not think Jack Hughes was cute?
“No, no- Quinn’s fine! Just that kids my age say that they can’t. That one of them always likes the other. But hearing what you said makes me realise it’s just dumb.”
“Well, you’re a girl, I’m a guy and we’re friends, right?” his body relaxed, and he turned to shoot pucks again. Hockey mind, hockey heart. Y/n watched him momentarily before rejoining him, sweeping a puck from the pile between them and whacking it at the net. “You and Quinn are friends too, right?”
As she lined up her stick to take another shot, she paused, her mind draining, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she took the shot, Jack following with a toothy grin, “Rowdy, do you think your girl friends are pretty?”
She’d thought about it regularly if it was acceptable to believe your friends were attractive or if you had to believe they weren’t. It was hard to deny that Hughes had strong genes, Ellen was beautiful after all. Luke still had the cuteness of youth, barely grown into his features, Jack owned the blue eyes and pretty smile of a prince but Quinn? The dark curls and quiet nature was his forte.
“Some,” he shrugged, “Quinn thinks you’re pretty. He likes your t-shirts and laugh.”
Y/n froze and looked at him bug-eyed. He snitched on Quinn so casually, like the weight of his words wouldn’t unleash butterflies into her stomach. At the same time, she tried to process the information, she couldn’t help but be curious to know what kind of conversation went down for Quinn to admit that.
“My friend, Trevor, thinks you’re pretty too, but I think he just likes your boobs. Oh, one of Quinny’s friends said he’d take you, whatever that means, but Quinn literally yelled at him. I have never seen him so close to hitting a guy.”
Trust Jack to spill all his friend’s and brother’s secrets, she’d expected nothing less from him. Quinn getting so riled up over a comment wasn’t on her bingo card, he wasn’t the kind of guy to react aggressively let alone hit someone, he rarely fought in hockey let alone outside of it. The other two comments didn’t mean half as much as Quinn’s, teenage boys were immature and violently horny, but processing what Quinn’s friend had - allegedly - said did bring a nauseating feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t think any of his friends would ever say anything like that out loud ever again, not while Quinn was around at least.
*
Thirty minutes. Quinn had gotten home from practice thirty minutes ago and her phone hadn’t flashed once. Thirty minutes of constant checking for his name on her screen, although nothing new. He always texted her after practice, letting her know he’d be home if she needed anything, but this evening he hadn’t. If it were anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye, but she watched their car pull up on their drive, she watched Jack barrel out but hadn’t seen Quinn. While she waited, she completed her homework, milked Vine dry, and scrolled Instagram and YouTube wasn’t hitting. Y/n sighed, tossing her phone onto her bedsheets, grabbed her plaid pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and concluded a shower should ease her mind.
It didn’t. She dropped him a text but to no surprise, it sat unread. Her stomach stirred, her gut feeling wailing sirens and adrenaline swirling through her body. Looking at the time, 19:48, and weighing out the decision that he was only next door, y/n slipped a hoodie over her head, threw her trainers on and crept out the front door to the Hughes. If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him, prepared for whatever mood or situation he was in.
She knocked gently twice, knowing she wouldn’t be waiting long since Jim was a prompt door-answerer. Even so, the breeze was nippy, her hoodie not doing much to hold her warm in the evening chill. The lock jolted from the other side, but Jim didn’t stand before her this time, it was Jack, who couldn’t have made it more obvious that his nerves struck him by his wide eyes and faltering jaw as if he were trying to get the words out.
“Is Quinn home?”
Jack, stepped back hesitantly, letting her shuffle past him and into the hallway, “Uh, yeah but he’s pissed. Like, really pissed. Mum’s already tried to talk to him but…just be careful, remember that anything he says when mad, he doesn’t really mean.”
She nodded, heart hammering in her chest as she carefully made her way up the stairs, tiptoeing around loose hockey gloves. The wall was covered in family photos and awards, y/n always noticed the photograph of all three boys standing outside last autumn, Quinn wearing the grey hoodie that was glued to him, Jack in full burgundy (hat and coat too) and Luke in a Michigan University fleece that looked a little big on him, all refusing to smile. The landing upstairs was fairly simple, the stairs being in the corner, and the corridor being a long strip. Luke’s room at the front of the house facing out into the street, Jack’s on the left side opposite Quinn’s, whose was on the right next to the stairs and Jim and Ellen’s at the back, facing into the garden. Considering they were neighbours, her house layout differed entirely, but after many years of running in and out, she memorised the rooms.
Standing outside his door, she knocked softly and waited for approval. She knocked again but also received no answer. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, she turned the handle and poked her head through the crack. He’d heard the door click, stuffing his navy sheets into his face as she padded in quietly, closing the door behind her. The pounding of her heart stayed, her palms becoming clammy seeing the state of his room. It was never tidy, but the laundry hamper being kicked over was new. His collection of hockey sticks that he was adamant to keep upright had toppled to the floor and going by the skewed photo frame on his wall indicated that he’d slammed the door harder than he meant to. Sending his sulking figure a glance, she repositioned the photo. One where the two of them sat in her living room, huddled together wearing - Quinn’s - Maple Leafs jerseys while watching the game.
“Fuck off, Jack,” his voice barely audible, “If you’re here to chirp, I don’t wanna hear it.”
Quinn felt the mattress dip beside him, “Not gonna chirp you, Q.”
He shot up, the duvet whipping towards her to uncover a dishevelled Quinn, hair tousled and t-shirt crumpled from hiding under his covers for so long, “y/n? Shit, sorry. Are you okay?”
Whatever sour mood that intoxicated him washed away and was replaced with concern strangling him. His eyes widened, he’d completely ghosted her, too wrapped up in his self-wallowing, stomach dropping at how close he was to taking his frustration out on her too. He ran his hands over his face, the giggle she let out soothing his mood like a warm embrace.
“I’m good. But a little bird told me you’re not,” taking his hands into her own, she pulled them into his lap, “You wanna talk about it?”
His gaze softened, shoulders slumping but heat rising in his neck as he kept their hands in his lap. She was so cold, although not far, she still came to him in thin pyjamas while the cold raged in a bitter attitude. Her thumb circled over his knuckles, attempting to calm him but instead of his heart finding a slow rhythm, it thundered in his chest unbearably.
He shrugged, “Not much to say,” his jaw opened, fumbling to get the words out, “I don’t know, practice just went to shit. Felt like I could’ve done more, got screamed at by coach, alone, I was sloppy…but don’t pep-talk me, mum’s given me like, five.”
Y/n watched the light in his eyes fade, his voice becoming raspy the more he spoke about just a bad day. But a bad day was never a bad day with Quinn, it was the weight of the world crushing his shoulders as the oldest, and prodigy. If he slipped up once, it meant he would keep slipping up and let everyone down, let himself down until nobody believed in him anymore. She got it. She empathised, one of the only people in his life who could read his mind, dig into the crevices of his anxieties and ease them with just her existence alone. The more their skins held contact, the more fuzzy he felt inside, like a thousand flowers blooming in his chest at once.
“Wasn’t gonna. C’mere,” she held her arms out, letting him melt into her for a much-needed hug. Much needed indeed, Quinn’s arms hugged her waist tightly, burying his nose into the hollow of her neck while her fingers carefully threaded through his thick hair. Every insecurity that ate him up flushed away like the world had frozen and it was just the two of them, on his bed, wrapped up in each other with a confusing lightheadedness between them. Feeling his face nuzzle into her shoulder, her lips twitched into a smile and planted a chaste kiss on his hair. She realised she had done that seconds afterwards, as if she’d done it on autopilot but it was something she’d seen her parents do when seeking comfort, and she’d watched it on TV shows. Nerves choked her, hoping Quinn wouldn’t find it weird and shove her away, yelling all sorts of horrible things and never wanting to see her again. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled their bodies backwards into his mattress.
Unwrapping her arms from his shoulders, she propped herself up, hands either side of his head while his hands sat loosely on her waist. His throat dried and he gulped, y/n’s nose ghosting his, eyes meeting before darting away to each other's lips, only to scan features. Her ears burned, the butterflies in her stomach storming and in that moment she accepted that she did and could find Quinn Hughes attractive. His hands on her body, his captivating eyes, the brown curls, the mole on his right cheek, plump lips slightly parted. The way his awful mood was sidelined when he knew it was her in his bedroom. All in her grip, right in front of her.
“Come back,” he mumbled, arms snaking around her waist firmly. Y/n nodded, licking her lips with adrenaline surging through her veins. Did kisses mean anything? What did it feel like to taste another person? How did kisses work? There was only one way to find out, and she had the opportunity clawing for her, “Stay.”
She lowered herself onto her elbows and tucked herself into his chest, her ear pressed against his pectoral, listening to his nerves pulse rapidly and laid her hand flat on his chest. They shimmied around, untucking the duvet from their bodies and pulling it over themselves. Quinn’s hand slipped into her pocket, sliding her phone out and placing it on his nightstand. She should’ve told her parents where she was, but with enough faith Ellen or Jack would say something. That was the last thing on her mind, the biggest crisis that set all alarms off inside her head was that she was cuddling a boy for the first time. She was sharing a bed with a boy. And she liked it. Perhaps more than she should have, this was her childhood best friend, a boy she’d grown up with, and although properly known for five years, had spent almost every day with him.
Quinn’s eyes fluttered closed, a small smile creeping onto his lips yet he could never describe the mayhem that stormed in his stomach. He almost kissed his first and best female friend. In his bed. Alone. Where no one would know about it. He wasn’t ready to try and forget about it yet, move on and hope she wouldn’t think he was using her or thinking she was easy. His friends had said he was lucky to have a girl friend because it meant he could get whatever he wanted, not that he agreed with that stance. He held her close and firm, relishing in the company of another while it lasted, and before his parents would give him an earful about it.
*
Valentine’s Day was far too meaningful for teenagers, at least in y/n’s mind. You’re essentially celebrating a relationship that’s likely to end by the end of high school but acting like it’s the live-all and end-all. Or maybe she just didn’t understand the feeling or concept. No one had ever asked her out or asked her to be their Valentine before. She watched a couple of her friends go through it, one being over-the-top romantic with a bouquet, card and gift and the other being underwhelming, being nothing but a few words and a box of chocolates hand-me-down. He could have at least bought the chocolate himself instead of using one another girl gave him.
With the final bell ringing a few minutes ago, the hallway was finally empty, only y/n and a few other students left at their lockers. She had time, her dad wouldn’t arrive for another seven minutes to pick her up since the Hughes boys left pronto for practice. She fished through her locker, checking for any love letters that could have been posted through the vents but to no surprise, nothing out of the ordinary. Did Quinn receive anything? Did other girls like his brooding demeanour like her? Did he accept any confessions? That hit her in the gut, hard. He wasn’t hers but why did thinking about sharing him make her blood boil so much? Exhaling sharply, she slammed her locker shut, only to come face to face with a guy who resembled Quinn, but instead of blue eyes his were brown, and his bone structure had chiselled out faster. He leaned against the lockers, arms folded and flashed her a smile. She thought she recognised him, he played on the same team as Quinn and Jack. His name wasn’t important (she couldn’t remember), but she’d be lying if she said he wasn’t attractive.
“Hey y/n,” she smiled at him, “So uh, this ain’t easy but you’re hard to catch alone.”
“Can I help…you?” she bit her lip, the pit of her stomach becoming tight and tingly with his eyes never leaving hers.
“Just wondering if you’d wanna grab smoothies this weekend…like a date?” he didn’t speak softly like Quinn, he was loud and almost expectant. She wondered if he would pay, or if she had to. Quinn always paid, and always knew her order too. Even if she didn’t ask him to, he’d do it. Snapping back to the situation at hand, her breath hitched. She needed to stop thinking about Quinn. He wasn’t Quinn and the latter had nothing to do with him. Perhaps agreeing would get him out of her head.
“Uh, sure but-” before she could finish, two of his friends burst out from around the corner, high-fiving and laughing like deranged hyenas. The guy in front of her also started laughing, looking down at her with a condescending glint in his stupid eyes.
“YO! That’s twenty bucks!” his friend yelled to the other, slapping his hand out, “Told you he’d do it!”
“Shut the fuck up, you got lucky! He caught her when Quinn wasn’t around.” The other grumbled, dropping the cash into his hand.
The guy at her locker laughed, “As if anyone would ask you out, be real, y/n.” And all three left, karma soon hitting them at realising hockey practice started ten minutes ago. Y/n stood frozen, emotions swirling and nausea she could only describe as a whirlpool of humiliation and stupidity. She should’ve listened to her gut when it raised red flags.
As if anyone would ask you out, y/n.
He caught her when Quinn wasn’t around.
All she wanted was Quinn now, to run and squeeze him, but instead, she had a quiet car ride home with her dad to get to.
Quinn pulled his gear off aggressively, chucking his helmet into his stall, almost shoving the gear into his bag, disregarding how expensive the lot of it was. It was one of those days where he wished he could leave his stuff at the rink. He spoke to no one and no one dared talk to him, not even Jack, who’d warned his friends to lay off the chirping. When he’d overheard his teammates proudly laughing about what they’d done to y/n in the hall, his offensive-defensive playstyle switched to straight-up bloodlust with poison in his eyes. Now even in the locker room, his jaw clenched harshly and the other boys swore they could feel the rage radiate off his body.
“Yooo, Hughes,” Locker Guy mused casually, a shit-eating grin smeared across his face, “why so worked up? S’just a game.”
Everyone eyed each other, although he was referencing hockey, Quinn was not in a hockey mood. He approached Quinn, throwing his arm around his shoulder while he packed the last of his stuff away.
“Silent treatment? Damn, didn’t know it meant that-”
Before he could finish, Quinn swung, right-hooking his cheek. Locker Guy stumbled back, cupping his cheek with wide eyes. He was stunned, the room was. Not even Jack had seen him hit a guy before, and Quinn didn’t think he would until then, but the adrenaline and aggravation just got the better of him and he’d seek revenge in any way if it would be for y/n.
“Take the twenty and shove it up your ass,” he slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his stick, “y/n’s not just a game.” And he stormed out. Jack bid goodbye to his friends, sloppily grabbing his bag and stick before stumbling out after Quinn.
When arriving home shortly after, Quinn dumped his bag in the hallway, ignoring Ellen’s voice calling for him, Jack did a good job at covering for him. He burst into his room, rummaging around his desk for a post-it note, scribbling his mind on it. Pulling a small box from his school bag, he stuck the note onto it and rushed out of his house as fast as he’d rushed in.
He rang the doorbell and pounded on the door but to no avail. Her parent’s cars were absent but he knew too well that she had nowhere to be on a Tuesday evening. Groaning, he jogged to the side gate, rattling the handle and pushing it open, listening to it creak and click behind him. He didn’t bother sneaking around, the security light bright enough to illuminate the entire garden for anyone to try. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would’ve taken more time to appreciate her mother’s handiwork: flowerbeds of pansies waiting for their time lining the fences, he remembered planting a few before the snow season. Quinn reached the back porch steps, walking up with a light foot and trying the back door. Locked. Of course. Spinning on his heel, he swore under his breath, completely jumping down the three steps and taking a short right to find the trellis on the wall.
“Mrs. l/n, I sincerely apologise for this, once again,” he mumbled, taking the box between his teeth and carefully placing his hands and foot on the wood, hoping that he hadn’t crushed any of the flowers weaved through. He slowly climbed until the porch roof came to his level. Thanking the heavens that the pitch was low, he used all his upper body strength to hoist himself on, ensuring his footing was secure, taking the box from his mouth and creeping up to her bedroom window.
Y/n sat on her bed, cosied up in her pyjamas and laptop playing YouTube, anything that would redeem the afternoon she’d had, but nothing could prevent the tears from spilling out her eyes when the memory of it flushed over again. Her parents had gone out, and her brother went to his friend’s for dinner so she lucked out on being left alone for the evening, she didn’t feel like discussing how her day went. The quiet car ride home was enough, even though her dad knew something was wrong.
The screen on her phone flashed, and she would’ve ignored it if it hadn’t flashed a second time immediately after.
Qutie At window pls open It’s cold
“The fuck?” she whispered, drawing her blind and sliding the window up, watching Quinn clamber his way into her room. She hastily wiped her eyes, “Q, you could’ve just knocked?”
He straightened out his clothes, closing her window, “I did. And tried the back. And here I am.”
“Oh…sorry,” she bit her cheek, “Q, I’ve had a bad day, I’m not really-”
“-I know. I know what happened, and he won’t think about it again,” he paused, peering down at the box in his hands, “actually he won’t talk to you again.”
“What did you do?” she asked, stepping closer with her arms folded, the sun breaking through her grey clouds after the storm.
“It doesn’t matter,” with a gentle smile and rosy cheeks, he held the box of chocolates out to her. Her gaze jumped from him to the gift in her hands and scanned the note stuck on top, the words written in red with little heart doodles. Her lips twitched upwards unstoppably and the blossoming warmth spread through her body and soul again.
Will you be my Valentine? - Q
“Sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier, I got swept up. I saw you looking at these the other day, it’s not much but I wanted to-” his speech was interrupted when she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his torso tight and muffled ‘thank you’s just audible.
Holding her close, he grinned, “-Anytime.”
*
That summer was the first year Quinn took y/n to the lake house in Michigan. If Jack was allowed to bring his friends, he refused to endure that alone, like Luke had to. Luke begged her brother to be his plus one, but he’d been swept up by his friends too soon. That was also the first time y/n met Cole and Trevor, the two Jack constantly talked about. They didn’t go to the same school as them, he’d met them through hockey camps and they didn’t sound too bad. Quinn always warned about Trevor, something about being a yapper but worse.
Coming face to face with the lake house, y/n hadn’t expected it to be as large as it was, she didn’t really know what to expect when Jim described it as having a games room in the basement that had access to the garden, a first floor that had a beautiful view of the lake from the porch and a second floor with five bedrooms. Yet there she was, standing on the driveway admiring the blue and white home as she’d never seen a structure that big before while Quinn, Ellen and Jim unloaded the car.
“Y/n!” Jack called. She turned towards his voice to be met with two other boys, “This is Trevor,” he gestured to the taller one with tanned skin, “and that’s Cole.” The shorter one.
“Ah, Trevor, the one who likes my boobs,” she recalled, raising her eyebrow at Trevor, who elbowed Jack in the ribs, muttering a ‘dude!’. Cole chuckled at the embarrassment creeping on Trevor’s face, “s’chill. Not the worst thing I’ve heard but definitely something best kept unsaid.”
She may have been okay with it, but a certain brother listening in was far from okay with it, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the suitcases and his brows knitted deep on his forehead.
*
She tossed and turned, frustrated that her eyes refused to stay closed. Every time, she’d fallen asleep, the thunder outside clapped and jolted her awake again. If it wasn’t the weather hammering down keeping her awake, it was Trevor’s snoring from the bed. Herself, Trevor and Cole ended up sharing the spare room, the boys in the double bed and y/n opting to take the mattress on the floor (she refused to lay next to either of the boys, even if that meant sacrificing the space).
As she lay facing the ceiling, she weighed out her options. She either stay there and have the thunder throw her into a wall and have Trevor’s snoring rattle through her bones or find somewhere else to sleep. The living room was one option, but Jim was an early riser and she didn’t enjoy the idea of being woken up by plates and pans crashing around. Then there were the boys’ rooms. Luke also snored, she knew that first-hand from the journey to the lake house, kid snored like a champ the whole time. Jack wiggled too much, a true duvet twister, waking up with pyjama bottoms to pantaloons. And Quinn, well she knew he was perfect, warm and an incredible cuddler. It wasn’t a hard decision.
She poked her head out the door, peeking left and right. The spare room was on the right-hand side, next to the staircase, while Quinn’s sat at the back left corner. Slipping through the gap, she shut the door silently behind her and tiptoed down the hall to Quinn’s room.
His room looked identical to his Toronto room, blue-grey walls, dark oak furniture and navy sheets, but less hockey. Quinn was a peaceful sleeper, never appeared irritated but his hair was always messy somehow. Y/n slipped under the sheets with him, rolling onto her side to face him. He stirred, snuggling into his pillow and his eyes fanned open. His eyelashes were longer and thicker than she thought, why did boys get that gift but not girls?
“Hi,” she whispered, sleepy gazes locking.
“Hi,” he rasped, voice deeper than usual from being riddled with sleep, “can’t sleep?”
She shook her head slightly. Quinn smiled, opening his arms, rolling onto his back and letting her slot herself into him like a puzzle piece, her head on his chest. She listened to his heart, the rhythm syncing with hers as it lulled her to sleep, Quinn’s arms loosely around her, but enough to confirm that he had her and was still there while the weather screamed and cried outside.
At sixteen, y/n obtained her first boyfriend, Leo, which surprised her and her friends. Not because they didn’t think she didn’t deserve him, but because he was the complete opposite of Quinn and because he wasn’t Quinn. Blond hair, green eyes, chatty and outgoing, always referred to her as ‘princess’ and could be a likeable guy. Except her friends never asked if he would like to hang with them. They never asked if he’d like to sit with them at lunch. Rarely had interest in him and he had no interest in them. They tried to talk to y/n, but her head was too far on cloud nine to hear them. Of course, she took it to heart. They loved Quinn, so why couldn’t they love Leo the same?
The Hughes boys clarified their view on her relationship from the start. Not because they were haters or didn’t like seeing their friend happy, but because Quinn’s glares burned holes. Jack and Luke simply hated him because he spoke shit about hockey, almost on purpose the moment he found out the four of them were close, and because he seemed to irritate their big brother. Quinn refrained from gagging every time he saw the couple together at school, a pang in his chest stabbing him always. But she was happy, and that’s the part that stung the most.
Her brother ignored him on the rare occasion he came over. He was a huge Quinn guy, and having anyone but him in his house felt wrong. Like a parasite invasion trying to take his sister away, he wouldn’t let her ride home with the boys in his thirteen-year-old mind, Leo always insisted they hung out after school. The first time Leo came over for dinner, her brother ensured he displayed all the photographs of the Hughes family and his family together, especially the ones of y/n and Quinn. On another occasion he watched a movie with them, just to be annoying. Leo had tried to get y/n alone in the kitchen, hands on her hips and drawing her close, speaking sweet nothings into her lips and finding the panic in her face adorable. Their lips almost connecting, skin burning like wildfire until three, rubber pucks slammed into the targets that hung on the net in the garden, her brother standing proudly with his hockey stick in hand and side-eyeing the kitchen window, giving y/n time to catch her breath and gather her mind before the blond in front of her swore loudly.
What was everyone’s problem? Why wouldn’t they be happy for her? She was in love, a guy loved her for the first time in her life and she wasn’t even allowed to have that. Well, at least Quinn would be happy, and maybe she could convince him at least to let him join the lake house. Or she hoped.
Quinn gathered the pucks out the back of the net, collecting them into a pile, the wrinkles between his eyebrows prominent. Y/n stood to the side, hands in her hoodie pocket, presenting her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.
“No,” he said, shooting a puck into the net.
“Oh come on, Q!”, she whined, “It’s a chance to get to know him, he’s a good guy. Please, for meee?”
He stood straight, turning to face her, “Y/n, I love you and I’d do anything for you, but the answer is still no. There isn’t enough space and it’s my lake house, my summer too.” He hoped she’d give up and drop the subject. The idea of y/n and Leo sharing a bed soiled his mood as it was, he didn’t want the thoughts to develop further into what else they could do. If Leo joined, he’d be alone, he wouldn’t wake up with her at least once, she wouldn’t even look at him and his brothers would never forgive him. Everyone’s summer would be ruined.
She sighed in defeat, “He’s the first guy to ever love me, see me for who I am and everyone acts like he’s got the plague! Q, my dad gives him small talk, my dad!”
He stared, a burning stare that ignited goosebumps along her skin, the hairs on end. They’d looked into each other eyes before, but she’d never seen this kind of fire in him. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as trying to calm himself down, nostrils slightly flaring.
“Is that so?” he cocked a brow, his tongue poking his cheek, “y/n, we’re happy for you, but we miss you. I miss you. I miss getting smoothies, I miss Star Wars marathons, shit, I miss watching you make a mess of my kitchen when Luke wants cookies.” He missed falling asleep with her, calling him at silly hours in the morning, organising his hockey cards together, seeing her wear his hoodies and jerseys, and hearing her laugh.
Her face softened, absorbing his cries and guilt swirling in her stomach. She didn’t realise how his voice beat every song she’d ever listened to or how when he was hurting, his tone was soft-spoken. She forgot how much she loved that, and how no one - not even Leo - could replace it.
“M’sorry, Q.” She hugged him, like usual. The tight embrace with her head in his chest, feeling his arms wind around her shoulders in return, nose finding solace in the crook of her neck and kissing her shoulder.
*
Leo never joined their summer. He was never part of it from the start. When y/n fell back into place with her friends and stopped bringing up Leo, so much relief washed over her daily. The mini-argument with Quinn had paid off because exactly a week before she and the Hughes planned to leave for Michigan Leo had bid his thank yous and goodbyes. She thanked him for nothing messy, but his last words (and reasoning) gripped her around the neck: ‘I don’t think I’m the one you love.’
