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snoopyhughes · 5 days ago

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In The Firing Line

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' bit of hurt/comfort, lil' bit of angst, lil' bit of panic

Summary: You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

Notes: I have in fact been punched in the line of duty as a teacher and while it's not common it is truly a scary experience and I very much wish I had a Quinn to pick up the pieces when those things happen.

Another kinda angsty one? I keep putting the reader through some stuff in this series, I promise teaching is not always this eventful...please don't be scared of it <3

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

There are some dangers to your job, hazards you might say...while generally speaking teaching is a safe profession except for your stress levels, the reality is you're dealing with human beings who aren't yet capable of fully regulating their emotions and thinking through their actions. So things happen...like fights...and fights are...unfortunately something you can't just ignore as a teacher. They are in fact something you have to actively deal with.

There's a deep seated desire not to get involved, a sense of self preservation that says don't stand in between two teenage boys who are going at each other. That unfortunately is overridden by two things: 1) The duty of care you have to keep your students safe and stop them hurting themselves or others and 2) Your genuine desire to not see any of your students hurt.

At this point in your career you work off of instinct. The moment Carl throws a punch at Gabriel, while you're in the middle of teaching mind you, you're ushering every other student out of your classroom with directions to find another teacher. That leaves you with 2 teenage boys flipping tables and intent on pummelling each other. Really, you'll later find out the fight is over something silly, Gabriel had talked to the girl that Carl liked, Carl had been told that Gabriel was flirting with her and talking shit about Carl. He wasn't. Later they'll both apologise to you profusely and their sets of parents will come in and apologise to you too, but in that moment? Your only concern is stopping the fight from progressing any further and stopping blood from being spilled.

Perhaps it's misguided, but in your experience getting in the middle works. Often students stop, pulling their punches out of fear of hitting an adult, like a sort of reset button. The fact that you're there usually does the trick. So that's exactly what you do, you wedge your significantly smaller self between two teenage boys who stand well over 6ft tall, one of whom is on the boxing team and the other on basketball team. You think this is a good idea, spoiler alert, it is most certainly not.

You misjudge this, it's almost like slow motion the way that Carl's fist comes towards you, his eyes seeming to widen as he processes that you're now in the way and in the line of fire. You have just enough time and thought to turn your back to him so that he doesn't hit you anywhere soft and vulnerable.

But, fuck does it hurt to have a junior boxing champ throw a solid punch straight at your shoulder blade. You jolt straight into Gabriel who breaks your potential fall and both boys fall dead silent, fight ended as quickly as it had began. Whatever haze of red had come over them completely diffused. All you can hear is a series of swear words followed by the sounds of some of your colleagues coming in to take both boys away.

You're dimly aware of one of the English teachers wrapping an arm around you and carting you down the corridor towards the staff room, of being sat in a comfortable chair and handed a warm drink that you have little desire to sip at.

"I think she's in shock..."

"She can't teach like this, can you talk to Lisa about covering her lessons for the day?"

"Should we phone someone?"

The conversation happening near you is practically underwater, dull sounding. You register it but you don't really hear it, words that go in one ear and out the other like water off a duck's back.

Your gaze fixes on your principle who crouches in front of you with a soft smile, "Y/N, do you want to phone someone? Get them to take you home, we're going to give you the rest of the day off, okay?"

You nod more out of instinct than anything else, you feel like you're underwater or not in your own body. Adrenaline still pulsing through your system, shock having hit you so hard that you don't feel real. You feel floaty, not really present.

When you're left alone, an empty staff room, you reach for your phone. You unlock it on autopilot, find the contact without really thinking and listen to it ring, once, twice before being picked up on the third ring. Reliable and steadfast as always, he never fails to answer the phone to you.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" Quinn's voice is soft, sweet but curious with an undercurrent of worry because you almost never phone him while you're at school. It's that that seems to break you, seems to dissolve the numb shock and bring forth the waterworks.

"No..." You can't help it, you're sobbing in an instant, breathing rapidly as the shock gives way to panic, like Quinn's voice broke the dam that had been holding your emotions in check. "I-I-I..."

"Breathe, baby! Hey, hey, breathe...you're okay, what happened?" You try to follow his instructions, but your breathing is still sharp, short, stunted. Every breath cutting itself off by the next. Each sob interrupting your words and your attempts to get a full breath in.

"Baby, listen to me, okay?" You try to tune into Quinn's voice, the steady stableness of it, the way he tries to keep it as even as possible, "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe in..." You listen to him as he instructs you on how to breathe, breathing in when says and out when he says until your own breathing is back to a point where you can at least talk, still the tears don't disappear.

It's like your body has finally realised it was in danger, like it's finally realised what happened. You're just thankful that the room is empty, that everyone else is teaching right now because you can't help but feel embarrassed as you cry over the phone to your boyfriend over something that feels silly in your mind. It was just a punch and it wasn't even intended for you, you probably won't even bruise....

"What happened, baby?"

"I...I tried t-to break up a fight..." Your shoulder aches now that some of the panic has worn off, right in the shoulder blade. A reminder of the fact you've been punched by a junior boxing champ.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" You can tell he's worried, the stability of his voice disappearing in favour of concern but you stay silent...you don't want to make him worry... "Sweetheart...?"

"I...I got punched in the shoulder...I'm okay...I...I think." You don't want him to worry more than he already has, you know what Quinn is like...if he could wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with him all the time he would. You know he supports you having your own life, own career, but he also hates you being unsafe in any way. You don't want him to worry especially when he's not around, the idea that he might worry when he's away on a roadie kills you inside.

"Has anyone had a look at you?"

"No...they want me to go home though..." Not like you have a proper nurse in school anyway, besides, you're certain you're just going to ache. You doubt there's any lasting damage.

"Okay, okay, give me 20 minutes? I'll get Petey to drop me off and I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Quinn..." You don't like feeling like a burden and that's how you feel right now. Quinn shouldn't be spending his day off picking you up from work and looking after you. He should be relaxing, enjoying the little free time he gets between games and practices, resting his own injuries like his hand that's still braced.

"Baby, respectfully, shut up. I'm going to get you, you aren't driving home, and we're going to spend the afternoon cuddling, okay?" You can't help but smile, wiping some of the tears that have tracked over your cheeks away, the salty taste on your tongue from where a few drops had hit your mouth.

"Okay...I love you."

"I love you too. Get your stuff ready and stop feeling like a burden. You're not. I love you, so I want to help you." You can't help but huff out a laugh at him calling you out for the thoughts you don't voice, because of course Quinn would know what you were thinking, of course he'd know you were feeling like a burden already.

"You know me too well." You roll your eyes, easing yourself up from the seat you'd been placed in earlier and making your way to the door knowing you need to venture to your room to grab your things. A little bit anxious about it, but knowing the students in question were likely already in isolation or the principle's office or been sent home after everything. Even though you know without a doubt Carl and Gabriel never intended for you to get hurt.

"That's my job, sweetheart."

"We've had this discussion before, your job is to hit a piece of vulcanised rubber around on the ice." Quinn's pretty certain you sassing him is a good sign that you're getting over the shock of being punched on the job, a good enough sign that he can't stop the laugh that comes out because at least you're okay.

"That's my paying job, not my proper job. My proper job is to look after you, baby."

"Mmm, do you want an ID badge for that?" Your classroom is empty when you get to it, students having been taken somewhere else for the period, most likely to the gym. It makes it easier for you to start grabbing your things without a million and one eyes on you.

"Yes please, and a lanyard."

"I'll get that printed for you right away," You're putting your work laptop away, grabbing your water bottle, phone balanced between your ear and your shoulder. Quinn finding away to calm you without even being in the room was something you were thankful for, while that well of anxiety still sat deep in your chest, you felt at least functional in that moment. More functional than when it first happened at least.

There's a beat of silence, where Quinn is unsure if he actually wants to come off the phone. Hearing you reassures him you're okay, not perfect, but okay...but he knows that to get Petey to pick him up he needs to actually say goodbye to you. A dilemma if he ever saw one.

"I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon...thank you, Quinny," You mean it, you always mean it. For a man who is so busy, so stressed all the time, he truly never failed to be there for you. You never thought twice about phoning him because you knew he'd pick up, knew he'd help no matter the situation, even if he wasn't around he'd find someone who could help. It was his reliability that always had you reaching for his number, even when past boyfriends had been last person you might have called. Quinn was always steady, always there, always on hand.

"Anytime, baby."

You're waiting in the car park when Petey's car drives up next to you, the window rolled down for the blonde man to give you a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Petey..." You give him your best attempt at a smile but you know it's a weak one, his features scrunching in sympathy. You can see Quinn in the passenger seat, hoodie on, beanie over his hair.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

"I will be..." You answer as Quinn gets out of Petey's car, your smile starting to turn more genuine when Petey throws a bar of chocolate at you out the window. Not even just any chocolate, but the good stuff, European chocolate.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Petey." You stand back as Quinn thanks Elias for the ride, tapping on the roof of the car as a sign it's okay for him to leave and you grasp the bar of chocolate tightly, feeling emotional over the thoughtful gesture.

That emotion spills over with one look from Quinn, tears starting to silently stream down your face as he pulls you into his warm arms. You feel so utterly safe the moment he does, your face pressing into his hoodie and just breathing in the scent of his cologne, the sea salt smell of his old spice deodorant. He practically traps you in his arms, trying to give you a sense of security and safety by wrapping you up tight, one hand coming to comb through the ends of your hair, the other stroking down your back in slow motions.

Quinn presses a kiss to your hair as he rocks you side to side, feeling the way your body shakes in his arms, the residual adrenaline left over from the whole affair coursing through your body. He knows better than most how your body responds after taking a hit, he's felt it time and time again on the ice, but the adrenaline usually gets worn off in play for him. For you? This is unfamiliar territory, unexpected and with no way to get all that adrenaline rush out of your system.

"I've got you, sweet girl...let it out, you're okay..." If there's one thing Quinn will always do, has always done, it's make sure you understand you can rely on him. That you don't need to hold back any of the ugly parts, the difficult parts, the raw parts, out of fear of being a burden. He doesn't care that his day is being spent stood in a school parking lot holding you while you cry, in fact he prefers it to the alternative, you pretending nothing happened, not telling him, crying on your own somewhere...

"Wanna go home, baby?" You nod into his chest, arms so tight around his waist that he almost worries he might not be able to breathe if you just squeeze a tad tighter. "Keys in your pocket?" You nod again and he slips his hand into your pocket, then the other one, fishing out your car keys.

The walk to your car is hindered by your refusal to come out from your spot hiding in his chest, you walk backwards while he walks forward. A strange sort of dance that shows just how much you trust him not to let you fall over.

It's obvious when he gets you to your car that you don't want to let go of him, that you feel safe surrounded by him in every sense of the word. Surrounded by his arms, surrounded by his hoodie, by his scent. But, Quinn is good at compromise, at finding solutions to problems, seeing the gaps in the defence and making a solid play.

"You want to wear my hoodie for the ride?" Your nod is all he gets and he's quick to strip himself of the oversized hoodie, pulling it over the top of your head and helping you work your arms into it. It's large on him and large on you, sleeves long enough to cover your hands, fabric billowing in a way that makes him think he could probably slip in there with you if he tried hard enough. He helps you pull the hood up and over your head, watching as you burying your face into the neck, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne.

It's like hugging him when you can't and it helps you feel that comfort still when he can't hold you because he has to drive. You still feel surrounded by him, his body heat having infused the fabric, his scent in the cotton, the sheer size of the hoodie comforting you. It brings you security that you need right now.

"Better, baby?"

"Mmhm." You hum from within the hood, eyes wide and soft and it makes Quinn's heart ache a little to see you like this, so withdrawn, so needy because of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. There's part of Quinn that wants you to stop working altogether, wants to just pay for you to put your feet up, relax and enjoy your hobbies but he knows you love your job despite the issues. He knows he could no more ask that of you than you could ask him to stop playing hockey because of the dangers associated with his career.

"Okay, let's get you home, yeah? Then I'm going to check you for a bruise, okay?"

Quinn's gentle with you as he opens the car door and helps you in, doing your seatbelt up for you and making sure you're as comfortable as possible for the ride. Your music plays the moment he starts the engine and you smile just a little when you watch him have to adjust the driver's seat, complaining that your legs are far too short.

That smile eases some of his worry but you can see his concern in the way his fingers alternate between tapping the steering wheel and gripping it tight between his palms, tight enough that his knuckles go white each time. Every now and then he reassures himself that you're okay by reaching a hand out for your thigh, palm squeezing the plush flesh once, twice, before returning back to the steering wheel.

You don't say much on the way into the apartment, just let him reach his hand back for yours, gripping it tightly with your smaller hand and letting him guide you through the apartment building hallways and through your front door. You let him guide you all the way to the bathroom until he has you in front of him under the bright florescent lights. Quinn's large palms run up and down the tops of your arms in gentle strokes as you peer at him from beneath his hood, still buried deep, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Let's take a look at you, baby, okay?" You nod and help him as he lifts the hoodie up and over your head, turning you around until your back is facing him. It's intimate but rather clinical, not the sort of undressing you might usually experience with Quinn and you appreciate that. You appreciate that he can see you undressed for practical reasons, genuine reasons without making it sexual or strange, you appreciate that Quinn's concern right now is making sure you're okay not the fact he can see your bra.

You can feel his hands glide over the skin of your back and shoulders, assessing, the careful way he looks you over as if a single touch might cause you more unnecessary pain.

"Has it bruised?" Your voice is rough from the crying and the period of silence you'd entered into and Quinn takes it as a good sign that you're starting to talk to him again.

"Yeah, baby, practically black and blue...the kid a boxing champ or something?" He means it as a joke, but the irony is that he's not wrong.

"Yeah, he was actually..."

"Shit, baby...stay here, 'm going to get some ice and paracetamol for that bruise, okay?" You let him go but the moment he's gone you're looking in the mirror, twisting your head round as far as possible to see what the damage it.

Quinn's not wrong, you're legitimately black and blue, your shoulder has a nice fist sized bruise that is already turning various shades of blue and purple, blood pooling under the skin. It explains why each roll of your shoulder aches like nothing else.

"Here, baby," Quinn returns to the bathroom with a tea towel filled with ice, pressing it against the bruise and holding it there. It's cold, uncomfortably so, causing you to hiss.

"s cold..." you mumble frowning at him in the mirror and Quinn gives you a sympathetic look and a quick, commiserating kiss to the top of your shoulder.

"I know, but it'll bring the swelling down, just a few minutes for me, baby?"

