#experience canucks hockey..
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
A long overdue video of the Hughesbowlâ˘ď¸ fight!
#conor garland#erik haula#vancouver canucks#cg8#nhl hockey#quinn hughes#jack hughes#luke hughes#canucks#new jersey devils#experience canucks hockey..#this was an experience#love it when garly gets into fights he knows he can't win
35 notes
¡
View notes
Text
PLAYOFF HOCKEY IS BACK IN VANCOUVER
#THE CANUCKS ARE PLAYOFF BOUND#iâm so excited for quinn and petey and everyone else to get to experience playoff hockey in rogers arena#vancouver canucks#quinn hughes#elias pettersson#jt miller#nils hĂśglander#brock boeser
132 notes
¡
View notes
Text
âthere hasnât been one week of happinessâ thanks Landon we already knew
11 notes
¡
View notes
Text
SHUT UP AND SHUT OUT
8 notes
¡
View notes
Text
we have surpassed the need for the colorado avalanche.
#i'm sick to my goddamn stomach#'experience canucks hockey' has officially hit#blew a 3-0 lead. desmith in the net. quinn hughes wont stop yapping. everyone is in the box. avs keep getting away with it. jt's head#canucks lb
18 notes
¡
View notes
Text
the wild play... tumblrs favorite team today (?)
#oh no me and k r gonna be enemies tonight... my hockey tutor....! what can i do đđđ#im kinda excited (mostly bc it's at a good time for me) i hope we make quinn hughes miserable i like that one pic of him.#hock.txt#ok actually if u made me rank 'which teams r most popular based on the random sample size of my dash'#it would probably be 1) penguins 2) toronto 3) Canucks 4) maybe just giroux on their own#ranking obviously not including my beloved 1 isles superfan (sez) and the wild. for whom i think i follow like six blogs but im kinda bad#at finding people#Honestly the individual fandom bit with some of these guys i see sort of remind me of f1#Weird meld b/w my sports fandom experience. And also they're ON ICE SKATES.#Oh I forgot about the oilers. Connor. Mcdavid team. Do ppl like them or do they just like Connor mcdavid. Idk
9 notes
¡
View notes
Text
best believe Iâm still giggling about what happened 5 minutes in
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
found out while i was checking brockâs height in the nhl app that they gave his first goal to elias lindholm
#goodbye brock boeser ten minute hatty#it was a beautiful experience to know you existed even for a moment#vancouver canucks#hockey shit#wtf dima
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
experience canucks hockey !!
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
conor garland having his first multi-goal game of the season and his first fucking hat trick to win in ot after the team blew a 3-goal lead during the last game of the season against the coyotes is just the canucks clusterfuck experience Â
#conor garland#vancouver canucks#experience canucks hockey#literally had everything in one game#myers takes a bad penalty#petey and hugs are mvps#goalie deals with the bad defense and passes in front of him#a multi-goal lead that disappears minutes before the third period ends#and burroughs gets into a fight as usual#arizona coyotes#love the yotes though#keller is an insanely underrated player
6 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Y'know, never thought we'd be trailing to the San Jose Sharks but the Canucks surprise me every single day đđđđđ
1 note
¡
View note
Text
now what did i just say.
#sides.txt#canucks lb#im actually not watching the game my mental state is too volatile to experience canucks hockey today so im just gonna eat dinner.
1 note
¡
View note
Text
GORGEOUS
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
deeply unserious for the three leading goal scorers in the league adding to their totals on the same goal btw
#experience canucks hockey or whatever#the divorcees and quinn are being called the 3 amigosâŚ.. unreal#canucks lb
9 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Really guys
Really guys. Really.
#sigh#experience canucks hockey#Iâm at work I look away from the app for one period ONE LOUSY PERIOD
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Ňá´á´Ę á´ĘÉŞs á´Ąá´Ę
[25.3k] Pairing | Quinn Hughes x afab!reader Summary | summer houses and situationships. For three years straight everyone had to watch Quinn and y/n be more than friends but less than a couple until the curse of the lake house stirs the pot Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to situationship to lovers, swearing, the Tkachuks-, underage drinking, insecurities (appearance, self-esteem), dry humping, protected p in v, suggested blowjob, jealousy, angst, making out, creepy behaviour towards y/n, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl), fingering, fluff Authors Note | my canucks pint glass arrived and i really put my whole megussy into this. Based on this after hours! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ⍠objects in the mirror - mac miller  [small worlds masterlist]
The Hughes lake house had some sort of curse to it. One that turned hot summer days, even hotter and changed the trajectory of relationships. Quinn and y/n could go through the school term smoothly, balancing homework, hockey and hanging out without stress, distracted by their friend groups until the summer. But one foot on the lake house driveway and the atmosphere would shift. Hormones would surge, and suddenly, all that mattered was who liked who, how good they looked and if they were missing out on core experiences. Something about that lake house confining them just stirred the pot too well.
Y/n L/n had lived next to Quinn Hughes since she was a child in a quiet neighbourhood in the suburbs of Toronto, where surviving winters became second nature, where watching hockey became second nature due to her fatherâs unhinged passion for the sport that flowed through the genes. Her mother never really understood it, but her children did, resulting in the winterâs plans revolving around the hockey schedule, but bumping into Ellen Hughes next door, she came around.Â
Ten-year-old y/n sat on her front porch step, huddled in her thick coat and hat while the cold bit her nose frozen. It had finally stopped snowing, the one day in January when it hadnât snowed once, not that they needed any more, the houses constantly blanketed in white, driveways and roads shovelled and gritted clear every morning. She couldâve been building a snowman with her little brother and dad, watching TV with her mum in the warmth of the living room, or even sledging with her friends as she had originally planned. However, instead, she sat stiff, but happily, on the step and watched the Hughes boys play hockey on the road with their two beaten-up goals, sticks and a plastic ball (it used to be a puck but since Jack sent it straight into her dadâs car door last year, Jim sent the terrified boy over to apologise and told them to use hollow plastic balls while on the road). She smiled brightly the whole time, listening to the ball rattle and skid along the concrete, and Quinn scolded Jack for being too rough on Luke, who had no choice but to be the goalie, being the youngest of the three. Fortunately, sheâd never had to have that experience, but Lukeâs lip wobbling and Quinn pulling him into a hug was like looking into a mirror, reminding her that she had a six-year-old brother to take care of.Â
Sheâd been too focused on watching her brother fuss around with her dad, both attempting to roll the snow into their snowmanâs head to notice the first time Quinn approached her. His boots crunched into the grit along the path, two hockey sticks in his hockey-glove-clad hands and stopped a small distance opposite her sitting figure. She looked up at him, almost startled that heâd approached her after ten years of being neighbours, his chubby cheeks flushed pink and tufts of brown hair sticking out from under his Maple Leafs beanie. Many days, sheâd watched him from afar, out the window or school, observing his comforting demeanour in nothing but adoration like a little puppy; whatever Quinn was up to, her curiosity was piqued. Now heâd seen her physical being and why her heart raced was confusing and nothing sheâd felt before.
âWould you like to join us?â he asked politely, holding one of the sticks out. Thatâs what he was, the quiet and polite brother, sheâd noticed that at the neighbourhood barbecues at least, compared to Jack, who, while Quinn softly offered her participation with heaven in his eyes, yelled at the top of his lungs for Quinn to hurry up. The middle child, the loudest child, but the one with the biggest smile and brightest blue eyes sheâd ever seen.
âUh,â she pursed, âyeah, but I donât know how to play.â She lied, of course; she knew how to play, but the boys were so much better than she was and looking stupid wasnât part of her ego; she was the eldest daughter, and failure wasnât an option.
âItâs okay, Iâll teach you.â he giggled and let her take the stick, patiently waiting for her to follow him. Stick in hand, she followed, gaze never leaving his face.
âI donât have any gloves either.â
Quinn halted, spinning on his heel and tucking his stick under his arm. He took her free hand, gently pulled it towards him, and un-velcroed his glove, âUse mine, itâs better your hands protected from Jack.â He repeated for her other hand, flashing a smile before heading to his brothers.
âY/nâs playing?â Jack piped up, she nodded, âCool! Now we have a goalie so Luke can play!â
Quinn scowled at him, âNo, we have even teams. Y/nâs the oldest so she can choose her teammate.â He wasnât wrong, she was just about older than Quinn, not by much.Â
âI pick Quinn. Heâs gonna teach me how to play though.â The choice wasnât much of a surprise to Jack, he may have been nine but the moment his brother stopped their game - a rare occurrence -Â and laid eyes on her, he figured that Quinnâs priorities had shifted and all of a sudden their trio would develop to a quartet.Â
Jack let out an elongated whine, âShe doesnât know how to play? Quiiiiinn!!â
âSo? We didnât at one point.â Quinn asserted in his stern tone. That was the last complaint Jack made. He watched his older brother teach her visually with patience; hand positioning on the stick, stance how low she needed to be, how to shoot and manoeuvre the ball, praising her passing to him. Luke and Jack watched quietly, the latter not too convinced she was a beginner at what he was watching but Quinn had never smiled that softly before, not even with Luke, and never had that level of patience with them. Seeing how encouraging Quinn was being, either way, Jack knew exactly what kind of hockey player he wanted to be.Â
Five years later Toronto still wrapped itself in its white blanket, pinching civilians with its cold hands and being a safety hazard to the roads for no real reason. Y/n had grown to hate it, not because she didnât think it was beautiful, but because she missed the months when she didnât have to spend five minutes just layering up before she could leave the house. What she didnât hate was watching her brother be forced into shovelling the driveway. Her father and Jim seemed to have formed this alliance involving the youngest doing manual labour before school, and let Quinn, Jack and y/n watch and sit smug. Jack said it was because they skipped hockey practice to go to the arcade, which although no one would say aloud, she knew that it was her brotherâs idea, thatâs just eleven-year-old boys. She and Quinn neither confirmed nor denied the story, even if they had known about it the whole time, Quinn even heard them talking about it and y/n caught them at the arcade on their hands and knees scavenging for coins.
What had changed in those five years was life itself. Fifteen years old, the age when classmates' growth spurts became the bane of every parentâs existence, boyâs voices dropped and cracked and when everyone suddenly cared about everything about anyone. What they were wearing, how big their chests had grown, if it was normal for tummies to fold when they sat down, who was dating who, where the term âslutâ was thrown around casually, who was hot and who was not, what was cool and what was cringe - the whole ordeal that tore teenagers up inside.
Y/n hadnât cared too much for what she wore, or how she looked until a couple of girls at school pointed out that wearing graphic t-shirts and cargo trousers made her a boy (which was absolute bullshit, but one personâs insecurities become someone elseâs in adolescence), and that having a few spots on her skin meant she was ugly. And if it wasnât girls tearing each other to shreds over minor things such as that, then it was the boys in constant competition with one another to be âthe alpha maleâ, as Quinn described to her. The other thing about the situation was that someone had projected the idea that boys and girls simply canât be just friends. And if by chance the two groups were, the belief was that one of them was secretly in love with the other, or they were using them to get to their friend or learn how to impress. Fifteen-year-olds really couldnât decide if they wanted to kiss or kill each other on-site. Y/n knew what she wanted, but wasnât sure if she was allowed to want it. Her friends asked her regularly; âdo you prefer Jack or Quinn? Whoâs cuter?â, to which she never replied, at least twice a month.Â
Bang. Swipe. Bang. Swipe. Bang. Y/n and Jack shot pucks into the net consecutively like clockwork. With Luke and her brother at practice (this time) and Quinn out with friends, she and Jack were left to entertain each other. Usually, the eldest Hughes wouldâve been the one shooting pucks with Jack, but the more y/n joined him, the more Jack preferred rallying with her.Â
Jack took a firm shot, the puck darting but bouncing off the crossbar, thumping into the fence, and chipping the wood, âOh come on! We had such a good thing goinâ!â
She only giggled and watched him gather pucks to start rapid firing to make up for it. His eyes shined, a fire burning in them as he went on. She knew the girls fawned over him, worshipped him like some prince despite never speaking to him. She knew they thought he was pretty, she knew he was pretty with a charming smile and that Jack used to navigate his way around school. But on the ice that didnât matter. At home that didnât matter. Those girls would never know Jack, theyâd never know that the moment something's wrong heâd run to Quinn, never know that heâd do anything for Luke and most importantly theyâd never know that he and y/n spent more time together than either of them let on.Â
âAre girls and guys your age allowed to be friends?â she blurted out, staring blankly at him. Jack lowered his stick and turned to face her.