The moment she stepped out of Ellen’s car, slightly delirious from sleeping on Quinn’s shoulder the whole way, her muscles relaxed. She barely got a chance to stretch before Trevor and Cole came bundling towards her, engulfing her into a group hug while Quinn took his usual duties of unloading the car. All the boys had grown over the winter, Luke grew taller far too quickly, Jack, Trevor and Cole’s voices had dropped and entered that awkward phase where it would break at random and Quinn’s shoulders broadened, his face chiselling out. Y/n felt like the only thing that had changed about herself was the growing number of insecurities. She was at a lake, meaning she had to wear the bikinis she’d spent hours picking out, completely forgetting that Quinn wasn’t the only guy around. What if they didn’t look as good as she thought? What if they were far from flattering? Things she shouldn’t let eat at her but always would linger at the back of her mind.
*
She lay awake, facing the ceiling listening to Trevor’s snoring from the bed for the second year, but it was worse now his voice was deeper. How Cole slept so soundly was a mystery in itself. At least the weather was silent. Yet her mind could not quiet, the events of the week replaying like a tape, glitching on the last few moments and repeating Leo’s words. With a weight in her chest, tears welled in her eyes. She felt so alone and abandoned in a room with an overwhelming teenage presence. She threw the duvet off, shuffling off the mattress, padding out the door and sneaking down the hall.
Quinn’s door opened enough for her to slip into the room and tiptoed over to his bed, crawling under his covers next to him. His hair had gotten longer, messier and the more she looked at it the harder it was to keep her hands to herself. His cheeks weren’t so full anymore, but the back of her fingers still caressed his cheekbone with a feathery touch. Her smile faded, she hadn’t told him about the break-up, she was supposed to tell her best friend everything and she couldn’t even do that, no wonder Quinn hadn’t spoken much to her. He was in the dark and it was all her fault. But he didn’t ask about him. Maybe he was upset because she hadn’t told him? No, Quinn wasn’t like that, was he? Was he upset?
“Trevor’s snoring?” he mumbled, eyes remaining closed. He heard his door click and felt his mattress dip and nobody else would risk waking him.
“Mhm,” she hummed, watching his eyes lazily open, “part of it.”
He rolled over, pulling her onto his chest and arms around her waist, “I got you.”
Her tears soaked blotches into his t-shirt, little sobs slightly muffled by the fabric as his hand stroked her back slowly. He held her close, letting her cry whatever consumed her out of her system while reassuring her that everything was going to be okay in his gentle manner. He wasn’t entirely sure what was so troubling but he had a keen suspicion it had something to do with Leo, she hadn’t mentioned him for a while and a large part of him was fuelled with adrenaline and hope that he was out of the picture for good. It lit fireworks inside him, and he wasn’t ashamed about it.
“He dumped me, Q,” she sobbed, fingers balling his shirt into fists, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Those fireworks inside him burst an array of colours, “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said softly, “did he give you a reason at least?”
Her lip quivered, “He…he said he thinks that he’s not the one I love. I don’t know what that means! This sucks, Q. Sucks going from spending a lot of time with someone, having their full attention to just…not. Makes me gag every time I see my friends with their partners. I feel so…isolated, what do I do now?”
Quinn’s lips fell into a straight line, hand still soothing her back. He knew he shouldn’t have been over the moon at the news, but God did he want to dance around his room and punch the air, maybe click his heels for good measure, “You want my opinion?”
He felt her nod, “You still have friends, and you need them more than a boyfriend. Have you thought about him since?” she shook her head, “Then there’s your answer. You miss the feeling, not the person. There’s someone out there who’s gonna love you tirelessly, treat you right and always come when you call. We’re only sixteen, we’ve got time.”
She thought about Leo, properly. She thought about how he spoke to people, and looking back she kicked herself for how she was too swept up in the feeling to realise how his charm was too enticing. She remembered the time he met Quinn, Jack and Luke for the first time, well Jack and Luke. He’d found out about their passion for hockey and openly shared how he thought it was ridiculous and an overrated sport, that all the players were mediocre at most. He told Jack he’d never make it to the NHL because it’s the sort of dream that stays a dream. Leo off the bat despised Quinn, calling him an obsessive creep when he walked into her house to retrieve Jim’s lasagna dish from her dad. Quinn ignored it, but Leo had seen all the photographs her brother put out, and proceeded to rant about how Quinn was just trying to add her to his body count. Quinn heard that, of course, he was only in the kitchen and if he was honest, he was flattered that Leo assumed he even had a body count. Then the kitchen incident flooded back like the rapids ride at a theme park. If her brother hadn’t interrupted them, she would’ve been kissed, but she didn’t want to kiss him and she knew that he enjoyed the fear in her eyes when his grip tightened.
“Can I ask you something…” she peered up at him.
“Anything.” he looked down at her, voice just above a whisper. Her eyes had a glossy shine to them, even if they were red and puffy from crying, he still got lost in them.
“Can you say ‘princess’, for me?”
He raised his eyebrow, but smiled anyway, “Whatever you want, princess.”
“Fucking hell it sounds so much better when you say it,” she groaned, burying her face into his chest, earning a chuckle from Quinn. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, too well like it was made for him. The worst part was the tingling sensation in her stomach which wound through her heartstrings. All despair was eliminated and, once again, Quinn had pulled her into his rip. They lay in silence for a little while, but neither drifted off to sleep, just lying in each other's company.
“He almost kissed me, Q.” she mumbled into the dark, Quinn’s green eye disturbing his peace, “but I didn’t want to kiss him, the vibe was off. And then my friends bugged me about it.”
She pushed herself onto her elbow, propping herself up and gazing into his sleepy eyes. His palms fell to the small of her back.
“Have you kissed anyone before?” an innocent question turned sultry by his brain, heat shooting to his neck.
“No,” his gaze fell to her lips, “have you?”
She denied it. One had cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip. She melted into his touch, heart pulsing in her ears. Deja vu burst into the room from a year before, where the last time she hovered above him she wanted to kiss him more than she should have. He parted his lips, the teenage boy inside him begging to peek down her shirt and his desperate longing to taste her colliding and dizzying his mind. Their bodies gravitated closer like a magnetic force neither could control anymore until their lips touched and two souls intertwined sweetly. It was an innocent kiss, aside from the accidental bumping of teeth, it wasn’t quite a peck but they relished in each other for no more than five seconds before pulling away with ease again.
“Can we do that again?” she didn’t need to say anything. She kissed him again, harder, longer, her hand sliding from his chest to his jaw as their lips fell into a pattern of connecting and reconnecting, elation surging through them as they fumbled into giggles. Quinn’s problem with kissing her was that no matter how much he tried to push it down, the craving to kiss her again clawed at him. All it took was a pretty smile and he could kiss her the rest of the night. Y/n’s friends bragged about their first kisses, who they were with and where it happened, but she held the crown for the first kiss in a boy’s bed and a meaningful kiss as the cherry on top.
*
Michigan’s sun roasted hotter than in Toronto, but it was a pleasant change from freezing all the time. The kind of heat that the boat’s seats would cling onto, and give you the worst shock of your life when sitting down, so when you sat down on the leather, you stayed down with sizzling skin. Although he’d been to the lake his whole life, Jack’s soul still left his body every time he threw himself onto the seats, usually blaming Quinn for not warning him. She was introduced to their boat last year, expecting only a small, fishing boat-like thing but to say her eyes grew so wide they almost popped out her head would be an understatement. She had limited knowledge of boats but her dad fished a lot so she picked up odd things from his raving, but the only way she could describe it was a traditional bowrider, with u-shaped seats in the back deck and bow seating.
Jack and Luke had shoved past everyone and B-lined for the docks as soon as breakfast was over, Trevor and Cole not far behind and bundled onto the back seats of the boat. The driver’s seat was always left empty for Quinn, and the seat on the left side of the aisle next to the driver’s was always for y/n, furthest from the splash zone so she could read in peace. Unfortunately for Quinn and y/n, that also meant they were the ones lugging the cooler of water bottles through the garden and to the docks, handing it to Jack and Trevor while Quinn hopped in, holding his hand out to her and letting her make her way to her seat.
A couple of hours being anchored in the lake, Jack and Trevor had three backflip contests, teaching Luke ‘how it’s done’ and Cole had won himself one hell of a sunburn. Y/n hadn’t taken her shirt off once, occupying herself by applying suncream to Quinn’s face and judging the backflip rounds. She mindlessly watched the four boys tussle around, pulling and pushing each other off the boat and playing in the cool waters. Something about this summer brought a yearning for adventure, maybe due to her age, to make memories or to distract herself from the sinful thoughts of what Quinn now looked like underneath his t-shirt.
“I know you want to,” her head snapped to face Quinn, his voice dragging her out of her head, “I can see it in your eyes.”
She hugged her torso tighter, diverting her gaze to their feet. Was the first time wearing a bikini this terrifying for everyone? Maybe she should’ve started wearing them sooner. She’d be used to it by now.
“I’m not saying you have to, but,” he gulped, taking a deep breath. His next words could either earn him a smile or a slap, “I think you’re beautiful just as you are. And whatever those fuckers think doesn’t matter. Remember that you’re like a sister to Jack and Luke, they’ve got your back too.”
A wide smile broke onto her face. Anyone else could say that and she wouldn't have batted an eye, but when it fell from his mouth like a song, the pressure was exiled from her body. Her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Quinn’s view darted straight to her chest, the bikini top complimenting her nicely, but too well for anyone but him to see (or so he thought). He didn’t think twice about it, it felt pervy and wrong, but at the end of the day, he was just a teenage boy riddled with fluctuating hormones. At least he wasn’t as bad or proud as Trevor, that was the bar. The top was enough. She kept the little board shorts on. Maybe next year she’d be braver.
“Your turn,” with a cheeky glint in her eyes, she leant forward, elbows on her knees and purposely pushing her breasts together. Caught red-handed, in the act, Quinn Hughes. His cheeks burned red, glancing at his brothers and friends (who were on backflip contest number four) and back at her, slipping his shirt off. She raised her eyebrows when he said he’d been working out more, he meant it. When their gazes met, they both knew that if they had been alone with all the pent-up thrill, they would’ve jumped for each other, let their hands dance, feeling every new curve and dip and melt into each other like wax, moulding to however they wanted.
“Not too bad yourself-” Before she could finish, Jack rolled onto the boat from the back deck with a clumsy urgency, throwing his towel over himself and standing in a wide stance, panting as if throwing himself onto the boat took all his energy.
“Thanks dearest,” pant, “big brother of mine and,” pant, “his girlfriend. Wakeboard!”
Quinn and y/n burst into fits of giggles at the assistance but it fell on deaf ears, watching him clamber in was funnier anyway, especially since the other three people who could have helped decided to watch and laugh too. No one denied the second part of his sentence, it certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed, but it had been taken two ways.
*
When the boys were little, Jim and Ellen had reformed the basement into a games room. It had originally been decked out into more of a guest house, with a kitchenette directly under the stairs and opposite were the large patio doors. But they found more use for it with the boys. On the left side of the doors was a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV and to the right a fireplace with a scoreboard for the pool table, which sat in the centre of the room. The bathroom remained in the back right corner. Most of the time, it was only used for video games and pool, as the distance from the bedrooms meant their screaming and arguing was pleasantly muffled but as more people joined their holiday, more friends were made either at the lake or with hockey people who owned a house on the lake, the room got its fair share of usage and everything was sound.
Until the Tkachuk brothers arrived.
Matthew and Brady were Quinn’s friends, Brady being one of his best and knowing Matthew by default. The Tkachuk’s had recently bought a house on the lake, within walking distance of the Hughes but you could hear them before you’d see them. Y/n had first met Brady when Quinn picked him up from his dock one afternoon, and she had no trouble getting to know him, especially when it came to him showing her photos of all of Quinn’s embarrassing moments from before her era at the lake house, and ones during hockey camps. She understood why Quinn got shy when Brady doxxed him like that, but she found it cute either way and he just enjoyed his two best friends getting along.
The seven of them - Y/n, Quinn, Brady, Cole, Trevor, Jack and Luke - sat in a circle, in that order, on the floor, leaning against the sofa, a bottle of vodka and red solo cups between them. The four youngest sat with stars in their eyes, like Brady had bought a mythical creature over, y/n and Quinn exchanged quizzing looks, shrugging.
“Yeah, how did you get this?” y/n asked, picking the bottle up and inspecting the alcohol percentage.
“Matt,” Brady smirked, pride smeared across his face, “one of his friends has a fake ID, and said he’d get me a bottle if I helped him get this chick’s number.”
“And it worked?” Quinn mocked, Jack, Cole and Trevor did their best to hide their giggles.
“Nobody can resist a Tkachuk,” he peered past Quinn to look at y/n, “it’s the pretty eyes and dashing looks, right y/n?”
Jack and Luke side-eyed each other, holding back their laughter at Quinn’s pout. Y/n shrugged, giving boys satisfaction wasn’t something she enjoyed, and seeing Brady dramatically hold his hand to his heart and act offended seemed to lighten Quinn’s mood.
“Can we crack this baby open now? I wanna get drunk!” Trevor cheered, Jack and Cole joining him. Something like that would be exciting for fifteen-year-olds, but (not so) little Luke stayed quiet, shrinking into himself next to y/n. She placed an arm around his shoulder, presenting him with a warm, reassuring smile.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, no one’s gonna force you,” she murmured.
“Come on, Lukey! Don’t be a pussy!” Jack taunted as Brady poured him, Cole and Trevor a small amount. Cole took his sip first, his face screwing up immediately and coughing at the burning down his throat. Trevor cackled, tapping his cup with Jack’s and they both swallowed theirs together. Like karma, Trevor wheezed and held his chest, face scrunching amusingly at the kick. Jack didn’t get off lightly either, his throat feeling like fire and he shook his head, putting his cup on the floor. The rest laughed, hard. The three musketeers were so confident just to have it backfire.
Brady poured vodka into his, Quinn’s and her cups, grinning from ear to ear and placing the bottle back between them all.
Cup in hand, she nudged Luke, “Do you want a small sip?”
He hesitantly nodded, taking the cup gently and letting a tiny drop cover his tastebuds. That was enough for him to jolt back and shake his head. The three eldest bumped cups and swallowed the alcohol in one go, Brady cheering like he’d won the Stanley Cup, Quinn doing his best to suppress the sour expression on his face and y/n exhaled at the flare descending her throat. She and Quinn side-eyed each other, stifling giggles. The rush brought back the rendezvous of her sixteenth birthday where her parents had treated her to a bottle of vodka, specifically instructing she only drink it around them. Hours later when her close friends arrived, and Quinn of course, that bottle and a carton of orange juice was shared between them and drank dry, her bedroom swarming with drunk teenagers hiding hangovers in the morning.
“Wow, my first ever drink turned out to be…actually not as pleasant as I imagined.” Brady’s eyebrows raised, watching the three musketeers urgently agree with him. Quinn and y/n’s grins widened, and they fist-bumped. They’d finally discovered something they had done before Brady. He’d relentlessly teased Quinn with his experiences as he was older, but it was due to Matthew being older. Now, it was Quinn’s turn, he was finally the cool, older brother.
“That was your first?” Quinn teased. Brady blinked twice, opening his mouth to speak but closing it, holding his fist out to Quinn instead.
“You didn’t add a mixer, it’s more bearable with juice,” she stood up and grabbed an orange juice from the fridge. Sitting back in her spot, she took Brady’s cup, poured a little vodka and topped it with the juice, stirring it with her finger, “now try.”
He took a sip, the orange juice slightly outweighing the alcohol and it didn’t tear through him this time, “Okay, you’re invited to every party from now on. Dudes, you gotta try this.”
One empty bottle later the group found themselves slumped back and blurry-eyed. Luke had gone to bed, terrified of the consequences if he were still there in the morning. Quinn and y/n leant into each other, Jack’s head resting on her lap. Brady’s ass went numb from sitting on the floor, but he feared that if he stood up, he’d just meet the floor again but with a bruise when he woke up.
At some point in that hour, Trevor suggested truth or dare, and being too tipsy to argue, they’d all been roped into it. The dares hadn’t been too bad, but as Brady slowly gathered his senses, previous conversations and events flooded back to his active memory. With his sights landing on Quinn and y/n, it was like his and Trevor’s minds intertwined. Calm and collected Quinn had been giggling at others too much throughout the night. Calm and collected Quinn who never seemed to be fazed by embarrassment for too long.
“Jack, truth or dare?” Trevor asked absently.
“Truth.”
“Ass or tits?”
Y/n ran her fingers through Jack’s hair and rolled her eyes. Boys.
“Easy. Tits. Next. Brady, truth or dare?” Jack’s eyes closed, body relaxing when her nails scratched his scalp.
Brady snorted, “Hah, dare!”
Jack paused, thinking about what kind of dare Brady would come up with, “skinny dip in the lake.”
“Dude, if I stand up, I’ll fall. I’ll do it next time we’re on the boat, swear it.” They chuckled, watching his head shake desperately. Nobody would have to dare Brady to do something like that, you could just suggest the idea and he’d be down for the sake of a story. Matthew had shared many stories of his adventures when he was his age, and Brady was determined to be as cool as him and live a wild life like every day was his last day on Earth. “Y/n, truth or dare?”
“Dare, fuck it. Be nice.” Her heart raced, the words falling out before she could think.
“I dare you to sit on Quinn’s lap for the rest of the game.”
Quinn’s muscles tensed, cheeks flushing when Jack sat up. He uncrossed his legs and let her manoeuvre herself onto his thigh, curling up comfortably. Without much thought, his arms winded around her waist, holding her close. Even though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, a small part of him sobered up enough to appreciate the buzz of openly holding her.
“Cole, truth or dare?” she watched Cole perk up, his eyes absent like he’d just woken up.
“Show us a pic from your ‘my eyes only’ on Snap.”
“Favourite porn category?”
“Who was the better kisser, Jess or Sarah?”
“Okay Quinner,” Brady’s turn circled back, rubbing his, nonexistent, beard as he spoke, “Who do you currently have a crush on?”
Quinn’s stomach dropped. If he didn’t like Brady so much, he would’ve taken the question as a betrayal. When he told Brady about his and y/n’s bedtime kiss, it was out of confidence, with his full chest, at his most vulnerable. Never did he expect him to reference it in public, in front of her and his brother’s friends. He then realised that Matthew also, most likely, knew.
“Gone shy?” the youngest Tkachuk smirked, the other boys suddenly sparking back to life and leaning in.
“No, just never thought you’d be into gossip,” he mumbled, giving the blond a cold glare. If his situation couldn’t have gotten any worse, y/n shifted dangerously close to his crotch and all he could do was keep her encased into him and pray his shorts wouldn’t betray him like his best friend had.
“If you’re into gossip now, what about you? Tell us which girl at your school has your eye, describe her, what’s she like?” y/n blurted. It was like she read Quinn’s mind. Or the stress in his face.
Cole, Trevor and Jack’s heads whipped between the three bicker, smiles dopey and rubbing their hands together.
“Deflecting? Didn’t think you’d get so defensive-”
“-Not getting defensive, I have nothing to defend, but if Quinn doesn’t wanna answer, he doesn’t have to.”
It was a relief that it was just bickering and not a deep argument, God help them all if y/n and Brady ever fell out properly, his ability to chirp and her intelligent stubbornness would not be a tornado to interrupt. But her protectiveness squeezed his heart, making the situation he was always in dreadful.
“Oh really?” Brady laughed, “What about you since you have nothing to defend? Who juices your lemons? Or is Quinner gonna grow a pair and admi-”
What an uncomfortable phrase to start with, and if she took too long to answer he’d just taunt her more. She wanted him to drop the subject overall, it didn’t matter, but humbling him would, at least, cheer Quinn up slightly, even if what she was about to say required a conversation afterwards.
“-Matthew Tkachuk.” The name shot out like a bullet through Brady. His jaw dropped and a smirk wiped off his face. He knew his brother was popular, but never had he met someone his age admit it to his face. He sat back, speechless. Her heart thundered, Quinn could feel it, see the panic in her eyes while Brady saw a threat. Jack, Trevor and Cole sat like deers in headlights in the silence which engulfed the room. Quinn’s grip around her waist tightened, his brows creasing but Brady watched the light in his eyes sink and his hold on her become desperate like she would slip away if he let go.
The thick atmosphere collapsed when Jack shot up and bolted for the bathroom, Cole hot on his tail, “I think I’m gonna puke.”
Quinn’s limbs sank deep into the sofa cushions, but his eyes stared at the plant next to the TV. Jack’s stomach giving up surprisingly saved their friendships and shortly they’d decided it was time to call it a day, himself, y/n and Trevor taking the sofa, Jack crashing closest to the bathroom and Brady and Cole sprawled out on the floor. Even after the drunken result of a stupid truth game, y/n’s back was still pressed against his chest. Not Matthew’s. His arm was around her middle, his face was in her hair, and he was the one cuddling her. No one else, but the thoughts still spiralled. If she did like Matthew and not him, could he be that angry? Matthew was older, taller, better looking (Brady had mentioned how Tkachuk’s had ‘dashing good looks’ so what could he expect) and far more experience. Had she even met Matthew? When? Was she seeing him secretly? What if she was trying all these new experiences with him just to impress Matthew, getting in practice so, when she was to kiss him she wouldn’t embarrass herself, cuddling him so she knew what to do? The possibility that she was as affectionate with a guy other than himself made him sick to his stomach, it was like Leo all over again but worse. They were older now, progressed more and feelings devoured instead of nibbled, whirlpools instead of ripples. There were plenty of other boys besides himself, and maybe having a guy best friend became convenient for her.
With a tear slithering down his cheek, he buried his face into her shoulder and planted a sweet, but sad, chaste kiss on her jaw, fighting off the urge to sob until he fell asleep.
Seventeen was a big age for prime-time adolescents, not quite an adult but not a little kid anymore. Risk and rebellion went hand in hand and doing everything you were told not to do was in fashion, so when you went to college you didn’t look like a complete bore. It also meant relationships started getting serious, people considering college and the survival rate of long distance, who had broken up and who was still together.
After last summer, Quinn and y/n breathed Toronto air and they fell back into place, as if the Vodka Incident, as they called it, had never happened. Quinn had all her attention again and spent the autumn and winter doing his best to keep it that way. It didn’t take a lot, she loved everything they did together, her new favourite memory being when Quinn took her to her first Maple Leafs game once he’d passed his driver’s license. He also kissed her in the car afterwards, slow with his hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing the denim on her jeans. When they got back to her house, he had her pushed down into her bed, lips smothering her neck in timid, wet kisses while her cold hands snuck under his shirt, sending chills up his spine in the most pleasurable sense. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing, but his secure grip on her hips had her writhing beneath him when he’d found her sweet spot on her neck, experimenting with a nip to the flesh and almost cumming his boxers at the mewl that slipped past her lips. Their hips rolled and ground into each other with hands tugging on shirts, exposed collarbones and sloppy kisses to sensitive spots. They hadn’t even properly made out yet and there they were, exploring each other like territory and right before any clothes could be removed, Ellen rang him. It was an evening neither would forget.
*
“I’m tellin’ you, dude, they are not ‘just friends’, look at ‘em.” Trevor gestured in front of him, raising his voice over the music.
“Trev, I’ve known them my whole life, they’ve always been like this.” Jack groaned, taking a sip from his Coke.
Under the strings of fairy lights hung over the audience and the weather warm and clear, Quinn twirled y/n, hugging her from behind as they sang the lyrics to the country song coming from the stage. When Luke saw the ad in the supermarket one afternoon, he practically begged his parents to take them all, and being unable to say ‘no’ to their youngest child, they agreed.
Luke and Cole had a blast, trying every food stall they saw, rocking the cowboy hats and singing their hearts out. It was safe to say that Luke still had a lot of personality, and Cole revealed his love for karaoke. Y/n hadn’t been to many concerts before, the overwhelming crowds caging and the fear that she’d get split up was astronomical. As they’d made their way around, wrangling up Luke and Cole, hurling Trevor and Jack away from groups of girls way older than them, she had her arm looped around Quinn’s. Ellen ran around as their paparazzi, no doubt planning to print all the photos off and stick them in an album.
“Are you hearing yourself, Jizzy?” Trevor deadpanned, as much as the god-awful nickname amused him, Jack’s slow-functioning brain at the moment matched the stupidity of it.
Quinn’s arms around her waist, chin resting on her head and they swayed to the tune of the song, bright smiles and oblivion to the world around them. It was just them, imagining the lyrics were for and about them, speaking to each other so they didn’t have to muster up the courage themselves.
“Yeah. Look, man, think whatever you want, the Tkachuks get here next week, and if I remember correctly, Matthew was a pretty hot topic last summer.” Jack couldn’t lie, he didn’t remember a lot from the Vodka Incident. He only remembered Brady’s brutal truths, y/n admitting Matthew was hot and waking up with a sore head with the taste of vomit and vodka in his mouth. He also remembered watching the tears fall on his brother’s cheek.