"Okay...a few minutes" You agree watching him tend to you in the mirror, downing the paracetamol he brought back for you from the first aid drawer he keeps in the kitchen. Quinn's attentive, even as he holds the ice filled towel to your skin he checks every now and then that he's not giving you freezer burn, that it's helping reduce the swelling and not actually hurting you more.

"Atta, girl," Quinn's free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly, every now and then digging in to a sore spot to distract you from the uncomfortable cold sensation against your shoulder blade.

"Can we cuddle now?" You're patient for the first few minutes but that starts to wain as the cold becomes almost painful against your skin.

"Yeah, sweet girl, we can cuddle now...think you've earned it," Quinn throws the melting ice into the bathroom sink, hand trailing down to grip yours to tug you back to the bedroom.

He helps you change into comfy clothes before tugging you down into the bedcovers with him. You breathe a sigh of relief as you curl into his side, face pressed into the warm crook of his neck, leg slung over his waist. Quinn rests a hand on your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him while his other hand finds its way into your hair, scratching gently across your scalp.

"You tired, baby?" You can't help but close your eyes at the way Quinn's fingers curl in your hair and run through each strand, burrowing as deep into his neck as you can as he pulls the covers up and over the top of the two of you to create a cosy little nest of warmth.

"Yeah...really tired..."

"Eventful day, huh?" You nod into his neck in agreement, feeling like your body has been through the mental and emotional wringer. There's the physical discomfort of being punched obviously, but the bigger issue is how emotionally exhausted you feel. Your nervous system having been put through fight or flight, only to have to come crashing down from that adrenaline high.

"You can sleep, baby, it's okay, I'll be here when you wake up..."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'm not going anywhere." It's his reassurance, the firm but gentle hold on you that helps you fall asleep because you trust him, you believe him. You know that if Quinn says he'll be there when you wake up, then he'll be there.

#omg this is so sweet #this will no doubt happen to me at some point LOL #i love being a high school teacher 🫶🏻#qh43

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snoopyhughes · 6 days ago

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DRUNK IN LOVE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which taking care of drunk Fem!Reader proves to be much more difficult than Luke Hughes imagined.

There was a lot that Luke has had to put up with in his life. He's put up with his two brothers, he's put up with the pressure that comes with his career, and he’s put up with assumptions that he knows aren't true, but mostly, he's put up with Y/N. Her friend had invited her for a bachelorette party, and she made sure to free up her schedule for her friend’s once-in-a-lifetime event. Unfortunately, an all-girls party meant that Luke wasn’t allowed to come. It’s not that he wanted to, anyways.

The only reason he would do so much as to consider it was to watch over her alcohol consumption. She was a lightweight and always went past her limits, which he constantly reminded her of. She was quite the handful when she was drunk, and even though he insisted she should go have fun, he couldn't help but inwardly dread the aftermath, the one he was experiencing right now.

“Go away." Y/N snapped, crossing her arms at him. She was as stubborn as they come, and Luke had enough of this back and forth business with her, drunk or not.

“Y/N, I'm not understanding what the issue is here." Luke said, and her face scrunched into a scowl and he had to physically force himself not to roll his eyes, otherwise she'd only be even worse to handle.

“I'm not going inside with you." She grumbled, shooting him a dirty look before looking off to the side. "You said that I'm too much." She glared at him, putting the words in finger quotes, and he stared at her in absolute bewilderment. How could she put words into quotes when they weren't quoted in the first place? “So, I'll be too much out here so I don’t bother you." She slurred through a hiss.

There was a moment of silence as he processed her words, and she huffed before angling her body away from him once more. Any other time, he’d smile at the way she swayed, but right now, he wasn't in the mood. And Luke considered himself to be patient, except for right now. Right now, he was seconds way from forcing her out of his car and into the apartment building if she didn't get out herself.

“When did I say that?” He challenged, and she raised an eyebrow as if to accept it.

“You basically did. You rolled your eyes at me and sighed all because I asked if we could go get food."

“Yeah, because I'd have to turn the car around. I already asked you if you were hungry and you said no." Luke argued. He failed to see what he did wrong here, and he also failed to see why she couldn't just be mad at him over nothing from inside rather than out here.

“Then I changed my mind. People are allowed to do that, you know." She pouted. “You didn’t have to be so rude. Apologize.”

“Apologize?” He repeated, shock lacing his tone. She nodded seriously. “No." He said, and she shrugged, crossing her arms and sinking further into the car seat.

“I'm staying right here, then.”

“Well, I'm not leaving you out here." Luke said just as stubbornly, and she shrugged at him again as if she didn't care, but there was a small part of her that was a little touched that he’d stay in the car with her, even if he could be comfortably scrolling through his phone in bed right now.

“Guess we’ll be here all night, then." Y/N mumbled, and Luke stared at her with a weary look. She'd be falling asleep pretty soon, and he wanted her changed and in bed before then. With a pinch of his nose and an exasperated sigh, he turned back to her, finally accepting defeat.

“Okay, I'm sorry. Can we go inside now?" He asked as he held his hand out to her. She stiffened for a second before slowly turning back to him, and to his relief, her hand was placed in his after a few moments of her calculating stare. Whatever she seemed to have looked for, she must’ve found it because now, there was a soft smile on her face.

“It's okay, Luke. I forgive you." She smiled, patting his cheek. He pursed his lips because really, there was nothing to forgive and she was just being dramatic, but he didn't dare open his mouth.

“Thank you so much." He said flatly.

“Of course." She said with a giggle, reaching and playfully poking his cheek. She missed the first time and the second time, but she eventually got it on the third time, and he couldn't fight the fond grin that tugged on his lips. “Love you.”

“I love you, too." He chuckled, shaking his head. “Now, please get out of the car." He pinched her cheek affectionately, and finally, she opened the door and let herself out. He watched as she wobbled on her feet, and with a roll of his eyes, he climbed out of his own side and made his way over, tightly wrapping an arm around her waist and keeping her steady.

“I can walk perfectly fine on my own, Luke.” She slurred, trying to shrug him off. But her knees buckled and she leaned heavily into him, her body a deadweight.

“Yeah, right. You can barely stand up, let alone walk without tripping over your own feet.” He said with a sigh, tightening his grip. “Now, be quiet." Luke murmured. "Jack's asleep, and we don't want to wake him up."

Her eyes, glazed with the haze of too many drinks, searched his face. "Jack?" She asked, the name coming out as more of a question than a statement.

"Yeah, Jack." Luke nodded, tightening his grip around her waist. The faint scent of her perfume mingled with alcohol tickled his nose. He’d never seen her this wasted before. "My brother. Remember him?"

Y/N blinked slowly, the cogs in her mind turning before a look of understanding dawned on her. She nodded, a sloppy smile spreading across her flushed face. "Jack." She mumbled, her eyes glazing over as she took a moment to remember where she was.

"That's right. We need to be quiet for him, okay?" Luke spoke, his voice laced with urgency.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Like a ninja?" She whispered, her words barely audible.

"Exactly." Luke couldn't help but smile back, despite his nerves. "A very, very quiet ninja." He slid his arm around her waist, holding her firmly yet gently. "Now, let's get you to bed." He murmured, guiding her down the hallway.

The floor felt like it was swaying under her feet, but Luke's firm grip kept her grounded. Each step closer to the bedroom was a battle against the alcohol-infused fog in her brain. Y/N's attempt at stealth was adorable but far from graceful, her hiccups punctuating the air like mini-explosions.

Luke tightened his grip on her waist, guiding her through the obstacle course of shoes and discarded jackets. Finally, they reached the threshold of Luke's room, and he paused, listening for any signs of movement from Jack's side of the apartment. The only sound was the distant hum of the refrigerator. He pushed the door open with his foot, the hinges protesting softly. Carefully, he helped her onto the edge of the mattress, his hands steady and reassuring.

"You're so good to me, Luke." She mumbled as she attempted to kick off her heels.

He bit back a smile, his eyes filled with affection as he knelt before her to help her out. He carefully unbuckled the straps of her heels and slipped them off her feet. They clattered to the floor, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the hushed apartment. With surprising deftness for someone so intoxicated, she managed to stand and stumble towards the bed, her hand reaching out for the covers.

Luke caught her wrist, his grip firm but gentle with a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he helped her climb into the bed. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she mumbled something indiscernible. "No, no, no, don't fall asleep on me just yet. You haven’t even taken your makeup off." He spoke as he stood beside her side of the bed. "Come on, let me help."

“I'm too tired." Y/N mumbled, grabbing a pillow and pulling it beneath her face, still coated in a full face of makeup.

“That’s why I said to let me help you, baby." He replied as he carefully grabbed her hips and turned her over, making her faintly wince in response to the bright light of their bedroom.

“S’fine. Just wanna sleep.” She attempted to turn back over, but he denied her wish, keeping a firm enough grasp on her hips to keep her in place.

“Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning. Just lay here, okay? I’ll take care of everything.” He promised, a tender smile painted across his lips as he gently caressed her cheek. “Deal?”

She huffed and stared at him for a moment, hands folded over her stomach. Sleep was certainly beckoning her, but it was harder to refuse him than it was the promise of slumber. “Deal."

With a nod, Luke went into action, his movements efficient and quiet. He grabbed a wet wipe from the pack on the bedside table and started to wipe off her makeup, one slow stroke at a time. The coolness of the cloth on her skin was soothing, and she found herself leaning into his touch. His hand was firm but tender, a stark contrast to her usual fumbling efforts at the end of the night.

The smell of alcohol was slowly replaced by the faint scent of the minty wipes, and she felt a hint of relief as the layers of the day were lifted away. Her eyes drifted closed as he worked, and she listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling a warm sense of comfort and safety wash over her. The room spun less as the makeup disappeared from her skin.

“Thank you." Y/N hummed gratefully, feeling better already with a newly bare face as she peeked up at him. He simply nodded in response, wearing a smile that suggested he thought he was the luckiest man in the world, because he knew that he was.

“Alright, let's get you changed into something more comfortable." Luke murmured, reaching for her hand and helping her sit up. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her again, chuckling under his breath.

He turned her onto her back and began unbuttoning her shirt, one button at a time. The fabric was sticky from spilled drinks and sweat, and she shivered slightly as the cool air kissed her skin. He noticed and paused, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "You cold?"

"Yeah." She nodded sleepily, her eyes drifting shut once more.

Luke didn't miss a beat as he pulled out one of his old Michigan sweatshirts from his drawer. He carefully slipped the sweatshirt over her head, trying his best not to laugh while he watched her try to navigate her own arms through the appropriate holes.

“Hey." She pouted, narrowing her eyes up at him. It was in jest and even more adorable in his eyes than usual, thanks to the slur of her words. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Who, me? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He playfully shook his head and helped tug the hem of the sweatshirt down over her torso.

It absolutely swamped her, but she didn’t care. It was his, and it smelled exactly like him. The fabric was soft and warm, and she pulled it down to cover herself as much as she could. He chuckled at the sight of her in his clothes, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took the time to appreciate her beauty, even in her current state of disarray.

“Yes, you would." She argued in a flat tone, though there was no malice at all behind her words as her drooping eyes fell closed again. “You make fun of me all the time, because you think that you’re just so funny.”

“Are you trying to me that you don’t think that I’m funny?” He asked as he jokingly clutched his chest, playing the part of a wounded lover.

“I think you’re about as funny as you are cute." She mumbled, willing her tired eyes to open again. A dopey smile propped up the corners of her puffy lips. “Which is pretty fucking cute.”

“That’s what I thought.” His chuckle was soft, the warm sound vibrating through his chest. He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, his hand lingering on her bare shoulder. “Here, drink some of this and then you can get some rest."

He unscrewed the cap of the bottle of water and handed it to her, ensuring that he saw her swallow a few gulps before he offered to take it back and set it aside on the nightstand. She sighed with content as she sunk back into the mattress and thought to herself, “Thank goodness for him.”

“Do you need anything else, baby?” The pads of his fingers gently traced along the shape of her face, lulling her closer to sleep more and more, but there was one thing that wasn't quite right just yet.

“Yes.” She nodded, reaching out to tug on the fabric of his shirt with nothing but sincere adoration in her eyes. “Need you, Luke.”

Her words were like a warm embrace, and he couldn’t help but lean into her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Just give me a minute." He spoke softly as he took her hand to lift the back of it to his lips.

“Hurry." She muttered quietly, sounding the tiniest bit whiny, but he only found it endearing.

With a nod, Luke disappeared into the bathroom, his footsteps quick but quiet to grab her some Advil. When he came back, Y/N was already half-asleep, her eyes fluttering open when he approached her side of the bed. “Take these." He said, his voice calm and steady. “They’ll help with the hangover in the morning."

“M’kay." She took the pills with a sigh, swallowing them with a mouthful of water. She leaned back against the pillows, looking up at him with a soft smile on her face.

“Better?" He asked, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Y/N nodded, her smile growing as she watched him take his shirt off, revealing the firm muscles of his chest. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and she rolled closer, her body instinctively seeking warmth and comfort. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her cheek. The warmth of his skin was like a blanket, and she sighed contentedly.

For a moment, they laid there in silence, their hearts beating in sync. Then, she spoke up again, her voice slurred but earnest. "Thank you for taking care of me tonight." She murmured, her voice muffled against his skin.

"You don't have to thank me, baby." Luke replied, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. "It's what I'm here for." He kissed the top of her head, his heart swelling with love for her. And perhaps she was too much sometimes, but he thought it was just because she was more than enough.

#adorable #need that #lh43

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snoopyhughes · 6 days ago

Note

Hi Love, can I request roses 🌹🌹🌹 with the prompt “You don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.” Jack or Quinn Hughes… your choice because they both give warm comforting vibes. Thank you!