âWhat?,â he said, dumbfounded at such a random question to ask on a Saturday afternoon, âWhy wouldnât they? Someone say somethinâ to you? Someone makinâ fun of you and Quinn? Did Quinn say anything?âÂ
He may be a little brother, but he was also, someoneâs older brother. The way his boyish smile dropped and jaw tensed, the grip on his hockey stick tightened, how could anyone not think Jack Hughes was cute?Â
âNo, no- Quinnâs fine! Just that kids my age say that they canât. That one of them always likes the other. But hearing what you said makes me realise itâs just dumb.âÂ
âWell, youâre a girl, Iâm a guy and weâre friends, right?â his body relaxed, and he turned to shoot pucks again. Hockey mind, hockey heart. Y/n watched him momentarily before rejoining him, sweeping a puck from the pile between them and whacking it at the net. âYou and Quinn are friends too, right?â
As she lined up her stick to take another shot, she paused, her mind draining, âYeah, I guess youâre right,â she took the shot, Jack following with a toothy grin, âRowdy, do you think your girl friends are pretty?â
Sheâd thought about it regularly if it was acceptable to believe your friends were attractive or if you had to believe they werenât. It was hard to deny that Hughes had strong genes, Ellen was beautiful after all. Luke still had the cuteness of youth, barely grown into his features, Jack owned the blue eyes and pretty smile of a prince but Quinn? The dark curls and quiet nature was his forte.Â
âSome,â he shrugged, âQuinn thinks youâre pretty. He likes your t-shirts and laugh.â
Y/n froze and looked at him bug-eyed. He snitched on Quinn so casually, like the weight of his words wouldnât unleash butterflies into her stomach. At the same time, she tried to process the information, she couldnât help but be curious to know what kind of conversation went down for Quinn to admit that.Â
âMy friend, Trevor, thinks youâre pretty too, but I think he just likes your boobs. Oh, one of Quinnyâs friends said heâd take you, whatever that means, but Quinn literally yelled at him. I have never seen him so close to hitting a guy.âÂ
Trust Jack to spill all his friendâs and brotherâs secrets, sheâd expected nothing less from him. Quinn getting so riled up over a comment wasnât on her bingo card, he wasnât the kind of guy to react aggressively let alone hit someone, he rarely fought in hockey let alone outside of it. The other two comments didnât mean half as much as Quinnâs, teenage boys were immature and violently horny, but processing what Quinnâs friend had - allegedly - said did bring a nauseating feeling in her stomach, but she didnât think any of his friends would ever say anything like that out loud ever again, not while Quinn was around at least.Â
*
Thirty minutes. Quinn had gotten home from practice thirty minutes ago and her phone hadnât flashed once. Thirty minutes of constant checking for his name on her screen, although nothing new. He always texted her after practice, letting her know heâd be home if she needed anything, but this evening he hadnât. If it were anyone else she wouldnât have batted an eye, but she watched their car pull up on their drive, she watched Jack barrel out but hadnât seen Quinn. While she waited, she completed her homework, milked Vine dry, and scrolled Instagram and YouTube wasnât hitting. Y/n sighed, tossing her phone onto her bedsheets, grabbed her plaid pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and concluded a shower should ease her mind.
It didnât. She dropped him a text but to no surprise, it sat unread. Her stomach stirred, her gut feeling wailing sirens and adrenaline swirling through her body. Looking at the time, 19:48, and weighing out the decision that he was only next door, y/n slipped a hoodie over her head, threw her trainers on and crept out the front door to the Hughes. If he wouldnât come to her, sheâd go to him, prepared for whatever mood or situation he was in.Â
She knocked gently twice, knowing she wouldnât be waiting long since Jim was a prompt door-answerer. Even so, the breeze was nippy, her hoodie not doing much to hold her warm in the evening chill. The lock jolted from the other side, but Jim didnât stand before her this time, it was Jack, who couldnât have made it more obvious that his nerves struck him by his wide eyes and faltering jaw as if he were trying to get the words out.
âIs Quinn home?âÂ
Jack, stepped back hesitantly, letting her shuffle past him and into the hallway, âUh, yeah but heâs pissed. Like, really pissed. Mumâs already tried to talk to him butâŚjust be careful, remember that anything he says when mad, he doesnât really mean.â Â
She nodded, heart hammering in her chest as she carefully made her way up the stairs, tiptoeing around loose hockey gloves. The wall was covered in family photos and awards, y/n always noticed the photograph of all three boys standing outside last autumn, Quinn wearing the grey hoodie that was glued to him, Jack in full burgundy (hat and coat too) and Luke in a Michigan University fleece that looked a little big on him, all refusing to smile. The landing upstairs was fairly simple, the stairs being in the corner, and the corridor being a long strip. Lukeâs room at the front of the house facing out into the street, Jackâs on the left side opposite Quinnâs, whose was on the right next to the stairs and Jim and Ellenâs at the back, facing into the garden. Considering they were neighbours, her house layout differed entirely, but after many years of running in and out, she memorised the rooms.
Standing outside his door, she knocked softly and waited for approval. She knocked again but also received no answer. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, she turned the handle and poked her head through the crack. Heâd heard the door click, stuffing his navy sheets into his face as she padded in quietly, closing the door behind her. The pounding of her heart stayed, her palms becoming clammy seeing the state of his room. It was never tidy, but the laundry hamper being kicked over was new. His collection of hockey sticks that he was adamant to keep upright had toppled to the floor and going by the skewed photo frame on his wall indicated that heâd slammed the door harder than he meant to. Sending his sulking figure a glance, she repositioned the photo. One where the two of them sat in her living room, huddled together wearing - Quinnâs - Maple Leafs jerseys while watching the game.Â
âFuck off, Jack,â his voice barely audible, âIf youâre here to chirp, I donât wanna hear it.â
Quinn felt the mattress dip beside him, âNot gonna chirp you, Q.â
He shot up, the duvet whipping towards her to uncover a dishevelled Quinn, hair tousled and t-shirt crumpled from hiding under his covers for so long, ây/n? Shit, sorry. Are you okay?âÂ
Whatever sour mood that intoxicated him washed away and was replaced with concern strangling him. His eyes widened, heâd completely ghosted her, too wrapped up in his self-wallowing, stomach dropping at how close he was to taking his frustration out on her too. He ran his hands over his face, the giggle she let out soothing his mood like a warm embrace.
âIâm good. But a little bird told me youâre not,â taking his hands into her own, she pulled them into his lap, âYou wanna talk about it?â
His gaze softened, shoulders slumping but heat rising in his neck as he kept their hands in his lap. She was so cold, although not far, she still came to him in thin pyjamas while the cold raged in a bitter attitude. Her thumb circled over his knuckles, attempting to calm him but instead of his heart finding a slow rhythm, it thundered in his chest unbearably.Â
He shrugged, âNot much to say,â his jaw opened, fumbling to get the words out, âI donât know, practice just went to shit. Felt like I couldâve done more, got screamed at by coach, alone, I was sloppyâŚbut donât pep-talk me, mumâs given me like, five.â
Y/n watched the light in his eyes fade, his voice becoming raspy the more he spoke about just a bad day. But a bad day was never a bad day with Quinn, it was the weight of the world crushing his shoulders as the oldest, and prodigy. If he slipped up once, it meant he would keep slipping up and let everyone down, let himself down until nobody believed in him anymore. She got it. She empathised, one of the only people in his life who could read his mind, dig into the crevices of his anxieties and ease them with just her existence alone. The more their skins held contact, the more fuzzy he felt inside, like a thousand flowers blooming in his chest at once.
âWasnât gonna. Câmere,â she held her arms out, letting him melt into her for a much-needed hug. Much needed indeed, Quinnâs arms hugged her waist tightly, burying his nose into the hollow of her neck while her fingers carefully threaded through his thick hair. Every insecurity that ate him up flushed away like the world had frozen and it was just the two of them, on his bed, wrapped up in each other with a confusing lightheadedness between them. Feeling his face nuzzle into her shoulder, her lips twitched into a smile and planted a chaste kiss on his hair. She realised she had done that seconds afterwards, as if sheâd done it on autopilot but it was something sheâd seen her parents do when seeking comfort, and sheâd watched it on TV shows. Nerves choked her, hoping Quinn wouldnât find it weird and shove her away, yelling all sorts of horrible things and never wanting to see her again. He didnât. Instead, he pulled their bodies backwards into his mattress.
Unwrapping her arms from his shoulders, she propped herself up, hands either side of his head while his hands sat loosely on her waist. His throat dried and he gulped, y/nâs nose ghosting his, eyes meeting before darting away to each other's lips, only to scan features. Her ears burned, the butterflies in her stomach storming and in that moment she accepted that she did and could find Quinn Hughes attractive. His hands on her body, his captivating eyes, the brown curls, the mole on his right cheek, plump lips slightly parted. The way his awful mood was sidelined when he knew it was her in his bedroom. All in her grip, right in front of her.
âCome back,â he mumbled, arms snaking around her waist firmly. Y/n nodded, licking her lips with adrenaline surging through her veins. Did kisses mean anything? What did it feel like to taste another person? How did kisses work? There was only one way to find out, and she had the opportunity clawing for her, âStay.âÂ
She lowered herself onto her elbows and tucked herself into his chest, her ear pressed against his pectoral, listening to his nerves pulse rapidly and laid her hand flat on his chest. They shimmied around, untucking the duvet from their bodies and pulling it over themselves. Quinnâs hand slipped into her pocket, sliding her phone out and placing it on his nightstand. She shouldâve told her parents where she was, but with enough faith Ellen or Jack would say something. That was the last thing on her mind, the biggest crisis that set all alarms off inside her head was that she was cuddling a boy for the first time. She was sharing a bed with a boy. And she liked it. Perhaps more than she should have, this was her childhood best friend, a boy sheâd grown up with, and although properly known for five years, had spent almost every day with him.Â
Quinnâs eyes fluttered closed, a small smile creeping onto his lips yet he could never describe the mayhem that stormed in his stomach. He almost kissed his first and best female friend. In his bed. Alone. Where no one would know about it. He wasnât ready to try and forget about it yet, move on and hope she wouldnât think he was using her or thinking she was easy. His friends had said he was lucky to have a girl friend because it meant he could get whatever he wanted, not that he agreed with that stance. He held her close and firm, relishing in the company of another while it lasted, and before his parents would give him an earful about it.
*
Valentineâs Day was far too meaningful for teenagers, at least in y/nâs mind. Youâre essentially celebrating a relationship thatâs likely to end by the end of high school but acting like itâs the live-all and end-all. Or maybe she just didnât understand the feeling or concept. No one had ever asked her out or asked her to be their Valentine before. She watched a couple of her friends go through it, one being over-the-top romantic with a bouquet, card and gift and the other being underwhelming, being nothing but a few words and a box of chocolates hand-me-down. He could have at least bought the chocolate himself instead of using one another girl gave him.Â
With the final bell ringing a few minutes ago, the hallway was finally empty, only y/n and a few other students left at their lockers. She had time, her dad wouldnât arrive for another seven minutes to pick her up since the Hughes boys left pronto for practice. She fished through her locker, checking for any love letters that could have been posted through the vents but to no surprise, nothing out of the ordinary. Did Quinn receive anything? Did other girls like his brooding demeanour like her? Did he accept any confessions? That hit her in the gut, hard. He wasnât hers but why did thinking about sharing him make her blood boil so much? Exhaling sharply, she slammed her locker shut, only to come face to face with a guy who resembled Quinn, but instead of blue eyes his were brown, and his bone structure had chiselled out faster. He leaned against the lockers, arms folded and flashed her a smile. She thought she recognised him, he played on the same team as Quinn and Jack. His name wasnât important (she couldnât remember), but sheâd be lying if she said he wasnât attractive.Â
âHey y/n,â she smiled at him, âSo uh, this ainât easy but youâre hard to catch alone.â
âCan I helpâŚyou?â she bit her lip, the pit of her stomach becoming tight and tingly with his eyes never leaving hers.
âJust wondering if youâd wanna grab smoothies this weekendâŚlike a date?â he didnât speak softly like Quinn, he was loud and almost expectant. She wondered if he would pay, or if she had to. Quinn always paid, and always knew her order too. Even if she didnât ask him to, heâd do it. Snapping back to the situation at hand, her breath hitched. She needed to stop thinking about Quinn. He wasnât Quinn and the latter had nothing to do with him. Perhaps agreeing would get him out of her head.Â
âUh, sure but-â before she could finish, two of his friends burst out from around the corner, high-fiving and laughing like deranged hyenas. The guy in front of her also started laughing, looking down at her with a condescending glint in his stupid eyes.