*
She didn’t want to believe that she was the person looking back at her in the mirror. She pulled at the straps and readjusted the ties and bikini bottoms, to see if they would flatter her better in a new position. She spun slightly, viewing the back and chewed her cheek. Did her ass look good? The top wasn’t too slutty…was it? Too much cleavage? Not enough? Why was trying to feel hot such hard work? She threw her head back and sighed, circling her thoughts back to last summer.
I think you’re beautiful just as you are.
Shaking her shoulders, she slipped her tank top and shorts on, grabbed her towel and left out the porch doors.
Beads of sweat rolled down the back of Quinn’s neck. He didn’t need to look behind him to know Jack had invited neighbouring girls onto the boat, he could hear them giggling. He zoned out, staring at next door’s deck deaf to the world around him. Was shaving the right choice that morning? What if y/n liked his growing, patchy beard? But what if she preferred clean-shaven? He watched the girls in the windshield’s reflection squeeze the boy’s biceps, complimenting their abs. They adored Luke’s cute face and charming smile. It sucked being thirteen and enchanted. Quinn kept his shirt on, he wasn’t built like the others, and his confidence surely didn’t need dismantling. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, lips pursing until he caught y/n running out the corner of his eyes, his lips perking into a smile as she sat in her seat next to him.
“Who are they?” she whispered, leaning over, his New York Yankees hat perched on her head. He only shrugged, starting the engine and pulling away from the docks. “Well, I guess it means we get peace, at least.”
So much for peace.
Mila, the brunette in the pink bikini, saw exactly what y/n saw. The way Quinn’s hand held the wheel, casually yet so controlled, imagining them grabbing and moulding her like putty. The veins that popped on his arms, perhaps even his thighs, but y/n refused to believe that anyone else was looking at his thighs the way she did; unapologetically hungrily. She leaned against the back of his seat, pushing her breasts up as much as she could into the top of his shoulders, taking a longer strand of his hair and curling it around her finger.
“It’s so cool how you can drive this thing without an adult, when did you get your licence?” she asked. Quinn kept his eyes on the waters, lips falling into a deep frown.
“Fourteen, y/n also has one.”
“Oh,” she tilted her head, “cute. So, do you live here or is this a one-time thing?”
Y/n squinted. She knew she shouldn’t have let it get under her skin. She knew she couldn’t control everything but was seething would be an understatement. Some random chick, putting her tits up against Quinn, touching him the way she does. If she could just trip and accidentally knock her overboard she would.
“Live here in the summer.” His tone was flat, not anywhere near interested and his t-shirt clung to his back. A smile spread across Mila’s cheeks, she and her friends were only at the lake for the week and proudly admitted they were on the prowl for some fun. She arched her back, popping her ass out, hoping he could feel her skin on the back of his neck. Y/n huffed, letting her demons get the better of her and she tugged her tank top over her head and wiggled out the denim shorts. This summer the board shorts stayed at the house.
He choked when he saw. His first time seeing her in almost nothing. He was used to tank tops hugging her tits and little shorts, but seeing so much bare skin now changed a lot. The benchmark was removing her shirt, and now he got the full thing, in front of his face, within his reach and confidently like she wanted his attention and his only. She’d spent years worrying about what others thought about her, and with a little threat, the only thing she now cared about was making Quinn fumble over his words and remind him whom he pinned against her bed before summer.
“Mila, you look a little squished there,” y/n stood up, “take my seat, Jack doesn’t bite, promise.”
“But then where will you sit?”
Y/n stepped over to Quinn and gave him a wink. He leant back, heart exploding when she sat on his lap, bare skins touching for the first time and the pit of his stomach surging hot, the fireworks re-lighting and tingling over his skin and to his muscles, lips immediately spreading into a grin. He tucked his arm around her waist, settling his hand on her hip, fingers hooking the waistband in the leg hole of her bikini bottoms. Mila’s eyes scanned her, receiving her message clearly before plonking herself next to Jack, who happily gave her the attention she wanted. Y/n wrapped her arm around his neck.
“No shorts?” he murmured into her ear, voice low and rumbly.
“Remembered what you said a year ago, and I think you’re also beautiful just the way you are.” She toyed with the collar of his t-shirt.
“You should sit here more often.”
“Maybe I will, Captain Q.”
They giggled quietly, foreheads touching lightly and he kissed her hairline playfully while the backseat passengers caused havoc with the wakeboard, begging Quinn to let them show off their ‘skills’.
In four days the Tkachuks would arrive. That’s what kept Quinn up at night. He had four days to muster up his courage before she’d slip through his fingers to the better man.
*
They watched the ball fly far, Jim standing proud with his arms folded in a wide stance, as dads do. Trevor high-fived Cole, throwing up an ‘L’ shape with his fingers at Jack. The middle Hughes puffed his chest out, placed his ball on the tee and positioned himself, re-gripping the club. He drew back and swung, watching his golf ball fly out into the distance. Y/n watched from the side, recording their turns for them like they’d asked, a smile on her face. Jim took them to the driving range after Jack complained that video games were becoming boring, and neither Trevor nor Cole had been to one before, and when four boys were bursting with energy, how could Jim say turn down such an opportunity?
Y/n hadn’t played properly before either. Quinn had only taken her to crazy golf, and that was as far as her experience went. None of this correct positioning and firm swings. Though it was comforting watching Cole and Trevor not have a clue either, Trevor was a fast and eager learner, and Cole was just bad but there for a good time.
“I can show you how to do it if you want.” Quinn stood next to her, leaning down slightly with a low voice. When did he get so tall? She tilted her head up, the club in his hand sent her back to her childhood, the exact day she sat on the step with Quinn holding a hockey stick out to her. “It's your summer too.”
She nodded and Quinn hooked his little finger with hers, leading her to the grass and placed a ball on the tee. She copied Jack’s stance, letting Quinn stand behind her, chest to her back as his arms engulfed her, hands over hers on the club.
“Draw back like this,” his breath hot on her neck as he drove the club back, “and then you swing. Just like we do. Yeah?”
Her stomach fluttered, concentration droning in more on his voice vibrating through his chest. She nodded, licking her lips and the caged animal inside her chewing at its bars.
“Good girl.” He stepped back, letting her go. With his eyes glued to her figure, he watched her body take a breath, drawing back and taking a decent swing. For a first go, it wasn't a bad swing, not perfect but good enough that Trevor groaned about how unfair it was (he missed the ball the first time).
“This is literally the first day we met all over again,” Luke said to his dad, who raised his eyebrows, more shocked that he remembered that day since he couldn't even remember his birthday half the year.
The group next to them left, but the gap was soon replaced by a new one, a louder one consisting of late teens. One of them didn't stop walking, the blond one with curls and a mullet, and pretty eyes on par with Jack's.
“Quinner! Jim! Fancy seeing you here.” Matthew Tkachuk, Brady's suave, crazy older brother and his posse who stood just as awkward as the Hughes and co.
Y/n shuffled to stand with Quinn, pressing into his side ever so gently. He placed his hand on the small of her back, smile fading into a frown while his dad chatted and brothers and friends continued their practice.
“Is that Matthew?” Quinn couldn't begin to describe the electricity that flowed through his veins upon hearing that she didn’t know who he was. However while part of him jumped with joy, the other part spiralled further and pressure added to his shoulders. There was absolutely nothing to stop Matthew, or his cooler, older friends from snatching her, and him, weak, little Quinn, trying to keep her in his rip was laughable. If it wasn’t Matthew (unknowingly) getting daggers, it was his friend in the back. The athletic one eyeing y/n shamelessly, nudging the blond in a cap next to him.
“Anyway, nice bumping into you. See you fellas, Quinner,” He shot her a wink, “y/n.”
Her face flushed warm, and she gave him a flirty wave before they disappeared into the office. Jim ushered his boys and friends out, Quinn remaining silent when he drove himself and y/n to the house, not even her hand on his thigh could cut through the thick atmosphere.
The rest of that afternoon Quinn shut himself in his room, undisturbed. His family huddled around the campfire, making s'mores and the boys sharing their day with Ellen. Y/n prodded at the fire, adding more wood and sat back in her chair, glancing up at Quinn’s bedroom window. The light was out, blind and curtains drawn, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts. She didn't feel like eating any more s’mores, she lost her appetite with the empty seat next to her and overbearing twisting in her gut. The Tkachuk’s voices echoed from houses away, and she never thought she’d dread hearing their laughter until then.
She didn't knock on Quinn’s door. She just let herself in, joining him in the sheets and laying on her back. His breathing was heavy, he opened his eyes and rolled onto his back.
“What’s up? You haven't said anything since we left the driving range.” She mumbled.
“Nothing.” Her head turned to look at him, unimpressed. Feeling the shift, he peered over his shoulder before rolling his eyes, “Didn't like how he looked at you.”
He faced her, scowl softening, noses painfully close. His eyes fell to her lips, hand cupping her jaw and glazing his thumb over her soft skin. The twisting in her gut dissolved into heat pooling in her stomach, desire rising with every stroke of his thumb.
“And how did he look at me, Q?” She rolled onto her side, rubbing her foot along his leg.
His breath shuddered, and his voice dropped to a rasp, “Like he wanted to devour you.”
Shimmying closer, her hand pushed against his shoulder to lay flat on his back again. His hand never left her jaw, their lips closed in, ghosting each other as she propped herself up on her elbow. Getting jealous over a look, the way Quinn himself looked at her when she pranced around in her bikinis, hooded eyes and a lazy smile.
“So, the way you look at me, Quinn?” Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip.
“Yeah,” His voice above a whisper, laced with nothing but provocation for someone to do something, for he couldn't take the aching in his cock forever. “I won't do anything you don't want me to…what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to devour me.” She whispered into his mouth, his lips hitting hers with force, pulling her body on top of his and another hand, slipping up her shirt and exploring the curve of her spine. A low moan emitted from her throat, his tongue running along her bottom lip and impatiently tasting the sweet melted marshmallows from the s'mores when she granted him access. It was embarrassing how lost she was; taking a backseat wasn’t in her system, but something about Quinn's tongue dominating and lapping at hers just made her seams burst and soak her panties then and there. It didn't matter how he knew what to do, or if he was just going with his instincts, the way his hands kneaded her flesh like dough drew whimpers from her throat and with a carnal desire racking her bones, she rolled her hips into his, paying extra attention to his cock stiffening in his shorts as it bumped her cunt.
“Don't stop,” he groaned, hands gripping the globes of her ass, “feels s'good.”
He kissed her again, bucking his hips up into her. Her hands slid to the hem of his shirt, tugging the bottom up. Quinn hesitated but sat up, keeping her settled on his lap but hastily pulling the clothing over his head. It was like all the insecurity of not being hot enough washed away with the way she was dry humping, aching for his dick, finally alone for them to misbehave.
She smoothed her hands over his chest, solid and defined, her fingers tracing over his collarbones and stomach as if he were a sculpture in a museum. Sure she'd seen him shirtless on the boat, but this was different. This was for her eyes only, she was allowed to touch and feel his skin and muscles contract and relax as she savoured every last drop of him.
“Wow…” She muttered, the pad of her fingers joining his moles with an invisible line like a constellation.
“Don't say that, I'm not like Jack…or Trevor.” His gaze couldn’t meet hers. He didn't have a six-pack, a tiny waist or any sort of boyish charm to him. “Nothin’ special.”
She gripped his cheeks between her fingers, forcing him to stare into her eyes, “And yet here you are, in bed, with a girl who wants you to do disgusting things to her. You're special to me, shouldn't that be all that matters?”
Y/n let his face go, pulling her shirt over her head and discarding it somewhere across the room. She ran her hands down her chest, his eyes following as they travelled over her curves and to his hands. Taking them, she cupped his palms over her breasts.
“Take it off, Q,” She batted her eyelashes at him, his cheeks flushing, “I want you to touch me. What do you want?”
He slid his hands to her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra and watching with an intense and desperate stare as the underwear fell from her arms, tits bare and in his face and the clothing launched into the dark. They felt so soft in his palms, squishy and so soft. He rolled her nipples with his thumbs, watching her eyes shut and mouth part through his eyelashes. He couldn't wait to feel them against his chest finally.
“I wanna be the first guy to know how you feel around his cock, how you taste. I wanna be the guy you see when you're all alone, fucking yourself. I wanna hear you scream my name.” He pulled her in again, kissing her rough and messy, his hands leaving no place on her skin untouched and groping at her tits until he had her whimpering for more. With a groan rumbling from his throat, he flipped them over, hovering over her face of lust. Her pussy throbbed, and when his fingers pulled the bow on her shorts loose, she swore she would have cum right there.
“Can I?
“Yes, please.”
“Please what? I need words, pretty girl.” A flash of confidence washed over him, and he wasn't sure where it came from but his best guess was his core.
“Please fuck me, Quinn,” She gasped, rubbing her thighs together, “Please be the first to fuck me. I need you.”
Diving into the column of her neck, he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her collarbones and the valley of her breasts, taking one into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the nub. His other hand groped and squeezed, pinching between his fingers while she mewled like a song to his ears.
Releasing her with a ‘pop’, his kisses graced her hot flesh down her stomach and finished just above the waistband of her shorts. He gazed through his lashes, and sat on his heels, wiggling the shorts down and off her legs. He couldn't help but stare, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
“You're so fucking beautiful,” his voice airy and in awe, tugging his shorts off and tossing them aside. “All mine.
“All yours,” she repeated, propping herself up on her elbows. “Have you ever fingered a girl?”
He shook his head, hooking his fingers around her panties and pulling them off, taking in the privilege of being the only one to see such a pretty sight before him.
“Only seen it in porn, the basics.” He positioned his fingers, middle and ring, just to prove it. She smiled, taking his wrist and guiding him to her folds, gliding his fingers between them until he got the hang of it.
“That's it, now rub my clit, firm but gentle.” He followed, taking her advice and circling her clit, peering up at her for reassurance. He got it, he knew he was doing it right when she collapsed back into his mattress, whimpering. Moving to hover over her, fingers gliding through her slick to the correct hole (he only knew from various conversations about the anatomy of a vagina she'd given, so he wouldn't look all that bad) and sliding one finger into her.
“You're so fucking wet,” He smirked. A quick learner, indeed and much too indulged in her spongy walls as he pumped his finger, “Princess, do I do this to you?”
“Yeah,” She moaned. His fingers felt so much better, more filling. “More, please.”
He added a second finger, drawing them in and out, curling, and he knew he was doing it right; she was writhing and whimpering beneath him, one hand fisting his sheets and the other locked on his bicep. His thumb nudged her clit on accident, but the way she arched and moaned had him circling it. She couldn't formulate a coherent sentence with the way he thrust his fingers into her, moving faster as she’d cried. Quinn still couldn't believe the position he was in. His naked best friend, underneath his almost naked body, with his fingers inside her pussy, hoping to make her cum and lose his virginity. All while his family sat outside without a clue.
“Shit, like that-” she bucked her hips to match his pace, “So good, just like I dreamt, Quinn.”
“Oh yeah? You dream about…me?” He grumbled, his voice low.
“Yes!”
The knot inside her stomach tightened, her cunt clenching and swallowing his fingers like they were made for him. It had her wondering what else Quinn could do to her, how else he could make her cum, because the way his fingers curled as if he was summoning her climax was dizzying. Who knew that out of everyone, it would be Quinn making her squirm, Quinn's name slipping from her lips as his fingers stroked her walls and had her begging for more, Quinn causing her eyes to become half-lidded with a lazy and coquettish smile, plaguing her thoughts with dirty desires on how many other ways she could clench around him.
“Gonna cum, Quinn,” She panted, squeezing her eyes closed.
“Anything you want, princess. Anything.” He pumped faster, her core relaxing and his fingers blessed with warmth leaking from her. He pulled his fingers out slowly, eyes locking with hers as he placed them on his tongue, tasting her flavour.
“You taste amazing,” He licked his fingers clean, a small spark of hope for the future inside him. “How was it? You okay?”
“I’m great,” She giggled, catching her breath, “With more practice, you’ll be a pro.”
He kissed her, y/n's tasting herself on his tongue, her hands in his hair, tugging at the curls on the nape of his neck. Something inside him screamed to stop before he became addicted, he needed her. He needed her in high dosages all the time, to feel her, to taste her, to have his tongue lap and suck hers and let their saliva intertwine like their bodies. He wanted to mark her up and call her a work of art.
He pulled his boxers off and left kisses over her collarbones.
“Do you have a condom?” He did, actually. Only two that Brady had slipped him the day he told him about the first time they kissed. Quinn leant over and rummaged around his nightstand, y/n running her hands over his body, specifically grasping at his hips. Something about men's hips was so…sexy. She couldn't explain it and didn't need to because Quinn kneeled over her, erect cock on display and y/n, without thinking, gently took it into her palm. His hands trembled when she gave him a couple of strokes, in awe at what she was seeing.
“You're so pretty, Q,” She kissed his tip, “all mine.”
“Yeah,” He rolled the condom on, “all yours, baby.”
Hand latching on the back of his neck, she pulled him on top of her, giving him time to line himself up cautiously before pushing himself in. Her jaw dropped wide, a gasp leaving her body and his head snapped to her.
“Shit, I didn't hurt you, did I?”
“No, it's just…new, keep going.”
He slid in until bottoming out completely, her head tilting back as her walls adjusted to his size. She had no judgment, but he felt good and maybe, just maybe he'd grow to feel amazing. There was only one way to find out.
“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” He fell to his elbows, face hiding in her shoulder.
“Move, Q, please move,” She whimpered, “feels good!”
Quinn rocked his hips in a languid motion, back and forth, back and forth, his lovesick euphoria fuelling his stamina. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and whined in his ear, all he wanted to do was keep driving into her just to hear her ecstasy flourish. To feel her pulling him into an embrace of wet dopamine walls. Hooked on the feeling, he thrusted faster, groaning at the way she whimpered every time he pushed back in and his body surged with heat when her tits bounced against his chest. That was it. Just their bodies together. Together doing what nobody they knew had done before. Fucked their best friend, their person. Her Quinn and his y/n. In his bed, at the lake house, his cock plunging into her cunt with a luscious desperation serving the two teens a paradise of stimulation.
“Fuck!” He groaned, planting kisses on her jaw and her lips, “Say my name, pretty girl.”
“Quinn,” if she could scream his name she would have, but hearing the low moan in his ear was enough for his hips to pound faster, “gonna cum, Quinn.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, cock reaching deeper and the shockwaves of the angle feeding into his excitement. She was latching onto him like he was her lifeline, moans and grunts blending like a chorus the harder and more his hips rutted into her pussy with crude greed. No, it wasn't perfect, it was sloppy and beginner, as expected. But for the first time, y/n's cunt swallowed every inch of Quinn possible. Skins slapping and his cock hitting her cervix as she'd dreamed of, his voice in her ears, eyes steady on hers with a primal yet loving gaze as they worked through it together, tits bouncing with every rut and smiles bright with adoration at the reality.
“Cum with me,” he took her lips into his, tongues finding their rhythm as his thrusts lost theirs. “Taking me so well, princess.”
The pool of heat in her core was scorching, her seams of lust on the brink of bursting, Quinn's last few drags of his cock hitting the sweet spot right and a carnal, airy moan rang through his ears, her legs almost shaking. He took her through her orgasm, sticky cum filling the condom, his energy depleting, his hair sticking to his forehead but a fire still burning through his body. He wished he could have seen the display, seen the way she coated his cock creamy.
He collapsed onto her, not pulling out just yet, he'd do that when his energy regenerated. For now, he lay chest to chest with his head tucked in the crook of her neck, her fingers running over his back muscles delicately as they caught their breaths. She could have stayed like that forever, his voice chanting shameless grunts and sweet nothings like a mantra replaying through her head, refusing to forget the image of him over her body in the most despicable way. What else could they do now? What more? She couldn't resist the temptation of thinking about his kinks, what got him going? What did she do that riled him up? Did he know that his arms were delectable? That she loved when his shirts got tight around his chest?
“Did I hurt you?” His voice broke the silence.
“It hurt at first slightly but it's okay. You didn’t hurt me.” She smiled, one hand moving to stroke the back of his hair. “Are you good?”
She felt his grin against her neck, “I feel fucking amazing. You feel fucking incredible. You look so pretty, y/n. Always.”
He was babbling, the comedown still holding onto him. While she did believe every word he said, was it in the moment or forever? She couldn't tell. She wouldn't know. But what she did know was that she didn't regret a single second, and wouldn't change it for the world. And that having him nestled inside her was comfortable, in the most filthy way.
Quinn pushed himself onto his elbows, giving her a chaste kiss on her lips, “As much as I love this, I gotta clean us up and put clothes on before someone ruins it.”
*
No one did ruin it. No one even questioned why they were in the same room, y/n waking up to his lips on her neck, leaving butterfly kisses until she'd grab him by the cheeks and kiss his face all over. That was the perk of sneaking into bedrooms for so long, people expected to see her emerge with Quinn, frothy toothbrushes hanging out of mouths and wearing a t-shirt that definitely wasn't hers (and he loved that). Back when they were fifteen, Jim had scolded Quinn for falling asleep with her, even if they did nothing. He received the uncomfortable teen pregnancy lecture that ruined the moment. It was the moment he realised that he would give anything to wake up next to her all the time, her face to be the first thing he saw and to start his day tangled up with her. Ellen wasn't as harsh on him, she knew her eldest wasn't irresponsible like that. Y/n hadn’t received a lecture at all. Her mother asked brutal questions on what they were up to, but her father just said ‘As long as you're not preggers’. He knew his daughter wasn't a fan of children so why would she be irresponsible? But now at seventeen, they’d really done it. And no one would know about it. And the sacrifices they'd make just to wake up next to each other every day. She'd love to see him in his disoriented, brooding state when she woke up, and if you asked Quinn or his family, she'd be the only one brave enough.
With a dopey grin, Quinn's arms caged y/n into the kitchen counter, pressing himself into her, lips attached to her neck. Since that night, the urge for action became unbearable. The next week was pure sneaking around, making out in empty rooms, subtle touches under tables, hands travelling up clothes indecently far and bedtime shenanigans kept at a low volume. Like now, in the empty kitchen, rolling hips into each other and lips connecting and reconnecting with needy tongues tasting whatever their last drink was. What originally started as grabbing plates and fruit for the neighbourhood barbecue quickly melded into hips being shoved into the counter and being kissed breathless.
“We can't do this here.” She lightly pushed him off her mouth, hands placing themselves on his pectorals, flat and copping a feel. His hands fell to the small of her back, eyes shifting to the blue bikini top he knew she'd worn just for him.
“Then let's go somewhere we can, pretty girl.” He said playfully, pulling her back to him.
“Q, the barbecue. The Tkachuks will be here soon and Jim wants you to grill, he won't let Trevor near it again.” She slipped from his hold, taking the bowl of fruits off the counter and leaving through the porch doors, swaying her hips. He clicked his tongue. Matthew and Co would be there soon, but at least she hadn’t swept him under the rug.
When the Tkachuks did arrive, it was more like the Tkachuks and friends as Matthew’s posse also turned up. Not that anyone made a fuss, the Hughes were all for parties, especially ones that brought their kids together.
One of the girls from Matthew's group, Layla, joined y/n at the garden table, which was arranged beautifully with snacks and plates. Y/n had barely heard the girl approach her until she saw her hand move the bowl of pretzels out of the way for the fruit bowl, and when she looked up she just blinked. Layla was gorgeous, with large, cat-like eyes lined with mascara and pin-straight blonde hair thrown into a bun.
“Must be rough being in a house of guys all summer, eh?” She smiled softly.
“Sometimes, s'not always bad. We have fun but the snoring is awful.” Y/n returned the smile, fiddling with her fingers.
Layla held her arm out, “Come, have some girl time today. Boys are exhausting.”
She wasn't sure if it was because she agreed with Layla, or if it was because an older and much cooler girl was inviting her willingly to hang out with her, but she looped her arm with Layla’s and was led to Matthew’s group. They were spread out on the outdoor sofa, drinks perched on the table and in their hands, laughing obnoxiously at assumably an inside joke. Y/n skin crawled a little, only a small smile across her lips as the nerves swarmed like a storm. Layla led her to the sofa, and she sat between her and the athletic guy from the driving range. He now wore a backwards cap and plain t-shirt. Nothing special but his name was Colton, going by the name tag that stuck out the collar of his shirt. Although in new territory, the other two girls wearing bikini tops and shorts brought a small dose of solidarity and comfort. At least she didn't stick out like a sore thumb.
“Y/n! Glad you could join us!” Matthew's proud voice called from the other end of the L-shaped sofa. Her smile widened. Brady was right, Tkachuks did have dashing good looks but up close, Matthew was pretty. Very pretty, too pretty. “Colt, Zack, Ashley, this is y/n, y/n, Colt, Zack and Ashley.” He pointed to each of them.
Matthew was Matthew, pack leader and had a determined glint in his eye. Zack seemed too laid back for his own good, his blond hair still hidden under his cap, Ashley just waved quietly, knees tucked to her chest and Colton? Colton had the same brooding look as Quinn, but his eyes wandered a lot. And his facial hair was patchy.