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked restless rose 🌹 !

warnings: feelings of having to be perfect, being a burden,

word count: 1k

florist cupid: whoops, this like just hit the 1k mark so it's okay, shhh. if you're wondering how i picked, i spun a wheel. that's actually how i make most of my decisions. anyway, thank you for requesting lovely ! also for reference, this is the key holder thingy that i was referencing .

being one of many children in your family, you were used to pushing your emotions off to make sure your siblings got the attention they needed.

it happened through various stages of your life; when you were younger, running home to show your mom you got 100% on your math test just to see her consoling your older brother who just got broken up with, or when you were in middle school and who you thought was your best friend yelled your crush's name in front of the whole cafeteria and came home with fat tears streaking down your face to see everyone praising your older sister for getting into college.

you loved your siblings with every bit of your heart, so much so you were willing to put off your happiness for them, wanting to be brave so they could be vulnerable. and that little habit of yours had wedged itself into your relationship with quinn.

quinn who was attuned to your every move and every feeling, quinn who could make you happy just by brushing his fingers against your cheek, quinn who made you breakfast in the morning before he went off to practice.

he had enough weight on himself as it was, leading the team through an injury, trying to stay positive after loss after loss, and staying up late just to get up early. you didn't need to burden him with your minor worries.

after a long day of being criticized, work piling up higher than your head, and barely having time to eat a decent lunch, you just wanted to go home and curl up in your bed and eat a whole pizza with your cuddly, handsome, boyfriend.

you stopped at the door, said pizza clutched in your hands, purse hanging off your shoulder. your feet ached as you stood but you needed to compose yourself, fix your face so it didn't look like you just spent 8 straight hours in hell.

once you plastered on your more than fake smile and mentally prepared yourself for telling quinn your day was long but nothing you couldn't handle, you opened the door and stepped into your shared apartment.

you kicked your shoes off almost immediately, dropping your bag and your keys onto the counter before delicately placing the pizza next to it.

your eyes scanned your surroundings and frowned when quinn was nowhere to be found.

"quinn?"

there was no reply and you looked over at the small key holder the two of you had purchased when you moved in together, the carl keychain noticeably missing meaning he was out of the house.

looking back at the pizza, you sighed, it didn't even seem appetizing anymore. so you walked to your room, changing out of your work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and your favorite hoodie of quinn's.

you settled onto the couch, bringing the multiple blankets you had into your lap as you navigated to the disney+ app to watch your favorite movie.

just as you were about to hit play, the door opened and in walked quinn with a pizza in his hands. you gaped at him, watching as he placed his keys back on the wall and kicked his shoes off like you had done earlier.

his eyes met yours and grinned, "hi baby."

you stood up, walking over to him, "hi. you bought a pizza?"

"figured you would want it after work, but-" he looked to the side at the pizza you had already gotten, "it seems like you had the same thought as me."

"great minds think alike i suppose."

"hmm, that they do." he kissed you softly, placing his free hand on your hip, bringing you closer to him.

you opted to wrap your pizza up and put it in the fridge since it was colder than his, letting him bring his to coffee table.

"watching our movie without me?"

"just wanted to watch something." you shrugged it off but quinn could detect the slightest bit of sadness in your tone.

it wasn't like you only watched up when you were sad or missing quinn, but it was weird that you hadn't even told him you were planning on watching it.

when you came back, sitting next to him on the couch, he asked, not wanting to spend another minute seeing you upset, "what's wrong?"

"nothing." the lie fell from your lips with ease causing him to furrow his eyebrows and frown.

"sweetheart, i know when something's wrong." curse him and his stupid all-knowing superpower. "talk to me."

"long day at work."

"and?"

"and that's it. was a long day, lots of work to get done, had to sit through a couple meetings, talked to my boss too, she said-"

you froze as he pulled you onto his lap, looking down at him with wide eyes, "what're you doing?"

"something's going on in that beautiful head of yours and i'm trying to figure it out."

"i'm serious, quinny. i'm fine."

"you're not. please, talk to me, that's what i'm here for."

so you did, you rambled about your frustrating day in extreme detail, finally letting the anger and annoyance out of you. and when you were done, he didn't say a word, just held you close and traced his fingers up and down your back in a soothing matter.

"why didn't you want to tell me?" he asked softly.

you shrugged, "i dunno, just always done that."

"done what?"

"kept things to myself. wanting everyone else to feel how they felt so i stayed to the side, keeping it all in."

"sweetheart... you don't have to be so brave when you're with me. i never want you to have to feel like you're feelings aren't important to me. i just want you to be happy."

you couldn't help the tears that welled in your eyes as he spoke, hanging onto every word he said like an emotional lifeline. he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, "i want to hear about every part of your day, want to know how you're feeling at every moment, want to see every part of you that makes you you."

you buried your head into his shoulder, too overwhelmed by what he was saying. thankfully, he didn't say anything more, just kept you close, protecting you from anything that could harm you.

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

#adorable #qh43

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snoopyhughes · 6 days ago

Text

୨୧ you were always mine ; lh43

➪ summary: luke has a hard time keeping his friends-with-benefits relationship with y/n just friends-with-benefits, which leads to hurt feelings and unspoken words

➪ warnings: slightly possessive luke, fwb, um... luke lowkey playing with reader's feelings...

➪ word count: 3.4k

➪ cupid's notes: fwb!luke is occupies a spot in my brain that only fwb!luke is reserved for. i would love to talk more about fwb!luke so if you ever feel like yapping away whether it's here or bedsysangel for more nsfw thoughts, i would be more than happy to answer them. takes place in 2023 which i'm sure you could get within a few paragraphs but whatever. anyway, thank you again for 1k, i love all of you so so so much 🥰

What started as a strictly platonic relationship between her and Luke quickly escalated into something more.

The two met during their freshman year of college when y/n dragged her roommate and a few of their friends to a frat party. She was planning on having a drink or two, blending into the crowd but getting to know a few people, simply a ‘welcome-to-campus’ type situation. But when her friends let their high school personalities seep in, she found herself locked in a room with Luke.

Much to her friends’ displeasure though, nothing happened except for a newfound friendship. The two quickly became inseparable, going out to the movies, watching his games, and playing Monopoly in her dorm every Friday night, it was y/n and Luke against the world.

And things were going amazingly, that was until sometime late into their freshman year when the line between friendship and relationship started to blur. She wasn't going to say anything, she was growing accustomed to Luke's lingering touches when they’d part ways after walking to class together and his soft words when he’d bring her into a hug after the team won. She didn’t want them to stop.

Every time Luke's arm wrapped around her waist to pull her back into his chest, every time he'd beg her to wear his jersey to his games, every time he'd place a kiss on her cheek, every time he'd take her hand and put it in his hair so she’d play with his curls, it was overwhelming.

And deep down she knew she was harboring less than platonic feelings for him, he was Luke; beautiful, handsome, cheeky, awkward but confident Luke. She couldn't help but indulge in her mind's fantasies of his kisses against her shoulder or his arms tightly curled around her and cuddling in his bed.

So, she did. She leaned into his touches, into his whispered sayings, and that was how she ended up here, at the beginning of March during her sophomore year, letting Luke drag her through campus with a tight grip on her hand, letting him scare other guys off, letting him push her against the wall as he left open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

Ever since that one night when the two of them had finally succumbed to the feeling of want, no need, Luke had only grown more touchy and possessive; glaring at any guy who looked at her, guiding her to sit on his lap when there were 5 other places to sit, braiding her hair in front of her friends, late-night cuddles with her adorning one of his t-shirts.

She, along with everyone else, was riding out the high of the team’s win against Penn State even into the following weekend, the win signifying one game closer to a Frozen Four victory. Her group had found their way to a celebratory party that was happening somewhere around campus, it was hot and sticky due to the humidity and all the bodies there, and low and behold she had tagged along, Luke not too far behind her.

Standing in the living room, she was pressed tightly against him, his arm attached to her waist to make sure she didn't stray too far. However, after one too many drinks, she had to go to the bathroom, raising on her tip-toes in order to let him know where she was going.

Luke being the protective best friend gentleman he was, offered to go with her, making sure nobody would bother her. But she reassured him that she would be fine making her way through the crowd and up the stairs, so reluctantly he let her go, keeping his gaze on her with every step she made.

He kept one ear on the conversation he was having with Ethan, moving his wrist in small circular motions to watch the liquid inside spin around, while the other ear he kept open in case she had called out. Seven minutes, eight minutes passed and there was no sign of her anywhere, he was getting antsy without her by his side. He kept telling himself that maybe there was a line, maybe someone was fucking in there and she had to find her way to a different bathroom.

Yet, he glanced around the living room through the mob of people in search of her and he froze when he saw two figures near the stairs. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at y/n talking animatedly with another guy, a bright smile on her face, a smile that he loved to be the cause of.

He mumbled an excuse to his friend, walking over to where the two were standing. He had abandoned his drink, dumping the rest of the cups’ contents down the sink before throwing the cup away in the nearest trash bag available.

He neared them, finally being able to pick up bits and pieces of their conversation, but he wasn’t too worried about what they were talking about, just more or less how they were talking. He came to a stop a few feet behind her, scanning the guy from the top of his neatly gelled hair to the bottom of his new dress shoes, what was this, a wedding?

He couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes as he finished examining him, but he could stop the words of sarcasticness from falling out of his mouth, just barely though.

He closed the short distance to y/n, his arms immediately encircling her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. She didn’t need to look over to see who it was, the firm, comforting hold was enough to let her know.

Her smile brightened, glancing back to see a pouty, puppy dog-eyed expression plastered on his face with a possessive gleam in his eye. Her attention was entirely focused on the boy behind her now, entranced with the way his hair formed perfect ringlets but was messy at the same time caused by the dampness from his earlier shower and the humidity from the house they were in.

“Hey, Lukey.”

“Hey.” His voice was low and somewhat hoarse from yelling the past week, the sound making her body tingle in the slightest bit.

She could feel the way his grip tightened, placing her hands on top of his and lacing their fingers together as she motioned her head towards the guy who was still standing in front of them, “This is Alex, we have a class together.”

He nodded, turning his head so he could bury it into her neck placing soft kisses against her skin. A blush covered her cheeks, turning more and more pink with each kiss.

“Luke.” She murmured in an attempt to stop him. Usually, she wouldn’t mind the display of affection or the gentle undertone of his jealousy, but in the past few weeks, it had gotten only slightly out of hand, she felt like she couldn’t even talk to a guy without Luke showing up and scaring them off.

He hummed in acknowledgment, continuing his feather-light kisses, only pausing to eye the guy and what his face was expressing. She fought the urge to sigh, roll her eyes, and mutter an annoyed response. If he wanted to be around every time she talked to a guy, fine, so be it.

She picked back up the previously abandoned conversation with Alex, talking about their upcoming finals and their summer plans. Luke’s irritation grew as their talking went on, wanting nothing more than to take y/n back to his place and strip every piece of clothing off her. He would even settle for finishing their game of Monopoly from last night, as long as he got her away from the ‘hungry’ gaze Alex had on her.

So, he proceeded to do the only thing he knew would draw her attention back to him, moving to suck lightly on the one spot that made her weak in the knees within seconds. He could feel her tense for not even a nanosecond before she was melting into him. But little to his knowledge, a fury lit her eyes, her patience completely running out.

She stepped forward out of his grasp, saying a polite goodbye to her friend before dragging him out of the house and into the late March weather. It was still relatively chilly causing her to wrap her jacket tighter around her as they walked toward the sidewalk.

“What was that Luke?”

“What was what?” His face was the definition of innocence, a slight grin playing on his lips as he looked down at her.

She huffed as she took in his expression, “You know what. Why couldn’t you just let us talk in peace?”

“He was bothering me.”

“We were just talking about finals, I don’t know how that could’ve been bothering you.”

“He was looking at you like he wanted to tear your clothes apart.” He argued, frustration overtaking him.

“So?”

“‘So’?” He asked incredulously, staring at her as if she had grown to heads. Since when was she all for someone looking at her the way he was only supposed to?

“Yeah, ‘so’. Luke, we’re not even dating.”

Her words were like a blow to his stomach. He knew they weren’t dating, but he thought at least there was some unspoken agreement that the two of them were simply just the two of them, that no one was going to come in and take the other way from them.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because every time I even so much as think about a guy, you’re swooping me into your arms and taking me somewhere. I haven’t had a normal interaction with a guy in weeks.”

So maybe he was being a little over-possessive. He didn’t mean to, really, he just wanted her for himself, wanted everyone to know that she was his and he was hers.

“You’re leaving soon, Lu.”

His thoughts came to a stop, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as he stared at her, “What do you mean I’m leaving soon? Y/n/n if you’re talking about Tampa it’s just for the weekend-”

“I’m talking about New Jersey, Luke.”

He blinked slowly, more confused than before. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes wandering around so she wouldn’t have to see him taking in what she said.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice was soft, and careful, not wanting to upset her more than she was.

“I’m not stupid, y’know? I’ve seen the tweets, the Devils are planning on calling you up after this whole thing is over.” She waved her hand, gesturing to the party that was thrown because of the championship.

“You don’t know that for sure.” He kept his words steady, reassuring her that everything people were saying was just rumors, but even he knew that wasn’t true.

“Even if it’s not, how are we going to continue this when you do eventually go out there?” Her eyes met his, both of them shining with unshed tears, “You can’t expect me to just be a buffer for you.”

“Hey, you’re not just a buffer-”

“But aren’t I? Isn’t that what we’re doing? Using each other until we can find someone we actually want to be with?” Each word twisted the knife in his stomach further, had she really thought she was just a buffer?

He regained his composure quickly, speaking firmly, “No. You are not just a buffer to me, sweetheart.”

The nickname caused a swarm of butterflies to erupt in her stomach and she did her best to push each one down, far enough that they couldn’t come back. The way he was talking made her feel like maybe she was wrong about the status of their feelings, maybe he really did like her and now she was ruining it, but the voice in the back of her had assured her she was reading this the right way.

“I’m not just going to drop you the second I leave for Jersey, whenever that may be.” He reached for her hand, but she stepped back, narrowly escaping the touch.

“I can’t keep doing this. You-” she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to say, “You’ll go to Jersey and I’ll be here, there’s no room for me to go with.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, we both know it. It- we won’t work like this.”

“So that’s it? We’re just not even going to talk anymore?”

“That’s not what I said-”

“But it’s what you meant.” He interjected, eyes still glistening with tears.

“It isn’t. I just- god Luke, you act like you want me to be nothing more than your best friend one minute and the next we’re having sex against the wall!”

He breathed heavily, listening to her speak, “If you can’t make up your mind then I’ll do it for you, whatever this is, it can’t go on. Not when we’re going to be in two different places and certainly not when we feel two different ways.”

“Y/n…” He trailed off, one last attempt to get her to hear him out, but he watched her shake her head and walk down the street, wrapping her arms around herself to protect her from the cold.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

A week later and their not-so-breakup breakup had been the only thing on his mind, not the fact that he had just lost a Frozen Four championship, not that he had just played in what would be known as his last college game, not the fact that sometime in the next few days he would sign his first NHL contract and play in his first NHL game alongside his brother.

He sat in his hotel room, twisting and turning in his bed as he struggled to fall asleep. Eventually, he gave up, opting to lay flat on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling, making note of every single bump it had.