âYO! Thatâs twenty bucks!â his friend yelled to the other, slapping his hand out, âTold you heâd do it!â
âShut the fuck up, you got lucky! He caught her when Quinn wasnât around.â The other grumbled, dropping the cash into his hand.Â
The guy at her locker laughed, âAs if anyone would ask you out, be real, y/n.â And all three left, karma soon hitting them at realising hockey practice started ten minutes ago. Y/n stood frozen, emotions swirling and nausea she could only describe as a whirlpool of humiliation and stupidity. She shouldâve listened to her gut when it raised red flags.
As if anyone would ask you out, y/n.
He caught her when Quinn wasnât around.
All she wanted was Quinn now, to run and squeeze him, but instead, she had a quiet car ride home with her dad to get to.
Quinn pulled his gear off aggressively, chucking his helmet into his stall, almost shoving the gear into his bag, disregarding how expensive the lot of it was. It was one of those days where he wished he could leave his stuff at the rink. He spoke to no one and no one dared talk to him, not even Jack, whoâd warned his friends to lay off the chirping. When heâd overheard his teammates proudly laughing about what theyâd done to y/n in the hall, his offensive-defensive playstyle switched to straight-up bloodlust with poison in his eyes. Now even in the locker room, his jaw clenched harshly and the other boys swore they could feel the rage radiate off his body.Â
âYooo, Hughes,â Locker Guy mused casually, a shit-eating grin smeared across his face, âwhy so worked up? Sâjust a game.â
Everyone eyed each other, although he was referencing hockey, Quinn was not in a hockey mood. He approached Quinn, throwing his arm around his shoulder while he packed the last of his stuff away.
âSilent treatment? Damn, didnât know it meant that-â
Before he could finish, Quinn swung, right-hooking his cheek. Locker Guy stumbled back, cupping his cheek with wide eyes. He was stunned, the room was. Not even Jack had seen him hit a guy before, and Quinn didnât think he would until then, but the adrenaline and aggravation just got the better of him and heâd seek revenge in any way if it would be for y/n.
âTake the twenty and shove it up your ass,â he slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his stick, ây/nâs not just a game.â And he stormed out. Jack bid goodbye to his friends, sloppily grabbing his bag and stick before stumbling out after Quinn.Â
When arriving home shortly after, Quinn dumped his bag in the hallway, ignoring Ellenâs voice calling for him, Jack did a good job at covering for him. He burst into his room, rummaging around his desk for a post-it note, scribbling his mind on it. Pulling a small box from his school bag, he stuck the note onto it and rushed out of his house as fast as heâd rushed in.
He rang the doorbell and pounded on the door but to no avail. Her parentâs cars were absent but he knew too well that she had nowhere to be on a Tuesday evening. Groaning, he jogged to the side gate, rattling the handle and pushing it open, listening to it creak and click behind him. He didnât bother sneaking around, the security light bright enough to illuminate the entire garden for anyone to try. If he hadnât been in such a hurry, he wouldâve taken more time to appreciate her motherâs handiwork: flowerbeds of pansies waiting for their time lining the fences, he remembered planting a few before the snow season. Quinn reached the back porch steps, walking up with a light foot and trying the back door. Locked. Of course. Spinning on his heel, he swore under his breath, completely jumping down the three steps and taking a short right to find the trellis on the wall.
âMrs. l/n, I sincerely apologise for this, once again,â he mumbled, taking the box between his teeth and carefully placing his hands and foot on the wood, hoping that he hadnât crushed any of the flowers weaved through. He slowly climbed until the porch roof came to his level. Thanking the heavens that the pitch was low, he used all his upper body strength to hoist himself on, ensuring his footing was secure, taking the box from his mouth and creeping up to her bedroom window.Â
Y/n sat on her bed, cosied up in her pyjamas and laptop playing YouTube, anything that would redeem the afternoon sheâd had, but nothing could prevent the tears from spilling out her eyes when the memory of it flushed over again. Her parents had gone out, and her brother went to his friendâs for dinner so she lucked out on being left alone for the evening, she didnât feel like discussing how her day went. The quiet car ride home was enough, even though her dad knew something was wrong.Â
The screen on her phone flashed, and she wouldâve ignored it if it hadnât flashed a second time immediately after.
Qutie At window pls open Itâs cold
âThe fuck?â she whispered, drawing her blind and sliding the window up, watching Quinn clamber his way into her room. She hastily wiped her eyes, âQ, you couldâve just knocked?â
He straightened out his clothes, closing her window, âI did. And tried the back. And here I am.â
âOhâŚsorry,â she bit her cheek, âQ, Iâve had a bad day, Iâm not really-â
â-I know. I know what happened, and he wonât think about it again,â he paused, peering down at the box in his hands, âactually he wonât talk to you again.â
âWhat did you do?â she asked, stepping closer with her arms folded, the sun breaking through her grey clouds after the storm.
âIt doesnât matter,â with a gentle smile and rosy cheeks, he held the box of chocolates out to her. Her gaze jumped from him to the gift in her hands and scanned the note stuck on top, the words written in red with little heart doodles. Her lips twitched upwards unstoppably and the blossoming warmth spread through her body and soul again.
Will you be my Valentine? - Q
âSorry I didnât give it to you earlier, I got swept up. I saw you looking at these the other day, itâs not much but I wanted to-â his speech was interrupted when she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his torso tight and muffled âthank youâs just audible.Â
Holding her close, he grinned, â-Anytime.â
*
That summer was the first year Quinn took y/n to the lake house in Michigan. If Jack was allowed to bring his friends, he refused to endure that alone, like Luke had to. Luke begged her brother to be his plus one, but heâd been swept up by his friends too soon. That was also the first time y/n met Cole and Trevor, the two Jack constantly talked about. They didnât go to the same school as them, heâd met them through hockey camps and they didnât sound too bad. Quinn always warned about Trevor, something about being a yapper but worse.Â
Coming face to face with the lake house, y/n hadnât expected it to be as large as it was, she didnât really know what to expect when Jim described it as having a games room in the basement that had access to the garden, a first floor that had a beautiful view of the lake from the porch and a second floor with five bedrooms. Yet there she was, standing on the driveway admiring the blue and white home as sheâd never seen a structure that big before while Quinn, Ellen and Jim unloaded the car.Â
âY/n!â Jack called. She turned towards his voice to be met with two other boys, âThis is Trevor,â he gestured to the taller one with tanned skin, âand thatâs Cole.â The shorter one.
âAh, Trevor, the one who likes my boobs,â she recalled, raising her eyebrow at Trevor, who elbowed Jack in the ribs, muttering a âdude!â. Cole chuckled at the embarrassment creeping on Trevorâs face, âsâchill. Not the worst thing Iâve heard but definitely something best kept unsaid.â
She may have been okay with it, but a certain brother listening in was far from okay with it, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the suitcases and his brows knitted deep on his forehead.Â
*
She tossed and turned, frustrated that her eyes refused to stay closed. Every time, sheâd fallen asleep, the thunder outside clapped and jolted her awake again. If it wasnât the weather hammering down keeping her awake, it was Trevorâs snoring from the bed. Herself, Trevor and Cole ended up sharing the spare room, the boys in the double bed and y/n opting to take the mattress on the floor (she refused to lay next to either of the boys, even if that meant sacrificing the space).Â
As she lay facing the ceiling, she weighed out her options. She either stay there and have the thunder throw her into a wall and have Trevorâs snoring rattle through her bones or find somewhere else to sleep. The living room was one option, but Jim was an early riser and she didnât enjoy the idea of being woken up by plates and pans crashing around. Then there were the boysâ rooms. Luke also snored, she knew that first-hand from the journey to the lake house, kid snored like a champ the whole time. Jack wiggled too much, a true duvet twister, waking up with pyjama bottoms to pantaloons. And Quinn, well she knew he was perfect, warm and an incredible cuddler. It wasnât a hard decision.
She poked her head out the door, peeking left and right. The spare room was on the right-hand side, next to the staircase, while Quinnâs sat at the back left corner. Slipping through the gap, she shut the door silently behind her and tiptoed down the hall to Quinnâs room.Â
His room looked identical to his Toronto room, blue-grey walls, dark oak furniture and navy sheets, but less hockey. Quinn was a peaceful sleeper, never appeared irritated but his hair was always messy somehow. Y/n slipped under the sheets with him, rolling onto her side to face him. He stirred, snuggling into his pillow and his eyes fanned open. His eyelashes were longer and thicker than she thought, why did boys get that gift but not girls?Â
âHi,â she whispered, sleepy gazes locking.
âHi,â he rasped, voice deeper than usual from being riddled with sleep, âcanât sleep?â
She shook her head slightly. Quinn smiled, opening his arms, rolling onto his back and letting her slot herself into him like a puzzle piece, her head on his chest. She listened to his heart, the rhythm syncing with hers as it lulled her to sleep, Quinnâs arms loosely around her, but enough to confirm that he had her and was still there while the weather screamed and cried outside.
At sixteen, y/n obtained her first boyfriend, Leo, which surprised her and her friends. Not because they didnât think she didnât deserve him, but because he was the complete opposite of Quinn and because he wasnât Quinn. Blond hair, green eyes, chatty and outgoing, always referred to her as âprincessâ and could be a likeable guy. Except her friends never asked if he would like to hang with them. They never asked if heâd like to sit with them at lunch. Rarely had interest in him and he had no interest in them. They tried to talk to y/n, but her head was too far on cloud nine to hear them. Of course, she took it to heart. They loved Quinn, so why couldnât they love Leo the same?Â
The Hughes boys clarified their view on her relationship from the start. Not because they were haters or didnât like seeing their friend happy, but because Quinnâs glares burned holes. Jack and Luke simply hated him because he spoke shit about hockey, almost on purpose the moment he found out the four of them were close, and because he seemed to irritate their big brother. Quinn refrained from gagging every time he saw the couple together at school, a pang in his chest stabbing him always. But she was happy, and thatâs the part that stung the most.
Her brother ignored him on the rare occasion he came over. He was a huge Quinn guy, and having anyone but him in his house felt wrong. Like a parasite invasion trying to take his sister away, he wouldnât let her ride home with the boys in his thirteen-year-old mind, Leo always insisted they hung out after school. The first time Leo came over for dinner, her brother ensured he displayed all the photographs of the Hughes family and his family together, especially the ones of y/n and Quinn. On another occasion he watched a movie with them, just to be annoying. Leo had tried to get y/n alone in the kitchen, hands on her hips and drawing her close, speaking sweet nothings into her lips and finding the panic in her face adorable. Their lips almost connecting, skin burning like wildfire until three, rubber pucks slammed into the targets that hung on the net in the garden, her brother standing proudly with his hockey stick in hand and side-eyeing the kitchen window, giving y/n time to catch her breath and gather her mind before the blond in front of her swore loudly.
What was everyoneâs problem? Why wouldnât they be happy for her? She was in love, a guy loved her for the first time in her life and she wasnât even allowed to have that. Well, at least Quinn would be happy, and maybe she could convince him at least to let him join the lake house. Or she hoped.Â
Quinn gathered the pucks out the back of the net, collecting them into a pile, the wrinkles between his eyebrows prominent. Y/n stood to the side, hands in her hoodie pocket, presenting her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.
âNo,â he said, shooting a puck into the net.
âOh come on, Q!â, she whined, âItâs a chance to get to know him, heâs a good guy. Please, for meee?â
He stood straight, turning to face her, âY/n, I love you and Iâd do anything for you, but the answer is still no. There isnât enough space and itâs my lake house, my summer too.â He hoped sheâd give up and drop the subject. The idea of y/n and Leo sharing a bed soiled his mood as it was, he didnât want the thoughts to develop further into what else they could do. If Leo joined, heâd be alone, he wouldnât wake up with her at least once, she wouldnât even look at him and his brothers would never forgive him. Everyoneâs summer would be ruined.