“Yo, you’re Quinn's girl, right? From the range?” Colton’s grin wasn't as charming as he thought it was, but his voice was. Gravelly, nice on the ears, not too loud but not mumbled.
“I mean, kinda but we’re not together-” y/n began, nails scratching her collarbone.
“-nice, thought I recognised you.”
“You guys will love y/n, Brady talks about her all the time. Did you know they almost fought?” Matthew mused like an excited puppy, even though the fight he was referencing was barely a fight at all. His friends raised their eyebrows, surprised that someone other than Matthew had raised their voice at a Tkachuk.
“Matt, it was over vodka, it was barely a fight. He’s such a dramatic ass.” Not entirely true, again but rather that than the truth of what it was really about and how it ended.
Matthew raised his hands in defeat, and Zack laughed. “Surprised Quinn even joined in. Usually, he’s the one huffing off.”
She rolled her eyes, “He’s alright, fuck off. And it wasn't his first time either, he handled it a lot better than Brady.”
Quinn and Brady stood at the grill, flipping the burgers; Brady in his usual playful manner but Quinn with aggravation, like he wanted to hurt the burgers, charcoal them. They stood in silence, watching y/n with the older Tkachuk and his friends treat y/n like royalty across the garden. Quinn's grip on the tongs so tight his knuckles turned white, his glare sharp as she giggled. Her laugh echoed out through the garden, her real laugh that came from her stomach, the laugh he only heard when it was just the two of them. He flipped the burgers, his brows knitted and lips in a stone-cold frown. How she got so comfortable so soon was beyond his brain, but then again, perhaps the presence of other girls made it better, did she find being cooped up with guys awkward?
“Quinner, you're staring. It's creepy.” Brady said.
“Am not staring, looking out for her.” He flipped the sausages.
Brady glanced over at his brother, with an almost worried look on his face. Y/n seemed…happy. She was chatting with the girls, poking fun at the boys but she was fitting into their summer nicely. Quinn looked over once again, his skin becoming hot and jaw clenching.
“I know what you're thinking. Matthew wouldn’t do something stupid like that. He may be an asshole sometimes but he's got morals. Besides, he's got the NHL, he wouldn't do something that could ruin that for him.”
“Sorry…I just,” Quinn sighed, “I'm not used to not having her attention. We've spent almost all of our time together, and it's just…weird. Wanted our little group to hang out and shit. I dunno what's wrong with me dude. I hate when she looks at them like they're the best thing ever. I hate when someone else's name comes out of her mouth, I can't stand the thought of seeing her with someone else.”
“Then why not ask her out already? ‘Cause that sounds a lot like jealousy to me, Quinner.”
“Why would I be jealous of them? It's complicated.” Quinn grumbled. Truth be told, he didn’t know how she felt. If he got rejected, he'd have to see her every day and act like nothing ever happened. He wouldn't kiss her again, touch her again, hug her again or wake up with her again. He'd be on his own, pining over the girl who didn't want him.
“Whatever, bro. You miss all the shots you don't take. But don't worry about Matt, believe me.” Brady shrugged, and they both watched the group from afar.
“It's not Matthew I'm worried about anymore.” Quinn gritted his teeth and made a mental note that he wasn’t the violent sibling and that punching people wasn't the solution anymore. He watched Colton throw his arm around the back of the sofa behind y/n, leaning in close. And when he thought his worst fears couldn't get worse, they definitely did.
Y/n retracted her shoulders like a frightened tortoise. She really was stuck between Layla and Colton, getting up and suddenly scuttling away just caused a scene. There was only so much fake laughter she could take before it became a chore, Colton had zero humour to his looks, but boy could he sweet talk. Throwing his arm behind her, thumb rubbing over her shoulder while compliments spilt from his mouth and into her ego. Quinn called her pretty all the time, but having a boy other than him call her flowery names released a new batch of butterflies.
Colton's lips in her ear, mumbling with his husky tone, “Blue's your colour, y/n, anyone ever tell you that?”
She shook her head. Such a liar, she was such a shameless liar.
“I hardly believe that, like how I don’t believe you when you say you've only had one boyfriend. Pretty girls don't just have one.” His eyes relaxed and became half-lidded, but her tummy flipped and hands clasped together in her lap. He was right. Pretty girls don't have just one boyfriend. They have a guy who calls her pretty girl but she doesn't know if she's just the token female or something meaningful.
“Only the one. Not a lot of guys think I'm pretty, Colton, not any relevant ones at least.” Her eyes darted to the girls, but they were too caught up in conversation, not even Matthew or Zack could catch her message.
“I think you're pretty.” Colton's finger hooked around the strap of her bikini top, running it up and down the string, “Am I relevant?”
The attention ignited fires along her skin, jolts of electricity throughout her nerves. An older guy thought she was attractive, that was new. And exciting. But also wrong. And felt like a betrayal, cheating, even if she and Quinn weren't together. But the attention and thrill, guys her age never begged for her, never looked at her the way he did. Even Zack agreed with Colton, proven at the driving range. For the first time in her life, she felt desired, hot. If she could get Colton, who else could she get?
Before she could make her move, Brady's voice bellowed, informing her that food was ready. Better luck next time.
It's called late-night shenanigans for a reason. And this time as soon as the adults had retreated to bed, Matthew and friends plus Hughes and friends had red solo cups lined in a triangular formation on the garden table, music softly playing in the background while the porchlight gave them enough visibility. Their favourite game, beer pong. With cups full to the brim with cheap beer. The teams split as anyone would have expected them to, and no one made a fuss.
Team 1: Matthew, Quinn, Brady, Zack, Trevor, Cole Team 2: Colton, Layla, y/n, Ashley, Jack, Luke
Forty-five minutes into the game Team Two (Colton's Canines) were leading. Team One (Matthew’s Hotshots) weren't far behind but Cole and Brady had a terrible aim for hockey players. Y/n's aim was almost too good, but her best-kept secret was that it wasn't her first beer pong game. This was why she was one of the least drunk people standing (Jack and Trevor barely able to stand, Jack doing his best to keep the beer down) aside from Luke, who was only allowed one cup given he was thirteen.
Brady stumbled to the table, ping pong ball loosely held in his fingers as he lined up his shot, his stance wide to stabilise himself as the world pulsed around him. He would've been alright if the cups contained just beer, but he was the first to discover that it was beer in some cups and vodka orange in others. How it went unnoticed was a mystery, but you're only young once. Brady made his shot, the ball bouncing once skimming the rim of the cup, and missing. Colton's Canines cheered, y/n laughed manically at him, throwing up her middle finger jokingly. Layla retrieved the ball, lining up her shot, releasing but also missing, the other team cheering in return.
Jack and Trevor's turn rolled around. Colton's Canines with four cups left and Matthew's Hotshots with two. Trevor poked his tongue through his lips, eyes trying to concentrate on the cups in front of him. He hadn’t been this drunk since The Vodka Incident.
He winked at the girls in front, “Watch this ladies, a kiss if I get it.” He threw too long and missed.
“Nice one, Trev. That first kiss isn't coming any time soon.” Y/n jested, shaking her head. The other girls giggled.
“Hey, I’ve kissed girls!”
“Mhm, first time I’m hearing about this, what about you Jack?”
Jack nodded, “Sure, sure. Anyway, my turn!”
Jack cracked his knuckles, positioned himself and took the shot, the ball bouncing once and landing directly into the cup. The Canines cheered, y/n and Jack throwing their arms around each other and jumping in a circle. Layla and Ashley gave the middle Hughes pecks on his cheeks as he watched Trevor down the cup of beer. One cup to four cups.
Y/n stood opposite Quinn, a bright smile on her face and his lips couldn't resist returning it. They couldn't help it. He didn't think, nor did he hype himself up. If there was one thing Quinn had learnt, it was that Brady was right. You miss every shot you don't take. And so he threw the ball and watched it bounce into a cup with a smug grin, the Tkachuk brothers hooting and hollering. Yet, his eyes remained on hers, gently. She chugged the drink and wiped the remnants from her lips with the back of her hand.
“When did you get so good at beer pong?” She laughed.
“I had a great teacher.” He shrugged, y/n acted shocked even though they'd been beer pong buddies at every party. When they were split this time, it pained them a little. Being pitted against each other was frankly like the end of the world, never in their lives did they enjoy being out of sync.
Y/n held the ball between her fingers, closed one eye and lined her shot. Large hands inviting themselves on her hips, Colton's voice in her ears and his breath unpleasant on her neck. If she weren't the centre of attention she would have jolted away, but the win was so close and Quinn’s arms were not so far. The ball bounced into the Hotshots final cup, Matthew and Brady both throwing themselves dramatically into Quinn, Cole and Trevor falling to their knees in despair. But Quinn's eyes pricked tears as he stood still and a rock. The Canines jumped for joy in each other's arms, hugging and laughing. Except y/n. She never got the chance. Before she had any time to even step away from the table, Colton's mouth latched onto hers, her hands moving to his chest. Quinn wiggled his way out of the Tkachuks, mumbling something about breaking the seal.
The bathroom door swung open and slammed behind Quinn. His hands gripped the basin as he did his best to choke back his tears. Why did it hurt? Y/n was supposed to run into his arms like she always did and they’d hug longer than friends would, until eternity. But no one would question that because they were long-time friends. They were friends. So why did it tear his heart to shreds when the lips he devoured earlier that day melted into the lips of another? What was so fucking great about Matthew? Or Colton? And why was he such a coward?
Y/n pushed Colton off her, startled and heart-yearning for comfort. But he was gone.
“Quite a shot you have,” Colton smirked, “C'mon, princess, I can give you my address and we can see what other party tricks you got.”
“Pass.” Gross. Only Quinn got to call her that, but he was nowhere to be seen after she knew he'd disappeared, like he always did when upset.
“Sure? Because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, think about it. You could be losing your virginity to someone who knows what they're doing-” he never finished his speech. Zack called him over, letting him know that they were heading out for the clubs and with that Colton was gone. As if y/n never existed. Little did he know, though, that his offer was pointless. Little did he know.
Even after agreeing that The Vodka Incident would not happen again, the usual suspects (even Quinn had returned, but with a face of thunder), mostly drunk, sat around the fire pit, with cups of leftover beer and vodka orange. Luke joined in this time, though Jack wouldn't let him drink any alcohol. A small sense of deja vu washed over, memories of the last fire pit night bringing a small smile to her lips as she sloshed the beer in her cup around.
“I'm gonna be really real here, and you guys should too,” Brady pointed around the circle with his cup in hand, “I had my first kiss last year. Horrible.”
“Oh yeah? Explain.” Cole asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of his drink.
“Neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing and we'd both just eaten tacos so yeah. Didn't taste nor feel great at all.”
“Nasty. Bro, at least pop a mint beforehand. I kissed two girls a couple of years ago, it was okay. Nothin’ special, but we did crash teeth for one of them. That was awkward.” Jack chuckled, almost cringing at the memory.
“Poor girl, the kiss probably meant something special to her, Rowdy.” Y/n absently pitched in, feeling Quinn's eyes on her, as if to say ‘What happens in my room, stays in my room.’ Was he ashamed of it? What was so bad about the kiss? Or kisses?
“Of course, you'd say that,” Jack rolled his eyes, adjusting the backward hat on his head.
“What about you Trev? I know we joke about it but have you actually kissed anyone?” She sipped her drink.
“Doesn't matter. What about you, huh? Bet you haven't. Anyway, Cole hasn't either, or Luke. So I'm not the only loser.” Defensive Trevor was an amusing Trevor, he huffed his cheeks and flushed red.
“I have. Fifteen. It was good, actually. One of the most memorable.” She crossed her leg over the other and leaned back in her chair, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Brady's face. Quinn said nothing, and nor did he want to say anything. He just sank further into his seat and finished his vodka orange, stuffing the cup into the chair's cup holder. “Brady, you ever made out with someone? You said that no one could resist a Tkachuk.”
“Ah, well- almost okay? Her dad turned up and we had to stop. Can't believe the guy, honestly.” The group laughed at his stammering, except Quinn, who'd probably heard the story a thousand times. “You think it's funny, y/n? What about you, huh?”
She leant forwards, hands gripping the armrests and the same shit-eating grin smeared on her lips, “Yeah, and it was hot. Would do it all over again.”
“Brady, you're forgetting Colton literally shoved his tongue in her mouth over an hour ago,” Trevor exclaimed, the musketeers giggling over the crackling of the flames.
Quinn's glare thickened, and Brady caught sight of it. Luke did too as he watched his brother abruptly stand up and head for the kitchen, his feet heavy on the porch steps. Her eyes softened and followed him, watching him slide the doors open with an aggravation alien for him.
“I'll be right back.” She spoke over Jack.
Jogging in her flip flops up the stairs and into the kitchen, closing the door gently. Cautiously, she followed Quinn to the fridge, watching him yank a Fanta from the shelf and close the door harshly.
“Hey Q, are you okay?” She asked with a small voice, picking the skin on her thumb.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” He pulled the can's tab, the fizz echoing through the empty room. It was always ‘I'm good’, never ‘I'm fine’. She'd known him long enough to know something like that, like how he always removed himself when he was in a bad mood, scared to hurt someone's feelings. “Shouldn't you be with your new boyfriends?”
He grumbled, barely looking her in the eye as he moved to leave out the porch doors, but she blocked his path, standing almost chest to chest with him, looking up. She hated that she found it attractive when he was mad, his voice always dropped. “No. We haven't talked properly all day.”
“So now you wanna talk?” He spun on his heel, slamming the can into the marble counter and pacing in the kitchen with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. It wasn't the time for the conversation, but a monster inside him taunted him with the idea that they may never have another opportunity.
“Yes. So, what? And who are you-” She folded her arms, but he interrupted.
“-Oh don't play this game! I saw the way you were looking at Matthew, everyone saw. And Colton? You let him have a field day. How'd he taste? Like cheap beer and cigarettes? Or an adolescence of putting you before himself?” He snapped, staring as if waiting for an answer. She'd never seen or heard him yell like that. Fuck, Quinn had never properly yelled at her. Jack and Luke had relayed stories about what Quinn did to his teammates when they humiliated her, or what a pissed-off Quinn sounded like. But they were his brothers, he was supposed to get annoyed at them, he wasn't supposed to get annoyed with his best friend. He hadn’t even yelled at Trevor like that, and that was saying something.
Putting you before himself. Her stomach emptied, just a pit of guilt spiralling yet her heartstrings yanked and toyed with. She couldn't bear to see him like that, his jealousy manipulated him in ways he had no idea could happen. She learned he was possessive, and she thought it was sweet. She liked it. But she wasn't his so why should she like it so much? There. She wasn't his. Not officially. Their attraction was obvious, lustful. But did he feel the same as her? Did his heart slow when tangled in each other's arms? Did he find her utterly intoxicating, wanting to kiss and fuck with love not just because they can and because it's easy to? Maybe her hints were too subtle, maybe she was too nice to Mila that one time. Maybe her glares in the hallways weren't threatening enough. Words left unsaid, they were convenient for each other, just like the kids at school said. Friends with benefits. Yeah, that's what they were. And it used to keep the peace.
She never answered his question, but it did eat at her. “Quinn, what the fuck? Look, I'm sorry I upset you, I really am, you know I am. You know I never want to hurt you but can you blame a girl for wanting to hang out with other girls? I had no idea where Layla was leading me, and I don't know what came over me. Just, having guys call you pretty does things, emotional things and it's different when you do it because we're friends. And I know you're pissed about beer pong, if I could have been with you I would have 'cause I did not ask nor want to be kissed like that,” She pleaded, watching his eyes gloss over as he sniffed. The last thing she wanted to do was make him cry. Then she remembered that all of whatever was going on between them was nothing but fun, and Quinn was the one who showed her that. “But why do you care so much about a fucking kiss? We're not even together.”
He turned away and sighed, face buried in his hands. He didn’t mean to shout. He didn't want to cry but the tears welled and rolled down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with his palms, heart pulsing in his ears and with the little energy he had left, he turned again to face her.
“I care because I thought we were something, y/n. I thought this,” he gestured between them, voice trembling, “meant something real. Friends don't do the shit we do. I hated the way he touched you, you're supposed to be mine.”
Her eyes watered, bottom lip quivering, hearing confession so raw. The confession of a confused and broken young man. They were only seventeen but the level of emotion in their argument made them sound like they were going through a horrendous break-up after a long-term relationship. “Am I? That didn't matter when you were shoving your tongue down Chloe's throat. I thought we were something too, Quinn.”
The night she needed him the most, the night Leo dumped her, she found him in cahoots with some girl in their cohort. That was the moment she realised that perhaps she was just a placeholder.
Quinn groaned in frustration, not at y/n, but at himself but there was no excuse left for him to make as he spat venom at her, “Like you, she took me by surprise. We were drunk. But didn't think you'd hold onto that since Matthew is soooo dreamy and tall and pretty, probably hoped it was him trying to rip your clothes off, hoped Colton would make him jealous. That's why you've been using me as practice, for someone better, huh?”
“Fuck you, Quintin!” she screamed, “the fuck are you talking about? Using you? Is that how little you think of me?”
He pointed at her, firmly, “You and I both know it wasn't supposed to go this far!”
The silence that fell on them was thick and uncomfortable. Their gazes locked into each other as chests panted. Tears streamed from red, sore eyes as arms fell to their sides. Neither party felt victorious, deep down they really wished they hadn't said a word at all but the lake house makes emotions surge and disturb the serenity. It always had, with and without y/n, Cole and Trevor. He just wished he’d said something sooner, then he wouldn't have lost her like that. Once again, he was a coward and let her slip through his fingers.
Y/n exhaled deeply, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “Maybe. But part of me was glad it did,” her voice calmest as she stepped backwards and started heading out the patio doors, “Oh, and for what it's worth, I shoved him off. He didn't taste like hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. I’d choose that over anything.”
And she left for the boys. Quinn's heart dropped and shattered, the tears falling like waterfalls and he didn't even want the drink anymore. He left it on the counter and shuffled upstairs. Hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. Their hockey game combo they share, just the two of them and they had been doing that since they'd met at ten years old.
*
Y/n didn't sleep in Quinn's room after that. She didn't speak to him for the next passing week, occupying herself with Luke or Cole. She played video games with Luke, baked cookies with him, took him and Cole out on the boat (just to spite Quinn), and played pool in the basement. Quinn watched, unable to exit the proximity of them. He wasn't seething. He was deflated. Like a sad, wet, cat. Most of all, he was lonely. And he hated sleeping alone.
Jack placed his plate next to the sink, watching Quinn's shoulders slump at yet another dish to clean. Sunday's were his day to clean dinner dishes, and usually, y/n helped him dry and put them away, but since he'd bitten her head off a week ago, he struggled alone. Jack hated seeing his brother dejected, it was the same hollow eyes that a lost hockey game caused. One where you tried so hard just to fuck it up. He grabbed the tea towel off the oven’s handle and started drying the dripping dishes from the draining board.
The middle Hughes. Rowdy with ambition in his blood, but also a brother. Jack took a plate, “Sooo, y/n's been spoiling Luke a lot this week. Why'd you get demoted?”
Quinn glared from the corner of his eye. He knew Jack just wanted to lighten the mood, but he also knew he wasn't tuned in with comfort at his age. “I fucked up. Said something I shouldn't have said, an in-the-moment thing.”
“Like?” Jack placed a plate down, taking another like a system in a machine, Quinn washed, he dried, plate added to the pile.
“I- It's-,” Quinn stammered, remembering that no one had a clue what they were up to, “We just had a misunderstanding and instead of being mature about it, I said some stupid things.”
Jack thought hard, barely looking at him and set his gaze out the window into the garden, watching his dad put the covering over the boat. “You're my big brother, and if you think for a second that I'm gonna take that as an answer, you're wrong. At least tell me the root cause of it.”
Quinn paused, his tone coming across as more irritated than intended, “I was jealous, Jack...sorry. And I walked off instead of apologising and here we are.”
“You're a real idiot, you know that, right?”
*
Sunday night, a whole week of sleepless nights due to Trevor. And even Cole had started getting irritated. How could one guy snore so badly? And he was only sixteen. She lay wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Had she been too harsh on Quinn? Was silent treatment really necessary? She wouldn't have been surprised if Quinn was miserable too, they had been each other's pillars for years.
Her trance of thoughts was broken by a ‘thud’ from the bed. She shot up, only to see Cole's pillow over Trevor's face, a disgruntled Cole still gripping it.
“Smothering crosses my mind.” He deadpanned.
Trevor sat up with urgency, letting the pillow fall into his lap, tank top crumpled to his stomach, “What the fuck? Why are you two awake? You should sleep.”
“Dude, your snoring is so bad, you gotta do something about it,” Cole said, taking back his pillow.
“I literally have to move rooms because of it.” She added, laying back down.
“Then why are you here?” Trevor lay back down, pulling the duvet to his chest. “Actually, why haven't you been with Quinn this week?”
She hesitated, “Q and I had an argument. We're not on speaking terms. And honestly, I don't think he wants to see me.”
All three of them lay facing the ceiling, listening to the whirr of the fan fill the void. The boys knew something was wrong, Quinn and y/n's separation wasn't hard to miss but keeping normality was best. Nobody wanted a ruined summer.
“I think all he wants is to see you. You're his world and he just mopes without you. What was it about?” Cole's voice was soft and quiet so Jim or Ellen wouldn't come barging in again. That happened once when they were younger, all three had the giggles and Jim had to threaten to separate them.
“Just a stupid misunderstanding. He said shit, I said shit and we both just hurt each other in the end…” she sighed, “I don't know what to do, guys.”
They didn't pry, they weren't sure if they wanted to know what was said. After so many years of watching Quinn and y/n hopelessly pine over each other, an argument couldn't ruin that.
“Well, as a start you could apologise. Make up, make out, whatever you two do. And for fucks sake, just talk. Like, really talk about whatever's going on.” Trevor replied, not really knowing what he was saying but he tried to be helpful when he could.
She kicked the sheets off and opened the guest room door and whispered, ‘Thanks’ before slipping out. He didn’t mean right then and there but he shrugged, letting Cole fall asleep first before his snoring continued.
Like a creep, she stood with her back against his door, mustering up the courage to talk and pushing her pride aside. She sighed and tiptoed over to his bed, and lay on her back next to him. His sheets were warm and cosy but heat radiated off his body. Neither said anything, but he felt her presence and it took everything he had to not engulf her in a hug and spill his apologies, he was still an insecure young man deep down. But hearing her breathing, he was also weak.
“Hi,” she greeted into the silence, voice above a whisper. Quinn slowly turned over, threw his arm over her torso and buried his face into her neck. She didn't respond for a few seconds, but when she wrapped her arms around him, his chest fell weightless. “I'm so sorry, Q.” She mumbled into his shoulder, fingers finding themselves in his hair.
“No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come at you like that or said any of those things,” he pushed himself onto to elbows, eyes glassy but red, “I was jealous and I took it out on you. I'm so, so sorry.”
“I shouldn't have brought things up either, seeing you with a girl just…yeah, makes me jealous too, especially because neither of us communicated well. I take back everything I said, except the last bit.” She smiled slightly, her palm on his cheek.
“I missed you,” his lips fell into a sad smile, his head falling onto her chest.
“I missed you too.” She held him tight, “Why did you think I was using you?”
“Some kid at school brought the idea of just being convenient. And then when Brady came over with the vodka, you said Matthew was attractive. And I stupidly put the two together. Regretted it when you mentioned hot chocolate. I should've helped you, but instead, I got jealous and ran away.” His voice was hoarse, hand slipping under her shirt and thumb rubbing the skin on her stomach.
“It's okay. I should've helped you at the party instead of crying like a bitch. Guess we're both stupid.” She chuckled.
Minutes passed and neither dozed off, but neither spoke. His thumb caressed her skin, while her fingers played with his hair, their breathing pattern slowly falling into a synchronised rhythm. Once again, they lay in his bed, tangled in each other's limbs and once again they both rendered the same question. If they hadn't been afraid of all the possible answers, they could be happily skipping through meadows or sleeping alone again.
She took a deep breath, and he felt her chest rise and fall. With enough courage, she muttered, “Q? What are we?”
He didn't answer immediately, but he pulled his hand from her shirt and hovered over her body, his eyes following hers: lips to eyes, lips to eyes.
“More than friends.” He licked his lips, but he couldn't read her expression, “I don't wanna be friends with benefits, and I don't wanna just be your best friend anymore.”
“Quinn…”
He clambered off her and sat against the headboard on his side of the bed. Giving her no chance to react, he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs straddling his. Quinn's hands cupped the globes of her ass, and the soft flesh reminded him of how much he missed kneading and pawing at them.
“Please, let me get this off my chest, I've been a coward.” He started, the fire inside him igniting when her palms slid down his chest and sat comfortably on his pectorals. Where they belonged, if you asked him. Quinn wasn't good with words, or feelings, it was something all the brothers had in common, and y/n eyebrow raised at how choked up he suddenly became when admitting to trying to not be a coward. “Shit, this is harder than I thought. Fuck- Uh, okay. When I said I spent my adolescence putting you before myself, I meant it. Valentine's Day, when we were fifteen, I meant to give you those chocolates after the second period, but my friends roped me into helping someone ask this girl out. That evening when you came to see if I was okay, and we fell asleep for the first time, my heart went crazy, I was sweating so much ‘cause I wanted you to be comfortable and I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
She took his face into her hands, feeling the heat rise in his skin and spill his mind. He pulled her closer to him, her stomach tingling at the way he massaged the flesh like his personal stress toy.