In less than 48 hours he would be doing something that he had dreamed of doing since he was younger, since he’d even known it was a possibility. And yet, none of it felt right without her there.

They had been glued to each other’s side since that party, doing almost everything together; shopping, walking to classes and practices, eating, homework, laundry, any chance they had to be together they were.

It was a strange feeling, not having her around even emotionally. She was always the first person he reached out to when something exciting happened; he scored a goal, he got a good grade on his test, he saw a squirrel on his way to see her, or when something upsetting happened; he got hit with a puck causing a bruise on his side, his visit to see his brothers got delayed, or he just felt downright horrible.

The thought of him relying on her too much came quickly but left just as fast. It wasn’t like he was dependent on her, he was his own person and she was hers, but she was his person.

The one who would make him feel better with just a simple smile, the one who engaged in hockey talk because she knew it made him happy, the one who texted him random life updates every so often, the one who wasn’t afraid to let him see the real her.

Fuck.

Realization slammed into him, hard and heavy like he was just fighting for the puck and got slammed into the boards.

Signing a piece of paper could wait until Monday, but telling his best friend he was in love with her couldn’t.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Y/n watched the game despite her promise to herself not to. Curled up on her bed, the game playing on her computer as she ate ice cream. Going into the third period they were tied and she had mustered up as much hope as she could, but goal after goal, Quinnipiac scored 3, bringing the final score to 5-2.

She was disappointed at their loss, as much as any other student attending Michigan, but she was even more upset that this now solidified the beginning of Luke’s future. In however many days he would be playing in New Jersey.

And now it was the day after and she was in her room working on a paper for one of her classes, headphones blocking out all the noises around her. She looked between multiple tabs, searching her papers for a Post-it note she had written not too long ago, and continuously deleted and retyped the same thing.

She was just about to start writing a new portion of the paper when a knock and wave of a hand in front of her pulled her from her thoughts, looking over to see her roommate. She pulled her headphones off, letting them rest around her neck, “What’s up?”

“Someone’s here for you.” She didn’t miss the slight smirk she had, which never meant anything good.

She uncurled herself from her spot on the chair, leaving her headphones on her desk before making her way to the door, and opening it. She froze when she saw who it was, Luke in a familiar blue Michigan sweatshirt and gray sweatpants.

“Luke? What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you.”

She hesitated but the look on his face made her crumble, opening the door wide so he could step into her apartment. They walked towards her room, letting him go in and sit down on her bed as she stood near the door, arms crossed against her chest.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m signing my contract tomorrow.”

“Oh, um- that’s amazing, congrats, Lu.”

He nodded, looking at the ground. A few beats passed and all he could think about was the urge to pull her in for a kiss. He wasn’t known for his impulsiveness, or maybe he was and he just never made it a big deal, but now? He couldn’t help but act on the urge, so he did.

He took a few steps forward, pushing the second-guessing thoughts out of his mind, coming to a stop when he towered over her completely, hand reaching to cup her face and brush his thumb across her cheek.

She flushed, staring up at him with wide, almost doe-like, eyes. He leaned down, bringing his lips to meet hers, instantly causing her to turn into a puddle of mush. She kissed back just as eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck like they had been itching to do it for the past week.

When she felt her breath running out, she pulled away, allowing her forehead to rest against his, both of them panting softly as they tried to steady their breathing. Luke’s gaze was entirely on her, studying the way her eyelashes were laying delicately on her cheeks, her light freckles spread across her nose, the pieces of hair that escaped from her ponytail.

“You were always mine.”

Her eyes shot open at his quiet murmur, looking at him like he had just given her the answers to every single exam she still had to take. She gulped, trying to reign her thoughts in, “What?”

“You were always going to be mine, y/n/n. From the moment you bumped into me at the party, from the moment we first watched Miracle together and you cried, from the moment you stole 200 bucks of my money the first time we played Monopoly, from the first time you put on my jersey, I knew that I had to make you mine.

“And I know it’s taking me a long time, way too long, but I needed you to know, now more than ever. It might be too late, but I just-”

“I was always going to want to be yours.”

Her admission flowed through him, easing his worries immensely. He breathed a low chuckle, “Thank god. I was starting to think I was going to have to say the whole speech I prepared.”

“There was more?”

He nods sheepishly, but it was better to be over-prepared than not prepared enough, he would’ve said the whole thing a million times if it meant she would say those words.

“Are you going to let me hear it?”

“That depends… what do I get if I do?”

“A kiss?”

He hummed in thought, “I don’t know, baby. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into writing this.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Hughes.”

And who was he to say no?

꒰ NEW JERSEY DEVILS TAGLIST ꒱

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @nicole01-23 @auriesphantom @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @rowdyluv @petite-potato4 @thehuggybearslover @absolutelyhugh3s @kei943 @dyslecticdutchman @this-ass-is-eikonic @delilaahh9 hh9 @winterbarnesblog @fantillisgirl @macklin-celebrini-71

LH43 MASTERLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

#adorable #i love it #lh43

478 notes · View notes

snoopyhughes · 7 days ago

Text

𝓢𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝓤𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

𐙚 fic ; in which matthew regrets the things he said and the things he didn’t say . . .

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. matthew tkachuk x fem!reader 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. slightly toxic fwb. little angst. fluff. hurt to comfort. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. tried writing for someone new😽 this is kind of set as last playoff season? also not trying to romanticize injuries, just putting it out there. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

You wince as you watch Matthew get pounded into the boards for what seems to be the twentieth time tonight.

One hand goes to cover your mouth and the other gets gripped by Taryn, her tight grip surely meant to comfort and ease the ball of anxiety currently building in the pit of your stomach, but it only builds and builds as Matty takes a bit longer than usual to get back to his feet.

“He’s okay,” Brady whispers, bumping his shoulder into yours and you briefly wonder if those words comforted him more than they were meant to comfort you, so even though you didn’t fully believe them, you send Brady a small, thankful smile in response.

When you first met Matthew at a mutual friend’s birthday party you had no idea who he was. Growing up in Florida with a dad who was obsessed with football, hockey was never something you were exposed to and thus had no idea what he did for a living. And it’s not that you didn’t like the sport or found it entertaining, because you did and you could see why Matthew and the rest of his family loved it so much.

But seeing Matthew get targeted, fans in the stands cheering while he was struggling to regain his footing made you physically ill, and all you could do was clutch your stomach and hope he wasn’t too banged up.

Florida ends up losing and that puts an even more bitter feeling in your gut, knowing Matty took a beating tonight and it didn’t even pay off.

You fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist while you wait with his family for him to come out of the locker room, an anxious pit in your stomach, not knowing if he is gonna want to see you after a game like that.

The anxiety melts away the second he steps out of the locker room and makes his way over to you, not even glancing at anyone else as he pulls you into his arms, head resting in the familiar spot between your head and shoulder.

You swallow hard when the butterflies in your stomach threaten to make their way up your throat as Matty kisses your cheek, hugging you again and mumbling, “Thanks for coming.”

You try to get a hold of your thoughts while he greets his family, never straying far enough away from you to be out of reach. You weren’t sure in what category to place him anymore. He didn’t quite fit the “just friends” box, nor the boyfriend box, but somehow over the past few months that you’ve gotten to know him, he’s become your closest friend and one of your favourite people.

Always the first one to celebrate with you when something good happens, or comfort you when something bad happens. You can’t even remember what your life was like before you had Matty in it.

“Do you guys mind if we skip out on dinner tonight? I know we had reservations but I’m beat and I honestly just wanna pass out,” Matthew says, his words directed at his family as he pulls you closer to his side again, making it clear when he said ‘we’ he was talking about you and him.

Taryn smirks knowingly and waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, go sleep it off, Matty. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mom gives him a quick once-over, eyes scanning for any injuries he might be downplaying, but she just sighs and nods, clearly used to this by now.

Brady, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow at you, a teasing glint in his eye that makes your cheeks heat up. You just glance away before swallowing the lump in your throat, offering his family a soft smile before bidding them goodnight.

Matthew doesn’t waste another second, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he starts guiding you toward the exit. Your heart is pounding, and you’re not sure if it’s from the game, the weight of his body pressed into yours, or the way he keeps stealing little glances at you like he’s making sure you’re still there.

The drive back to his place is quiet, save for the low hum of the radio and the occasional deep sigh from Matthew. His hand stays on your thigh, warm and grounding, and every so often his thumb brushes over your skin in a way that makes you hyper aware of every breath you take.

“You staying at mine tonight or do you want me to take you home?” he asks, and you hesitate for a moment before agreeing to stay at his.

Once you guys get inside his house, he drops his bag by the door and toes off his shoes with a groan. “I’m so fucking sore,” he mutters, rolling his shoulders before flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

You hover awkwardly for a second, unsure if you should try to touch him or not, but then Matthew pats the empty spot next to him, his eyes soft and tired. “C’mere.”

You hesitate only for a moment before sinking down beside him. He wastes no time wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close, and resting his head against yours. Your throat restricts slightly when you rest your head on his chest and notice the way his breath hitches every so often, as if he’s in pain by just breathing.

“Did you see the trainer before you left?” you ask softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“No. I’ll uh — see how I feel tomorrow morning and then maybe give them a call” he says and the frown immediately appears between your brows

“Matty,” you sigh, lifting your head to look at him. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to take better care of yourself.”

His eyes flicker with something—annoyance, maybe exhaustion—but he doesn’t meet your gaze. “I’m fine,” he mutters, shifting slightly as if to prove it, but the wince that follows betrays him.

You sit up a little, the warmth of his arm around you fading as you put some distance between you. “You don’t look fine. You could barely get up out there, and I can tell you’re hurting right now no matter how much you try to hide it.”

Matthew groans, running a hand down his face. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’ll be good to go by the next game.” he says, his voice almost on autopilot as if he’s practiced this response in the mirror a thousand times. Almost trying to convince himself.

That tight knot in your chest grows. “You shouldn’t play in the next game.”

His head snaps toward you then, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You should sit the next one out,” you say, your voice steady but pleading. “Matty, you’re not invincible as much as you’d like to believe that you are. You keep pushing through stuff like this, and one day it’s not just gonna be some soreness or bruises. You’re in your mid twenties for crying out loud! At this rate ten years from now you won’t be able to bend down and do every day things, never mind play hockey every night”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might actually listen to you. But then he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You don’t get it,” he says, leaning back against the couch, rubbing at his chest absentmindedly. “I have to play. Sitting out isn’t an option.”

Your frustration boils over. “Yes, it is! You’re hurt, Matty. They’ll understand.”

“You don’t understand,” he snaps, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch. “I can’t just sit out because I’m a little banged up. That’s not how this works.”

You stare at him, heart pounding, hurt creeping into your voice. “Matty, I just… I care about you, and I don’t want to see you get worse. I just — I don’t understand how you — why you would do this to yourself. Put yourself through this” Put me through this , you think bitterly but keep it to yourself.

For a moment, something flashes in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but then it’s gone, replaced by something colder. He exhales sharply, his fingers pressing into his temples before he mutters, “You’re not my girlfriend, so stop nagging me like you are.”

The words hit harder than any body check he took tonight.

You freeze, blinking at him as the sting of his words settles deep in your chest. It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room, and suddenly, you feel like you shouldn’t be here at all.

“Right yeah,” you say quietly, forcing a nod as you pull yourself off the couch. “Got it.”

“Wait—” Matthew shifts forward, wincing as he tries to reach for you, but you’re already stepping away, grabbing your bag with shaky hands.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, voice tight. “I shouldn’t be nagging you about this. It’s not my place”

The look on his face is a mix of regret and frustration, but you don’t stick around long enough to let it sink in. The sound of the door closing behind you feels deafening, and as you step out into the cool night air, you try to swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

You weren’t his girlfriend. You knew that. But hearing him say it like that, like your concern was nothing more than an annoyance, made it hurt in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You text Brady while you wait for your uber, letting him know that Matty was going to be alone tonight and he might need someone to check in on him periodically.

You manage to make it home and into your bed before you let the tears fall. The most frustrating part was that you weren’t even mad at him, you were just worried for him. The combination of your sobs and the constant buzzing of your phone mix into a perfect melody that lulls you to sleep.

—

As much as you’d wish to say you didn’t, you watch the next game on TV, and the panthers win to advance to the final round of the playoffs. You were busy scrubbing your kitchen clean for the fifth time in the last week, a glass of wine sitting on the counter keeping you company. Your apartment has never been as clean as it was right now, cause every time you got the urge to text or call Matty you’d find another way to keep your hands occupied.

You were debating whether you should bake something or do your laundry when you heard a knock on the door.

You took your time getting over there to answer it, knowing who was standing on the other side.

You take a deep breath before opening the door, finding him standing there, still in his suit from the game.

His tie is undone, the top button of his shirt popped open, and the exhaustion from the night is etched into his face—but none of it hides the way his eyes immediately lock on yours, soft and pleading.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse, like he’s been rehearsing the word over and over again on the way here.

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing here, Matty?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I—uh—I needed to see you.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your heart is pounding. “I thought I wasn’t your girlfriend. Isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to stop nagging you and mind my own business?”

His face falls at your words, and he scrubs a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay I deserved that,” he admits. “I was a complete asshole, and I’m sorry.”

You stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I didn’t mean what I said that night,” he adds, stepping closer. “You do have a place, okay? You’re one of the only people who cares about me in a way that — You’re not my girlfriend. But not because it’s not your place or because I don’t want you to be. It’s because I haven’t had the balls to ask you, because I’m scared you’re gonna realize you deserve a hell of a lot more than — whatever it is that I can offer you”

Your defenses waiver as you look at him, his usual confidence stripped away. There’s no mask, no bravado—just Matty, raw and vulnerable.

“Why are you here now?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, and he shrugs, looking down at his feet before meeting your gaze again. “Because we won tonight. And we’re going to the finals. And I played a hell of a game. And yet the only thing I could think about afterwards, was that the only person I wanna celebrate with wasn’t there”

Your breath catches in your throat, and he takes another step closer, leaving almost no space between you.

You swallow hard, your arms loosening from their crossed position as you take in his words. “Matty…” you start, but your voice falters.

“I know,” he cuts in gently, his tone pleading. “I know I don’t deserve you. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. But I’m standing here, telling you that you’re the only thing in my life that makes sense. You make me better, even when I don’t deserve it.”

His hand reaches for yours, hesitant, like he’s afraid you might pull away. You don’t, your fingers brush, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver up your spine.

“I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I don’t want to keep running from what this is—what you are to me. I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of celebrating something this big without you. Because none of it matters if you’re not there with me.”