She sighed in defeat, âHeâs the first guy to ever love me, see me for who I am and everyone acts like heâs got the plague! Q, my dad gives him small talk, my dad!â
He stared, a burning stare that ignited goosebumps along her skin, the hairs on end. Theyâd looked into each other eyes before, but sheâd never seen this kind of fire in him. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as trying to calm himself down, nostrils slightly flaring.Â
âIs that so?â he cocked a brow, his tongue poking his cheek, ây/n, weâre happy for you, but we miss you. I miss you. I miss getting smoothies, I miss Star Wars marathons, shit, I miss watching you make a mess of my kitchen when Luke wants cookies.â He missed falling asleep with her, calling him at silly hours in the morning, organising his hockey cards together, seeing her wear his hoodies and jerseys, and hearing her laugh.Â
Her face softened, absorbing his cries and guilt swirling in her stomach. She didnât realise how his voice beat every song sheâd ever listened to or how when he was hurting, his tone was soft-spoken. She forgot how much she loved that, and how no one - not even Leo - could replace it.Â
âMâsorry, Q.â She hugged him, like usual. The tight embrace with her head in his chest, feeling his arms wind around her shoulders in return, nose finding solace in the crook of her neck and kissing her shoulder.
*
Leo never joined their summer. He was never part of it from the start. When y/n fell back into place with her friends and stopped bringing up Leo, so much relief washed over her daily. The mini-argument with Quinn had paid off because exactly a week before she and the Hughes planned to leave for Michigan Leo had bid his thank yous and goodbyes. She thanked him for nothing messy, but his last words (and reasoning) gripped her around the neck: âI donât think Iâm the one you love.â
The moment she stepped out of Ellenâs car, slightly delirious from sleeping on Quinnâs shoulder the whole way, her muscles relaxed. She barely got a chance to stretch before Trevor and Cole came bundling towards her, engulfing her into a group hug while Quinn took his usual duties of unloading the car. All the boys had grown over the winter, Luke grew taller far too quickly, Jack, Trevor and Coleâs voices had dropped and entered that awkward phase where it would break at random and Quinnâs shoulders broadened, his face chiselling out. Y/n felt like the only thing that had changed about herself was the growing number of insecurities. She was at a lake, meaning she had to wear the bikinis sheâd spent hours picking out, completely forgetting that Quinn wasnât the only guy around. What if they didnât look as good as she thought? What if they were far from flattering? Things she shouldnât let eat at her but always would linger at the back of her mind.Â
*
She lay awake, facing the ceiling listening to Trevorâs snoring from the bed for the second year, but it was worse now his voice was deeper. How Cole slept so soundly was a mystery in itself. At least the weather was silent. Yet her mind could not quiet, the events of the week replaying like a tape, glitching on the last few moments and repeating Leoâs words. With a weight in her chest, tears welled in her eyes. She felt so alone and abandoned in a room with an overwhelming teenage presence. She threw the duvet off, shuffling off the mattress, padding out the door and sneaking down the hall.
Quinnâs door opened enough for her to slip into the room and tiptoed over to his bed, crawling under his covers next to him. His hair had gotten longer, messier and the more she looked at it the harder it was to keep her hands to herself. His cheeks werenât so full anymore, but the back of her fingers still caressed his cheekbone with a feathery touch. Her smile faded, she hadnât told him about the break-up, she was supposed to tell her best friend everything and she couldnât even do that, no wonder Quinn hadnât spoken much to her. He was in the dark and it was all her fault. But he didnât ask about him. Maybe he was upset because she hadnât told him? No, Quinn wasnât like that, was he? Was he upset?
âTrevorâs snoring?â he mumbled, eyes remaining closed. He heard his door click and felt his mattress dip and nobody else would risk waking him.Â
âMhm,â she hummed, watching his eyes lazily open, âpart of it.â
He rolled over, pulling her onto his chest and arms around her waist, âI got you.âÂ
Her tears soaked blotches into his t-shirt, little sobs slightly muffled by the fabric as his hand stroked her back slowly. He held her close, letting her cry whatever consumed her out of her system while reassuring her that everything was going to be okay in his gentle manner. He wasnât entirely sure what was so troubling but he had a keen suspicion it had something to do with Leo, she hadnât mentioned him for a while and a large part of him was fuelled with adrenaline and hope that he was out of the picture for good. It lit fireworks inside him, and he wasnât ashamed about it.Â
âHe dumped me, Q,â she sobbed, fingers balling his shirt into fists, âI donât know whatâs wrong with me.âÂ
Those fireworks inside him burst an array of colours, âNothingâs wrong with you,â he said softly, âdid he give you a reason at least?â
Her lip quivered, âHeâŚhe said he thinks that heâs not the one I love. I donât know what that means! This sucks, Q. Sucks going from spending a lot of time with someone, having their full attention to justâŚnot. Makes me gag every time I see my friends with their partners. I feel soâŚisolated, what do I do now?âÂ
Quinnâs lips fell into a straight line, hand still soothing her back. He knew he shouldnât have been over the moon at the news, but God did he want to dance around his room and punch the air, maybe click his heels for good measure, âYou want my opinion?â
He felt her nod, âYou still have friends, and you need them more than a boyfriend. Have you thought about him since?â she shook her head, âThen thereâs your answer. You miss the feeling, not the person. Thereâs someone out there whoâs gonna love you tirelessly, treat you right and always come when you call. Weâre only sixteen, weâve got time.â
She thought about Leo, properly. She thought about how he spoke to people, and looking back she kicked herself for how she was too swept up in the feeling to realise how his charm was too enticing. She remembered the time he met Quinn, Jack and Luke for the first time, well Jack and Luke. Heâd found out about their passion for hockey and openly shared how he thought it was ridiculous and an overrated sport, that all the players were mediocre at most. He told Jack heâd never make it to the NHL because itâs the sort of dream that stays a dream. Leo off the bat despised Quinn, calling him an obsessive creep when he walked into her house to retrieve Jimâs lasagna dish from her dad. Quinn ignored it, but Leo had seen all the photographs her brother put out, and proceeded to rant about how Quinn was just trying to add her to his body count. Quinn heard that, of course, he was only in the kitchen and if he was honest, he was flattered that Leo assumed he even had a body count. Then the kitchen incident flooded back like the rapids ride at a theme park. If her brother hadnât interrupted them, she wouldâve been kissed, but she didnât want to kiss him and she knew that he enjoyed the fear in her eyes when his grip tightened.Â
âCan I ask you somethingâŚâ she peered up at him.
âAnything.â he looked down at her, voice just above a whisper. Her eyes had a glossy shine to them, even if they were red and puffy from crying, he still got lost in them.
âCan you say âprincessâ, for me?âÂ
He raised his eyebrow, but smiled anyway, âWhatever you want, princess.â
âFucking hell it sounds so much better when you say it,â she groaned, burying her face into his chest, earning a chuckle from Quinn. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, too well like it was made for him. The worst part was the tingling sensation in her stomach which wound through her heartstrings. All despair was eliminated and, once again, Quinn had pulled her into his rip. They lay in silence for a little while, but neither drifted off to sleep, just lying in each other's company.
âHe almost kissed me, Q.â she mumbled into the dark, Quinnâs green eye disturbing his peace, âbut I didnât want to kiss him, the vibe was off. And then my friends bugged me about it.â
She pushed herself onto her elbow, propping herself up and gazing into his sleepy eyes. His palms fell to the small of her back.
âHave you kissed anyone before?â an innocent question turned sultry by his brain, heat shooting to his neck.
âNo,â his gaze fell to her lips, âhave you?â
She denied it. One had cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip. She melted into his touch, heart pulsing in her ears. Deja vu burst into the room from a year before, where the last time she hovered above him she wanted to kiss him more than she should have. He parted his lips, the teenage boy inside him begging to peek down her shirt and his desperate longing to taste her colliding and dizzying his mind. Their bodies gravitated closer like a magnetic force neither could control anymore until their lips touched and two souls intertwined sweetly. It was an innocent kiss, aside from the accidental bumping of teeth, it wasnât quite a peck but they relished in each other for no more than five seconds before pulling away with ease again.
âCan we do that again?â she didnât need to say anything. She kissed him again, harder, longer, her hand sliding from his chest to his jaw as their lips fell into a pattern of connecting and reconnecting, elation surging through them as they fumbled into giggles. Quinnâs problem with kissing her was that no matter how much he tried to push it down, the craving to kiss her again clawed at him. All it took was a pretty smile and he could kiss her the rest of the night. Y/nâs friends bragged about their first kisses, who they were with and where it happened, but she held the crown for the first kiss in a boyâs bed and a meaningful kiss as the cherry on top.
*
Michiganâs sun roasted hotter than in Toronto, but it was a pleasant change from freezing all the time. The kind of heat that the boatâs seats would cling onto, and give you the worst shock of your life when sitting down, so when you sat down on the leather, you stayed down with sizzling skin. Although heâd been to the lake his whole life, Jackâs soul still left his body every time he threw himself onto the seats, usually blaming Quinn for not warning him. She was introduced to their boat last year, expecting only a small, fishing boat-like thing but to say her eyes grew so wide they almost popped out her head would be an understatement. She had limited knowledge of boats but her dad fished a lot so she picked up odd things from his raving, but the only way she could describe it was a traditional bowrider, with u-shaped seats in the back deck and bow seating.Â
Jack and Luke had shoved past everyone and B-lined for the docks as soon as breakfast was over, Trevor and Cole not far behind and bundled onto the back seats of the boat. The driverâs seat was always left empty for Quinn, and the seat on the left side of the aisle next to the driverâs was always for y/n, furthest from the splash zone so she could read in peace. Unfortunately for Quinn and y/n, that also meant they were the ones lugging the cooler of water bottles through the garden and to the docks, handing it to Jack and Trevor while Quinn hopped in, holding his hand out to her and letting her make her way to her seat.Â
A couple of hours being anchored in the lake, Jack and Trevor had three backflip contests, teaching Luke âhow itâs doneâ and Cole had won himself one hell of a sunburn. Y/n hadnât taken her shirt off once, occupying herself by applying suncream to Quinnâs face and judging the backflip rounds. She mindlessly watched the four boys tussle around, pulling and pushing each other off the boat and playing in the cool waters. Something about this summer brought a yearning for adventure, maybe due to her age, to make memories or to distract herself from the sinful thoughts of what Quinn now looked like underneath his t-shirt.Â
âI know you want to,â her head snapped to face Quinn, his voice dragging her out of her head, âI can see it in your eyes.â
She hugged her torso tighter, diverting her gaze to their feet. Was the first time wearing a bikini this terrifying for everyone? Maybe she shouldâve started wearing them sooner. Sheâd be used to it by now.
âIâm not saying you have to, but,â he gulped, taking a deep breath. His next words could either earn him a smile or a slap, âI think youâre beautiful just as you are. And whatever those fuckers think doesnât matter. Remember that youâre like a sister to Jack and Luke, theyâve got your back too.âÂ
A wide smile broke onto her face. Anyone else could say that and she wouldn't have batted an eye, but when it fell from his mouth like a song, the pressure was exiled from her body. Her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Quinnâs view darted straight to her chest, the bikini top complimenting her nicely, but too well for anyone but him to see (or so he thought). He didnât think twice about it, it felt pervy and wrong, but at the end of the day, he was just a teenage boy riddled with fluctuating hormones. At least he wasnât as bad or proud as Trevor, that was the bar. The top was enough. She kept the little board shorts on. Maybe next year sheâd be braver.Â
âYour turn,â with a cheeky glint in her eyes, she leant forward, elbows on her knees and purposely pushing her breasts together. Caught red-handed, in the act, Quinn Hughes. His cheeks burned red, glancing at his brothers and friends (who were on backflip contest number four) and back at her, slipping his shirt off. She raised her eyebrows when he said heâd been working out more, he meant it. When their gazes met, they both knew that if they had been alone with all the pent-up thrill, they wouldâve jumped for each other, let their hands dance, feeling every new curve and dip and melt into each other like wax, moulding to however they wanted.Â
âNot too bad yourself-â Before she could finish, Jack rolled onto the boat from the back deck with a clumsy urgency, throwing his towel over himself and standing in a wide stance, panting as if throwing himself onto the boat took all his energy.
âThanks dearest,â pant, âbig brother of mine and,â pant, âhis girlfriend. Wakeboard!â
Quinn and y/n burst into fits of giggles at the assistance but it fell on deaf ears, watching him clamber in was funnier anyway, especially since the other three people who could have helped decided to watch and laugh too. No one denied the second part of his sentence, it certainly hadnât gone unnoticed, but it had been taken two ways.