“Remember the concert? You clung onto me like I was your lifeline, I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And the Maple Leafs game, God after the Maple Leafs game. I'll never forget the way you looked at me like I was fucking treasure. Like I was your everything.” He stopped his babbling, hands giving her ass a rest and holding onto her hips, a small part of him kicking himself for sitting her too close to his crotch.
“I never wanna hear you say that you're not good with words again.” Y/n felt her heart pound in her throat, stars in her eyes at every word of his laced with a sweet desire for redemption. “Every second I've ever shared with you was the highlight of my life. Since the day we met, you've been everything. I just wanted to be your everything too.”
“I feel like the luckiest man alive. Every day, all the time.” A glint of carnal passion glazed over his eyes as they steadied on hers. Her thumbs rubbed his cheekbones, his hands holding onto her for dear life. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering, the emotions that swirled had to be released. The butterflies had to be set free, the fluttering raging and heat in her core inappropriately bubbling. Quinn's room was silent, just the hum of his fan filling the crumbs of awkwardness as they refrained from pouncing on each other. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out and took a risk bigger than any he'd taken in hockey, a risk with worse consequences. He could get over hockey but he couldn't get over her smile, or laugh, or existence. “Y/n, I have been in love with you since we were fifteen. You're the only person who makes me feel this way.”
“Q,” She breathed, pushing herself into him, closing the painful gap between them and connecting their lips into a long kiss, “Can we be real? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend real?”
He nodded, planting kisses over her face and down her neck, “Yes. Yes, please. You're mine and I wanna be yours. God, you have no idea how happy I was when you told me you didn't kiss Leo, you were still all mine.”
She giggled, his breath on her neck tickling her skin and the arousal pooling in her stomach dripping into her underwear, “Come here, I wanna kiss my boyfriend. Maybe show him how much he means to me.”
She kissed him softly, hands sliding from his cheeks to the back of his neck, where her fingers tangled between the curls on the nape of his neck, tugging gently to tease a grunt or groan from him. His grip on her hips loosened, and his hands ran along her thighs until they groped at her ass again, encouraging her to roll her hips into his. They'd kissed before, but this time it was meaningful. It was something clear, not a bundle of questions of ‘what ifs’. When her teeth gently bit his lower lip, to refuse would have made him a criminal. The bliss that cradled him when their tongues met once again was different too, it was just his to taste. No one else's, he could lap at hers until they dribbled down their chins, delirium rushing to their heads when they moaned and whimpered when someone pulled away to breathe.
The best part was the peace of mind. She didn't have to think about anyone touching him the way she did as she slipped their shirts over their heads again, hands roaming each other's curves and dips like it was their first time all over again. Before Quinn knew it, his hand was rummaging through his nightstand again, her clothes would be on his bedroom floor, his skin would be pressed against hers, and they would be under his sheets, rasping and whining as quietly as possible as his cock hit new angles, or as her throat took more than either had thought. The difference this time was that having sex came with a meaning, a feeling other than lust. It wasn’t a fun game, it was intimate and exclusive. It was with the red thread of fate, tied around their pinkie fingers, and it had finally led them into a sublime vicinity.
The usual suspects sat where the best times of their lives began. The night was young, the sun only just falling into slumber as the crickets chirped. Wrapped up in hoodies and lounging in lawn chairs, summer evenings nearly ended the same every day. Brady, y/n and Quinn with a box of beer between them, Trevor, Jack, Cole and Luke with non-alcoholic equivalents y/n had found, even though she’d seen them grab a real bottle when they thought they were slick, around the fire pit at the lake house.
The harrowing thing about good times is that they fly too fast, and you're left wondering why you didn't have enough time. There are two kinds of people. People like Quinn who prepared to open a new chapter in his story, a new door in his life. And people like y/n who clawed at the door to keep it open, screaming for more time. Not more time with Quinn, they both got into the University of Michigan and after a year of dating, they still had many in their journey. But Brady was off to Boston University, and Jack, Cole, Trevor and Luke still had high school and their lives together would carry on.
Brady broke the silence first, “Do you guys have any regrets?”
He didn't expect Luke to answer, given his life had only just begun.
“I regret not talking more to new people,” Cole replied, listening to the crackling of the burning wood. “Feel like I would have friends like Jack and Trevor, be remembered as me not known as ‘Jack and Trevor's friend’, yunno?“
“Dude, no! People know you as Cole! You're not just a third wheel!” Jack protested, hurt in his tone.
“Cole, you're not our third wheel! We love you, buddy!” Trevor added, his guilt creeping up on him.
“I don't have any, yet. Aside from being born so far apart from you losers.” Luke smirked, all smug like fourteen-year-olds were. Y/n grinned and shook her head at him. If there was one person who had a soft spot in her heart, it would always be Luke.
“And it better stay that way,” she laughed, “Luke, I just wanna put you in my pocket and take you everywhere.”
“Ahem, what about us?” Jack gasped dramatically, pointing at himself and his two musketeers.
“Ew, you're annoying and Trevor’s snoring can only get fucking worse. Cole and I actually considered smothering him once!” y/n joked, looking around the group to see smiles.
The laughter died down, and they went back to sipping drinks and watching the fire, minds wandering in separate directions.
“You guys will come visit, right?” Trevor asked, his voice the quietest it had ever been.
“Of course. We'll be back during the summer, and we can hang out again.” y/n's voice was the softest it could have been with Trevor, usually she nagged as if she were his older sister.
*
All good things must come to an end, and carefree days slowly dissipated for Quinn, y/n and Brady. The three stood out the front of the Hughes lake house, waiting for Matthew to pick Brady up on his way through. Not one of them dared to say much. They'd had their sappy talks earlier and if they started again late at night, tears were guaranteed. Especially since both boys were due in the upcoming NHL draft, that was one of the scariest parts.
But she did say something. She wasn't sure if she'd ever see Brady again, and while she hadn’t known him long, she kept him close.
She held her fist out to the middle Tkachuk with soft eyes, “Good luck, Brady. At Boston and in the draft.”
Brady breathed and pulled her by her wrist into a sudden bear hug, “Thanks, y/n. Good luck at Michigan. And if Quinner ever hurts you, you tell me, okay?”
She giggled as they pulled away, “Got it. Hear that Q?”
Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. God, as if I'd want to do that…or have Brady rock up at my door ready to hit me.”
“I've done it before and I'll do it again!”
Shortly after, Matthew's truck pulled up. The three bid their final goodbyes of the summer before Quinn and y/n watched the Tkachuks disappear down the road.
“He'll go far, Q. So fucking far.” She uttered, her eyes wide with a childlike admiration.
Quinn snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, “Too far for his own good.”
“And I expect to see you both on TV, okay? Don't hit each other though, leave Brady and Matthew to brawl.”
“I'll do my best.” He paused, his smile fading, “What happens if I get drafted? What happens next?”
“You'll get drafted, and you'll either jump straight in or play at UMich for a bit. I'll finish university and who knows? We'll call and text, we'll figure it out and we'll see each other in the summer. Right here. I'll go wherever you go.”
“But what do you want to do? Like after you graduate? I don't wanna hold you back.”
She cupped his cheek, “I don’t know. I don't know yet. I'll probably do something media or hockey-based, you know that.”
He nodded, giving her a slow and warm kiss on her lips, as if he were to never kiss them again, savouring the flowers that bloomed inside, all the fireworks exploding at once and the reassurance that in the end, he got his girl. The future was scary, and no one could know what would come next. But y/n finally stopped clawing at the closing door that she desperately tried to keep open, and hand in hand followed Quinn into the next chapter of their story.
“I love you, Q.”
“I love you too, y/n.”
[Masterlist]
[Requests CLOSED]
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[ oh captain, my captain ] q. hughes
day 2 of kinktober (captain kink w/ quinn hughes)
➾ paring : Quinn Hughes x fem!reader
➾ summary : Quinn’s girlfriend calls him "Cap" after hearing the nickname come from his teammates, and Quinn reacts totally normally
➾ warning(s) : smut !! captain kink, light dom!quinn, nicknames during sex, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), very slight hair pulling (blink and you'll miss it)
➾ author’s note : i am Not gonna lie … this has been living in a word doc unfilnished for months so i thought that this would be the perfect time to finish it and let it out to see the light of day. enjoy :)))
kinktober schedule
༺──────────────༻
When her boyfriend asked her a few weeks ago to accompany him to an event that the Canucks were holding, she was not looking forward to it at all. It's a very private event that the Canucks hold at the start of every season for new Canucks to get to know their new teammates and for returning Canucks to catch up. She's managed to be busy on this day for the past two years of their relationship so she didn't have to go, but she can't dodge the event any longer. Especially now that Quinn is captain.
The dress she bought for this event is stunning and she couldn't wait to wear it to the event. It's a sparkly navy blue number that hugs her curves. The thin straps hold up a plunging v-neckline that shows off her cleavage in a way that Quinn loves. There's a high slit in the skirt that goes about halfway up her thigh.
She feels like she could've dressed a little more modestly when she walks into the ballroom and finds that a lot of the women dressed in more high cut and full length gowns. She crosses her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover her exposed cleavage.
A couple of Quinn's teammates greet their captain as soon as the two of them walk into the large room decorated in blue, green, and white. She hears the nickname "Cap" thrown around as a few of the veteran Canucks greet him. That's a new nickname that catches her attention immediately.
The significant others of the teammates that greet Quinn greet her. She does her best to hold a conversation with the group of women but her eyes continue to shift toward her boyfriend in his suit. He has on one of his game day suits from last season that doesn't really fit him anymore so it hugs his arms and thighs nicely.
"Your dress is beautiful, by the way," Lexie Demko compliments. She turns her attention to Thatcher's wife. "I mean it. It's stunning. I guess it's to be expected for the captain's girlfriend to sparkle." The group of women laugh and she forces a smile.
Sometimes she questions if she should be the one leading this group of women because she's only 23 and still kind of young. It's one thing for Quinn to lead the Canucks because he's a natural leader and knew he was probably going captain this team one day. He's had a lifetime of experience because he's the oldest of three brothers.
She was kind of thrust into the role of lead WAG with his captaincy appointment last season. Her version of being a leader means being the one that plans the parties and plans the playoff attire. Making sure all the other wives and girlfriends are okay, making sure they catch their flights to make it to whatever city they're following their boyfriend or husband to so she can watch him play. It's no NHL team, but it takes up a lot of her time. Especially party and playoff jacket planning.
Quinn looks over at her and her brain immediately goes blank. He's still surrounded by his teammates, but he's looking at her like that. It should be illegal to look like that.
She excuses herself from the group of wives and girlfriends to approach her boyfriend. She tries not to feel tiny among a group of hockey players, but she is.
"Cap," she teases with a smile. "I'm kinda hungry so can we go grab something to eat?" Quinn's cheeks turn bright red at the use of his new nickname. His teammates snicker around him at his reaction.
All he can do is nod in response to her and grab her hand. He guides her away without a single word, but his cheeks remain tomato red.
She's rendered him speechless. All by calling him "Cap." Maybe she'll have to start doing that more often if this is how he reacts.
They grab a plate of food and head to their table. No one else is sitting at the table but she knows that it's her, Quinn, JT, JT's wife, Brock, Thatcher, and Lexie at the table. Their tablemates are still mingling amongst the players and coaches in the room while they sit and eat.
Quinn leans over to her and says softly in her ear, "I'm going to need you to not call me 'Cap' again while we're here."
"Oh," she breathes out. "So your teammates can call you Cap, but I can't?"
He presses his lips in a line and meets her eyes. "It doesn't sound sexy coming out of their mouths like it does yours," he mumbles. "So, please don't call me Cap or Captain while we're here or you'll find yourself on your knees in the bathroom helping me with my little problem."
A small smirk forms on her lips as she takes a bite of pasta. "It's not a 'little' problem, Quinn," she tells him. "It's a pretty big problem."
Quinn groans and rubs his hands over his face. "You're killing me," he groans. "Oh my God."
She giggles and takes another bite of pasta like the conversation isn't ruining the panties she has on under the dress. Quinn follows suit and begins to eat his plate of food.
Their tablemates join them a few minutes later with their own plates. She converses with Lexie and Natalie Miller while their husbands talk with Quinn and Brock. She laughs with them, but the entire time, she thinks about the little conversation she and Quinn had about calling him Cap or Captain.
She's absolutely trying it when they get home to see what kind of reaction she gets out of him when he isn't surrounded by his friends.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
They leave the event once Quinn gives a little speech to hype up his teammates. Tocchet also gives a speech once Quinn was done, but he needed to stay until he was done talking. He orders an Uber back to their Vancouver apartment before Tocchet is even done his speech so they can leave as soon as he's done.
The Canucks applaud their head coach for his speech and they make a break for the door before anyone can stop them. Quinn has her hand in his as they make their way outside. Their Uber is waiting for them when they exit the building.
Quinn slides in first and she follows him. One of her hands rests on his knee and she leans over to say, "You looked good while you were giving your little speech." She pauses for a beat. "Captain Quinn."
His head snaps in her direction. "What did I tell you-"
"Just wanted to see something," she giggles as she glances down at the growing bulge in his already tight pants. "And I see what I wanted to see." Her voice drops a couple of octaves so only he can hear. "Do you like when I call you Captain, Quinn?"
He gnaws on his bottom lip. "You're playing a very dangerous game right now," he warns her. "I'm not trying to ruin these pants."
She leans into him and says against his ear, "Then maybe you shouldn't like to be called 'captain' by your girlfriend." Her lips touch the swell of his ear as she talks. Quinn shivers under her lips before she pulls back to meet his eyes. She finds his usually bright eyes dark with lust.
She's not sure she's going to make it into the apartment if she keeps playing this game with him.
"You are ..." Quinn trails off with a smile and a shake of his head. She grins while he tries to find the words to say. "Something else." His fingers trace the slit in her dress, leaving goosebumps behind where he touches her skin.
The Uber comes to a stop two minutes later. She doesn't risk saying another word until they're in the building. The elevator is probably not the best place to say anything either.
Still, it doesn't stop her from poking the bear though.
"Captain Quinn Hughes," she pretends to think out loud. "Even after a year, it still roles off the tongue. Don't you think, Cap?"
"Oh my fucking God," Quinn groans as he turns to face his girlfriend.
Before she can react, Quinn cups her cheeks and pulls her into a hot kiss. He steps so her back is pressed against the wall of the elevator. She grips his jacket as he presses his chest completely against hers. Quinn shoves a thigh between her legs, moving the dress to the side so his thigh presses against her already damp core.
This is a side of Quinn she's pretty sure she hasn't seen in their two and a half years together. He's very particular about his touches and his movements. Slightly rougher with them as well. She might like this side of Quinn.
The elevator dings once it arrives at their floor. Quinn pulls back and grabs her hand as the doors slide open. "Let's go, pretty girl," he says to her, voice soft. "You need to help me with my not-so-little problem before it ruins these pants."
She giggles as Quinn leads her out of the elevator and down the hall to their apartment. It's a moment before Quinn gets the door open but once he does, he pulls her inside and pins her against the door to shut it.
Quinn holds her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. "I hope this dress didn't cost a lot," he says. "Because it might end up torn and on the floor tonight.”
“Quinn Hughes, you better not rip this dress because if you do, you’re buying me a new one,” she warns him. “I mean it too. You better not.”
He grins and hooks his fingers around the spaghetti straps that sits on her shoulders. “I guess I’ll be nice,” he sighs as he pulls the strap off her shoulders. Quinn's eyes fall to the fabric that he pulls down to expose her breasts.
There's about one second between when the fabric pools around her waist and when Quinn crashes his lips to hers in a heated kiss. Their lips mold against each other and his hands cup her breasts. She groans into the kiss and he takes full advantage to explore her mouth with his tongue.
She pulls his suit jacket off his body and it falls to the floor with a light thud. She pushes him toward their bedroom without breaking the kiss.
In the very short trip from their front door to their bedroom, she loses her heels and dress in the hallway while Quinn's tie ends up on the living room floor and his button up gets unbuttoned and untucked as they enter their bedroom. She jumps and wraps her legs around his waist. He kicks the door shut and walks toward their bed.
"What do you want me to do, Cap?" she questions between kisses.
"You know, every time one of my teammates calls me Cap, I'm going to think of you and it's going to end in endless teasing for me," Quinn points out as he sits on the mattress. He pulls back to look at her. "If my teammates mess with me because I get hard after one of them refers to me as Cap, it won't end well for you since it'll be your fault."
She feigns being hurt. "Ouch, Quinn," she says. "I guess I'll never call you Cap ever again."
"I didn't say that," Quinn very quickly replies. "Just letting you know what will happen."
“I’m so scared,” she teases.
“Shut up and get on your knees, pretty girl.”
His stern voice when he says that shoots straight down to her core. She bites her bottom lip as she slides off of Quinn’s lap and to her knees on the carpeted floor below her.
Her fingers work at unbuttoning his dress pants. She pulls them down along with his boxers. His hard dick stands up against his stomach when it’s free from the confines of his underwear. She takes him in her hand and looks up at him. She gnaws on her lip before she says, “Whatever you say, Cap.”
Quinn groans at the same time she wraps her lips around the fiery red tip. She tastes some precome that has leaked as she takes more of his dick in her mouth. His fingers curl in her wavy locks as she hollows her cheeks and sucks. She looks up at him as he throws his head back in pleasure.
"Fuck," Quinn breathes out. The reaction she gets out of him causes her to speed up her actions. Her hands are splayed over his thighs so she has something to hold on to. Not to mention that she just loves his thighs.
She manages to take all of him in her mouth without choking, and Quinn loves every second of it. He gnaws on his bottom lip and soft sounds rise from his throat. It's music to her ears as she takers him completely in her mouth and hums around him.
Quinn can't seem to get enough.
When her knees start screaming at her from being on the carpet for too long, she ignores it. What Quinn wants, Quinn gets. She's done this so many times that the pain doesn't get to her like it used to, but sometimes it .
She hollows out her cheeks and Quinn hums before he pulls her off his dick by her hair. She hums and looks up at her. His thumbs brush her probably swollen lips and she kisses the pads of his thumbs.
"Was that okay?" she questions like she always does after she sucks him off. Quinn raises his eyebrows at her and she grins. "Cap."
He nods and leans down to kiss her. His kiss is softer this time as he helps her back up so she's straddling his thighs. She runs her fingers through his styled hair and Quinn falls so he's lying on his back. His dick pokes her thigh and she wiggles her hips to tease him.
"These need to come off, pretty girl," he mumbles against her lips at the same time he taps the waistband of her panties. "I'm sure they're ruined at this point anyway."
She stands up to push the ruined fabric off her body. Quinn moves back so his head rests on the pillows. She presses her lips together in a line as she crawls back onto the mattress. She straddles his waist and leans over to press a long, deep kiss to his lips. Quinn hums and cups her jaw with his hands so she can't go anywhere.
Without breaking the kiss, she lifts her hips and rests the tip of his dick at her entrance. He slips right in because of how wet she is. A grin forms on her lips as she says, "Wanna ride you, Cap. Please."
"You don't need my permission, pretty girl," Quinn replies between hot kisses.
She hums as she lowers herself onto him. The familiar and welcomed stretch greets her. Quinn's hands land on her waist so she doesn't lose her balance. He bottoms out in her and she allows herself a few seconds to adjust before moving her hips.
The room is quickly filled with her soft moans as she rolls her hips. He helps her keep a steady pace that works for both of them. The kiss breaks but she doesn't go very far. Her forehead rests on his and her lips ghost his every time she moves.
Despite how they got here, she loves when she falls into bed with her boyfriend. No matter the reason, Quinn always focuses on both their pleasure. He makes sure that both of them feel good for however long they go.
Adding a little spice in the bedroom, like this captain thing that Quinn has going on right now, is one of her favorite things too. She's never against trying new things. She's not against this captain thing that he has going on.
Quinn starts moving his hips to match her pace. She groans and pushes herself up so she's sitting on his waist. She keeps her pace though. Her head is thrown back in pleasure and Quinn's hands roam her body.
"Fuck, baby," he breathes out. "You look so good riding my dick, pretty girl."
He moves one of his hands until he's rubbing her clit. She cries out his name and rests her hands on his torso. "Quinn," she gasps. "Oh my God." He stops. "Cap. Captain. Captain Quinn. Don't stop. Please." Those words pass her lips before her brain processes what she wants to say, but her end goal remained the same. Quinn continues rubbing her clit and she hums.
Her movements get frantic and inconsistent as she gets closer to her orgasm. Quinn wraps his arms around her waist and rolls them over so her head is on the pillow. He throws her legs over his shoulders and begins moving his hips.
The new angle has her legs shaking because his dick hits her favorite spot. She grabs his arms and cries out his name. "Oh my- fuck," she gasps. "Quinn, Quinn Quinn. Oh my God." He doesn't stop this time, but he slows down. "Cap, I'm so close. Please."
"Come for me, pretty girl," Quinn pants. "Want you to make a mess on my dick."
It's not very long after that when she comes. Her entire body clenches and she cries out Quinn's name so loud that their neighbors absolutely heard her. Her vision whitens and she's in cloud 9 from how hard she comes.
She's so out of it that she doesn't realize that Quinn pulls out and comes on her thighs. She has no idea that he cleans her up, only that he touches her sensitive core with a wet cloth. Her body melts into the mattress as she recovers.
When she comes to, Quinn is crawling back into bed. She musters up enough strength to turn her head and look at him.
"You okay?" he asks with a smile on his swollen lips. "Lost you for a moment."
She nods and rolls so she's curled up next to Quinn. "You really like when I call you Cap," she teases him. His cheeks turn red. "It's fine, Quinn. You don't need to get all flustered about it. If it's your thing, then it's my thing too. I wouldn't mind doing that again. It showed me a whole new side of you that I think I like."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
"Then we might have to do that again," Quinn tells her. "But please. For the love of everything, do not call me Cap or Captain around the team. It's going to take me a second to get over tonight, or get used to those words leaving your mouth."
She giggles and throws her leg over his waist so she's laying on his chest. "You say the word and I'll start using your nickname," she tells him. "Cap."
Quinn rolls his eyes, but she knows he loves it.
༺──────────────༻
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Big bad Wolf-M. Rempe
Matt Rempe x fem! Reader
In which Matt has a size kink!
Warnings?: Smut, kissing, choking, cursing, mentions of drinking, porn with a plot pretty much!, sorry for any errors and I hope you enjoy!
Day1 of my Kinktober special!
You gripped Matt’s larger hand in yours as you two walked into the bar, every corner filled with players and staff from the Rangers organization.
It was your and Matt’s first Halloween celebration with the team and the other wags had been telling you how exciting the weekend always was, how sometimes they didn’t even know how they made it home, how many babies had resulted from the weekend.
“This place is packed.” He dipped down to whisper in your ear.
You nodded in agreement, the bar was the usual go to for the players so it wasn’t your first time there but it was definitely your first time seeing it this busy.
“Hey! You kids made it.” Kris cheered as his eyes found the two of you, a wide smile taking over his face as he came closer.
You leaned into Matt’s touch as you felt one of his large arms come to rest over your shoulder, the weight of his arm heavy but comforting in such a loud and busy place.
“Yeah! Cant believe how full this place is.” Matt laughed.
“I told you kids we know how to throw a party.” Kris shrugged with a smile, “Can I get you two anything to drink?” He asked
“No we’re good for tonight, got a lot to do tomorrow.” Matt answered for you, the both of you agreeing to have a sober evening.
The brunette nodded before he was pulled away into another conversation, you turned in Matt’s hold his arm dropped but his hand quickly came to rest on the bottom of your back over the silky material of your dress.
“Wanna dance?” You asked.
“Hmm?” He questioned, brows furrowed as he leaned down a little closer.
“I asked if you wanted to go dance with me..” You replied this time speaking louder.
A smirk took over your boyfriend’s face at your words, he didn’t even reply as he closed his hand around yours and tugged you to the dance floor.
Matt would admit he wasn’t the best dancer and sometimes he looked a little awkward but he’d never miss the chance of having you pressed against him as you swayed back and forth to whatever song the club was playing.
The song playing was upbeat but sensual, you pressed your front to his back, his hands coming to rest on your waist as you started to move your hips against his groin.
Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at his heavy touch, looking down you admired the way his fingertips nearly met thanks to the length of them, how wide his hands looked sprawled over your stomach when he moved them to pull you closer to him.
Matt was a big man, there was no doubt about that and while sometimes it was a struggle dating someone so much taller, most times you loved it.
You two danced for a while, and by the time you pulled away you could feel Matt’s cock poking your back, his grip much stronger, while you were depending on his grip to keep you standing.
“I’m gonna get a drink.” You pulled away, flushed and didn’t wait for his reply before you booked it to the bar.