The sincerity in his voice chips away at the walls you’ve spent the last few days building. You look up at him, your resolve crumbling.

“You can’t just say this and expect everything to be fine, Matty,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You can’t just treat me like shit and then show up every time you decide I matter and think I’ll be waiting. That’s not fair.”

His face twists in pain, but he nods. “You’re right. It’s not fair. But I’m here because I’m done running from you, from us. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just—I’m asking for a chance to prove that I mean it this time. That I’m not going anywhere.”

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes search yours desperately, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice cracking. “You can’t keep breaking my heart, Matty.”

“I won’t baby,” he promises, his voice firm despite the vulnerability in his gaze. “Just… let me in. Let me prove to you that I can be better. I can be the man you deserve”

“You already are” you say softly, your voice barely audible. “You just have to start acting like him”

His lips curve into a small, relieved smile, and he nods. “I won’t screw this up. I promise.”

And as he steps inside, pulling you into his arms for the first time in what feels like forever, you can’t help but hope that maybe—just maybe—he means it this time.

#this hurt so good #i love him #mt19

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snoopyhughes · 9 days ago

Text

PERFECT IMPERFECTIONS LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: You finally open up to Luke about a long-standing insecurity of yours

Warnings :: Insecurities (dark circles)

Word count :: 1.4k

The evening has a quiet, gentle rhythm to it, a calmness that feels almost sacred. The kind of quiet that can only come from being comfortably wrapped in the presence of someone you love, knowing that the world outside can wait for a while. You and Luke are on the couch, the soft light from the lamp beside you casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The glow dances across his face as he scrolls through his phone, the familiar sounds of his movements grounding you in the present. You’ve always loved these quiet moments with him—when nothing else matters but the fact that you’re together.

But tonight, something’s different. The sense of peace you usually feel when you’re near him is heavy, weighed down by an insecurity that’s been gnawing at you all day. You can feel it pressing on your chest, slowly tightening with every passing second, even though you’re trying your best to push it away.

You’ve always had these dark circles. As long as you can remember, they’ve been there. When you were a little girl, you’d stare at your reflection and wonder why your face looked so tired, even when you hadn’t done anything to earn that exhaustion. As you grew older, it became something you learned to live with—something you tried to hide, tried to mask. No matter how much sleep you got, no matter how many “miracle” creams or makeup techniques you tried, those shadows under your eyes were always there. They became a constant companion, something you never quite got used to, but had learned to accept.

And yet tonight, they feel more pronounced than ever. Maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s built up over the last few weeks—too many late nights and early mornings, trying to balance everything, trying to keep it all together. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been staring at your face in the mirror all day, looking for signs of something different, something better, and all you’ve found is the same tired reflection you’ve always seen. Your eyes look heavy. You look drained. Like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it’s written all over your face.

As you sit beside Luke, curled up on the couch, you find yourself unconsciously shrinking away from him, trying to hide the way you feel inside. You pull your knees closer to your chest, folding in on yourself as if to protect the parts of you that are exposed—the parts of you you wish you could change. You try to make yourself small, hoping he won’t notice. But Luke, being Luke, notices everything. He always does.

“Hey,” he says gently, his voice a soft anchor in the quiet of the room. He looks over at you, his gaze immediately softening as he notices your change in posture. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet.”

You try to offer him a smile, but it’s thin, insincere. It feels like a mask that doesn’t quite fit. You don’t want to burden him with your feelings, don’t want to sound trivial, but the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

“I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about my dark circles,” you admit, the words hanging in the air between you, heavier than you’d intended. “I’ve always had them, you know? No matter how much sleep I get, no matter how much I try to fix them, they’re always there. And today, I just… I don’t know. I feel like they’re all anyone would notice when they look at me.”

The vulnerability in your voice surprises even you, and you immediately feel a wave of embarrassment, as though admitting this out loud somehow makes it worse. You brace yourself for the usual reassurance—the empty kind of comfort people often give when they want to make you feel better but don’t truly understand what’s going on inside. You’re so used to hearing it, to hearing people say, “It doesn’t matter to me,” or “You’re beautiful no matter what.” But you’ve always wondered if they mean it. If they can really see you, see the parts of you that feel broken, and still love you just the same.

Luke doesn’t say anything right away. His gaze softens, though, and you can feel his presence shift. It’s almost as if he’s studying you, trying to understand the quiet storm brewing behind your eyes. He moves a little closer, his body turning toward yours. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing over your arm, sending a ripple of warmth through you. But it’s not just the touch. It’s the way he looks at you—as if he’s trying to read every part of you, to reach the parts of you that you don’t even know how to express.

“Let me see you,” he says softly, his voice low but firm with the kind of gentleness you’ve always known him for. He doesn’t push you, doesn’t force you to explain yourself, but his words are a quiet invitation. An invitation to be seen, to be understood. “Look at me, babe.”

You hesitate, unsure if you’re ready to meet his gaze, unsure if you’re ready to let him see all the insecurity swirling inside of you. But when you do, when your eyes finally meet his, something shifts. There’s no judgment there. Only love. Only understanding.

“Those dark circles, the ones you think make you less beautiful? They don’t make you less, anything,” he says, his voice unwavering. “They’ve always been a part of you. And honestly?” He smiles gently, the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve always loved them. I think they’re beautiful.”

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as you try to process what he’s just said. “What?” you ask, your voice a mixture of disbelief and surprise. “But they—”

“They’re a part of you,” Luke interrupts, his hands now gently cradling your face, his thumb sweeping softly across your cheek, where those dark circles sit. “They tell a story. A story of you—of everything you do, everything you are. They show your strength, your effort, your heart. They’re not flaws. They’re part of what makes you, you. And I think that’s beautiful.”

His words are simple, but they sink deep. So deep, in fact, that you feel a tear slip down your cheek before you even realize it. You hadn’t even known you were holding it in, but the floodgates open, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the wave of emotion rushing through you. You’ve never heard someone speak to you this way before, never felt so seen in your entire life. It’s as if the parts of you that you’ve always hated, the parts of you you’ve always tried to hide, are suddenly being accepted without question, without hesitation.

Luke’s hands move to cup your face more securely, his eyes never leaving yours, and his forehead presses against yours, as if grounding you in his love, in his belief in you.

“I love you. And I don’t just love you despite those dark circles. I love you because of them. They’re a part of your story, and they make you, you. And there is nothing in this world that I would change about you.”

The warmth in his words wraps around you like a blanket, melting away the harsh edges of your insecurities, leaving behind only peace. You close your eyes for a moment, taking in his words, letting them sink in. When you open them again, you feel lighter, freer, like a weight has been lifted from your chest.

Luke leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in the softest kiss, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. You let out a breath, a shaky laugh escaping your lips as you finally feel the truth of his words sink deep into your bones.

And in that moment, with his hands gently cradling your face, his heart open and steady, you realize something profound. The dark circles under your eyes, the tiredness that’s always been with you—they no longer feel like something to hide. They’re not a sign of something broken or wrong. They’re a sign of your resilience, your humanity, your capacity to love and work and care.

And Luke loves them. He loves all of you, dark circles and all. And for the first time, you can finally say that you love them, too.

#all time favorite #long post #if you saw my face you’d understand why this means everything to me 😭#genetic dark circle girlies rise #lh43

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snoopyhughes · 9 days ago

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DOROTHEA LUKE HUGHES

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke's sophomore season is far from what he had imagined. the weight of expectations, buried by the grueling pain of a long season begins to weigh on him. so, when the mid-season break rolls around, instead of going to four nations to watch his brothers, luke heads back to michigan in hopes of finding his love for hockey again.

warnings: vague mentions of anxiety, luke being extremely self critical, poor self-conscience, a bit of swearing, fictionalized events (e.g, how the devils season is going, games that haven't happened yet)

wc: 8.40k

notes: based on ‘dorothea’ by taylor swift. this one will may or may not tug at your heart strings. also quite a bit of this is made up. i know luke isn't having a bad season whatsoever + the devils aren't doing that bad. it's for the sake of the story!

“That’s not fucking good enough Hughes!”

Luke barely registered the assaulting tone of his coach’s voice above his labouring breaths. His chest heaved as he bent at the waist, gloved hands braced on his knees, lungs screaming for oxygen that never seemed to come fast enough. Every inhale burned, every exhale was shaky and ragged. Sweat dripped in a relentless stream down his temples, pooling in the collar of his jersey and turning his pads into a suffocating prison.

Just twenty-six more minutes of hockey, Luke reminded himself. Just twenty-six more minutes until thirteen, blissful hockey-free days.

The Four Nations break, a reprieve that couldn’t come soon enough, felt tantalizingly out of reach. It felt like time had slowed during this game, making it even more painful for Luke.

It wasn’t just his joints that ached or his lungs that burned; it was deeper than that. It was bone-deep. Soul-deep. It was the kind of ache that didn’t go away after a night of icing and a couple of ibuprofen. This was exhaustion — not just of the body, but of the mind.

This wasn’t the way Luke’s sophomore season was supposed to feel.

Luke entered the season with expectations stacked high enough to scrape against the rafters. Media outlets had anointed him the next big thing — another Hughes boy destined for stardom. His debut season had been solid; a Calder finalist-worthy season, in fact. Flashes of brilliance here, mistakes there, but he was still a kid learning the ropes. They’d forgiven him then. But now? Now they wanted dominance. Consistency. Leadership. They wanted him to be everything.

And he was coming up short.

The cold, hard fact of it was written across the scoreboard: 3-1 Canadiens, late in the second. The Devils couldn’t sustain any pressure in the offensive zone, the power play was sluggish, and the defensive breakdowns were enough to make Keefe nearly burst a blood vessel on the bench. Luke knew he wasn’t solely to blame, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still somehow on him. That he wasn’t doing enough. That maybe he wasn’t enough.

“Get your head out of your ass and look like you’re trying to do something, Luke!” Keefe said from the other end of the bench.

Luke didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He simply absorbed his coach's words, shoulders sagging as he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. The damp fabric felt cool for a fleeting second before the heat radiating off his body rendered it useless.

“Hey, shake it off man,” Nico said from a few people down. The captain leaned forward, hands wrapped tightly around the edge of his stick. “Plenty of time left.”

Luke nodded mutely, not trusting his voice. Plenty of time. Sure. That’s what they always said until the buzzer sounded and it was too late. He stared down at the ice in front of him, tracing invisible patterns with his eyes, trying to block out the noise of the crowd, the critical eyes of the coaching staff boring into him, and the sharp stab of self-doubt that never quite went away.

He felt like he was moving underwater. Every shift was a struggle to keep up, every decision a split-second too late. Passes he’d made effortlessly when he was playing college hockey were suddenly bouncing off the heel of his stick. He hesitated when he should attack. He pinched when he should hold back. And he knew — God, he knew — the more he overthought it, the worse it got.

The crowd erupted as the Canadiens scored again. Luke didn’t need to look up to see the damage. The groan of the goal horn, the flashing red light, and the collective exhale from the bench told him everything he needed to know.

Luke gripped his stick tightly, knuckles white beneath his gloves. Twenty-six more minutes.

Blissful, hockey-free days loomed in the distance like a mirage. But would they really feel that way? Would he be able to shut it all off — the doubt, the pressure, the lingering echoes of every misstep? Would time away help him get his head back on straight, or was this just the start of something darker?

A few weeks ago, Luke had turned down multiple invitations from his teammates for getaways to white sandy beaches and crystal-clear waters. Nico was going to Cancun, Timo was going to the Bahamas. All of them were going on getaways for some much-needed rest and relaxation. But Luke couldn’t. He needed something more than just the sun. He needed a mental reset. A return to something grounding.

When the final buzzer blared, signalling yet another disappointing loss, Luke didn't even glance up at the scoreboard. The sting of defeat was something he’d grown uncomfortably familiar with, but it didn’t hurt any less. As he skated off the ice and into the tunnel, his legs felt like lead, his mind clouded with frustration and exhaustion.

He went through the monotonous routine of a loss; pulling off his sweat-soaked equipment one piece at a time while hearing a berating speech from Keefe outlining every single mistake they made, then spewing the same PR rehearsed answers to the media as he was forced to do availability yet again.

As soon as he was out of the arena, Luke pulled out his phone, scanning his notifications. While Jack took to pestering his brother in person, Quinn had messaged him earlier in the day, asking if he’d changed his mind about coming to watch them at Four Nations. It was the first time Quinn and Jack would be on the same team again since their younger days, and they’d been excited about the chance to represent Team USA together.

Quinn: It’s been a minute since we’ve all been in one place. Would be good to see you.

Luke sighed. A younger version of himself would’ve jumped at the chance to be there. To be around his brothers, the guys who’d been his idols growing up. But now, the thought of sitting in the stands, watching them thrive, only highlighted the weight of his own struggles. They deserved his support, but Luke wasn’t sure he could handle being there, feeling like the odd one out in his own family. The longer Luke thought about what he needed to do and where he needed to go, the clearer it became.

Michigan. That was where he needed to be. Not Cancun. Not the Bahamas. Not at Four Nations, no matter how much he wanted to see Jack and Quinn dominate together. Luke had made his decision. Back home was where he needed to be.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, the distant hum of the plane engines and the chatter of fellow passengers faded into the background. His thoughts settled on Michigan. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew it was there. The pull was inexplicable and undeniable, like gravity tethering him to a place he used to call home.

The wheels touched down with a jolt, and Luke pulled his coat tighter against the January chill as he stepped out of the terminal. The air smelled of snow and wet pavement, a scent so distinctly winter in Michigan that it stirred a pang of nostalgia in his chest.

He drove the winding roads back to his childhood neighborhood, the landscape coated in a blanket of fresh snow that shimmered under the streetlights. When he pulled into the driveway of the Hughes family home, the familiarity hit him like a slap. The dented hockey net at the end of the driveway and the porch light his mom insisted on always staying on, even when no one was home — it was all the same. And yet, it wasn’t.

Inside, the house was silent. Ellen and Jim were already in Montreal for Four Nations, cheering on Jack and Quinn as he’d known they would be. The usual warmth of his mom’s laughter, the clatter of pots in the kitchen, and his dad’s voice offering quiet encouragement were all absent. Instead, Luke was greeted by an almost eerie stillness.

He dropped his bag in the hallway and stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The framed photos lining the walls, the scuffed wooden floors from years of indoor hockey games with his brothers — it was like stepping into a time capsule of a simpler life. A life before contracts and endorsements, before fans and expectations, before the weight of the NHL threatened to crush him.