*
When the boys were little, Jim and Ellen had reformed the basement into a games room. It had originally been decked out into more of a guest house, with a kitchenette directly under the stairs and opposite were the large patio doors. But they found more use for it with the boys. On the left side of the doors was a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV and to the right a fireplace with a scoreboard for the pool table, which sat in the centre of the room. The bathroom remained in the back right corner. Most of the time, it was only used for video games and pool, as the distance from the bedrooms meant their screaming and arguing was pleasantly muffled but as more people joined their holiday, more friends were made either at the lake or with hockey people who owned a house on the lake, the room got its fair share of usage and everything was sound.
Until the Tkachuk brothers arrived.
Matthew and Brady were Quinnâs friends, Brady being one of his best and knowing Matthew by default. The Tkachukâs had recently bought a house on the lake, within walking distance of the Hughes but you could hear them before youâd see them. Y/n had first met Brady when Quinn picked him up from his dock one afternoon, and she had no trouble getting to know him, especially when it came to him showing her photos of all of Quinnâs embarrassing moments from before her era at the lake house, and ones during hockey camps. She understood why Quinn got shy when Brady doxxed him like that, but she found it cute either way and he just enjoyed his two best friends getting along.
The seven of them - Y/n, Quinn, Brady, Cole, Trevor, Jack and Luke - sat in a circle, in that order, on the floor, leaning against the sofa, a bottle of vodka and red solo cups between them. The four youngest sat with stars in their eyes, like Brady had bought a mythical creature over, y/n and Quinn exchanged quizzing looks, shrugging.
âYeah, how did you get this?â y/n asked, picking the bottle up and inspecting the alcohol percentage.Â
âMatt,â Brady smirked, pride smeared across his face, âone of his friends has a fake ID, and said heâd get me a bottle if I helped him get this chickâs number.â
âAnd it worked?â Quinn mocked, Jack, Cole and Trevor did their best to hide their giggles.
âNobody can resist a Tkachuk,â he peered past Quinn to look at y/n, âitâs the pretty eyes and dashing looks, right y/n?âÂ
Jack and Luke side-eyed each other, holding back their laughter at Quinnâs pout. Y/n shrugged, giving boys satisfaction wasnât something she enjoyed, and seeing Brady dramatically hold his hand to his heart and act offended seemed to lighten Quinnâs mood.Â
âCan we crack this baby open now? I wanna get drunk!â Trevor cheered, Jack and Cole joining him. Something like that would be exciting for fifteen-year-olds, but (not so) little Luke stayed quiet, shrinking into himself next to y/n. She placed an arm around his shoulder, presenting him with a warm, reassuring smile.
âYou donât have to if you donât want to, no oneâs gonna force you,â she murmured.
âCome on, Lukey! Donât be a pussy!â Jack taunted as Brady poured him, Cole and Trevor a small amount. Cole took his sip first, his face screwing up immediately and coughing at the burning down his throat. Trevor cackled, tapping his cup with Jackâs and they both swallowed theirs together. Like karma, Trevor wheezed and held his chest, face scrunching amusingly at the kick. Jack didnât get off lightly either, his throat feeling like fire and he shook his head, putting his cup on the floor. The rest laughed, hard. The three musketeers were so confident just to have it backfire.Â
Brady poured vodka into his, Quinnâs and her cups, grinning from ear to ear and placing the bottle back between them all.
Cup in hand, she nudged Luke, âDo you want a small sip?âÂ
He hesitantly nodded, taking the cup gently and letting a tiny drop cover his tastebuds. That was enough for him to jolt back and shake his head. The three eldest bumped cups and swallowed the alcohol in one go, Brady cheering like heâd won the Stanley Cup, Quinn doing his best to suppress the sour expression on his face and y/n exhaled at the flare descending her throat. She and Quinn side-eyed each other, stifling giggles. The rush brought back the rendezvous of her sixteenth birthday where her parents had treated her to a bottle of vodka, specifically instructing she only drink it around them. Hours later when her close friends arrived, and Quinn of course, that bottle and a carton of orange juice was shared between them and drank dry, her bedroom swarming with drunk teenagers hiding hangovers in the morning. Â
âWow, my first ever drink turned out to beâŚactually not as pleasant as I imagined.â Bradyâs eyebrows raised, watching the three musketeers urgently agree with him. Quinn and y/nâs grins widened, and they fist-bumped. Theyâd finally discovered something they had done before Brady. Heâd relentlessly teased Quinn with his experiences as he was older, but it was due to Matthew being older. Now, it was Quinnâs turn, he was finally the cool, older brother.Â
âThat was your first?â Quinn teased. Brady blinked twice, opening his mouth to speak but closing it, holding his fist out to Quinn instead.Â
âYou didnât add a mixer, itâs more bearable with juice,â she stood up and grabbed an orange juice from the fridge. Sitting back in her spot, she took Bradyâs cup, poured a little vodka and topped it with the juice, stirring it with her finger, ânow try.â
He took a sip, the orange juice slightly outweighing the alcohol and it didnât tear through him this time, âOkay, youâre invited to every party from now on. Dudes, you gotta try this.âÂ
One empty bottle later the group found themselves slumped back and blurry-eyed. Luke had gone to bed, terrified of the consequences if he were still there in the morning. Quinn and y/n leant into each other, Jackâs head resting on her lap. Bradyâs ass went numb from sitting on the floor, but he feared that if he stood up, heâd just meet the floor again but with a bruise when he woke up.Â
At some point in that hour, Trevor suggested truth or dare, and being too tipsy to argue, theyâd all been roped into it. The dares hadnât been too bad, but as Brady slowly gathered his senses, previous conversations and events flooded back to his active memory. With his sights landing on Quinn and y/n, it was like his and Trevorâs minds intertwined. Calm and collected Quinn had been giggling at others too much throughout the night. Calm and collected Quinn who never seemed to be fazed by embarrassment for too long.Â
âJack, truth or dare?â Trevor asked absently.Â
âTruth.â
âAss or tits?âÂ
Y/n ran her fingers through Jackâs hair and rolled her eyes. Boys.Â
âEasy. Tits. Next. Brady, truth or dare?â Jackâs eyes closed, body relaxing when her nails scratched his scalp.
Brady snorted, âHah, dare!â
Jack paused, thinking about what kind of dare Brady would come up with, âskinny dip in the lake.â
âDude, if I stand up, Iâll fall. Iâll do it next time weâre on the boat, swear it.â They chuckled, watching his head shake desperately. Nobody would have to dare Brady to do something like that, you could just suggest the idea and heâd be down for the sake of a story. Matthew had shared many stories of his adventures when he was his age, and Brady was determined to be as cool as him and live a wild life like every day was his last day on Earth. âY/n, truth or dare?â
âDare, fuck it. Be nice.â Her heart raced, the words falling out before she could think.
âI dare you to sit on Quinnâs lap for the rest of the game.âÂ
Quinnâs muscles tensed, cheeks flushing when Jack sat up. He uncrossed his legs and let her manoeuvre herself onto his thigh, curling up comfortably. Without much thought, his arms winded around her waist, holding her close. Even though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, a small part of him sobered up enough to appreciate the buzz of openly holding her.
âCole, truth or dare?â she watched Cole perk up, his eyes absent like heâd just woken up.Â
âShow us a pic from your âmy eyes onlyâ on Snap.â
âFavourite porn category?â
âWho was the better kisser, Jess or Sarah?â
âOkay Quinner,â Bradyâs turn circled back, rubbing his, nonexistent, beard as he spoke, âWho do you currently have a crush on?â
Quinnâs stomach dropped. If he didnât like Brady so much, he wouldâve taken the question as a betrayal. When he told Brady about his and y/nâs bedtime kiss, it was out of confidence, with his full chest, at his most vulnerable. Never did he expect him to reference it in public, in front of her and his brotherâs friends. He then realised that Matthew also, most likely, knew.Â
âGone shy?â the youngest Tkachuk smirked, the other boys suddenly sparking back to life and leaning in.
âNo, just never thought youâd be into gossip,â he mumbled, giving the blond a cold glare. If his situation couldnât have gotten any worse, y/n shifted dangerously close to his crotch and all he could do was keep her encased into him and pray his shorts wouldnât betray him like his best friend had.Â
âIf youâre into gossip now, what about you? Tell us which girl at your school has your eye, describe her, whatâs she like?â y/n blurted. It was like she read Quinnâs mind. Or the stress in his face.Â
Cole, Trevor and Jackâs heads whipped between the three bicker, smiles dopey and rubbing their hands together.
âDeflecting? Didnât think youâd get so defensive-â
â-Not getting defensive, I have nothing to defend, but if Quinn doesnât wanna answer, he doesnât have to.âÂ
It was a relief that it was just bickering and not a deep argument, God help them all if y/n and Brady ever fell out properly, his ability to chirp and her intelligent stubbornness would not be a tornado to interrupt. But her protectiveness squeezed his heart, making the situation he was always in dreadful.Â
âOh really?â Brady laughed, âWhat about you since you have nothing to defend? Who juices your lemons? Or is Quinner gonna grow a pair and admi-â
What an uncomfortable phrase to start with, and if she took too long to answer heâd just taunt her more. She wanted him to drop the subject overall, it didnât matter, but humbling him would, at least, cheer Quinn up slightly, even if what she was about to say required a conversation afterwards.
â-Matthew Tkachuk.â The name shot out like a bullet through Brady. His jaw dropped and a smirk wiped off his face. He knew his brother was popular, but never had he met someone his age admit it to his face. He sat back, speechless. Her heart thundered, Quinn could feel it, see the panic in her eyes while Brady saw a threat. Jack, Trevor and Cole sat like deers in headlights in the silence which engulfed the room. Quinnâs grip around her waist tightened, his brows creasing but Brady watched the light in his eyes sink and his hold on her become desperate like she would slip away if he let go.Â
The thick atmosphere collapsed when Jack shot up and bolted for the bathroom, Cole hot on his tail, âI think Iâm gonna puke.âÂ
Quinnâs limbs sank deep into the sofa cushions, but his eyes stared at the plant next to the TV. Jackâs stomach giving up surprisingly saved their friendships and shortly theyâd decided it was time to call it a day, himself, y/n and Trevor taking the sofa, Jack crashing closest to the bathroom and Brady and Cole sprawled out on the floor. Even after the drunken result of a stupid truth game, y/nâs back was still pressed against his chest. Not Matthewâs. His arm was around her middle, his face was in her hair, and he was the one cuddling her. No one else, but the thoughts still spiralled. If she did like Matthew and not him, could he be that angry? Matthew was older, taller, better looking (Brady had mentioned how Tkachukâs had âdashing good looksâ so what could he expect) and far more experience. Had she even met Matthew? When? Was she seeing him secretly? What if she was trying all these new experiences with him just to impress Matthew, getting in practice so, when she was to kiss him she wouldnât embarrass herself, cuddling him so she knew what to do? The possibility that she was as affectionate with a guy other than himself made him sick to his stomach, it was like Leo all over again but worse. They were older now, progressed more and feelings devoured instead of nibbled, whirlpools instead of ripples. There were plenty of other boys besides himself, and maybe having a guy best friend became convenient for her.Â
With a tear slithering down his cheek, he buried his face into her shoulder and planted a sweet, but sad, chaste kiss on her jaw, fighting off the urge to sob until he fell asleep.Â
Seventeen was a big age for prime-time adolescents, not quite an adult but not a little kid anymore. Risk and rebellion went hand in hand and doing everything you were told not to do was in fashion, so when you went to college you didnât look like a complete bore. It also meant relationships started getting serious, people considering college and the survival rate of long distance, who had broken up and who was still together.Â
After last summer, Quinn and y/n breathed Toronto air and they fell back into place, as if the Vodka Incident, as they called it, had never happened. Quinn had all her attention again and spent the autumn and winter doing his best to keep it that way. It didnât take a lot, she loved everything they did together, her new favourite memory being when Quinn took her to her first Maple Leafs game once heâd passed his driverâs license. He also kissed her in the car afterwards, slow with his hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing the denim on her jeans. When they got back to her house, he had her pushed down into her bed, lips smothering her neck in timid, wet kisses while her cold hands snuck under his shirt, sending chills up his spine in the most pleasurable sense. He hadnât thought about what he was doing, but his secure grip on her hips had her writhing beneath him when heâd found her sweet spot on her neck, experimenting with a nip to the flesh and almost cumming his boxers at the mewl that slipped past her lips. Their hips rolled and ground into each other with hands tugging on shirts, exposed collarbones and sloppy kisses to sensitive spots. They hadnât even properly made out yet and there they were, exploring each other like territory and right before any clothes could be removed, Ellen rang him. It was an evening neither would forget.