Making your way to the bar you spotted one of the other girlfriends, giving her a quick hug you two dived into a conversation.
“If your little red riding hood then I’m guessing Matt is the big bag wolf?” She smirked.
You blushed at her suggestive tone, it was no secret how much bigger Matt was then you, the way one of his hands swallowed yours, how he towered over you, how one hand was able to effortlessly wrap around your neck.
You didn’t get a chance to reply before a body was pressed against the back of yours, you jumped forward in surprise but the familiar smell of Matt’s cologne has you calming down.
You quickly leaned into his warmth as his hands came to rest on both sides of you, trapping you against the wooden bar.
You friend winked at you before scurrying away with a smirk on her face.
“You know I think this dress is a bit short little miss red.” He spoke in your ear, breath hot against your skin.
“Is that so?”
“Mhm” you could feel his lips twitch into a smirk as his lips were still close to your ear, the deepness of his voice sending heat rushing through your body.
“Maybe you should do something about it.” You shrugged.
“Oh should I?”
“Yup.” You smirked turning to face him, his deep eyes dropping to your chest, the sweetheart neckline enhancing your breasts even more,
The tension grew as his eyes locked with yours, his large hands coming to rest on your hips now, their grip firm as he pulled you into him.
“And what exactly is it that you think I should do about it?”
“I don’t know..” you trailed off, fingers tracing invisible patterns on his chest over his dark shirt, standing on your tippy toes before speaking up again.
“Maybe take me home.., rip it off, shove my face into the pillows.”
The groan he let out was almost animalistic, his grip tightening just a bit as he pulled you flush against him this time.
You could feel his chest move in and out as he dipped down, “you wanna know what I think I should do?”
“What?”
“I think I should take you home, push this slutty little dress up and fuck you stupid, watch as those pretty tears stream down your face, maybe wrap my hand around that little throat..” he spat, his voice dark as he expressed all the things he wanted to do to you.
You couldn’t help the small whimper that broke free at his words, the thought of being pinned under his massive body as he took care of you in ways no one else ever could had your cunt practically dripping.
“Take me home Matt, now.”
That was all the Canadian needed before his hand was in yours and he was rushing out the bar, ignoring the voices of his teammates as he pulled you along.
The car ride home was tense, his left hand gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white while the other drummed impatiently against the exposed skin of your thigh.
Finally reaching your shared apartment you both moved fast, getting to your apartment in record time Matt had you pinned against the door the second it was shut.
His lips were locked on yours in a hot kiss as he picked you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around his middle as his hands dropped to your ass.
You moaned against his lips as he took a handful through your spandex, the feeling shooting sparks to your cunt.
You held onto his neck as he began to walk through the apartment, lips parting as you made your way down his neck, sucking lightly below his ear earning you a deep sigh of pleasure.
Flicking on the bedroom light Matt threw you down on the large bed, watching amusingly as you bounced on the plush material.
You watched from your position as he stalked towards you, his eyes dark and face determined, like a predator hunting their prey.
He was quick to remove the heeled boots you wore before removing your little cape and hood he yanked you back down the bed by your ankles.
He groaned as he pulled your spandex and panties off in one go, revealing your dripping cunt, sitting wet and ready for him.
“Matt please.” You whined, bucking your hips in attempt for some sort of friction only for him to back away.
“Please what?” He smirked.
“Fuck me, please.”
He didn’t need to hear more before his hands were dropping to his belt, undoing the metal clasp before tugging his jeans and boxers down.
He watched in awe as you played with yourself while you waited, your small fingers not doing nearly as much as his large ones would but they were enough.
“Ready?” He asked softly as he pumped himself a few times.
“Yes please.” You begged again and who was he to keep you waiting?
Running his thick tip against your folds he slid inside your welcoming cunt slowly, both of you moaning in sync as he filled you up.
Your head dropped back at the burn, fingers still working your clit to keep the pleasure flowing until he had you filled to the brim.
He gave you a second to adjust before he began his thrusts, he wasn’t waiting anymore before snapping his hips roughly against yours.
Throwing one of your legs over his shoulders he watched as you took him effortlessly now, his cock coated in your juices as you moaned out incoherent babbles.
He loved the way your leg barely even touched his shoulder, how if he bent you just right way he could see the tip of his cock in your lower belly, and don’t get him started on seeing your throat covered by one of scarred hands.
“Fuck Matt!” You moaned, “S’ so big, fuck..”
“You’re doing so good for me baby, my good girl” he groaned, reaching up to pull down the top of your flimsy dress allowing your tits to spill free.
He adjusted the two of you a bit before he leaned forward, your knees tucked against you as he leaned down, his cock hitting an even deeper part of your body.
He drowned out your shriek with his lips, his hands moving to grope your breasts, his rough fingers pulling and pinching on the sensitive buds of your nipples.
He could feel you begging to clutch him tightly, a sign you were close he pulled your legs apart and moved so he was now on top of you.
His large body completely covering yours as he pinned you to the bed, the added weight and closeness of your body edging you further and further towards the edge.
You were struggling to keep your eyes open as the pleasure got more intense with each thrusts, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming.
Matt hissed as your nails scratched down his back, the stinging sensation only pushing him to keep going.
“I’m so close.” You whimpered, eyes opening for a second to catch a sight of Matt’s pleasured face, his eyes locked on your face as he read your expression.
“I know baby, go ahead and come for me.” He cooed, one of his hands moving to rub your clit.
Your entire body shook as you came around his cock, the tightness of your cunt bringing Matt to his climax with you.
He continued to fuck both of you through your highs, matched whimpers coming from both of you as he finally slid out and laid down next to you.
You both remained silent for a while, the only sound filling the air was the heavy panting coming from the both of you.
Finally Matt stood and walked towards your bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a warm wash cloth and towel.
He kneeled between your legs as he cleaned you as gentle as possible, cooing softly when you whined against the touch.
Once he got you cleaned up and exchanged your costume for one of his large shirts he got himself dressed before tucking you in while he went to get bottles of water.
Returning with two bottles in one hand and your favorite chips in the other he handed everything to you before climbing in next to you, pulling your warm body against his.
“Wanna watch Adventure time?” He asked as he turned the tv on.
“You just fucked me stupid and now we’re gonna watch cartoons?” You laughed.
“I mean..yeah, What’s wrong with Adventure time?”
“Nothing honey, I’ll watch whatever you’re feeling.” You smiled with a shake of your head, cuddling into his large chest as he pressed play.
-
#matt rempe#matt rempe imagine#matt rempe smut#matt rempe x reader#matt rempe x y/n#nhl#nhl fanfiction#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fluff#nhl smut#jays24kinktober
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ON THE RECORD | Q. HUGHES43
-> quinn hughes x fem!reader
-> contains: dom!quinn, unprotected pnv, m!oral receiving filming sex, physical fighting, bruises and blood, sexual acts and themes, exgf!reader x vince dunn
-> IN WHICH: it’s the first canucks vs. krakens game of the season; and for quinn, this time it’s personal. when y/n’s ex has some words to say about their relationship, he shows both of them exactly who she belongs to.
-> locked in to this fic so hard bc i haven’t written in forever, so i finished writing it in the shower BUT NOT LIKE THAT I PROMISE. also there’s 100% discrepancies in real game play vs in this but please bare with me for the plot. (hope you love it as much as i do!)
*fic is not proofread
18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT
y/n was never nervous for a game.
but nothing could take away the ache she had leading up to this one.
it had been a while since her and quinn started dating, and he had it out for her ex since she told him all the horrible things he did to her; cheating, lying, hooking up with multiple women during the season, making a fool out of her publicly. however, she begged quinn not to start something; let bygones be bygones and leave it be, arguing how she left it all behind her. he agreed, knowing he didn’t want any bad press on himself; as captain and as someone the media knew wasn’t a fighter in the league.
y/n sat with her friend in the suite , fiddling with the sleeves of quinn’s jersey, eyes following where he was skating; he looked calm, focused, attentive to warm ups.
“dude, you need to calm down,” her friend laughed, noticing her obvious stress, “nothing is going to happen between them, i promise.”
y/n looked at her friend, “i know, i know. it’s just… quinn hates him. i know vince, and i know he can’t help himself from a fight. i’m just worried.”
“think quinn can’t handle himself?”
“no i know he can, i don’t want him risking getting hurt over something as stupid as a fight,” she retorted, gaze still fixed on the ice, “especially with vince.”
“i think you’re being dramatic,” her friend chuckled, taking a sip of her cold beer, “it’s just another game, no big deal.”
y/n sighed, shoulders relaxing a bit, allowing her friend’s reassurance to ease the tension in her body, “yeah, you’re right. just another game,” she said, cheering her cup with hers.
——————————————————————————
CANUCKS 3 - KRAKEN 2 / 3RD PERIOD
quinn was good at keeping his cool.
he had to, after all.
he ignored the glares from vince, his attempt at intimidation lingering through the entire game.
they didn’t come close in contact, until during a time out, quinn heard a voice call out at him,
“y/n here tonight? bet she came just for me,” vince chirped, a sinister, smug look on his face as he skated past him.
quinn stayed stone faced.
further into the final period of the game, he felt a body slam into his, nearly losing his balance and almost falling into the boards,
the whistle blew, and quinn was met yet again with vince’s hubristic stance,
“saw you’re with her now, how’s that goin for you? bet i come up a lot,”
vince spat, quinn skating closer to him, his temper beginning to spark in his body,
“get over it bud. she’s done with you.” quinn said calmly, the other players around the ice not aware of the situation brewing beside them.
“look hughes, you’re not special,”
with each word, the kraken gets closer and closer to quinn, puffing his chest and spewing hate, the hands in his gloves in the beginning of curling into fists,
“it was just you to get over me,”
quinn’s jaw tightened,
vince laughed bitterly, “she’s a slut, you tonight someone else tom-”
vince couldn’t even finish his sentence before quinn shoved him hard, both their gloves dropped as they fought, quinn bringing him down to the ice, delivering blow after blow to his face.
it all happened so fast, y/n heard the pounding on the glass, cheering on a fight, and feeling her stomach twist when she saw 43.
oh god.
none of the refs were able to get quinn off of him alone, his fists not stopping until they were bruised and bloody, matching the wounds on vince’s face.
quinn was panting with anger, face tinted crimson, a light bruise forming on his cheekbone where vince had landed a punch. he couldn’t feel the near splits in his knuckle, too riled with adrenaline to feel anything but rage.
——————————————————————————
fortunately enough, the canucks ended the game with a win, but that didn’t change how fired up y/n knew quinn was going to be when she saw him.
she was allowed to be in the locker room during post game interviews, and she watched nervously as interviewers swarmed and crowded quinn, bombarding him with questions.
he was asked about the fight, detail, if vince had said anything to set him off, the why as a captain, he would start something on the ice.
quinn’s expression remained nothing short of blank, refusing to answer any questions regarding it, pursing his lower lip, “nothing to say about that. keep it about hockey and that’s it.”
after post game reports had finished, y/n waited outside by the doors for quinn to come out.
she didn’t know how he was going to be when he came out, pacing with worry about what the media would twist this game in to.
y/n heard the heavy doors click open, quinn in a lazy rendition of his suit, walking over to her; the bruise on his cheek deeper in color than when she initially saw.
“hey baby,” she said softly, opening her arms for quinn to embrace without hesitation.
“hey,” he replied, tightening their hug before pulling away, “cmon, we need to go home.”
quinn didn’t give y/n a chance to respond when he hooked his hand into hers, leading her to his dark tinted car in the lot.
y/n slid into the passenger seat while quinn loaded his gear into the trunk, she looked out the window until the driver’s side door clicked shut.
she looked over at quinn, an unreadable look on his face; he said nothing, instead putting the car in drive to go back to their shared apartment.
the drive home was silent.
the only sound being the hum of the car engine and their steady breaths. quinn always had his hand on her leg when he drove, but this time his hand was a little higher, his grip a little tighter, all whilst he kept his gaze fixed on the road. y/n’s breath would hitch ever so slightly when his fingers kneaded into her skin.
——————————————————————————
quinn was still quiet even after getting home.
frustrated, y/n spoke out, “quinn, what did vince say to you?” she said with a sigh,
“shit about me. about you. us.” he mumbled, taking off his suit jacket and undoing the black tie he had on.
“so, that’s reason enough to give me the silent treatment all the way home? you’re acting like that was my fault,”
“i never said it was your fault.”
“you don’t have to! it doesn’t take a lot to know you’re upset,” she retorted,
“y/n,” quinn started, walking over to where she was standing, holding her by the neck when he kissed her roughly, biting her lip when she moaned lightly into his mouth.
he tapped the back y/n’s of legs, and she jumped hooking her legs around his waist without objection.
quinn waltzed them to the bedroom, their kiss nowhere close to cooling off. quinn lightly tossed her on the bed, lips peeling off hers to suck and bite on the exposed skin of her neck.
y/n groaned lightly, beginning to unbutton his collared shirt, when quinn pulled off of her, leaving y/n with furrowed brows.
“quinn, what’s wrong?” she said, propping herself up on her arms, looking up at her boyfriend, confused.
“wait here baby,” he said, leaving the room.
she nodded, and about 15 seconds had passed when quinn returned to the room, his phone in hand with the camera app already opened.
“you want to make a movie huh?” she said, beginning to peel off the jersey that housed quinn’s name.
“only for our number one fan. leave the jersey on,” he said, “but everything else, off. now.”
y/n nodded, slipping down her pants and thong, her pussy already aching with the desire quinn had filled in her.
quinn swiftly undid his belt with one hand, lowering his pants and boxers to leave his hard length exposed.
“c’mere, suck.”
y/n obliged, moving down to her knees to meet quinn at hip length, the phone flash shining brightly in her face when she took the tip of his dick and swirled it around her tongue.
quinn groaned, moving his free hand to pull y/n’s hair into a ponytail with his fist. his breath quickened, y/n taking all of him in, bobbing up and down; quinn’s hips matching her rhythm.
he had almost forgot he was recording her, but when her lashes fluttered up to perfectly view the camera whilst she sucked him, quinn knew he was close to cumming.
quinn groaned louder, fucking y/n’s face, her moans sending vibrations on his dick that pushed him to his release. he pulled out of her mouth right when he was about to cum, y/n sticking her tongue out to collect his release.
god he was loving this.
he stopped the video as she wiped the leftover release from her face, pulling her up for a sloppy hot kiss.
quinn pulled away, the two panting with puffy lips, “bed, ass up, baby. now.” he instructed, reopening his phone for the perfect view.
“yes captain,” y/n said, just ready for whatever quinn had in store for her, her wetness beginning to seep down and stick to her inner thighs, burning for him to touch her.
after hitting record, quinn wasted no time aligning himself with her, pumping in and out a few times before going fully in, his hips meeting her ass, eliciting moans from the two of them.
his pace was rapid and brutal, moving her hair away from her and back into his hands, revealing to the camera the “hughes” jersey she was wearing.
“fuck, quinn! mm, so good— my god, fuck,” y/n moaned, echoing with the sound of their skin slapping against one another, her noises music to quinn’s ears.
he continued to pound hard into her, y/n’s knuckles white from how hard she gripped into the sheets, feeling her stomach tighten, about to reach her high.
quinn felt her pussy tighten around him, knowing she was close, “gonna cum baby? go ahead, cum,” he husked, coming to his second of the night.
she screamed in pleasure, her cunt coating his dick, mixing with his as he filled her up with his release.
quinn pulled out of her slowly, giving time to show the camera a view of her dripping puffy pussy, ending the video with a hard smack on her ass.
y/n yelped, falling into the bed. quinn turned her around, gently kissing her in her dazed state.
“you okay baby?” he asked gently, caressing her face with his thumb,
“mhm, but i think you killed me. i’m exhausted,” she laughed, quinn smiling and bringing his lips down to peck hers, “sorry, want me to go start a shower for us?”
“you know me so well,”
quinn crawled off of her, grabbing his phone before slipping into the bathroom,
he opened instagram, typing in vince’s username into the search bar, itching as he opened their messages tab.
——————————————————————————
© missqhughes
xoxo, kaia
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x reader#qh43#vancouver canucks#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes fic#nhl fic#hughes brothers#quinn hughes imagine#nhl imagine#nhl#hockey
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🌷 [ surprise ] with quinn!! maybe angst with happy ending ?
౨ৎ arguments on the dock and nosey brothers
°. — pairings ( Quinn Hughes x female! Reader )
°. — summary ( Jack can’t keep his mouth shut, causing an argument between his brother and his girlfriend )
°. — details ( g; angst, fluff. w; slight cursing, I think that’s all. wc; 1.5k )
﹕─┈ prompt ~ a sudden kiss to catch there partner off guard
˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( TYSM FOR SENDING IN A REQ LOVEY !!! when I tell you that it PHYSICALLY hurt to write angst with Quinn . . . I’m telling you the truth. I absolutely loved writing this, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. I’m actually shocked that I wrote this in 3 hours. Please don’t be a silent reader, your thoughts always keep me motivated to keep writing <333 )
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You didn't wait to hear Quinn's answer as you walked out of the kitchen and out through the back door that led to the backyard and lake. You slipped your bare feet into what you assumed was Luke's slide Ons and quickly made your way down the steps and onto the dock. You let out a heavy side and brought your trembling hands up to your eyes, rubbing them as your mind tried to process the new news.
“Thanks’ a lot Jack” Quinn hissed at his younger brother who couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut, shaking his head in annoyance and leaving the kitchen to quickly follow after you. Both of the brothers flinch when they hear Quinn slam the back door. Jack’s shoulders sank and he turned to look at Luke who was already giving him a disappointing shake of the head. “How was I supposed to know he didn't tell her yet?”
“I don't know. Maybe the fact that Quinn told us to keep it to ourselves because he was still trying to figure things out?” Luke retorted sassily as he put his bowl in the sink before leaving the kitchen to go play some darts downstairs. Jack groans and rests his head on the cold island counter, he feels terrible. His heart had sunk when he saw the look of hurt on your face when he said those words. Jack whispers to himself “Good luck Quinn”
Quinn slowly made his way down the wooden steps that led to the dock, he could see you standing in the middle of the dock, your body stiff as you stared out at the water. Quinn knew you knew he was there, the sound of the wood creaking under his weight as he walked onto the dock . . . but you refused to take your eyes off the water.
“I know you're upset, and you have every right to be . . . but please just hear me out, '' Quinn spoke softly as he moved to rest his hand on your arm only to let out a sigh as you moved out of the way from his touch. You keep your eyes on the water, hoping that it would help calm you down as you whisper, “When did you find out?”
“Two weeks ago,” Quinn whispered regrettably, his eyes down at the water. You scoff bitterly and bring your hand up to wipe at your eyes, hoping that your tears of frustration wouldn't fall. You finally turn to face him, your arms folded over your chest. Quinn looks at you and he feels his heart sink at the look of hurt on your face and the tears in your eyes, but that was nowhere as painful as hearing the hurt in your voice as you spoke loudly.
“You're right, I do have every right to be upset. You found out two weeks ago, two weeks you have known that you wouldn't be with me for our anniversary . . . two weeks you have listened to me gush about planning our trip . . . our trip that you knew was never going to happen.”
“Why didn't you tell me Quinn? . . . i would have understood'' you whispered, and you would have. You know you would have but finding out he kept it a secret for so long hurt. You never wanted to get in the way of his career, his dream, knowing how important it was to him . . . but you were important too. A single tear slides down your cheek as Jack's words echo in your head.
“It's a great opportunity, it's just a shame he's going to miss your guy's big day” Jack says after he swallowed his last bite of the wonderful dinner you had made for your boyfriend and his brothers. You paused your movement on rinsing your dish and turned around to jack with a look of confusion “Big day?”
“Yeah, your guys' anniversary? He's gonna be gone for like two weeks” Jack shrugged, and your heart dropped at the new information. You turned your gaze to your boyfriend who was giving Jack a heated glare while Luke looked between the couple awkwardly. You looked into your boyfriend's eyes as you asked, “Is that true?”
“Baby i promise it's not like that i was ⸺” Quinn started as he tried to explain it to you, but you couldn't help but cut him off.
“What is it like huh? When were you going to tell me? ⸺ if you were ever going to tell me at all. Where you going to tell me the day before or where you going to let me wake up alone to find out myself that you were on the other side of the fucking country!” You shouted as you threw your hands in the air in anger. Both Luke and Jack wincing inside of the house as they look out the window to spy on the two of you.
“Don't be dramatic you know i would never do that to you” Quinn shook his head as he took a step towards you, his heart hurting that you would even think he would do that to you. But he knew you were just upset, that you really didn't mean your words and all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms.
“Well i used to also think we didn't keep secrets from each other, clearly i was wrong” you snapped as you fully turned to face away from him and moved to sit on one of the wooden chairs. You close your eyes and let out a heavy breath, resting your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. You hated arguments with quinn, they rarely happened ⸺ but when they did it was emotionally draining.
Quinn frowns and moves to get on one knee in front of you, his hands softly rubbing your arms, knowing that it helps calm you down. “I would have told you quinn . . . i wouldn't have kept it a secret” you whispered sadly as you lifted your head out of your hands, locking eyes with quinn who looked at you with regret in his eyes. “I know baby i know you would and I'm so sorry.”
“I’m not going to tell you not to go, I know this is important for you and I won't hold you back . . . I'm just sorry you felt like you couldn't tell m⸺” you abruptly stop talking when you feel quinn holding your face and his lips on yours, interrupting you and catching you off guard. Your eyes fluttered close and you felt yourself melt into the kiss, pouring all of your emotion into the kiss.
Quinn reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, his gently hold on your face not wavering as he whispered breathlessly “You are more important to me, you will always be more important to me . . . i didn't say anything because i wanted to make sure you could come with me.”
Your eyes fluttered open at his revelation and you lean back a little, Quinns hands falling to rest in your lap and taking your hands into his as he looks at you with nothing but love “I know it's not the anniversary you wanted . . . but we would be together, and Elias has been helping me plan it. I was going to tell you i swear, i was just waiting on the confirmation that we can stay in the honeymoon suite at the hotel we would be in.”
“Really?” You whispered as tears reformed in your eyes, this time not of frustration ⸺ but of a strong emotion of love and guilt. Quinn was quick to wipe your fallen tears, giving you a small smile as he whispered “Don't cry baby, I'm not upset it's okay.”
“The things i said i⸺”
“You didn't mean them, you were upset and hurt” Quinn cut you off as he caressed your cheeks before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your nose, a smile forming on his lips at the adorable nose scrunch you do.
“I’m sorry” you sniffled as you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's shoulders in a hug, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. Quinn chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. His knees were starting to hurt, but you were more important than the fleeting pain. Quinn kissed your forehead before saying “I’m sorry too.”
The couple both close their eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in each other's arms after the emotional rollercoaster they just were on. The only thing they could hear was each other's heartbeat and the sound of the water that was around them. It was perfect and peaceful until you heard Jack yelling from the porch “Since you guys are okay, does that mean you forgive me too?!”
“I’m gonna fucking kill him” Quinn groans as he hides his face in your neck, breathing in your scent to calm himself down. He was in fact annoyed with his brother, this wouldn't have happened, and he would have been able to tell you about the news in a much better way . . . technically jack’s the reason why you cried, and Quinn was sure to use that against him. You giggle and open your eyes, looking out at the water and the beautiful sunset “I’m sure it would be easy to convince Luke to help us.”
˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( one forehead kiss from Quinn and everything wrong in my life would be healed . . . please Quinn one chance I beg 😻 )
°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )
#﹕─┈ 𝜗 roro's 1k celly 𝜚#୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. 𝓵atest release of 𝓻oro’s 𝔀orks#quinn hughes#qh43#vancouver canucks#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes fic#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#nhl blurb#nhl hockey#nhl fanfiction#hughes brothers#jack hughes
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sunrise celebration | luke hughes
warnings: slight somno, but everyone is awake for the actual celebration. oral, m!receiving. established relationship. praise. hair pulling. fingering. unprotected p in v. cockwarming. riding. multiple rounds (alluded to, not necessarily included in the actual fic). creampie. lazy morning sex and makeouts and all that good stuff. happy birthday luke! pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: luke's girlfriend wakes him up with one of many, many birthday presents. wc: 1805
You wake at quarter to seven with Luke beside you. He’s breathing evenly, laying on his back with an arm under your neck and the other resting on his chest. He’s shirtless, like always. He’s snoring slightly, twitching in his sleep, and you pick yourself up a bit so that you can get a better view of your serene-looking boyfriend.
You place your hand on his stomach, smoothing over the sculpted skin. He’s been working out so much lately, trying to build himself up into a “unit” (as Jack has been calling him all summer) ahead of his second full season with the Devs. Your pinkie traces over the tip of his happy trail, the dark strip of hair a favorite of yours. You admire him for a while. With the light coming through the window in his room, Luke reminds you of an angel.
When you look at the clock, you remember that it’s officially his birthday.