Luke’s footsteps echoed as he made his way to the den. The fireplace was unlit, the room cold. He collapsed onto the couch, running a hand through his hair and staring at the ceiling. His chest still felt tight from the game, his body aching in a way that told him he wasn’t just physically tired but emotionally spent.

Luke had expected something — comfort, nostalgia, maybe even peace. Instead, he was met with an odd hollowness, a space in his chest that Michigan didn’t instantly fill. Maybe that was the point. He wasn’t the same kid who had once called this place home. Still, despite the emptiness inside him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his path back to himself began here. He didn’t know when or how he’d feel whole again, but he was certain it wouldn’t happen overnight. It wouldn’t happen in Cancun, the Bahamas, or even on the ice in a Devils uniform. If it could happen anywhere, it would be here — in Michigan.

The next morning, hunger and boredom pushed him out of the house. He didn’t have a plan beyond grabbing coffee and then hitting the grocery store. He drove aimlessly through the familiar streets, his heart pulling in two directions — nostalgia and unease. Every corner, every turn, held memories of the life he’d left behind.

He parked outside a coffee shop he vaguely remembered from his college days. It was a cozy spot nestled between a record store and a florist. The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and pastries wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

Luke stood in line, scanning the menu even though he already knew he’d get a black coffee and maybe a bagel. Habit, plain and simple. Once he ordered, he scanned the room for a table to sit at.

That’s when he saw you. At first, he wasn’t sure. The years had softened and matured parts of you, but there was no mistaking the way your hair fell or the way you were chewing on your lip as you stared at your laptop, the way you always did when you were deep in thought. The sight of you hit him like a puck to the chest — unexpected and jarring.

He hadn’t thought about what he would say if he ever saw you again. and yet, there you were, just a few feet away. For a moment, he considered slipping out unnoticed, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it came. Some invisible force propelled him forward, just like it always had when it came to you.

The two of you had been inseparable growing up. You knew each other better than anyone. Your bond had always been easy, natural. But it had never been simple.

Luke remembered the stolen glances, the way his chest tightened whenever you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, and the electric charge that sparked whenever your hands accidentally brushed. It was a relationship constantly teetering on the edge of friendship and something more — a delicate balance neither of you dared to upset.

He remembered the time when you were both sixteen, sitting on his front porch while the post-game party buzzed inside the house. Luke’s team had won in overtime, securing a state championship and the celebration had carried over to the Hughes’ home. Despite the noise behind him, all he could focus on was the way your cheeks flushed from the cold, the way your breath formed soft clouds in the crisp night air. He had been on the verge of telling you how he felt when the front door burst open and his brothers and their friends came bursting out, effectively breaking the moment.

Following that, Luke shoved his feelings down deep. You stayed close, intimate friends, remaining his one constant. Until you weren’t. He was at the University of Michigan, and you were at Boston University. At first, you two had tried. Long phone calls after late practices. Texts full of inside jokes and encouragement before exams. Plans to visit that always fell through because his schedule was relentless, and yours wasn’t much better.

Eventually, the calls got shorter. Then they stopped altogether. Luke remembered how, one night, he’d stared at his phone with your name highlighted on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. Michigan had just lost in the Frozen Four semifinals, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone else except for you. It was always you Luke spoke to after the bad games. But the weight of his exhaustion, the pressure of his family’s expectations, and the overwhelming chaos of his life had pressed down on him until he just put the phone down and rolled over in bed. He never called.

He told himself it was mutual, that life had just gotten in the way. But seeing you now, he wondered if he had been the one who let go first.

Then, as if you felt a pair of eyes on you, you looked up to find the familiar set of green eyes looking back at your own. Your eyes widened in recognition, and for a second, neither of you moved. It was like the air around you both had shifted, growing heavier with the weight of unspoken words and time lost.

“Luke?” you said, your voice a mix of surprise and something softer, something harder to place.

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey. It’s been a while.”

That was an understatement. It had been more than a while. It had been years. Years since late-night study hang-outs turned into whispered confessions, since your laughter echoed in his ears as you teased him about missing his fifth straight penalty shot during pond hockey. Years since he’d kissed you in the downstairs bathroom at Isaac Howards' house during a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Years since he left, and the texts and calls dwindled into nothing.

“Yeah, it has,” you said, shifting your coffee cup between your hands. Your voice was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place — bitterness? Sadness? Maybe both.

“Yeah. Too many.” He looked down at the table, suddenly unable to meet your gaze. “I’m sorry about that. I should’ve—”

“Called?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He winced but nodded. “Yeah. I was an idiot. No excuses. I just… I don’t know. Things got crazy.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. A tiny screen’s the only place I see you know.”

Luke looked up, and the warmth in your smile soothed some of the guilt still gnawing at him.

“I guess I deserve that,” Luke admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to do with himself. “I’ve missed you, though. More than you probably believe.”

The tension lingered for a moment before your expression softened. Something about the way Luke's shoulders slumped, the weight he seemed to carry in his eyes, made you ease up. He wasn’t the confident kid you remembered, always ready with a joke or a smirk. He looked… tired. Like he’d been through the wringer and hadn’t quite come out the other side.

You gestured to the empty seat across from you. “What brings you back to Michigan? Shouldn’t you be playing right now?”

Luke hesitated momentarily but that same pull sent that thought out quickly and Luke sunk down into the chair. “Yeah, I should. But we’ve got a mid-season break and uh… I needed to get away for a bit.”

You nodded knowingly. “Rough season?” you asked, even though you knew all too well how the season was going. Despite the no contact and the years between you, you still found yourself watching his games, keeping an eye on the number forty-three that zipped around the ice.

“You could say that.” His eyes flickered down to his cup, fingers idly picking at the paper sleeve. “Just trying to figure some things out.”

You nodded slowly, studying him. It wasn’t like Luke to open up so easily, but the strain in his voice, the way he seemed smaller somehow, told you he needed this — needed someone to just listen. “How long are you in town for?”

“A week, maybe a little longer. Depends.” he shrugged, attempting a casual tone, but you caught the uncertainty beneath it.

“Well,” you said, your voice lightening, “since you’re here and since it’s been… well, too many years, do you want to grab dinner tonight? Catch up properly?”

His eyes widened slightly like the suggestion had caught him off guard. For a second, he looked like he might say no, but then his lips curved into a small, genuine smile — one that reminded you of the old Luke. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Dinner plans were settled, and a quick double-check that you still had each other's current numbers followed before parting ways temporarily. Luke had a small smile on his face as he walked out of the coffee shop, his coffee forgotten in his hand. You had been the last person he expected to see, but somehow, it felt like exactly what he needed.

The restaurant you’d picked was a cozy spot you’d discovered a little bit ago that had become one of your favourite places to eat out — nothing fancy, just good food and a relaxed atmosphere. When Luke arrived, the nervous energy radiating off him was palpable. It made him seem much more approachable than the polished player you thought he’d become.

“You clean up nice,” you teased as he slid into the booth across from you, his cheeks reddening slightly.

“Thanks,” he said, laughing softly. “You too. Not that you didn’t already look nice earlier.”

“Smooth,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at the menu. “You always this good at compliments?”

“Only with you,” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The banter came easily, flowing like it used to in the days when late-night conversations over pizza were a regular occurrence. You found yourself slipping into old habits — teasing him about his inability to order anything outside of his comfort zone and laughing at his stories about Jack and Quinn.

Luke, for his part, couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t just how much you looked the same, though you did in so many ways. It was the way you carried yourself, the way you smiled and laughed like no time had passed at all. And yet, there was something different, too — a confidence that hadn’t been there before, a quiet strength he found himself drawn to even more than he had been back then.

But the laughter and lighthearted conversation couldn’t completely drown out the nagging thoughts in his mind. As you talked, Luke found himself thinking about how much he’d screwed up. He’d let the distance between you two widen, let life pull him in one direction while he let go of the thread that connected you both. He’d told himself it was just how life went — people grew apart. But now, sitting across from you, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been.

“You okay?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

Luke blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too long. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. How did he even begin to explain? That he regretted letting you slip away, that he’d been an idiot for not fighting harder to keep you in his life?

“Just… how crazy it is to run into you like this,” he said finally, skirting around the truth. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to catch up with you.”

You smiled, but there was something wistful in your eyes. “Yeah. Life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you.”

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but Luke’s mind lingered on his regret. Every laugh, every shared memory, every glance reminded him of what he’d lost — and what he didn’t want to lose again.

As the night wore on and the restaurant emptied out around you, neither of you seemed eager to leave. The conversation deepened, and the teasing gave way to more heartfelt exchanges. You talked about what you’d been up to in the years apart, the struggles and triumphs, the paths you’d taken that had led you back to Michigan.

When the server finally dropped off the check, Luke reached for it before you could. “I got this.”

You frowned. “Hey, it was supposed to be my treat. It was my idea to get dinner anyways.”

“And I’m saying I owe you one,” he countered, his expression soft but firm. “Please. Let me.”

You relented, watching as he handed his card to the server. “Fine. But next time, it’s on me.”

Luke froze for a moment, the words “next time” ringing in his ears. He looked up at you, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Next time, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, your tone light but your meaning clear. “Next time. You’re here for a few more days, right?”

Luke couldn’t bite back the smile that tugged on his lips. “Y-yeah. Next time.”

The next few days passed in a blur of shared moments. You carved out time from your busy schedule, meeting Luke for coffee, going on impromptu drives through your old favorite spots, and even hitting the gym together. He insisted he couldn’t slack on his training, and you, eager to spend more time with him, agreed to join.

At the gym, Luke was in his element, focused and disciplined, but there was an ease to his demeanor when you were around. He showed you proper form on certain exercises, his hands brushing yours occasionally as he adjusted your grip or stance. Each time, your heart skipped a beat, though you tried to hide it behind playful jabs about his “personal trainer” persona.

But amidst the laughter and lighthearted moments, you also fell back into the habit of sharing quieter, heavier conversations, confiding in one another once again. One evening, after a long day, the two of you sat on your couch, an old movie playing in the background as you nursed glasses of wine. Luke had been quieter than usual, and you could tell something was weighing on him.

Luke, despite his mood significantly lifted as he spent time around you again, couldn’t shake the weight that followed him from New Jersey. The doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, even in moments of laughter and ease. Being with you was a welcome reprieve, a chance to remember a version of himself that wasn’t defined by statistics or expectations. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the voice that questioned if he’d ever truly get his groove back — if the player he once was was still in there, waiting to be found, or if he’d lost that spark for good.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked, breaking Luke from his incessant thoughts.

Even after being apart for a few years, you could still read Luke like a book. He got no better at hiding what was running through his mind as he got older. That, or you got better at reading people as you aged. Though you were always good at it.

“No, no… It’s a lot, don’t worry about it.” Luke answered, focusing back on the movie playing, though he had missed so much of the plot he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

“C’mon,” you said, sticking your foot out and nudging his thigh with your toe. “It’s me.”

It was you. You had always kept his secrets, even his deepest darkest ones, like when he confided in you about how he didn’t know if he wanted to pursue hockey, despite it being practically expected of him. You also always knew what to say, giving the best advice, like when you told him he was being irrational because hockey was all he thought of and what he had dreamed of since kindergarten.

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on the deep red liquid in his glass. “It’s just… hard, you know? This season. Everything feels off. I keep messing up, and it’s like no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake it. The comparisons to Jack and Quinn — they’re constant. And the worst part is, I feel like they’re right. Like I’m not good enough to be in the NHL.”

Luke’s voice cracked slightly as he continued, his grip tightening on the glass. “It’s like I’m not even me anymore. I’m just… Jack and Quinn’s younger brother. The one who hasn’t lived up to the hype. The one who’s just an extension of them.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m so tired of it. Of being seen as this kid who only got here because of who he’s related to.”

You placed your glass on the coffee table, shifting to face him fully. “You’re tired of being known for who you know,” you said gently, watching as his eyes flickered toward yours, the weight of your words visibly landing.

Luke nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Exactly. I just want to be Luke. Not someone’s little brother. Not some placeholder. Just… me.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Then start there,” you said. “Stop letting other people’s opinions decide how you see yourself. You’re not Jack. You’re not Quinn. You’re Luke — the guy who’s passionate, hardworking, and ridiculously competitive.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “I’ve seen that side of you, even when you were a kid. You always wanted to carve your own path. And you’re doing that now, whether you feel it or not.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “It’s hard to believe that sometimes.”

“I get that,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “But Luke, your brothers didn��t get you to the NHL. You got you there. They’re part of your story, yeah, but they’re not the whole story. You’ve earned this. You belong here. And I know it feels like you’ve lost your way, but maybe this slump is just part of figuring out how to be the player you want to be.”

Luke looked at you for a long moment, his green eyes filled with a mixture of doubt and something softer — hope, maybe. “You really think I can turn it around?”

“Luke. You really think your entire NHL career is over after one bad season?” you said, snorting at your own words. Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at his own over-dramatics. “I know you can turn it around… I have no doubt. But you need to start believing it yourself.”

A faint smile replaced his troubled expression, and he set his glass aside, leaning back against the couch. “You always know what to say.”

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “That’s because I’ve always believed in you, Luke. Even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

For the first time that evening, Luke let out a quiet laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice soft. “For being here. For… everything.”

“Always,” you said, meaning it more than you realized.

The rest of the night passed quietly, the two of you lost in conversation and shared memories. And as Luke left your place that evening, he felt lighter, the weight on his shoulders not entirely gone but more manageable.

The next day, the realization that it was Luke’s last night in Michigan crept into every shared moment. It added a bittersweet edge to the laughter and easy camaraderie that had blossomed between you over the past few days. You both avoided bringing it up during dinner, the unspoken knowledge settling between you like a silent companion.

After the meal, Luke suggested going for a walk. The winter air was crisp, and the stars shone brightly in the clear Michigan sky as you strolled down familiar streets, your breath visible in the cold. You pulled your coat tighter around you, glancing at Luke as he walked beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Thanks for spending so much time with me this week,” he said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

You smiled softly. “I wanted to. Besides, it’s been nice… like old times.”

Luke chuckled, though there was a wistfulness in it. “Yeah, it has. Better, even.”

The two of you fell silent again, the sound of your footsteps crunching on the snow-covered pavement filling the void. You turned onto a quieter street, where the houses were dark, their occupants already tucked away for the night. You glanced at Luke, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his mood having shifted from a moment ago.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you teased lightly, hoping to coax him out of his silence.