*
âIâm tellinâ you, dude, they are not âjust friendsâ, look at âem.â Trevor gestured in front of him, raising his voice over the music.Â
âTrev, Iâve known them my whole life, theyâve always been like this.â Jack groaned, taking a sip from his Coke.Â
Under the strings of fairy lights hung over the audience and the weather warm and clear, Quinn twirled y/n, hugging her from behind as they sang the lyrics to the country song coming from the stage. When Luke saw the ad in the supermarket one afternoon, he practically begged his parents to take them all, and being unable to say ânoâ to their youngest child, they agreed.Â
Luke and Cole had a blast, trying every food stall they saw, rocking the cowboy hats and singing their hearts out. It was safe to say that Luke still had a lot of personality, and Cole revealed his love for karaoke. Y/n hadnât been to many concerts before, the overwhelming crowds caging and the fear that sheâd get split up was astronomical. As theyâd made their way around, wrangling up Luke and Cole, hurling Trevor and Jack away from groups of girls way older than them, she had her arm looped around Quinnâs. Ellen ran around as their paparazzi, no doubt planning to print all the photos off and stick them in an album.Â
âAre you hearing yourself, Jizzy?â Trevor deadpanned, as much as the god-awful nickname amused him, Jackâs slow-functioning brain at the moment matched the stupidity of it.Â
Quinnâs arms around her waist, chin resting on her head and they swayed to the tune of the song, bright smiles and oblivion to the world around them. It was just them, imagining the lyrics were for and about them, speaking to each other so they didnât have to muster up the courage themselves.Â
âYeah. Look, man, think whatever you want, the Tkachuks get here next week, and if I remember correctly, Matthew was a pretty hot topic last summer.â Jack couldnât lie, he didnât remember a lot from the Vodka Incident. He only remembered Bradyâs brutal truths, y/n admitting Matthew was hot and waking up with a sore head with the taste of vomit and vodka in his mouth. He also remembered watching the tears fall on his brotherâs cheek.Â
*
She didnât want to believe that she was the person looking back at her in the mirror. She pulled at the straps and readjusted the ties and bikini bottoms, to see if they would flatter her better in a new position. She spun slightly, viewing the back and chewed her cheek. Did her ass look good? The top wasnât too sluttyâŚwas it? Too much cleavage? Not enough? Why was trying to feel hot such hard work? She threw her head back and sighed, circling her thoughts back to last summer.
I think youâre beautiful just as you are.
Shaking her shoulders, she slipped her tank top and shorts on, grabbed her towel and left out the porch doors.Â
Beads of sweat rolled down the back of Quinnâs neck. He didnât need to look behind him to know Jack had invited neighbouring girls onto the boat, he could hear them giggling. He zoned out, staring at next doorâs deck deaf to the world around him. Was shaving the right choice that morning? What if y/n liked his growing, patchy beard? But what if she preferred clean-shaven? He watched the girls in the windshieldâs reflection squeeze the boyâs biceps, complimenting their abs. They adored Lukeâs cute face and charming smile. It sucked being thirteen and enchanted. Quinn kept his shirt on, he wasnât built like the others, and his confidence surely didnât need dismantling. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, lips pursing until he caught y/n running out the corner of his eyes, his lips perking into a smile as she sat in her seat next to him.
âWho are they?â she whispered, leaning over, his New York Yankees hat perched on her head. He only shrugged, starting the engine and pulling away from the docks. âWell, I guess it means we get peace, at least.â
So much for peace.
Mila, the brunette in the pink bikini, saw exactly what y/n saw. The way Quinnâs hand held the wheel, casually yet so controlled, imagining them grabbing and moulding her like putty. The veins that popped on his arms, perhaps even his thighs, but y/n refused to believe that anyone else was looking at his thighs the way she did; unapologetically hungrily. She leaned against the back of his seat, pushing her breasts up as much as she could into the top of his shoulders, taking a longer strand of his hair and curling it around her finger.Â
âItâs so cool how you can drive this thing without an adult, when did you get your licence?â she asked. Quinn kept his eyes on the waters, lips falling into a deep frown.
âFourteen, y/n also has one.âÂ
âOh,â she tilted her head, âcute. So, do you live here or is this a one-time thing?â
Y/n squinted. She knew she shouldnât have let it get under her skin. She knew she couldnât control everything but was seething would be an understatement. Some random chick, putting her tits up against Quinn, touching him the way she does. If she could just trip and accidentally knock her overboard she would.Â
âLive here in the summer.â His tone was flat, not anywhere near interested and his t-shirt clung to his back. A smile spread across Milaâs cheeks, she and her friends were only at the lake for the week and proudly admitted they were on the prowl for some fun. She arched her back, popping her ass out, hoping he could feel her skin on the back of his neck. Y/n huffed, letting her demons get the better of her and she tugged her tank top over her head and wiggled out the denim shorts. This summer the board shorts stayed at the house.Â
He choked when he saw. His first time seeing her in almost nothing. He was used to tank tops hugging her tits and little shorts, but seeing so much bare skin now changed a lot. The benchmark was removing her shirt, and now he got the full thing, in front of his face, within his reach and confidently like she wanted his attention and his only. Sheâd spent years worrying about what others thought about her, and with a little threat, the only thing she now cared about was making Quinn fumble over his words and remind him whom he pinned against her bed before summer.Â
âMila, you look a little squished there,â y/n stood up, âtake my seat, Jack doesnât bite, promise.â
âBut then where will you sit?âÂ
Y/n stepped over to Quinn and gave him a wink. He leant back, heart exploding when she sat on his lap, bare skins touching for the first time and the pit of his stomach surging hot, the fireworks re-lighting and tingling over his skin and to his muscles, lips immediately spreading into a grin. He tucked his arm around her waist, settling his hand on her hip, fingers hooking the waistband in the leg hole of her bikini bottoms. Milaâs eyes scanned her, receiving her message clearly before plonking herself next to Jack, who happily gave her the attention she wanted. Y/n wrapped her arm around his neck.
âNo shorts?â he murmured into her ear, voice low and rumbly.
âRemembered what you said a year ago, and I think youâre also beautiful just the way you are.â She toyed with the collar of his t-shirt.
âYou should sit here more often.â
âMaybe I will, Captain Q.â
They giggled quietly, foreheads touching lightly and he kissed her hairline playfully while the backseat passengers caused havoc with the wakeboard, begging Quinn to let them show off their âskillsâ. Â
In four days the Tkachuks would arrive. Thatâs what kept Quinn up at night. He had four days to muster up his courage before sheâd slip through his fingers to the better man.
*
They watched the ball fly far, Jim standing proud with his arms folded in a wide stance, as dads do. Trevor high-fived Cole, throwing up an âLâ shape with his fingers at Jack. The middle Hughes puffed his chest out, placed his ball on the tee and positioned himself, re-gripping the club. He drew back and swung, watching his golf ball fly out into the distance. Y/n watched from the side, recording their turns for them like theyâd asked, a smile on her face. Jim took them to the driving range after Jack complained that video games were becoming boring, and neither Trevor nor Cole had been to one before, and when four boys were bursting with energy, how could Jim say turn down such an opportunity?Â
Y/n hadnât played properly before either. Quinn had only taken her to crazy golf, and that was as far as her experience went. None of this correct positioning and firm swings. Though it was comforting watching Cole and Trevor not have a clue either, Trevor was a fast and eager learner, and Cole was just bad but there for a good time.
âI can show you how to do it if you want.â Quinn stood next to her, leaning down slightly with a low voice. When did he get so tall? She tilted her head up, the club in his hand sent her back to her childhood, the exact day she sat on the step with Quinn holding a hockey stick out to her. âIt's your summer too.âÂ
She nodded and Quinn hooked his little finger with hers, leading her to the grass and placed a ball on the tee. She copied Jackâs stance, letting Quinn stand behind her, chest to her back as his arms engulfed her, hands over hers on the club.
âDraw back like this,â his breath hot on her neck as he drove the club back, âand then you swing. Just like we do. Yeah?âÂ
Her stomach fluttered, concentration droning in more on his voice vibrating through his chest. She nodded, licking her lips and the caged animal inside her chewing at its bars.
âGood girl.â He stepped back, letting her go. With his eyes glued to her figure, he watched her body take a breath, drawing back and taking a decent swing. For a first go, it wasn't a bad swing, not perfect but good enough that Trevor groaned about how unfair it was (he missed the ball the first time).Â
âThis is literally the first day we met all over again,â Luke said to his dad, who raised his eyebrows, more shocked that he remembered that day since he couldn't even remember his birthday half the year.Â
The group next to them left, but the gap was soon replaced by a new one, a louder one consisting of late teens. One of them didn't stop walking, the blond one with curls and a mullet, and pretty eyes on par with Jack's.Â
âQuinner! Jim! Fancy seeing you here.â Matthew Tkachuk, Brady's suave, crazy older brother and his posse who stood just as awkward as the Hughes and co.
Y/n shuffled to stand with Quinn, pressing into his side ever so gently. He placed his hand on the small of her back, smile fading into a frown while his dad chatted and brothers and friends continued their practice.
âIs that Matthew?â Quinn couldn't begin to describe the electricity that flowed through his veins upon hearing that she didnât know who he was. However while part of him jumped with joy, the other part spiralled further and pressure added to his shoulders. There was absolutely nothing to stop Matthew, or his cooler, older friends from snatching her, and him, weak, little Quinn, trying to keep her in his rip was laughable. If it wasnât Matthew (unknowingly) getting daggers, it was his friend in the back. The athletic one eyeing y/n shamelessly, nudging the blond in a cap next to him.Â
âAnyway, nice bumping into you. See you fellas, Quinner,â He shot her a wink, ây/n.âÂ
Her face flushed warm, and she gave him a flirty wave before they disappeared into the office. Jim ushered his boys and friends out, Quinn remaining silent when he drove himself and y/n to the house, not even her hand on his thigh could cut through the thick atmosphere.Â
The rest of that afternoon Quinn shut himself in his room, undisturbed. His family huddled around the campfire, making s'mores and the boys sharing their day with Ellen. Y/n prodded at the fire, adding more wood and sat back in her chair, glancing up at Quinnâs bedroom window. The light was out, blind and curtains drawn, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts. She didn't feel like eating any more sâmores, she lost her appetite with the empty seat next to her and overbearing twisting in her gut. The Tkachukâs voices echoed from houses away, and she never thought sheâd dread hearing their laughter until then.Â
She didn't knock on Quinnâs door. She just let herself in, joining him in the sheets and laying on her back. His breathing was heavy, he opened his eyes and rolled onto his back.
âWhatâs up? You haven't said anything since we left the driving range.â She mumbled.
âNothing.â Her head turned to look at him, unimpressed. Feeling the shift, he peered over his shoulder before rolling his eyes, âDidn't like how he looked at you.âÂ
He faced her, scowl softening, noses painfully close. His eyes fell to her lips, hand cupping her jaw and glazing his thumb over her soft skin. The twisting in her gut dissolved into heat pooling in her stomach, desire rising with every stroke of his thumb.Â
âAnd how did he look at me, Q?â She rolled onto her side, rubbing her foot along his leg.
His breath shuddered, and his voice dropped to a rasp, âLike he wanted to devour you.âÂ
Shimmying closer, her hand pushed against his shoulder to lay flat on his back again. His hand never left her jaw, their lips closed in, ghosting each other as she propped herself up on her elbow. Getting jealous over a look, the way Quinn himself looked at her when she pranced around in her bikinis, hooded eyes and a lazy smile.Â
âSo, the way you look at me, Quinn?â Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip.
âYeah,â His voice above a whisper, laced with nothing but provocation for someone to do something, for he couldn't take the aching in his cock forever. âI won't do anything you don't want me toâŚwhat do you want me to do?â
âI want you to devour me.â She whispered into his mouth, his lips hitting hers with force, pulling her body on top of his and another hand, slipping up her shirt and exploring the curve of her spine. A low moan emitted from her throat, his tongue running along her bottom lip and impatiently tasting the sweet melted marshmallows from the s'mores when she granted him access. It was embarrassing how lost she was; taking a backseat wasnât in her system, but something about Quinn's tongue dominating and lapping at hers just made her seams burst and soak her panties then and there. It didn't matter how he knew what to do, or if he was just going with his instincts, the way his hands kneaded her flesh like dough drew whimpers from her throat and with a carnal desire racking her bones, she rolled her hips into his, paying extra attention to his cock stiffening in his shorts as it bumped her cunt.