Your hand is still on his stomach, fingers still petting over his happy trail. Now though, your hand is going lower, to the waistband of his underwear. You don’t dip in yet, instead opting to trail your fingers daintily over his length. It’s mostly soft in his pants, only barely swollen from his typical morning wood, but he reacts when you touch him over the fabric. His cock jumps under your palm, seeming to seek you out.
You continue rubbing over him until he’s hard and leaking, his tip prominent as it strains against the wet patch of fabric. You use the pad of your index finger to stroke over his slit, bubbling out another drip of precum when you do.
You smile, blinking lazily before leaning up and ghosting a kiss over Luke’s cheek. He bends his arm at the elbow, the one under your neck, just to keep you close. Even in his sleep, he always wants to keep you close.
As you continue to touch him, he starts to stir.
“What’re you doing,” Luke mumbles softly, voice riddled with sleep. His hand on his chest drifts down to where yours is, touching your wrist and stilling your movement.
“Happy birthday,” you whisper, nosing against his cheek. Luke turns his head to you and you kiss him sweetly, bad breath and all. “Happy, happy birthday.”
“Mm, thank you,” Luke hums, catching a strand of your hair between his fingers and twirling it.
“Wanna give you a present,” you murmur, the heel of your palm scraping over his cock. You fit your fingers around his length and pump him over his underwear.
A groan rips from Luke’s throat, more precum leaking from his tip. You imagine his cockhead is weeping and red and you really wish you could see it.
You shift again, trying to shift down the bed without jostling Luke too much. You do, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just moving his hips so he’s in the middle of the bed. His hands go behind the back of his head, threading through his curls. He uses his hands as a rest, settling against the pillow so that he can look down at you.
You dig your hands into the sides of his waistband, kissing down his stomach and abdomen until the curls at the base of his cock are revealed. It’s then that you nuzzle against the hair, kissing the point where his shaft meets his groin, a breath away from where his balls rest. You kiss over the tight skin as his length is revealed to you.
His tip is just as red as you thought it would be, and just as appetizing. You flick your tongue over the crown of his cock, then press a close-mouthed kiss to his slit.
Luke barely breathes out a moan, his hand leaving his own curls to find the back of your head. He gathers your hair into a messy ponytail, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs as you circle your fingers around his base, holding him still.
You slide his cock between your lips, eyes fluttering shut as his weight settles on your tongue. You suck, creating a vacuum over his tip.
“Fuck,” Luke curses more sharply, his hips bucking forward involuntarily.
You chuckle when you pull away, pumping him and swiping your thumb over his slit with a graceful twist of your wrist. “Such a pretty cock, Lu. Wanna suck it all the time. Always need you in my mouth.”
Luke grins crookedly, then bites his lip. His eyes darken, still a little clouded with sleep. “Do I not fuck you enough, baby?” He teases. “You always need more, don’t you?”
“Just want to make my boy feel good,” you say innocently with a flutter of your eyelashes and another kiss to his cock. “My birthday boy.”
As you seal your mouth over his length again, bobbing your head as you take more of him in your mouth, Luke lets his eyes drift shut and the pleasure overtake him. His hand on the back of your head is a heavy weight, helping you swallow him down until your nose brushes his pelvis and the curls there. You gag around him, but remain there, drooling until his length is slick with your spit and his precum.
You relieve yourself after a moment, taking a breath and pumping him. Luke’s eyes remain closed, hanging onto sleep in your comfortable shared bed.
“Can we just stay here all day?” Luke asks, opening his eyes and blinking at you.
“My mouth might get tired,” you reply, giggling at the joke before taking him again.
Luke laughs too, dropping your hair to thumb over your hollowed cheek. “Just in bed, baby. That’s how I wanna spend my birthday. Being lazy with my pretty girlfriend.”
“Hm, we can rot after I make you come,” you agree. “And then I wanna make you come again with you inside me.”
“Gonna ride me?” Luke asks.
“Yeah, later, if you want me to,” you sigh dreamily, licking up Luke’s shaft. You reach up to bring his hand back to your hair, then you shuffle your hand down between your legs. You touch yourself over your underwear, feeling the way the fabric clings to your soaked folds. Sucking Luke always makes you this excited– he’s just that good.
“That’s it,” Luke moans. “Love watching you make yourself come. Touch your clit for me, baby.”
You obey, petting over your clit in time with the bobbing of your head. Eventually, Luke starts to shift his hips up and you release your grip on him, curving your hand over his hip and opening your mouth so that he can fuck up into it. You shift and run your fingertips through your folds, finding your entrance while your clit finds your palm. You rut your hips against the contact, filling yourself with two fingers.
“Oh, baby,” Luke says, tossing his head back. “Always so good. Your mouth– oh. Fuck, wanna come inside you.”
He grips your hair and pulls you off, guiding you back up his body. He rolls you onto your back in the middle of the bed, pulling your t-shirt over your head and ducking his head down to take your nipple in his mouth. He sucks, biting down on the peak, then switching over to the other. All the while, he’s pushing your panties down and replacing your fingers with his own long ones.
He fills you with two, pumping them inside of you in a way that has you arching into his mouth. Luke hurries to kick his own underwear off, the blankets falling askew as he moves. His cock slides against your thigh, hard and dripping. It doesn’t take long for Luke to make you babble and clutch at his curls, begging for that length to fill you up with his cum.
Luke complies, whimpering out a gasp as you clench down on him. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Luke groans, unable to stop his hips from stuttering into yours. He’s well-endowed and he always fucks into your heat just right, able to make you come as quickly or as slowly as he desires.
The blowjob has him worked up, so this one’s quick. Luke is clutching at you desperately, kissing your lips and your neck until they’re swollen and splotchy with hickies respectively. He’s murmuring in your ear, a load of sweet nothings that have you whining and squirming beneath him, trying to hold off until he reaches his peak. It’s his birthday, you want him to come first.
“Baby, I’m close,” Luke chokes out. “I’m gonna come.”
His hips drive against you, shuddering with the effort to hold back. His thumb finds your clit, the pressure of his weight making you keen. He breathes into your mouth, panting. His eyes are wild as you find them, the eye contact making you that much more desperate. Luke presses his forehead against yours, his body blanketing yours.
“Fill me up,” you implore, holding him tight. Your fingernails dig into the muscles of his back, feeling them move as he bucks against you.
Luke’s grunt is animalistic as his seed starts to spill into you, nothing between you. It’s exactly what you wanted, spurring your own climax on. Your body shakes, muscles tight as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Luke keeps fucking into you, biting his lip hard as the overstimulation sends a new rush of pleasure through him. He stays inside of you even as his cock softens, plugging you to keep his cum inside. He kisses your lips, then another. The series of kisses turns into a lazy tangle of tongues and hushed giggles, the occasional twitch of Luke’s cock inside of you until he starts to grow hard again as a side effect of your wandering hands.
“Round two?” You ask between kisses.
Luke laughs and smiles, laying back and dragging you on top of him. You sit perched on his lap, cock pressing deep inside of you at this angle. You bring your hands up your body, a hand cupping your breast and the other moving through your hair in a stretch. He grins, eyes still hooded like he’s tired, and lets his hands fall to your asscheeks, kneading the skin there. He nudges you forward, guiding your circling hips.
“This is going to be the best birthday ever,” Luke says.
“Oh, baby, you have no idea,” you promise. “We’re gonna do this all day long.”
“You’re gonna run me dry,” Luke jokes.
“Well, as long as you feel good, then I’ll have done my job.” You plant your hands on Luke’s abs and grin down at him, leaning low enough to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. “Happy birthday,” you sing. “I love you.”
Luke smiles against your lips. “Best birthday ever.”
notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUKEY! I hope he enjoys his first legal drink in the U.S. and has a really good night :) sweet lukey deserves a sweet, fun birthday <3
#puck-luck's fics#andy writes anything🍄#luke hughes#luke hughes smut#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes x you#lh43#nhl smut#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#hockey smut#happy birthday luke!
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⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *
nhl masterlist !
pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader
warnings: angst and comfort, fluff
summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3
song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift
word count: 4.4 k
notes: I love lake quinn sm :)
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes
"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."
your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.
it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.
"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.
"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.
quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.
"look, quinny."
quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.
"oh." your father whispers.
"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.
"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."
your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine
"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."
"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"
"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."
"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.
the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.
you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.
and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...
he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.
it never occurred to her that he might be the one.
"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.
"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.
"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.
"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"
"birdie, it's just a joke!"
he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.
ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried
when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.
you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.
now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.
you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.
everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.
quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.
he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.
somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.
your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.
you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.
it lands on quinn.
your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.
this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.
quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.
he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.
"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.
you shook your head, "i want to."
he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.
his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.
as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.
you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.
you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me
the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.
when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.
"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.
the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.
it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,
"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.
"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.
"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.
"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.
"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.
you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.
it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.
he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.
he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.
that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.
so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.
and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.
it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.
he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.
so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.
so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.
"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.
he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.
you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.
your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.
you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.
tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"
"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.
his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.
the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.
quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.
and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.
his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.
"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.
"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."
the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.
he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?
you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.
he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.
you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.
"gas station run?" he asks.
you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."
"please? I really want chips."
you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.
the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.
you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."
"god, this is embarrassing-"
"quintin, i swear-"
"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.
there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.
the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.
"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.
"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"
"are you jealous?"
"what?"
"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"
"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.
you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.
"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"
you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.
he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see
"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.
"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.
there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.
you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.
he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.
your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.
you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.
he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.
you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.
or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.
and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.
his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.
the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.
"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.
you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.
you're mad.
you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.
you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.
you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.
"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"
it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.
he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.
you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.
that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.
quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.
you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.
"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.
you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"
quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.
the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.
he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.
"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."
suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.
you frown, realizing that you're in the air.
"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.
"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"
"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.
"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"
he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.
"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"
"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"
"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.
he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.
"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."
"quinn-"
"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.
now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.
but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.
"i love you!" you blurt out.
he turns slowly, "what?"
"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"
the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.
you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.
he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.
he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.
"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.
"say it again," he demands, just because he can.
"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.
"i love you too, chickie."
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
oh, my, my, my
"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.
the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.
well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.
he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.
you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.
you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.
they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.
"i can't wait for their wedding."
"hold on, now!"
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee
you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.
it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.
the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.
this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.
quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.
and more importantly, the two of you are always together.
"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"
you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.
he leads you there, like he always does.
"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.
"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.
but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.
"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.
one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.
the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.
quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.
"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.
"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.
"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.
it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.
it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.
"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.
when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.
you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.
and then he drops down on one knee.
you start crying, immediately.
that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.
he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.
you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.
you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.
you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.
your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.
jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.
Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.
jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.
..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..
take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too
the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.
this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.
your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.
he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.
you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.
your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.
sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.
quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.
he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.
quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.
you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.
but the last dance is saved for the two of you.
"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.
"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.
you laugh, and so does he.
forever sounds real good to you.
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
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#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes#nhl fluff#nhl imagine#nhl players#hughes brothers#childhood friends to lovers#hockey fluff#angst with a happy ending#pining#mutual pining#qh43#lh43#jh86#jack hughes x reader#vancouver canucks#canucks hockey#nj devils#new jersey devils#fluff#hockey#romance#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x oc
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Just Friends
Jack Hughes x Best Friend!Reader
summary: You’ve been best friends with Jack for ages. He’s also been in love with you for ages, but he’s got that completely under control. Really, he does. Right? 5.2k words
warnings: alcohol/intoxication, non graphic mentions of surgery/blood/stitches, hospital stay, reference to Jack’s shoulder surgery :(
Jack finds you in his apartment kitchen, a black tie in his hand. He’s already dressed in his suit pants and shirt, and for once, he feels like hair looks almost presentable. You take the tie from him without a word, and you loop it around his neck, underneath the collar of his shirt. Meanwhile, he grabs your necklace off the counter and fiddles with the clasp.
You hum to yourself as you start to tie the tie. “Ready for the game today?”
He shrugs. “I’m always ready.”
Luke is there, too, shoveling cereal into his mouth and watching the two of you warily. As you loop the tie around your fingers, Jack slips the necklace around your neck, your skin soft under his fingers. He latches it, blindly, with expert precision, muscle memory. He’s done it a million times now.
You tug the tie into place and then smooth it out on his chest. He hasn’t put his jacket on yet, but you’ll fix the lapels of it, too. You take a half a step back and give him a once over. He stands, waiting for your approval with his breath held in his chest. It shouldn’t mean this much, you making sure he looks good, but it does. You reach up and tuck a lock of hair back into place atop his head, and he smiles happily.
“All good,” you say, dusting your hands together as if you’ve just finished a hard day’s work.
Jack squints at your face, spotting something, and he brings a finger up to brush against your cheekbone. “Eyelash,” he explains, and you hum, closing your eyes as he brushes it away. “Got it.”
“Thanks,” you murmur. “Come on, don’t wanna be late. And no cereal in the car, Luke.”
Jack rushes off to grab his jacket. When he comes back, Luke is dumping the last of his cereal into the sink, and Jack grimaces. You’re in the hallway, stepping into a pair of shoes. Luke turns to him with a smirk, and Jack shakes his head before his brother can even open his mouth.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
Luke rolls his eyes. “I just think you guys are-“
“You thinking is dangerous,” Jack says. “Save all that energy for the game.”
He walks away, down the hallway to find you. You reach up to fix his jacket for him, and then you reach for the car keys and hand them off to him. He grins and nudges his elbow against your side.
“You’re such a passenger princess,” he teases.
You shrug. “I’m very good at it!”
He’s not complaining, really. There’s nobody he’d rather see in his passenger seat than you. Your jersey hangs proudly from your shoulders, his name and number on the back, and it makes his chest feel warm. You’re his good luck charm. He just hasn’t told you that yet.
…..
Jack’s spent so much time convincing his brothers and his teammates and his parents that he’s not in love with you, that he can’t pinpoint when it actually happened. He’s not sure there was some big moment, some realization, some day where he looked at you and everything changed. You’ve just been so present in his life that maybe it was a sort of gradual thing. Maybe it’s always been there, and he’s been in denial since he was eleven and Quinn was teasing him on the playground near their house.
Now you’re in New York, closer than you have been in years, both distance wise and friendship wise. You have season tickets, because he’s playing in the NHL and he wants you at every game possible. You spend half your nights at his place when he’s home, and he ignores the funny looks Luke gives him about it. Honestly, he’s a bit tired of denying it all. He thinks maybe if someone just asked point blank he’d let it all spill out.
He reads the text from you and smiles- you’re on your way to the Rock, one of your friends in tow. He’d gotten you two seats for the season, so you wouldn’t have to sit alone. He sort of dreads the day you decide to bring a date, but then he wonders what guy would be stupid enough to go along with that. Jack’s cocky, he’ll admit it. He knows he’s good at hockey. He laughs at the thought of you dragging a date along to see him play.
Someone announces they’re ordering food before the game, from the deli down the street. Jack listens as his teammates put in their orders. Luke goes with his usual. Timo changes things up. When the assistant gets to him, he grins. He orders his go to, and then another, and asks for a can of Coke, too, for good measure. Luke gives a knowing roll of his eyes.
When the guy brings the food in, Jack takes his bag, fishes his sandwich out of it, and hands the other sandwich and the can of Coke back. “Can you get this to seat B322?” He asks, grinning widely. He knows your seat number by heart.
Luke sighs heavily next to him. The guy agrees, of course. Nico, who’s standing nearby, cocks his head in confusion.
“She’s coming straight from work,” Jack defends. The ribbing he gets from the guys will be worth it when he sees you after the game. “She’s gonna be hungry.”
“It’s a hockey arena,” Luke says drily. “There’s so much food here.”
“But she loves Krauszer’s,” Jack says, and Nico rolls his eyes. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t order her some?”
“Friend,” Nico says, drawing out the word. “Sure.”
Jack ignores him. He ignores Luke’s smirk, too. He eats his sandwich and finishes getting ready, and then he heads out onto the ice, knowing you’re there somewhere, probably sipping on a can of Coke.
…..
The issue, Jack finds, is that it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that he’s in love with you.
It was easier, before, when you were younger and he was more dumb and less aware of… everything. He could convince himself it was just puppy love, just absence making the heart grow fonder, when post high school saw the two of you split apart. But now you’re here, close, and yet not close enough. Jack wants more, and he can’t really ignore that feeling these days.
He’s out at a bar, team bonding, as Nico put it. Except that half the team is drunk, including Nico, and the only bonding Jack’s doing is the brotherly kind, trying to keep Luke from sneaking drinks, or worse, getting caught sneaking drinks. Sometimes he hates being an older brother. He’d wanted to come out, maybe talk to a girl, maybe take said girl home, or get her to take him back to her place so he wouldn’t have to worry about Luke overhearing. But it’s not really working, not with Nico hanging off his shoulder like a leech and Luke sneaking another shot, and god, Jack’s going to kill him. If you were here, you’d be keeping an eye on Luke, too. He wishes you were here.
He has a shot to take the edge of the annoyance off. Then he has another, and another, and then there’s a girl across the bar, smiling at him, and- she sort of looks like you, is the thing, but not quite. The sort of uncanny valley of it all is freaking him out. For a moment he wonders if hooking up with her would make it better- would get it out of his system, would scratch the itch. The sane, more sober part of him thinks it might just make it all worse. To have some girl under him and hear a voice that isn’t yours. Jack used to do this all the time. The thought of it makes him feel sick now. That’s new.
He downs another shot and passes his leech of a captain off on his problem of a brother, hoping the two of them will keep each other in line. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and gets an Uber.
It’s only when he’s standing at your apartment door that he realizes he probably should’ve called first. You might already be asleep. You might be out. Maybe you have a guy over. His stomach does a somersault at the thought. He raises his hand to knock anyways- he’s come all this way.
You open the door with a smile on your face. “Nico called to ask if I knew where you went. Thought you might be headed here.”
Jack lets his shoulders drop. “They were annoying me.”
That’s not the real reason he left, but he can’t exactly tell you he saw the uncanny valley version of you and decided to leave. That would be… a lot. You seem to take his answer as the truth, because Luke is annoying on a night out, and Nico can be, too. Jack still probably should’ve told them he was leaving. He’ll get an earful about it. Oh well. The way you step aside to let him into your apartment makes it worth it.
He heads for the couch, and you laugh when he flops onto it, facedown. He likes your laugh. It sounds so much like you. He remembers the years when you were in college and he was far, far away from you, when he’d crack jokes on the phone calls just to hear you giggle. He presses his face into a pillow and hopes you don’t see the blush on his cheeks, or that you’ll attribute it to his drunkenness.
“Want food?” You call out, from the kitchen, he thinks. He groans loudly in response. “I have mozz sticks.”
He turns his head to the side and says, “fuck, I love you.”
He can say it here, in the comfort and privacy of your living room, in the relative safeness of the fact that he’s been drinking. You won’t think anything of it. You won’t realize how much he really means it.
The sound of your laugh is music to his ears. “Love you too, Rowdy.”
You don’t mean it the way he wants you to. That’s okay. He came to terms with that a while ago, listening to you say it over staticky phone calls. But you’ll make him mozzarella sticks, and you’re not upset that he’s here, so he’ll take it. He’ll take anything, really.
You come into the living room a few minutes later, plate full of food in hand, and make him roll over. He sits up slightly, leaning against the arm of the couch, and you lift his legs to sit under them. He doesn’t complain when you turn on some stupid reality tv show he hates- there are mozzarella sticks for him to eat, and the warmth of you under him, the weight of your arm where it’s draped across his calves. He can put up with the host’s annoying voice for this.
He falls asleep on your couch, half a mozz stick in his hand. When he wakes up, he’s tucked in with the quilt you’ve had for years now, a pillow under his head, and water waiting for him on the coffee table. You’re probably at work by now. He’ll send you a text to say thank you, later, unless he decides to just wait here until you come home. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, really.
…..
It’s a Saturday, and Luke is out for lunch with some of the other younger players, so Jack’s fending for himself. Trevor, knowing this due to what he would call their cosmic connection, has seen it as an opportunity to talk Jack’s ear off over FaceTime. Jack has his phone propped on the kitchen counter, half listening as he cooks.
He loves Trevor- really, he does, but the guy could talk for hours upon hours and never run out of things to say. Jack lets him, because he knows Trevor likes talking, so he’s not going to be mean. He just chimes in with noises of agreement or disagreement at the right times. Then Trevor says your name, and he zones back in.
“I fucking knew you weren’t listening!” Trevor cackles, wide grin taking up most of the phone screen. “But the second I mention-“
“Shut up,” Jack groans, rolling his eyes. “I’m listening. I’m just also making lunch.”
“Right, right,” Trevor snarks. “Just for you?”
Jack knows what he’s insinuating. Honestly, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad idea. You’re not working today, and he could probably convince you to come hang out with him in exchange for free food. He’s bored enough to listen to Trevor go on and on. You could save him from it.
“Yeah,” he says, and immediately contradicts himself by picking up his phone and sending you a text.
He tries to listen this time, he really does. He cares about Trevor, he wants to hear what he has to say. He finishes cooking lunch, and then Trevor has to go, shouting something to someone in the background, and he hangs up. Jack sighs at the empty, quiet room. He thinks about texting Luke to see when he’ll be back, but that feels pathetic. Maybe Nico’s not busy.
His heart leaps when his phone buzzes with a text from you.
Lunch sounds good. I’ll be over soon.
He can’t wipe the grin off his face the whole rest of the day. You come over, and eat the rest of the food happily, sitting at the kitchen counter. He watches fondly and tells you all the drama Trevor just told him- screw you, Zegras, he was listening. You smile brightly up at him.
“Got plans for the rest of the day?” He asks, hoping desperately that you don’t.
You shrug. “Nope. I’m all yours.”
God, he wishes.
…..
Jack thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can’t really be blamed when it all comes crashing down on a Wednesday afternoon in April. It’s been coming for a while. He’s had time to prepare. It shouldn’t take him out the way it does, because he’s seen it coming from miles away. It shouldn’t, but it does anyways.
They pull him from the games and finally, finally, ship him off to Colorado to have surgery. He gets an email with the flight information, another with a hotel to stay in the night before, and instructions on how to book his flight back to Jersey after he’s released. They don’t want to book it now, for fear of something going wrong in surgery. Hockey teams are superstitious like that, even their travel management.
There’s another set of emails, too- ones from the surgeon, about his prep and things he needs to do and bring and what to expect from the healing process. He hasn’t bothered to open it. That’ll make it real. He just packs up some of his clothes, shuts himself in his room, and waits. He ignores Luke, then he ignores Nico, who he’s sure Luke has brought over. He ignores Quinn’s phone calls, too, and everyone else’s.
When you show up, though, knocking on his bedroom door and calling out his name, he can’t ignore it. He makes a noise that isn’t a go away, and you take it as an invitation in, which he supposes it was. You make a soft noise of disapproval when you see him, curled up in his bed, hood pulled up around his head to block out the world.
“Hey, J,” you murmur, padding your way across his bedroom. “What’s going on?”
He sniffles and presses his face into the mattress. “The surgery.”
You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah.”
Jack’s not afraid of having surgery, really. He’s never been very squeamish, never one to shy away from blood draws or stitches or IVs. You know this. Everyone knows it, which is probably why they’re all so worried about his reaction to this. He doesn’t want to admit it really, but it’s you, so he finds the words slipping past his lips.
“Mom can’t come,” he says, voice raw and scraping. “Or dad. Too short notice. And- and Luke and Nico and Quinn are gonna be busy, obviously, and I just… all this talk about surgery all this time and I didn’t think I’d have to do it alone, you know? It couldn’t wait till after the season so I could-“
He breaks off into an embarrassing, breath stealing sob. You make a soothing little noise and lean down next to him, scooping him up into your arms. It sort of helps and sort of makes it worse. The tears flow freely now. It’s just you. All his walls are down.
“You won’t be by yourself, Jack,” you murmur, and he waits for the reassuring words, that you’ll all be with him in spirit, that he’ll be home in no time, that he’s never alone. Instead, you say, “I took some time off. I’m gonna fly out with you, be there for the surgery.”
He pries one eye open, waiting for the punch line. There isn’t one. Just you, watching him carefully, holding him close. He knows how hard it is for you to get time off right now. It’s your busy season at work. And yet, here you are. Tears start running again. The whole world goes blurry. You just brush them away, one by one.
“Oh, honey,” you soothe, voice low and soft. “You didn’t think I’d let you do it alone, did you?”
God, he loves you. And he thinks this might be the final straw, the last puzzle piece. There’s no denying it now. You brush stray hairs from his face and press warm kisses to his forehead while he admits that he’s scared, not of the surgery but of what comes after, of the healing and the rehab and everything involved in it. You draw soothing patterns on his skin and just listen, because you know him well enough to know he needs to get it off his chest. He thinks about telling you how much he loves you as he starts to drift off, but he thinks better of it. There’ll be a better time than this, tear stained and curled up in his bed like a little kid. For now, it’s enough to know you love him, in any way, shape, or form.
…..
Jack wakes up in a hospital bed in Vail, Colorado, utterly disoriented and freezing cold. The ceiling is this ugly grey color, just like the rest of the ceilings in the building have been. He’s spent a lot of time staring at them in the last 24 hours. He blinks, and the tiles blur and swirl, and he hears his name in your voice. He tries to hold on, but he’s so, so sleepy, so he closes his eyes.