He stopped walking, turning to face you. His expression was serious, his brows knit as though wrestling with something he hadn’t planned to say. “I think I’ve been running from a lot of things,” he began, his voice low and steady, “but especially you.”

The words hung in the air between you, raw and unexpected. Luke took a step closer, his green eyes searching yours. “When we drifted apart, I told myself it was just the way things had to be. That the distance, my career — it was all just part of life. But I see now… I could’ve fought harder. I should’ve fought harder. For us.”

His admission made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions flooding through you. You had spent years wondering if he regretted letting you go, if he missed you as much as you missed him. And now, hearing the regret in his voice, it felt both validating and bittersweet.

“Luke…” You took a breath, steadying yourself. “It hurt, you know? Losing you. But I understood why you made the choices you did. Your career — it’s everything you’ve worked for, and I didn’t want to be the one holding you back.”

“I never thought of it that way,” he interjected quickly, his tone earnest. “You were never holding me back. If anything, you grounded me. You believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. And I’m sorry. For not saying that. For not fighting harder to keep you in my life.”

You nodded, emotions welling in your chest. “I won’t lie — it was hard. But I’ve always rooted for you, Luke. Even from afar, even quietly. Even if it meant letting you go.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. Luke’s gaze softened, and he nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he said softly.

“Enough with what you do and don’t deserve,” you said shaking your hand. “Cause you’re stuck with me anyways.”

The walk back to your car was quieter, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was filled with a sense of understanding, of unspoken words that no longer needed to be said.

The next morning, as you drove Luke to the airport, the mood was bittersweet. He promised to keep in touch this time, and for once, you believed he might actually follow through. When you hugged him goodbye, he lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if reluctant to let go.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you said, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“You too,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “And thank you. For… everything.”

After Luke returned to New Jersey, something shifted within him. The heaviness of expectation and self-doubt hadn’t completely vanished, but your words lingered in his mind like an anthem: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

For the first time in months, he started seeing his struggles not as failures but as opportunities to grow. Instead of obsessing over his brothers’ accomplishments or the weight of media scrutiny, he set smaller, personal goals. Maybe he wouldn’t assist on every goal scored in every game or win the Norris, but he could focus on winning his battles in the corners, improving his breakout passes, and becoming a reliable presence on the ice.

That renewed mindset brought subtle changes to his game. At first, it was just flashes — an extra step to break up a play, a crisp pass that led to a goal. His confidence grew with each small victory, and while the slump didn’t disappear overnight, it didn’t feel insurmountable anymore.

Through it all, you and Luke became each other’s anchors. Despite the distance, your late-night conversations became a constant. You’d talk about everything — your classes, his games, old memories, and future dreams. Sometimes, the chats were lighthearted, filled with laughter as you teased him about his weird superstitions, like tying his left skate before his right. Other times, they were raw and vulnerable, as you vented about the pressures of school and fear of what came beyond graduation.

It wasn’t always easy. There were nights when his games ended late, or you were swamped with assignments, but both of you made the effort. The bond you shared was undeniable, and as the weeks passed, Luke found himself thinking about you more and more. The idea of a life without you felt incomplete — like something vital was missing.

One night, after a grueling loss to the Washington Capitals, Luke couldn’t shake the disappointment. He had played well, but the team had faltered, and the sting of another defeat hung heavy in the air. Sitting in his car outside the arena, he found himself dialing your number.

You answered on the second ring, your voice warm and familiar despite the late hour. “Hey, everything okay?”

Luke hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Not really. I’m getting better at handling the pressure, but…something still feels off.”

“Want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

He leaned back in his seat, staring at the dashboard. “I hate that I’m here and you’re there,” he admitted. His voice was raw, tinged with frustration. “I hate that I keep letting distance get in the way of us. It’s like, no matter how well I play or how much I try to focus on hockey, it doesn’t feel right. Not without you.”

His confession hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had felt the distance too, in quiet moments when you wished he were there to share a laugh or hold your hand. But hearing him say it made the ache more real.

“I miss you too,” you finally said, your voice quieter now, but steady. “More than I can put into words. But Luke…this, us — it’s worth fighting for. Even if it’s hard sometimes.”

Luke closed his eyes, letting the weight of your words sink in. He’d known it deep down, but hearing you say it gave him a renewed sense of clarity. “I know it is. I just… I don’t want this to feel like something I’m waiting for. I want it to feel like something we’re building.”

“And we are,” you reassured him. “Every late-night call, every text, every moment we make time for each other — it’s not just waiting, Luke. It’s us figuring it out together. And as much as I’d love for things to be easier, maybe this is how we know it’s real. Because even when it’s tough, we still choose each other.”

His chest tightened, not with sadness, but with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You always had this way of grounding him, of reminding him what mattered most. “How are you so good at this?” he asked with a soft laugh, the edges of his frustration beginning to melt away.

“Good at what?”

“Making me feel like I’m not completely screwing everything up,” he admitted.

“Because you’re not,” you replied firmly. “You’re trying, Luke. That’s more than enough. You’re enough.”

A few weeks later, as the regular season wound down and playoffs loomed, you found yourself on another late-night call with Luke. This time, he seemed lighter, more at ease, even as the intensity of the season ramped up. It was a stark contrast to the stressed, self-critical tone he’d had earlier in the year.

“You ready for the playoffs?” you asked, genuinely curious. The way he’d been playing lately, it seemed like he’d turned a corner, but you couldn’t help wondering how he was handling the weight of it all.

“Yeah,” he said simply, without hesitation.

His answer caught you off guard. “You’re not nervous?”

“Nope.” He chuckled, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. But nervous? Not really.”

You smiled to yourself, a wave of pride and relief washing over you. “That’s new.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he admitted. “I don’t know… I think I finally realized that worrying doesn’t help. I’ve spent so much time obsessing over being perfect, over trying to measure up to everyone else, that I forgot to just enjoy playing the game. And honestly, I’m tired of carrying all that pressure around. Hockey’s supposed to be fun.”

Hearing him say it so confidently, so matter-of-factly, made your heart swell. For months, you’d watched him wrestle with self-doubt, pushing himself to the brink in search of validation. Now, he sounded like someone who had finally made peace with himself — or at least started to.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” you said softly. “It’s not easy to let go of that stuff.”

“It’s easier with you,” he replied, his voice tinged with warmth. “You’ve always been in my corner, even when I wasn’t in my own. That means everything.”

The playoffs arrived sooner than Luke anticipated, and with them, a surge of pressure that made it harder to focus on anything outside the rink. But Luke stepped onto the ice for Game 1 with a steadiness that surprised even him. The crowd roared, the energy was electric, and though the stakes were higher than ever, he didn’t let it overwhelm him. Instead, he focused on the little things — staying composed under pressure, trusting his instincts, and playing the way he knew he could. Game by game, he chipped away at his self-doubt, leaning into the mental resilience he’d been building all season.

The Devils clawed their way through the first two rounds, overcoming grueling battles and earning every victory. Luke’s performance was a reflection of his growth. While he wasn’t the flashiest player on the ice, he was reliable, steady, and clutch when it mattered most. He had a knack for breaking up key plays, making smart decisions under pressure, and even contributing a few timely assists and goals that had the crowd on their feet.

Through it all, you were there, albeit through a screen. You found a way to catch every game, even the ones that happened in between your exams, forgoing studying to watch Luke zip around the ice. Your support grounded him, a reminder that no matter how chaotic things got on the ice, he had someone who believed in him unconditionally.

By the time the conference finals arrived, the Devils were a team to be reckoned with. Facing off against the Carolina Hurricanes, the series was a war of attrition — fast-paced, physical, and emotionally draining. Luke felt the pressure mounting, but he refused to let it control him. Instead, he leaned into the same mantra that had carried him through his struggles earlier in the season: You’ve earned this. You belong here.

The series stretched to six games, with each one more intense than the last. Luke played some of his best hockey, blocking shots, setting up plays, and doing whatever it took to keep his team in the fight. But in the end, the Hurricanes proved too strong. In Game 6, with the Devils down by a goal late in the third period, Luke was on the ice for a final push. They came heartbreakingly close, but the buzzer sounded, and just like that, the run was over.

The locker room was heavy with silence afterward, the weight of the loss pressing down on everyone. Luke sat at his stall, still in his gear, staring at the floor. It hurt — of course it did. But this time, the pain wasn’t accompanied by the same crushing self-criticism he’d once felt after losses. Instead, he felt a deep sense of pride. They had made it this far, farther than many had expected, and he knew he’d left it all on the ice.

Later that night, he called you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Hey,” you replied, bracing yourself. You’d seen the loss and expected him to be devastated. “How are you holding up?”

He surprised you with a small chuckle. “Honestly? I’m okay. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks, but… I feel like I gave it everything I had. That’s all I can do, right?”

Pride swelled in your chest. This wasn’t the Luke you remembered from a year ago, who would’ve let the loss consume him. “I’m so proud of you,” you said sincerely. “For how you’ve handled all of this. You’ve grown so much, Luke.”

Your words stayed with him long after the call ended, echoing in his mind like a steady drumbeat. You’ve grown so much, Luke.

Your graduation day dawned bright and warm, the campus alive with energy as classmates, friends, and families gathered to celebrate. You felt a swirl of emotions — pride, excitement, and a faint wistfulness. While you were thrilled to be closing this chapter, part of you couldn’t ignore the ache of someone missing. You had tried to manage your expectations, knowing Luke's NHL schedule and how taxing the playoffs had been. But as you slipped on your cap and adjusted your gown, you couldn’t shake the quiet hope that maybe, somehow, he’d be there.

The ceremony itself was a blur of speeches, applause, and cheers. Crossing the stage, you accepted your diploma with a wide smile, the weight of your hard work finally lifted. Afterward, you joined the throng of graduates filtering toward the quad, where your family had promised to wait. Spotting them amidst the crowd, you waved, your heart swelling with love as you saw your mom, dad, and younger brother standing together. But then, your eyes caught on something — or someone — else.

Luke was standing behind them with a bouquet of fresh daisies, baby's breath, and soft pink roses tied with a satin ribbon. His boyish grin was unmistakable, and it softened the moment your eyes met. The disbelief must have been written all over your face because his grin widened as he gave you a small wave.

Your legs carried you forward without hesitation. First, you hugged your parents and brother, exchanging congratulations and laughter, but your gaze kept darting back to Luke. Finally, you stepped toward him, your voice catching as you said, “What…? You’re here?”

He held the bouquet out to you, a little sheepishly. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he said, his voice low and warm. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. I had to be here.”

Your chest tightened with emotion as you accepted the flowers, their sweet fragrance mingling with the warmth of his presence. “Luke, I didn’t think—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, his eyes steady on yours. “And I’m sorry for making you think I wouldn’t come. But I wanted it to be a surprise. Your mom helped me with it, actually.”

You glanced over at your mother, who wore an undeniably large grin that stretched across her lips, her eyes practically sparkling with the kind of knowing satisfaction only a mother could have. She had always harbored a soft spot for Luke, often claiming he was the one boy you’d never quite forget. She firmly believed, with the quiet certainty that only years of maternal instinct could provide, that no matter how far life took you, he was the one you’d eventually find your way back to in the end.

Luke pulled your eyes back to his as he spoke again. “You’ve been there for me every step of the way, even when I didn’t deserve it. This is your moment, and I wanted to be part of it.”

Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away, laughing softly as you shook your head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he teased, his smile making your heart ache in the best way. “But seriously, I’m so proud of you. You did it.”

You didn’t think, you just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you close without hesitation, his embrace grounding you in a way that only he could.

As you pulled back from the hug, you caught your mother’s subtle signal—a raised brow and a little nod toward Luke. She knew, of course. She always knew. With a quick glance at your dad and brother, you gave them a look that clearly said, I need a minute alone with him.

“Why don’t we grab some photos?” your mom suggested, steering your dad and brother toward a picturesque spot by the fountain. You mouthed a quick thank you before turning back to Luke.

“Want to take a walk?” you asked, motioning toward the quiet pathways that wove through the campus.

“Lead the way,” Luke replied, his hands slipping into the pockets of his suit pants.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of distant laughter and celebration filling the air. You made your way toward a shaded grove near the library, a place where you had spent countless hours studying. Today, it felt almost sacred, a fitting backdrop for this moment.

“I’m glad you came,” you said finally, breaking the silence.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Luke replied, his voice earnest. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping at the way his jaw tensed like he was working up to something.

“Listen,” he began, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. His green eyes, usually bright and playful, were serious now, searching yours. “I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out how to say this without screwing it up, but here goes.” He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “You mean the world to me. You always have. And I know I didn’t always handle things right between us — I’ve made mistakes, I’ve let hockey, distance, and my own insecurities get in the way — but you’re the one person I can’t imagine my life without.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “I don’t want to keep pretending that what we have is just history or that I’m okay with being just friends. Because I’m not. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I don’t want to waste another second not saying it.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and electric. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The honesty in his eyes, the way his voice trembled just slightly—it was everything you had once hoped to hear from him and more.

“Luke,” you said softly, taking a step closer. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he replied, his voice steady despite the vulnerability etched into his features. “Say you’ll let me show you that I can be the person you deserve. Say you’ll be with me.”

A smile broke across your face, and before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said, your voice catching on the emotion swelling in your chest. “Yes. I’ll be with you.”

Luke’s smile was a mixture of relief and joy, as though he had been holding his breath and could finally exhale. He took a step toward you, his hands reaching out, and for a moment, it felt like everything in the world had paused — just the two of you, finally on the same page.

He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, and you felt the weight of the moment settle between you. Then, his gaze shifted upwards, and he chuckled softly. “Can’t kiss you with this thing on,” he teased softly.

Luke carefully slid the cap off your head, setting it aside on a nearby bench. The small gesture felt oddly intimate, like he was making room for something even more meaningful.

When his hands returned to your face, the warmth between you both felt undeniable. He leaned in, this time without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was tender at first, like he was savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours was more sure, more confident, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, realizing just how much better he was at it now than when he was 16.

When he finally pulled away, you both breathed deeply, as though trying to catch your bearings after such a powerful kiss. A small laugh escaped your lips, and you smirked, your heart racing. “You’ve definitely gotten better at that,” you said, your voice light with amusement.

Luke chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad you noticed,” he said, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “But I’m just getting started.”

You walked back toward your family, hand in hand with the boy who had always been a part of you. It was a moment to savor, but also one to look forward to—a future that felt just a little bit clearer, and a little bit brighter, because of him.