âDon't stop,â he groaned, hands gripping the globes of her ass, âfeels s'good.âÂ
He kissed her again, bucking his hips up into her. Her hands slid to the hem of his shirt, tugging the bottom up. Quinn hesitated but sat up, keeping her settled on his lap but hastily pulling the clothing over his head. It was like all the insecurity of not being hot enough washed away with the way she was dry humping, aching for his dick, finally alone for them to misbehave.Â
She smoothed her hands over his chest, solid and defined, her fingers tracing over his collarbones and stomach as if he were a sculpture in a museum. Sure she'd seen him shirtless on the boat, but this was different. This was for her eyes only, she was allowed to touch and feel his skin and muscles contract and relax as she savoured every last drop of him.Â
âWowâŚâ She muttered, the pad of her fingers joining his moles with an invisible line like a constellation.
âDon't say that, I'm not like JackâŚor Trevor.â His gaze couldnât meet hers. He didn't have a six-pack, a tiny waist or any sort of boyish charm to him. âNothinâ special.â
She gripped his cheeks between her fingers, forcing him to stare into her eyes, âAnd yet here you are, in bed, with a girl who wants you to do disgusting things to her. You're special to me, shouldn't that be all that matters?â
Y/n let his face go, pulling her shirt over her head and discarding it somewhere across the room. She ran her hands down her chest, his eyes following as they travelled over her curves and to his hands. Taking them, she cupped his palms over her breasts.
âTake it off, Q,â She batted her eyelashes at him, his cheeks flushing, âI want you to touch me. What do you want?â
He slid his hands to her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra and watching with an intense and desperate stare as the underwear fell from her arms, tits bare and in his face and the clothing launched into the dark. They felt so soft in his palms, squishy and so soft. He rolled her nipples with his thumbs, watching her eyes shut and mouth part through his eyelashes. He couldn't wait to feel them against his chest finally.Â
âI wanna be the first guy to know how you feel around his cock, how you taste. I wanna be the guy you see when you're all alone, fucking yourself. I wanna hear you scream my name.â He pulled her in again, kissing her rough and messy, his hands leaving no place on her skin untouched and groping at her tits until he had her whimpering for more. With a groan rumbling from his throat, he flipped them over, hovering over her face of lust. Her pussy throbbed, and when his fingers pulled the bow on her shorts loose, she swore she would have cum right there.
âCan I?
âYes, please.â
âPlease what? I need words, pretty girl.â A flash of confidence washed over him, and he wasn't sure where it came from but his best guess was his core.
âPlease fuck me, Quinn,â She gasped, rubbing her thighs together, âPlease be the first to fuck me. I need you.âÂ
Diving into the column of her neck, he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her collarbones and the valley of her breasts, taking one into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the nub. His other hand groped and squeezed, pinching between his fingers while she mewled like a song to his ears.Â
Releasing her with a âpopâ, his kisses graced her hot flesh down her stomach and finished just above the waistband of her shorts. He gazed through his lashes, and sat on his heels, wiggling the shorts down and off her legs. He couldn't help but stare, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
âYou're so fucking beautiful,â his voice airy and in awe, tugging his shorts off and tossing them aside. âAll mine.
âAll yours,â she repeated, propping herself up on her elbows. âHave you ever fingered a girl?â
He shook his head, hooking his fingers around her panties and pulling them off, taking in the privilege of being the only one to see such a pretty sight before him.
âOnly seen it in porn, the basics.â He positioned his fingers, middle and ring, just to prove it. She smiled, taking his wrist and guiding him to her folds, gliding his fingers between them until he got the hang of it.Â
âThat's it, now rub my clit, firm but gentle.â He followed, taking her advice and circling her clit, peering up at her for reassurance. He got it, he knew he was doing it right when she collapsed back into his mattress, whimpering. Moving to hover over her, fingers gliding through her slick to the correct hole (he only knew from various conversations about the anatomy of a vagina she'd given, so he wouldn't look all that bad) and sliding one finger into her.
âYou're so fucking wet,â He smirked. A quick learner, indeed and much too indulged in her spongy walls as he pumped his finger, âPrincess, do I do this to you?â
âYeah,â She moaned. His fingers felt so much better, more filling. âMore, please.â
He added a second finger, drawing them in and out, curling, and he knew he was doing it right; she was writhing and whimpering beneath him, one hand fisting his sheets and the other locked on his bicep. His thumb nudged her clit on accident, but the way she arched and moaned had him circling it. She couldn't formulate a coherent sentence with the way he thrust his fingers into her, moving faster as sheâd cried. Quinn still couldn't believe the position he was in. His naked best friend, underneath his almost naked body, with his fingers inside her pussy, hoping to make her cum and lose his virginity. All while his family sat outside without a clue.Â
âShit, like that-â she bucked her hips to match his pace, âSo good, just like I dreamt, Quinn.â
âOh yeah? You dream aboutâŚme?â He grumbled, his voice low.
âYes!â
The knot inside her stomach tightened, her cunt clenching and swallowing his fingers like they were made for him. It had her wondering what else Quinn could do to her, how else he could make her cum, because the way his fingers curled as if he was summoning her climax was dizzying. Who knew that out of everyone, it would be Quinn making her squirm, Quinn's name slipping from her lips as his fingers stroked her walls and had her begging for more, Quinn causing her eyes to become half-lidded with a lazy and coquettish smile, plaguing her thoughts with dirty desires on how many other ways she could clench around him.Â
âGonna cum, Quinn,â She panted, squeezing her eyes closed.
âAnything you want, princess. Anything.â He pumped faster, her core relaxing and his fingers blessed with warmth leaking from her. He pulled his fingers out slowly, eyes locking with hers as he placed them on his tongue, tasting her flavour.
âYou taste amazing,â He licked his fingers clean, a small spark of hope for the future inside him. âHow was it? You okay?â
âIâm great,â She giggled, catching her breath, âWith more practice, youâll be a pro.â
He kissed her, y/n's tasting herself on his tongue, her hands in his hair, tugging at the curls on the nape of his neck. Something inside him screamed to stop before he became addicted, he needed her. He needed her in high dosages all the time, to feel her, to taste her, to have his tongue lap and suck hers and let their saliva intertwine like their bodies. He wanted to mark her up and call her a work of art.Â
He pulled his boxers off and left kisses over her collarbones.
âDo you have a condom?â He did, actually. Only two that Brady had slipped him the day he told him about the first time they kissed. Quinn leant over and rummaged around his nightstand, y/n running her hands over his body, specifically grasping at his hips. Something about men's hips was soâŚsexy. She couldn't explain it and didn't need to because Quinn kneeled over her, erect cock on display and y/n, without thinking, gently took it into her palm. His hands trembled when she gave him a couple of strokes, in awe at what she was seeing.Â
âYou're so pretty, Q,â She kissed his tip, âall mine.âÂ
âYeah,â He rolled the condom on, âall yours, baby.âÂ
Hand latching on the back of his neck, she pulled him on top of her, giving him time to line himself up cautiously before pushing himself in. Her jaw dropped wide, a gasp leaving her body and his head snapped to her.
âShit, I didn't hurt you, did I?â
âNo, it's justâŚnew, keep going.â
He slid in until bottoming out completely, her head tilting back as her walls adjusted to his size. She had no judgment, but he felt good and maybe, just maybe he'd grow to feel amazing. There was only one way to find out.Â
âFuck, you feel like heaven.â He fell to his elbows, face hiding in her shoulder.
âMove, Q, please move,â She whimpered, âfeels good!â
Quinn rocked his hips in a languid motion, back and forth, back and forth, his lovesick euphoria fuelling his stamina. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and whined in his ear, all he wanted to do was keep driving into her just to hear her ecstasy flourish. To feel her pulling him into an embrace of wet dopamine walls. Hooked on the feeling, he thrusted faster, groaning at the way she whimpered every time he pushed back in and his body surged with heat when her tits bounced against his chest. That was it. Just their bodies together. Together doing what nobody they knew had done before. Fucked their best friend, their person. Her Quinn and his y/n. In his bed, at the lake house, his cock plunging into her cunt with a luscious desperation serving the two teens a paradise of stimulation.
âFuck!â He groaned, planting kisses on her jaw and her lips, âSay my name, pretty girl.âÂ
âQuinn,â if she could scream his name she would have, but hearing the low moan in his ear was enough for his hips to pound faster, âgonna cum, Quinn.â
She wrapped her legs around his hips, cock reaching deeper and the shockwaves of the angle feeding into his excitement. She was latching onto him like he was her lifeline, moans and grunts blending like a chorus the harder and more his hips rutted into her pussy with crude greed. No, it wasn't perfect, it was sloppy and beginner, as expected. But for the first time, y/n's cunt swallowed every inch of Quinn possible. Skins slapping and his cock hitting her cervix as she'd dreamed of, his voice in her ears, eyes steady on hers with a primal yet loving gaze as they worked through it together, tits bouncing with every rut and smiles bright with adoration at the reality.
âCum with me,â he took her lips into his, tongues finding their rhythm as his thrusts lost theirs. âTaking me so well, princess.â
The pool of heat in her core was scorching, her seams of lust on the brink of bursting, Quinn's last few drags of his cock hitting the sweet spot right and a carnal, airy moan rang through his ears, her legs almost shaking. He took her through her orgasm, sticky cum filling the condom, his energy depleting, his hair sticking to his forehead but a fire still burning through his body. He wished he could have seen the display, seen the way she coated his cock creamy.Â
He collapsed onto her, not pulling out just yet, he'd do that when his energy regenerated. For now, he lay chest to chest with his head tucked in the crook of her neck, her fingers running over his back muscles delicately as they caught their breaths. She could have stayed like that forever, his voice chanting shameless grunts and sweet nothings like a mantra replaying through her head, refusing to forget the image of him over her body in the most despicable way. What else could they do now? What more? She couldn't resist the temptation of thinking about his kinks, what got him going? What did she do that riled him up? Did he know that his arms were delectable? That she loved when his shirts got tight around his chest?Â
âDid I hurt you?â His voice broke the silence.
âIt hurt at first slightly but it's okay. You didnât hurt me.â She smiled, one hand moving to stroke the back of his hair. âAre you good?â
She felt his grin against her neck, âI feel fucking amazing. You feel fucking incredible. You look so pretty, y/n. Always.âÂ
He was babbling, the comedown still holding onto him. While she did believe every word he said, was it in the moment or forever? She couldn't tell. She wouldn't know. But what she did know was that she didn't regret a single second, and wouldn't change it for the world. And that having him nestled inside her was comfortable, in the most filthy way.Â
Quinn pushed himself onto his elbows, giving her a chaste kiss on her lips, âAs much as I love this, I gotta clean us up and put clothes on before someone ruins it.âÂ
*
No one did ruin it. No one even questioned why they were in the same room, y/n waking up to his lips on her neck, leaving butterfly kisses until she'd grab him by the cheeks and kiss his face all over. That was the perk of sneaking into bedrooms for so long, people expected to see her emerge with Quinn, frothy toothbrushes hanging out of mouths and wearing a t-shirt that definitely wasn't hers (and he loved that). Back when they were fifteen, Jim had scolded Quinn for falling asleep with her, even if they did nothing. He received the uncomfortable teen pregnancy lecture that ruined the moment. It was the moment he realised that he would give anything to wake up next to her all the time, her face to be the first thing he saw and to start his day tangled up with her. Ellen wasn't as harsh on him, she knew her eldest wasn't irresponsible like that. Y/n hadnât received a lecture at all. Her mother asked brutal questions on what they were up to, but her father just said âAs long as you're not preggersâ. He knew his daughter wasn't a fan of children so why would she be irresponsible? But now at seventeen, theyâd really done it. And no one would know about it. And the sacrifices they'd make just to wake up next to each other every day. She'd love to see him in his disoriented, brooding state when she woke up, and if you asked Quinn or his family, she'd be the only one brave enough.Â
With a dopey grin, Quinn's arms caged y/n into the kitchen counter, pressing himself into her, lips attached to her neck. Since that night, the urge for action became unbearable. The next week was pure sneaking around, making out in empty rooms, subtle touches under tables, hands travelling up clothes indecently far and bedtime shenanigans kept at a low volume. Like now, in the empty kitchen, rolling hips into each other and lips connecting and reconnecting with needy tongues tasting whatever their last drink was. What originally started as grabbing plates and fruit for the neighbourhood barbecue quickly melded into hips being shoved into the counter and being kissed breathless.Â
âWe can't do this here.â She lightly pushed him off her mouth, hands placing themselves on his pectorals, flat and copping a feel. His hands fell to the small of her back, eyes shifting to the blue bikini top he knew she'd worn just for him.