He wakes up again with no idea how long he’s been out. He’s warmer now. There’s an extra blanket laid over him, and a hand holding his. Hm. It feels nice. He squeezes his fingers experimentally. He hears movement to his left. A plastic cup appears in his field of vision, and he suddenly realizes how thirsty he is. He turns, slightly, and finds you.
“You’re here,” he says, quietly.
Your face is a little out of focus, but he thinks you smile. “Yeah, of course I am. Told you I would be.”
He knows that. He knows you flew out here with him, eating snacks on the plane before he hit the 12 hours before surgery mark and he had to stop. You checked into the hotel with him, got all the supplies ready for after the surgery, got him here, promised you’d be waiting when he woke up. But now he’s here, post surgery, and you’re holding his hand, and his chest hurts in the best way.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” you murmur, lifting the cup to his lips. He takes a sip. “Does it hurt?”
He shakes his head gingerly. He’s a little achy, but nothing that would make him cry normally. He can’t help it, it’s probably the meds. He remembers crying when he got his wisdom teeth out, too. He tries to tell you as much, but it comes out garbled and teary and raw. You shush him, smoothing your hand over his forehead and pushing his hair out of his face. That feels nice. You’re warm.
“Okay. It’s okay,” you soothe. “Take a breath. It’s alright.”
He does his best. You help him take little sips of water, and eventually the tears dry up. He’s left sitting there, your hand running through his hair, and he suddenly feels so, so sleepy. He turns his head and blinks at you. You’re clear in his vision now, beautiful as ever.
“You’re pretty,” he mumbles.
He thinks it all the time, he may as well say it. Nothing’s holding him back now. You laugh, and your face gets blurry again. He sighs.
“You’re pretty,” you say back.
He rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyways. “Hmm.”
“Are you sleepy?” You ask, thumb brushing against his temple. He nods. “You can go to sleep, okay?”
“You’ll be here when I wake up?” He asks, feeling a little vulnerable, suddenly.
“Yeah, Jacky,” you murmur, and when he closes his eyes, he thinks he feels your lips against his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The third time he wakes up, you’re sitting next to him, eating ice cream out of a little plastic cup with one of the tiny wooden spoons. The tv in the room is playing that same stupid reality show. The host’s voice would piss him off if he wasn’t so focused on how adorable you look. He inches the fingers of his good hand towards you, towards where your knee is pressed against his bed. When he makes contact, you jump nearly a foot in the air. He can’t help but giggle.
“Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head at him.
“Nah, just Jack,” he teases.
You roll your eyes. “Someone’s feeling better.”
If he’s being honest, he still feels a little loopy. Your face is in focus, but everything feels a little softer around the edges. His fingers scramble against your knee, and you laugh, leaning close. You set down the ice cream and reach to tangle your hand up in his. That’s nice. He doesn’t get to do that a lot- hold your hand. Maybe he should have surgery more often. You smooth his hair out of his face again. It’s such a caring motion that it sends his heart stuttering.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, quietly.
You shrug. “What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn’t?”
And. That’s nice, but it’s not really what he wants to hear. He wants you to be here because you love him. He probably wouldn’t spend hours in a hospital waiting room for Nico, probably wouldn’t sit and wait for him to wake up. He’d bring him food after, when he got home, would help him however he needed. But to fly halfway across the country just to be here? He’d do that for you in a heartbeat, but he’s not sure there are many others he’d do the same for.
You seem to notice the way he’s staring, and you wave the wooden spoon at him. “You want some ice cream? The nurse said to call when you actually woke up. I’m sure she’ll give you one if you turn on the charm.”
He blinks slowly. “I love you, you know that?”
It’s past his lips before he can take it back. It should be terrifying. He should feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it’s the hospital drugs, or maybe it’s just that he’s been holding it in for so long, but it doesn’t feel scary. He sort of just feels relieved.
You smile brightly. “Yeah, I love you, too, Jack.”
He huffs. “No, you don’t get it-“
Before he can get another word out, the nurse comes in. He wonders if you pressed the button when he wasn’t paying attention, or if hospital staff just have comically bad timing. He lets out a groan. You give him an amused smile.
“Welcome back, Jack,” the nurse says. He reads her nametag- Nancy. “I’m just going to do a little checkup, alright?” She turns to you. “If you want, you can step out into the hall.”
By the time he’s squeezing your hand to keep you there, you’re holding onto him tightly, too. Huh. That’s interesting.
“She can stay,” Jack says.
You nod. So does Nancy, a knowing smile on her lips. Jack wonders if she sees this a lot. Guys with friends who sit by their bed, oblivious to the fact that said guy is hopelessly in love with them. Maybe it’s a common thing in hospitals. Maybe it’s not just Jack. That’s a nice thought.
He gets his blood pressure taken, and his pulse, and he gets asked to take a few deep breaths for what seems to be just the fun of it. She asks his pain level- a 3, at which point you break in and tell the nurse that his three is more like a five. She smiles at the two of you. When she goes to leave, Jack speaks up.
“Could I have some ice cream?” He asks, hoping the way his voice cracks on the words makes her sympathetic.
Ice cream does sound good. His throat feels raw, and his mouth is dry. And he’s starving.
Nurse Nancy smiles and looks at you. “What do you think? Has he been well behaved enough?”
Normally, Jack would take a little offense to it. But he turns to you, and you’re smiling bright, lighting up the whole room. His stomach does a somersault. He wonders if the way he feels about you is visible on the heart monitor, if his pulse picks up every time he looks at you.
“He’s the best,” you answer, and he melts. “Give him all the ice cream you’ve got.”
Ten minutes later, you sit there, holding a container of chocolate vanilla swirl. He’d been ready to eat it on his own until he remembered his arm, the surgery, the whole reason he’s here. He’d had to settle for letting you feed it to him. Maybe settle is the wrong word, really. It’s nice to be taken care of, even nicer when you’re the one who’s doing it for him.
He thinks maybe he’s still loopy, because in between bites, he pauses, looks at you, opens his mouth, and puts his foot directly in it. “I meant it, you know. I love you.”
You nod. “I know.”
He’s too far into this to stop now. “No, I-“
You interrupt, dropping the spoon in the cup to place your hand over his. “Jack, honey. Tell me later, when you’re not high off anesthesia, okay?”
Oh. He cocks his head, slightly. His mouth tastes like chocolate and vanilla. You smell like flowers. Like the lilacs in the backyard of his childhood home. There’s a light and warmth in your eyes that makes everything feel a little bit better.
“And if I tell you later,” he says, feeling braver than he ever has before, “are you gonna tell me something back?”
You laugh. It’s still music to his ears. You pick up the spoon again, scooping up a bit of ice cream. His gaze stays locked on you.
“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “That I mean it the same way you mean it.”
That’s enough for Jack, for now.
He tells you again the next day, waits a full 24 hours because a part of him is worried it was all some sort of drug induced dream. But you’re packing up the suitcases, that same stupid show on the TV, and he turns to you where he sits on the edge of the bed and says it.
“I love you. Like, really love you. As more than a friend.” His heart is in his throat.
You drop the hoodie you’d been holding into the bag, walk across the room to him, and come to stand between his legs. He’s holding his breath. You hook your finger under his chin and pull his face to yours. He thinks he recognizes the look on your face, from the kitchen when you helped him tie his tie, from the living room with a plate of mozzarella sticks in your hand, from every moment he was feeling all his feelings for you.
“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek. “I really love you too.”
When you kiss him on the lips, soft and sweet and everything he’s wanted for ages now, he thinks that maybe the whole mess has been worth it.
…..
He sits in a wooden chair on the back deck of the lake house. It’s mid summer, the week of the 4th of July. The heat is nearly unbearable, heavy and sticky and inescapable. Trevor and Luke are on the grass, throwing a football back and forth. Jack’s trying not to check the time obsessively.
Quinn, who’s sitting next to him, gives him a look when he picks up his phone again. “She’ll get here when she gets here.”
Jack rolls his eyes and sinks further into his seat. “You’re a dick.”
“Jesus, I know she’s your friend but…” Quinn is shaking his head. “You’re being obsessive.”
He hasn’t told any of them. Not about the hospital bed confession, or the kiss, or anything that came after it. The flight back to Jersey, his head on your shoulder. The way you took care of him before he flew to Michigan for the off season. The late night calls the two of you have shared since then. He’s itching to see you. It’s been far too long. He’s been scared to tell them because he’s scared you’ll get here and it won’t be real. He’s being ridiculous, he knows it, but he can’t help it. It’s you.
He hears it when your car pulls up in the driveway. He stands up, ignoring the look Quinn gives him. He’s not quick enough- you must’ve parked and ran inside immediately. You come racing out onto the back porch, eyes wide, smile even wider, and he could melt into a puddle right there in the hot summer sun. You’re brighter than all of it.
He pulls you into a kiss right there, in front of everyone, earning a series of surprised yelps and gasps and cheers. He doesn’t care about anything else. You’re here, and you’re kissing him back, and that’s more than enough.
“Fucking called it!” Trevor yells, and Jack laughs.
“We all did,” Quinn says. “Glad you two finally figured it out.”
You won’t be here forever. You have work, and a life in the city. But for now, for this little slice of time, he gets to have everything he’s always wanted. That’ll hold him over for the rest of the off season. Or, more likely, until he caves in and gets an early flight back to Jersey to spend more time with you. From the way you smile when you stare up at him, he thinks it probably won’t be long.
a/n: thanks for reading! have been wanting to write about Jack for a bit & he’s just so best friends to lovers coded. so here we go!
#jack hughes x reader#jack Hughes x you#Jack Hughes fic#jack Hughes fanfic#Jack Hughes fluff#Jack Hughes fanfiction#jack Hughes imagine#nhl fic#nhl fanfic#hockey fic#honey writes#jh86
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Texts With The Hughes Brothers
Back from a long long hiatus to come at you with this. I’m planning on writing some fics so stay tuned 🫶 you can request in my inbox as always
someone else has already done this but I couldn’t find the original post to give credit so pls lmk!
Quinn Hughes
Jack Hughes
Luke Hughes
#luke hughes x reader#quinn hughes x reader#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes#quinn hughes#jack hughes#new jersey devils#nhl hockey#nhl players#trevor zegras#cole caufield#nico hischier#imagine#hockey#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#x reader#freeabortionslol
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Protecting Boyfriend | Quinn Hughes
summary — During the Canucks home game, a man says some not-so-nice words to you because you're wearing a Hughes jersey. When Quinn finds out, he does everything he can to protect you and makes sure you get the pep talk you need to hear
pairing — quinn hughes x reader
words — 2165
warning — not-so-nice- words
A wide smile formed on your lips as you entered the Rogers Arena.
Today would be the game against the Coyotes that you've been looking forward to for the past week.
You can't wait to support your boyfriend Quinn and the rest of the team live in person, and then at home, in your own stadium.
You slowly walk down the stairs to your seat, from which you have a perfect view of the entire ice.
But from your seat you not only have a good view of the field, but also of the Canucks players who are seated not far from you.
That way, if your boyfriend wasn't on the field, you'd get a good look at number 43.
You can hardly wait for the stadium to fill up and the 1st period to begin.
In fact, it doesn't take too long before the stadium starts to fill up and various people fill the seats with their jerseys bearing the shirt numbers of their favorite players.
Today you are also wearing the blue Canucks jersey with Quinn's number on it, which you wear at every game you attend.
From the beginning, it was natural for you to show up at your games in his jersey and not to wear any expensive clothes to make your appearance at Quinn's games a kind of catwalk.
There were many wives or girlfriends of players who used the games to get themselves all dressed up and did half a shooting during the game to get likes and attention on Instagram or various other platforms.
But you've never been like this before. Supporting Quinn has always been your number one priority and that will never change.
"Hello," an older man in a Canucks jersey greets you as he sits down on the happy seat next to you.
"Hello," you reply in a friendly manner and give the man a friendly smile.
As your gaze begins to wander through the now full stadium and the noise level slowly rises, you feel a gaze on you.
Slowly, you turn your face in the direction of the man who had greeted you kindly just a few minutes ago.
Now there's a crinkled look on your face as he eyes you intently and begins to make you feel uncomfortable.
You've always been a little reserved around strangers, so the words that now leave your mouth surprise you.
"Is everything all right? Or is something wrong?"
The man begins to mumble something into his beard, which you can't understand due to the volume level.
"Excuse me? What did they say?" you ask as your heart starts to beat a little faster with nervousness.
You just want to watch the game in peace, without incident.
"I said that it's obvious that you're wearing a Hughes jersey of all things, like almost all the young women here."
"What makes you think that?"
The confusion was written all over your face. Of course you know that there are a lot of fans wearing the number 43 jersey, but there certainly weren't that many in the stadium just now.
"You young women now only pick players who look good. Most of you aren't even interested in the sport itself," he rants, causing you to look shocked.
You expected anything, but not this. What is wrong with this older man? And above all, what the hell did he have the nerve to say that to you?
Stunned, you start to shake your head and just as you've thought of the perfect answer, it gets loud and the teams enter the ice.
Probably better that way, because at least the man next to you was quiet and you could more or less enjoy the game.
Because you wouldn't let him ruin the day you've been looking forward to for a week.
—
The man had actually kept his mouth shut to you the whole game.
But when Quinn scored a goal and you, like several other fans, jumped up and cheered loudly, you heard other comments coming from his direction, but you couldn't hear them over the loud cheering and music.
Now the game is over, which the Canucks won 2-1.
A broad smile returns to your face, but it is immediately extinguished when the man next to you stands up and gives you an annoyed look.
"Well you fangirl? Did you even watch and understand the game? Or were you just undressing Hughes with your eyes?" His voice growls slightly, making you flinch and reflexively wrap your arms around your body.
This can't be true. Why can't the man just leave you alone and make his way home?
Even if you were just a fangirl who was only there because of Quinn, that wouldn't be his problem.
You just shake your head and leave your seat.
As you climb the stairs to get to the exit, you try not to let on too much how much the man has intimidated you and you're starting to panic.
It's all good, y/n. Just keep walking. You'll be with Quinn in a minute, you repeat the phrases over and over in your head as you leave the stadium, a light breeze blowing through your hair.
You breathe out deeply and close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and mingling with the crowd of fans to get to the back of the stadium.
There you will meet Quinn so that you can finally embrace him and congratulate him on his victory.
As you reach the back entrance, where a barrier has already been erected in front of the exit and one or two fans are already waiting to intercept their favorite player, you look around.
So as not to get in the way of any of the fans, you stand in the corner of the barrier so that everyone else has enough space. After all, you're not there to get autographs or photos, but to wait for your boyfriend.
But luck was not on your side. A few seconds later, the man you just met stands next to you and looks at you with an annoyed expression.
"Well, are you trying to get your hands on Hughes?" There is disgust in his voice. He speaks so quietly that only you can hear him.
Your heart begins to hammer faster against your ribs as your hands claw at the barrier and you try to stay calm.
"Stop it," you whisper on the verge of tears, which makes you angry with yourself for showing the man weakness.
But you can't do anything about it. The words and the way he treats you start to burn on your soul and reopen some old wounds.
You don't have an answer ready, but if you were honest with yourself, no perfect answer would shut the man up.
As the first players come out of the stadium and start signing autographs and taking photos with their fans, you stand on tiptoe to get a better look at when Quinn will finally arrive.
Quinn was never one of the first to leave the dressing room and then the stadium, so it would be a while before he arrived.
You would survive these few minutes - hopefully.
"Don't get your hopes up, sweetie. Hughes would never take you home," the man laughs as he steps closer to you.
"If they only knew..." You mumble, unaware that you've just spoken your thoughts out loud as you take a step to the side to put more distance between you.
"Excuse me?" the man hisses.
"I said, if they knew," you start and then gather all your courage for the next words that leave your mouth. "He's my boyfriend."
The man next to you starts to laugh out loud, attracting the attention not only of the other fans, but also of one or two of the players.
Confused, Dakota, Conor and Elias look in your direction. It took a few seconds for the three's eyes to grow wide as they recognize you and realize what's happening right in front of them.
"Hey, man. Do you want an autograph too?" Dakota asks as he approaches you and the man.
Dakota gives you a warm and gentle look, trying to make you realize that everything is going to be okay.
"Oh, I'd love to!" The man beams now and starts to engage Dakota in a conversation in which he is overly friendly.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elias run back into the stadium, followed shortly afterwards by Quinn.
Relief spreads through your body as you spot Quinn, who looks anything but pleased.
He looks angry.
Elias must have summarized everything for Quinn.
Several fans start yelling for Quinn, but he only has eyes for you.
He approaches you with quick steps, puts his hands on your hips and lifts you over the barrier.
"Are you okay, babe?" You ask him as you feel his tense muscles under the suit.
"I should ask you if you're okay, if anything. Why didn't you say anything?" Quinn looks down at you with a worried expression.
"I couldn't have said that during the game..." you begin, but are immediately interrupted by Quinn.
"But during the break. You could have texted me or come to the dressing room."
Quinn strokes your hair gently as he continues to look at you with concern.
His muscles relax slightly under your hand, which is still on his chest.
But you know that won't last long.
"I wouldn't take her home tonight!" A voice calls out, making you flinch.
Immediately, Quinn's muscles tense again as his face becomes angry again and his hands automatically clench into fists.
"Quinn..." You begin, but Quinn doesn't seem to hear you at all.
He gently pushes you over to Elias, who has become like a big brother to you over the last few years, when you've spent a lot of time with him and Quinn.
"Elias..." You mumble anxiously as you look up at the blond.
"Don't worry, y/n. He won't do anything stupid," Elias promises you, but you're not even sure if you can really believe his words.
From a safe distance, you watch Quinn more or less stumble the man together.
As you do, you pick up a few scraps of words, like "My girlfriend...She doesn't deserve this...Greatest person on earth...Our team doesn't need fans like you..."
It's not long before the man is taken away by security and Quinn returns to you.
Sniffling, you throw yourself into his strong arms, which he wraps tightly around you and presses you gently against him.
"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbles into your hair.
"It's not your fault," you sniffle as you look up at him and see a few tears in his eyes.
"But he hurt you and said things to your head that no one should ever hear. And if you get hurt, it hurts me here too."
Quinn reaches for your hand and places it where his heart is.
"Oh, Quinn..." you whisper as countless tears begin to roll down your cheeks.
He was incredibly sweet to you and now, after you had to hear those nasty and caustic words from the man, he made sure that you were moved to tears.
"If that happens again - which I hope it doesn't. Would I like you to come straight to me, Elias or another one of my colleagues, yes?"
Quinn looks you in the eye and then kisses your forehead.
"I promise," you murmur as you snuggle back into his arms and enjoy his strong, warm arms.
All the words that had hurt you just a moment ago disappeared as if by magic while you were in Quinn's arms and enjoying his closeness.
"I want you to forget all those words that man banged on your head, y/n. You know none of those words are true. I know it's hard to get these words out of my head, but I hope they help you. You're the best person I've ever met. You are the love of my life. You're always there for me, you make me feel better no matter how bad I'm feeling, you make me laugh and just your presence makes me feel good. I love you y/n and I could go on and on, but then we'd be here until tomorrow and I hope these words help you forget all the crap he's thrown at you."
His words caused a tear or two to roll down your cheeks. You were touched by how lovingly he treated you and had the perfect words to make you feel better.
And Quinn's words actually manage to put all the man's words out of your head once and for all.
Quinn was not only your friend, but also your protector.
Even though you do this side of him and you like how protective he is of you, you hope that something like today won't happen again.
#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#nhl x y/n#nhl oneshot#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl#nhl hockey
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shower sex with luke hughes help
✮ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, lh⁴³
♡ ─ word count | 1k
♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! unedited (no one is surprised) unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it kids), p in v action, pretty vanilla lol, jack being a cockblock HA
♡ ─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke
♡ ─ ev's notes | i haven't written a full blown smut in a while i hope i'm still good at it LMAO, hope y'all will enjoy!!! also requests are open so PLEASE SEND THEM IN! ya girl is trying to get out of a really bad writing rut rn :((
The warm water was rolling down the curves of your body as you relaxed, feeling all the stress from the week running down the drain with the water. Your fingers worked themselves into your scalp as you washed your hair with your coconut scented shampoo, washing it thoroughly.
You were too engrossed with washing your hair, you didn't hear the bathroom door open and close swiftly. You heard the glass bathroom door open and quickly turned around to face your boyfriend, who had invited himself into the shower.
"Hey," Luke spoke casually as his racked down your body, not even trying to hide his smirk. His eyes took in every curve of your body, feeling his face warm up in the process. "How was your day?"
You laughed at how casual he was acting, despite being in the shower. But you didn't really care, you had missed him. "Busy. How was yours?"
"Stressful?"
You nodded, sighing.
"Maybe I can help with that?" He answered smoothly, the smirk evident in his expression as you laughed. He looked down at you, his eyes focusing on you and your body. Despite your bashful expression, you couldn't help but feel your stomach twist in desire as you gazed up at your boyfriend.
It had been a while since you two had sex with your busy schedules, the only downside to being adults. And you weren't busy, Jack was always around being a cockblock, which both of you hated.
"I'd love that," you answered, breathlessly as he smirked down at you. He instantly leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, taking your face in his hand. The kiss was gentle but very needy but it escalated into a sloppy make-out session as the water dripped down both your bodies.
Luke's hands wandered further down, clasping your neck in an attempt to bring you closer. You let out a moan into the kiss as he pushed you against the tile, taking control of the kiss.
"Been thinking about you all day, Y/N." Luke's lips traveled down to your chin and then to your neck, planting harsh kisses everywhere. Your eyes shut in pleasure, as you let him touch you. "Couldn't focus because of you, princess. All 'cus of you."
Your mind had turned into mush the moment he started sucking on your sensitive spot on your neck, a nasty moan coming out of your mouth. All you could think of was Luke, Luke, Luke.
His hands then grabbed your hips, pushing them closer to his. Your arms naturally crossed around his shoulders as he came up to give you a rough kiss, his hands bruising on your hips.
The water was still running as he pulled your legs up, crossing at his hips. "I missed you so much, baby."
"Missed you too." You responded breathlessly as he pulled you into another kiss. One of his hands travelled down to your soaking cunt, his fingers teasing.
Your back arched against the tile as he kept touching your cunt, but careful not to enter. He was teasing and both of you knew it, you hated it. "Fuck Luke, come on."
"What? I wanna take my time with you baby, is that such a crime?" He spoke and you could feel his smirk against your neck as he kept playing with cunt.
You whined as he kept leaving teasing touches on your cunt before he finally entered one long, slim finger in you. Your whole body jolted at that, clenching around his finger. He kept it there for a few seconds before he began thrusting it in and out, slowly.
"Luke, please." You whined, his pace was slow and excruciating, you hated it.
"Please what?"
You hated when he did this, but you knew it made the O better. "Just fuck me, Luke."
He let out a laugh before he stopped completely, taking his finger out of your sticky core. Before you could complain, you felt him push in his tip inside your cunt slowly. Your back arched in response, your head falling back on tile from the pleasure. He was only a quarter in and you felt so full, he was so big.
He stretched you out so well, you felt like your head was in the clouds. As he bottomed you out, you felt like your whole body was on fire. You loved how well he filled you up, it was like he was made for you.
Your arms hung off Luke's shoulders as his hands were still holding on to your hips as he began thrusting in and out of you, slowly at first. But you knew that pace wouldn't last. Before you knew it, Luke was fucking you into the wall as you held onto to his shoulders for dear life.
"Luke!" you cried out as he kept his pace brutal and quick, just like you liked. His head fell on your forehead as he kept pounding into you, your whole body shaking with each thrust.
You felt the familiar burning sensation in your lower stomach as he kept his pace and you knew you were close. Your walls clenched around Luke's cock, he moaned at that. You were so tight and so warm, he loved how you felt.
He moved one hand from your hip and went down to your clit, rubbing the nub as he kept fucking into you. Both sensations made you cry out in utter pleasure, your whole body began twitching. The knot was getting tighter and tighter and finally, it snapped. Your moan echoed throughout the bathroom, your vision blurring momentarily as Luke chased his own high. His hips snapped against yours roughly, fucking you through your orgasm.
And before you knew it, he was spilling his seed into you. You both breathed heavily, trying to regain your composure after that. But before neither of you could say anything, you heard some knocking on the door.
"Could you guys fuck quieter please, I'm trying to take a nap." Jack's voice was muffled on the other side of the door as he spoke. Luke immediately let out an agitated sigh.
"Jesus Christ." Luke mumbled before he continued, "Whatever dude, go back to sleep."
"Are you guys using protection or am I gonna be an uncle soon?" Jack teased before you and Luke let out annoyed groans.
"Go back to bed!" You both shouted in union.
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thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
#nhl#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey#nhl oneshot#nhl fanfiction#hockey fic#luke hughes smut#luke hughes fanfiction#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes#luke hughes fic#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes blurb#jack hughes#new jersey devils#hughes brothers#nj devils
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