#this is so sweet #I loved this #lh43 #the character growth was everything

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snoopyhughes · 9 days ago

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snoopyhughes · 9 days ago

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↳ MIKKO RANTANEN SAYS GOODBYE TO THE AVALANCHE | 1.26.25

To my Colorado Avalanche teammates, the incredible fans in Denver and the entire organization, words cannot fully express how much these past 10 years have meant to me. From the moment I was drafted as a young player from my native Finland, this city embraced me and helped shape me both as an athlete and as a person. Winning the Stanley Cup here was a dream come true, and sharing that moment with all of you is something I will cherish forever. The trade to the Carolina Hurricanes came as a surprise to me, and it is still sinking in. That said, I am incredibly excited to join such a talented team and I can’t wait to get to work and contribute to their success this season. I feel very grateful for my time in Denver and wish to thank everyone in the organization, especially my teammates, coaches and our fans, for your unwavering support. I’ll carry the memories with me as I begin this new chapter of my career.

#don’t hmu please #i’m sick to my stomach

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snoopyhughes · 9 days ago

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Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: You and Quinn had always been close—too close, your friends would tease. Years of shared memories, late-night conversations, and inside jokes had built a foundation so strong it felt unshakable. But a tense dinner, a fight that neither of you could take back, and the silence that followed left you questioning everything.

Wordcount: 3.2k

Author’s note: this was written for @snoopyhughes in honour of @wyattjohnston Winter fic exchange. (Funnily enough we wrote a fic for each other. )

This is my first time writing Quinn so I hope I was able to capture him in a way that you like. Hope you enjoy! 🩵

There’s a hole inside my chest that’s shaped like you.

Quinn had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, a steady presence that had shaped so much of who you were. You had met Quinn on the first day of kindergarten, both of you small and uncertain, holding onto your parents' hands like lifelines. The teacher had paired you up for an icebreaker activity, and from the moment he had handed you a crayon that matched your favourite colour, it was as though the universe had already decided you’d be inseparable.

The years passed in a steady rhythm of friendship. Summers were spent biking around the neighbourhood until the streetlights came on, daring each other to jump off the rope swing into the lake, and falling into fits of laughter over inside jokes no one else could understand. When you scraped your knee trying to keep up with him on your rollerblades, Quinn was the one who patched you up with a Band-Aid and a slightly embarrassed “Sorry about that.”

High school was when things started to shift—at least for you. Quinn had always been effortlessly kind, a little quiet, and fiercely protective of you. You’d brush off his concern whenever you stayed out too late, but secretly, you loved it. It was Quinn’s way of saying he cared, even when he didn’t have the words for it.

He, on the other hand, seemed immune to the whirlwind of teenage drama that consumed everyone else. While your friends discussed their latest crushes, you couldn’t help but notice how Quinn stayed focused on hockey and his family. That focus never wavered, and you had a front-row seat to it all. From early-morning practices to late-night games, you watched as his quiet determination turned into something extraordinary.

You still remembered the day he was drafted into the NHL like it was yesterday. The room had been buzzing with excitement. You’d stood alongside his family, heart pounding with pride as his name was called. Quinn had hugged everyone in a blur—his parents, his brothers, and finally you. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his face breaking into a grin that made your chest ache with pride.

“I told you,” you’d whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “This is just the beginning.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Only because you were always there,” he said, and the weight of his words lingered long after he let you go.

And so through every stage of your lives you had been there for each other. Quinn had been there. He was the constant in your life, the one person you told everything. The one person you knew would always be there to listen. That’s why, when you started casually seeing Jake, you didn’t think twice about mentioning it to Quinn. After all, he’d always been there for you. Why would that ever change?

“It’s nothing serious,” you’d said over the phone one night, stretched out on your couch with a glass of wine in hand. “He’s nice, though. Funny, too.”

On the other end of the line, Quinn was quiet.

“Quinn?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, his voice a little distant. “So, uh, how’d you meet him?”

“At work,” you explained.

“He’s in marketing. We’ve been grabbing coffee and hanging out after work a bit. It’s been fun.”

“Fun,” Quinn echoed, and you could practically hear him frown.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just getting to know each other. Besides, it’s not like I’m marrying the guy.”

Quinn let out a low chuckle. “Right. Just as long as he treats you well.”

“He does,” you said firmly.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Quinn.”

“Someone has to,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t press him. You figured he was just being protective—Quinn had always been like that. From the moment you met as kids, he’d been quietly looking out for you, even when you didn’t realise you needed it. It was just part of who he was.

A couple of months later, things with Jake had shifted. What started as casual coffee dates turned into dinners, movie nights, and lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled up in his sheets.

Somewhere along the way, it became serious. You felt your heart soften, and you started picturing a future with him. So, naturally, you told Quinn about your developing feelings. He was your best friend, the one who knew you better than anyone.

“I think I’m falling for him,” you admitted, casually dropping it into conversation one evening while sitting on the couch in your living room.

“That’s great,” he said, his voice clipped.

“Is it?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t sound too excited.”

“No, I’m happy for you,” he said quickly, but there was a tension in his tone that you couldn’t ignore.

“Really. If he makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

You wanted to believe him, but something about the way he said it made your chest tighten.

Months passed, and things with Jake got even more serious. However you couldn’t help but notice the way Quinn avoided talking about Jake whenever his name came up. You convinced yourself that it didn’t matter. Quinn had always been protective, and maybe this was just his way of showing that he cared. But deep down, you couldn’t ignore that tight feeling in your chest every time Quinn grew distant when you mentioned Jake.

Finally, Quinn came to visit and you were excited to see him. It had been months since the last time you were in the same city, and you’d planned a whole weekend of catching up.

Jake had mentioned he’d like to meet Quinn and you thought it was a great idea. After all, Quinn was your best friend, and Jake was becoming an important part of your life. It only made sense for them to meet.

Quinn didn’t see it that way.

“What do you mean, he’s coming?” Quinn asked, his voice sharp, not meeting your eyes. “I thought it’d just be us this weekend.”

“He wants to meet you, Quinn,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “It’ll be good for you guys to finally get to know each other.”

Quinn’s gaze narrowed, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “I came here to spend time with you. Not with you and your boyfriend.”

You swallowed your frustration. “It’s just dinner, Quinn. It’ll be fine.”

He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Whatever. I just don’t get why he has to be here.”

“I told you,” you said, trying to remain calm. “He’s important to me. I want you to meet him.”

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I don’t see why I need to.”

“Because you’re my best friend,” you snapped. “And this is important to me.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then Quinn sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. Let’s go meet him.”

Jake, all confidence and charm, had reached out to shake Quinn’s hand, smiling as he said, “So, this is the famous Quinn, huh? Heard a lot about you.”

Quinn’s response had been a tight smile and a curt nod, his hand barely brushing Jake’s before he pulled it back.

The rest of the night was a train wreck. Jake made an effort—asking Quinn about hockey, trying to include him in conversations—but Quinn barely responded. He answered in monosyllables, his tone flat and his gaze cold.

He barely spoke to Jake, and you could feel yourself growing frustrated with your best friend.

When Jake left, he gave you a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Your friend doesn’t like me much, huh?”

You laughed awkwardly, brushing it off. “He’s just...reserved. Don’t worry about it.”

“What the hell was that?” you demanded as soon as the door closed behind Jake.

Quinn shrugged, his expression unreadable. “What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Quinn. You were a complete ass to him.”

“I wasn’t an ass,” he shot back, his voice defensive.

“Seriously? You barely said two words to him.”

“Maybe because I didn’t have anything to say,” he shot back, his jaw tight.

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “You didn’t even give him a chance. What is your problem?”

“Nothing,” Quinn said quietly, eyes glued to his phone screen. But you could hear the sharpness in his voice.

“We both know that’s not true,” you said, feeling the anger rise. “You’re being a jerk. You’re treating Jake like he’s some kind of enemy when he’s just a guy who likes me.”

Quinn stood up, his expression hard. “I never wanted to have dinner with him in the first place. You’re my best friend, my person and I barely got five minutes alone with you before he showed up.”

Your stomach sank. “So what? This is all about you?”

Quinn hesitated, his jaw working. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you but it was no use as your words came out angrier than you had intended. “I want you to explain to me why you can’t bring yourself to be nice to the person who’s a big part of my life now.”

Quinn’s eyes grew big when you raised your voice at him, he opened his mouth to say something in return but no words came out. Then without so much as another look, Quinn stormed out, leaving you standing in the silence of your apartment.

The following weeks were filled with tension. You tried calling, texting, but each attempt was met with cold indifference and it hurt.

When Quinn’s team had a game in the city, you decided to go, knowing it was time to fix things between you two. Walking into the arena, your emotions were a whirlwind of nerves and determination.

After the game, you found yourself waiting in the hall outside the locker room—a place you’d stood many times before, but never under these circumstances. In the past, it was always to celebrate a win or to coax him into dinner after a tough loss, not to confront the distance that had grown between you.

You and Quinn had never fought like this before, where months passed without a word. Even Jack had reached out, checking in to see how you were doing, puzzled by the fact that, for reasons unknown to him, Quinn never mentioned you anymore when they talked.

His teammates started leaving the locker room but Quinn was nowhere to be seen yet. Some minutes past and you bit your lip nervously until you finally spotted him, his face tense.

“Quinn,” you said softly, stepping toward him.

He didn’t meet your eyes right away. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Quinn finally turned to face you, his eyes guarded. “You didn’t hurt me. I just…I don’t know how to be around you and him. I’m not ready for that.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes and it made your heart ache. “But, you knew I was seeing someone, that it was serious.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t want it to be,” he muttered, his voice low.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Quinn didn’t answer right away. He stared at the floor, his hands clenched into fists. “It means I didn’t want to come here and see you with someone else. I didn’t want to watch you with him because—because it’s supposed to be me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Quinn…”

“I’m in love with you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been too much of a coward to tell you. And now—now I’ve ruined everything.”

The room was silent except for the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered.

“Because I didn’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice soft. “I didn’t want to mess this up.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Quinn, I…”

“I know you’re with Jake, and I don’t want to cause problems for you,” he said quickly. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”

You stepped back, trying to process everything. “I… I don’t know what to do,” you said, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “I really like Jake. I think I could love him. But—”

“But you don’t?” Quinn asked, his voice soft.

You hesitated. “I don’t know. I can’t just break up with him because you’ve decided to tell me you love me. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Quinn’s expression hardened, and his voice became quiet. “I’m not asking you to make a choice. I’m just telling you how I feel. But I’ll wait. If it’s not me, I’ll be okay.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I need time, Quinn. I need time to figure this out.”

Quinn nodded slowly, the hurt in his eyes evident. “Take all the time you need.”

He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Wait.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of everything. “I know you’re upset, but I need you in my life, Quinn. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

You’d spent countless nights thinking about Quinn. His voice, his smile, the way he made you laugh without trying—all of it played on a loop in your mind. It wasn’t something you wanted to admit, not to yourself and certainly not to anyone else. Not after the confession that had upended everything: “I’m in love with you,” Quinn had said, his voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of years of unspoken feelings.

Jake, sweet and understanding, had been patient through it all. But even he could sense that something was off. “What’s going on with you and Quinn?” Jake asked one night, his tone careful but firm. The two of you were sitting on the couch, the room lit only by the glow of the TV.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, the word spilling out too fast. You avoided his gaze, focusing instead on a spot on the wall that suddenly seemed fascinating.

Jake wasn’t convinced. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he said, his brow furrowed as he studied you. “I feel like…I don’t know. Like part of you isn’t really here.”

His words struck deeper than you expected, a direct hit to the truth you’d been trying so hard to bury. You opened your mouth to deny it, to reassure him, but the truth caught in your throat, refusing to be ignored.

Jake sighed, leaning back against the couch. His expression softened, though his eyes held a trace of sadness. “I like you. A lot,” he said, his voice gentle. “But I think you need to figure out what you want. And I don’t think it’s me.”

You blinked, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. You cared for Jake—he was kind, patient, and everything you thought you wanted. But even as he said the words, you knew he was right. The truth had always been there, lingering just beneath the surface.

That night, you and Jake broke up. There were no harsh words, no accusations, just an unspoken understanding that you couldn’t give him what he deserved when your heart was so clearly elsewhere. As you lay awake in the quiet of your room later, your thoughts drifted back to Quinn.

Jake had been right; you needed to figure out what you wanted. And what you wanted wasn’t here. It was a few hundred miles away, in Vancouver.

The decision was impulsive in the end. One moment you were sitting at your kitchen table, staring at your phone, and the next, you were booking a last-minute flight. The thought of showing up unannounced made your stomach churn, but you couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to see Quinn.

The flight felt endless, every passing minute dragging on as you rehearsed what you might say to him. What if he didn’t feel the same anymore? What if you’d waited too long? But another thought kept you steady: the look in his eyes when he told you he loved you. That look was what gave you hope.

By the time you arrived in Vancouver, the sun was beginning to set, casting the city in shades of gold and pink. The cab ride to Quinn’s apartment was quiet, the driver’s soft hum to the radio doing little to calm your nerves. You clutched your bag tightly, your heart racing as the city blurred past.

Finally, the cab pulled up in front of Quinn’s building. You hesitated for a moment, staring at the door as if it might swallow you whole. With a deep breath, you got out, your legs carrying you forward almost on autopilot. You stepped into the lobby, found his name on the intercom, and pressed the button before you could second-guess yourself.

When the door buzzed open, you made your way up to his floor, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time you reached his apartment, you were trembling, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling inside you.

You knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. It felt like an eternity before the door opened, revealing Quinn in a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair tousled like he’d just woken up. His eyes widened when he saw you, a mix of surprise and something softer flashing across his face. As if he couldn’t believe it was actually you standing there.

“I broke up with Jake,” you blurted, your voice trembling slightly.

Quinn’s head snapped toward you, his expression shifting to one of shock. “What? Why?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding so hard you thought he might hear it. “Because he’s not you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. Quinn didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, pulling you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss was everything you’d imagined it would be—desperate and messy, filled with years of unspoken feelings finally spilling over.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“Me too,” you admitted, clutching his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

The next morning felt like a dream. You sat together on his couch, his arm draped casually over your shoulders as you scrolled through your phone.

Everything felt so natural, so easy, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Are we going to tell Jack and Luke?” you asked, glancing up at him with a small smile.

Quinn smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. “They’re going to say, ‘Finally’ and then proceed to tease me endlessly.”

You laughed, leaning into him, feeling lighter than you had in months. Everything was exactly as it should be.

#omg I love!!!!#he’s so sweet #I love him #thank you so much! 🩷#exchanges #received #xoxo

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