âThen let's go somewhere we can, pretty girl.â He said playfully, pulling her back to him.Â
âQ, the barbecue. The Tkachuks will be here soon and Jim wants you to grill, he won't let Trevor near it again.â She slipped from his hold, taking the bowl of fruits off the counter and leaving through the porch doors, swaying her hips. He clicked his tongue. Matthew and Co would be there soon, but at least she hadnât swept him under the rug.
When the Tkachuks did arrive, it was more like the Tkachuks and friends as Matthewâs posse also turned up. Not that anyone made a fuss, the Hughes were all for parties, especially ones that brought their kids together.Â
One of the girls from Matthew's group, Layla, joined y/n at the garden table, which was arranged beautifully with snacks and plates. Y/n had barely heard the girl approach her until she saw her hand move the bowl of pretzels out of the way for the fruit bowl, and when she looked up she just blinked. Layla was gorgeous, with large, cat-like eyes lined with mascara and pin-straight blonde hair thrown into a bun.Â
âMust be rough being in a house of guys all summer, eh?â She smiled softly.Â
âSometimes, s'not always bad. We have fun but the snoring is awful.â Y/n returned the smile, fiddling with her fingers.Â
Layla held her arm out, âCome, have some girl time today. Boys are exhausting.âÂ
She wasn't sure if it was because she agreed with Layla, or if it was because an older and much cooler girl was inviting her willingly to hang out with her, but she looped her arm with Laylaâs and was led to Matthewâs group. They were spread out on the outdoor sofa, drinks perched on the table and in their hands, laughing obnoxiously at assumably an inside joke. Y/n skin crawled a little, only a small smile across her lips as the nerves swarmed like a storm. Layla led her to the sofa, and she sat between her and the athletic guy from the driving range. He now wore a backwards cap and plain t-shirt. Nothing special but his name was Colton, going by the name tag that stuck out the collar of his shirt. Although in new territory, the other two girls wearing bikini tops and shorts brought a small dose of solidarity and comfort. At least she didn't stick out like a sore thumb.Â
âY/n! Glad you could join us!â Matthew's proud voice called from the other end of the L-shaped sofa. Her smile widened. Brady was right, Tkachuks did have dashing good looks but up close, Matthew was pretty. Very pretty, too pretty. âColt, Zack, Ashley, this is y/n, y/n, Colt, Zack and Ashley.â He pointed to each of them.
Matthew was Matthew, pack leader and had a determined glint in his eye. Zack seemed too laid back for his own good, his blond hair still hidden under his cap, Ashley just waved quietly, knees tucked to her chest and Colton? Colton had the same brooding look as Quinn, but his eyes wandered a lot. And his facial hair was patchy.Â
âYo, youâre Quinn's girl, right? From the range?â Coltonâs grin wasn't as charming as he thought it was, but his voice was. Gravelly, nice on the ears, not too loud but not mumbled.Â
âI mean, kinda but weâre not together-â y/n began, nails scratching her collarbone.
â-nice, thought I recognised you.âÂ
âYou guys will love y/n, Brady talks about her all the time. Did you know they almost fought?â Matthew mused like an excited puppy, even though the fight he was referencing was barely a fight at all. His friends raised their eyebrows, surprised that someone other than Matthew had raised their voice at a Tkachuk.Â
âMatt, it was over vodka, it was barely a fight. Heâs such a dramatic ass.â Not entirely true, again but rather that than the truth of what it was really about and how it ended.Â
Matthew raised his hands in defeat, and Zack laughed. âSurprised Quinn even joined in. Usually, heâs the one huffing off.âÂ
She rolled her eyes, âHeâs alright, fuck off. And it wasn't his first time either, he handled it a lot better than Brady.â
Quinn and Brady stood at the grill, flipping the burgers; Brady in his usual playful manner but Quinn with aggravation, like he wanted to hurt the burgers, charcoal them. They stood in silence, watching y/n with the older Tkachuk and his friends treat y/n like royalty across the garden. Quinn's grip on the tongs so tight his knuckles turned white, his glare sharp as she giggled. Her laugh echoed out through the garden, her real laugh that came from her stomach, the laugh he only heard when it was just the two of them. He flipped the burgers, his brows knitted and lips in a stone-cold frown. How she got so comfortable so soon was beyond his brain, but then again, perhaps the presence of other girls made it better, did she find being cooped up with guys awkward?Â
âQuinner, you're staring. It's creepy.â Brady said.
âAm not staring, looking out for her.â He flipped the sausages.
Brady glanced over at his brother, with an almost worried look on his face. Y/n seemedâŚhappy. She was chatting with the girls, poking fun at the boys but she was fitting into their summer nicely. Quinn looked over once again, his skin becoming hot and jaw clenching.
âI know what you're thinking. Matthew wouldnât do something stupid like that. He may be an asshole sometimes but he's got morals. Besides, he's got the NHL, he wouldn't do something that could ruin that for him.âÂ
âSorryâŚI just,â Quinn sighed, âI'm not used to not having her attention. We've spent almost all of our time together, and it's justâŚweird. Wanted our little group to hang out and shit. I dunno what's wrong with me dude. I hate when she looks at them like they're the best thing ever. I hate when someone else's name comes out of her mouth, I can't stand the thought of seeing her with someone else.â
âThen why not ask her out already? âCause that sounds a lot like jealousy to me, Quinner.âÂ
âWhy would I be jealous of them? It's complicated.â Quinn grumbled. Truth be told, he didnât know how she felt. If he got rejected, he'd have to see her every day and act like nothing ever happened. He wouldn't kiss her again, touch her again, hug her again or wake up with her again. He'd be on his own, pining over the girl who didn't want him.
âWhatever, bro. You miss all the shots you don't take. But don't worry about Matt, believe me.â Brady shrugged, and they both watched the group from afar.
âIt's not Matthew I'm worried about anymore.â Quinn gritted his teeth and made a mental note that he wasnât the violent sibling and that punching people wasn't the solution anymore. He watched Colton throw his arm around the back of the sofa behind y/n, leaning in close. And when he thought his worst fears couldn't get worse, they definitely did.
Y/n retracted her shoulders like a frightened tortoise. She really was stuck between Layla and Colton, getting up and suddenly scuttling away just caused a scene. There was only so much fake laughter she could take before it became a chore, Colton had zero humour to his looks, but boy could he sweet talk. Throwing his arm behind her, thumb rubbing over her shoulder while compliments spilt from his mouth and into her ego. Quinn called her pretty all the time, but having a boy other than him call her flowery names released a new batch of butterflies.Â
Colton's lips in her ear, mumbling with his husky tone, âBlue's your colour, y/n, anyone ever tell you that?âÂ
She shook her head. Such a liar, she was such a shameless liar.
âI hardly believe that, like how I donât believe you when you say you've only had one boyfriend. Pretty girls don't just have one.â His eyes relaxed and became half-lidded, but her tummy flipped and hands clasped together in her lap. He was right. Pretty girls don't have just one boyfriend. They have a guy who calls her pretty girl but she doesn't know if she's just the token female or something meaningful.Â
âOnly the one. Not a lot of guys think I'm pretty, Colton, not any relevant ones at least.â Her eyes darted to the girls, but they were too caught up in conversation, not even Matthew or Zack could catch her message.
âI think you're pretty.â Colton's finger hooked around the strap of her bikini top, running it up and down the string, âAm I relevant?âÂ
The attention ignited fires along her skin, jolts of electricity throughout her nerves. An older guy thought she was attractive, that was new. And exciting. But also wrong. And felt like a betrayal, cheating, even if she and Quinn weren't together. But the attention and thrill, guys her age never begged for her, never looked at her the way he did. Even Zack agreed with Colton, proven at the driving range. For the first time in her life, she felt desired, hot. If she could get Colton, who else could she get?Â
Before she could make her move, Brady's voice bellowed, informing her that food was ready. Better luck next time.
It's called late-night shenanigans for a reason. And this time as soon as the adults had retreated to bed, Matthew and friends plus Hughes and friends had red solo cups lined in a triangular formation on the garden table, music softly playing in the background while the porchlight gave them enough visibility. Their favourite game, beer pong. With cups full to the brim with cheap beer. The teams split as anyone would have expected them to, and no one made a fuss.Â
Team 1: Matthew, Quinn, Brady, Zack, Trevor, Cole Team 2: Colton, Layla, y/n, Ashley, Jack, Luke
Forty-five minutes into the game Team Two (Colton's Canines) were leading. Team One (Matthewâs Hotshots) weren't far behind but Cole and Brady had a terrible aim for hockey players. Y/n's aim was almost too good, but her best-kept secret was that it wasn't her first beer pong game. This was why she was one of the least drunk people standing (Jack and Trevor barely able to stand, Jack doing his best to keep the beer down) aside from Luke, who was only allowed one cup given he was thirteen.Â
Brady stumbled to the table, ping pong ball loosely held in his fingers as he lined up his shot, his stance wide to stabilise himself as the world pulsed around him. He would've been alright if the cups contained just beer, but he was the first to discover that it was beer in some cups and vodka orange in others. How it went unnoticed was a mystery, but you're only young once. Brady made his shot, the ball bouncing once skimming the rim of the cup, and missing. Colton's Canines cheered, y/n laughed manically at him, throwing up her middle finger jokingly. Layla retrieved the ball, lining up her shot, releasing but also missing, the other team cheering in return.Â
Jack and Trevor's turn rolled around. Colton's Canines with four cups left and Matthew's Hotshots with two. Trevor poked his tongue through his lips, eyes trying to concentrate on the cups in front of him. He hadnât been this drunk since The Vodka Incident.Â
He winked at the girls in front, âWatch this ladies, a kiss if I get it.â He threw too long and missed.Â
âNice one, Trev. That first kiss isn't coming any time soon.â Y/n jested, shaking her head. The other girls giggled.
âHey, Iâve kissed girls!âÂ
âMhm, first time Iâm hearing about this, what about you Jack?âÂ
Jack nodded, âSure, sure. Anyway, my turn!â
Jack cracked his knuckles, positioned himself and took the shot, the ball bouncing once and landing directly into the cup. The Canines cheered, y/n and Jack throwing their arms around each other and jumping in a circle. Layla and Ashley gave the middle Hughes pecks on his cheeks as he watched Trevor down the cup of beer. One cup to four cups.
Y/n stood opposite Quinn, a bright smile on her face and his lips couldn't resist returning it. They couldn't help it. He didn't think, nor did he hype himself up. If there was one thing Quinn had learnt, it was that Brady was right. You miss every shot you don't take. And so he threw the ball and watched it bounce into a cup with a smug grin, the Tkachuk brothers hooting and hollering. Yet, his eyes remained on hers, gently. She chugged the drink and wiped the remnants from her lips with the back of her hand.Â
âWhen did you get so good at beer pong?â She laughed.
âI had a great teacher.â He shrugged, y/n acted shocked even though they'd been beer pong buddies at every party. When they were split this time, it pained them a little. Being pitted against each other was frankly like the end of the world, never in their lives did they enjoy being out of sync.Â
Y/n held the ball between her fingers, closed one eye and lined her shot. Large hands inviting themselves on her hips, Colton's voice in her ears and his breath unpleasant on her neck. If she weren't the centre of attention she would have jolted away, but the win was so close and Quinnâs arms were not so far. The ball bounced into the Hotshots final cup, Matthew and Brady both throwing themselves dramatically into Quinn, Cole and Trevor falling to their knees in despair. But Quinn's eyes pricked tears as he stood still and a rock. The Canines jumped for joy in each other's arms, hugging and laughing. Except y/n. She never got the chance. Before she had any time to even step away from the table, Colton's mouth latched onto hers, her hands moving to his chest. Quinn wiggled his way out of the Tkachuks, mumbling something about breaking the seal.Â
The bathroom door swung open and slammed behind Quinn. His hands gripped the basin as he did his best to choke back his tears. Why did it hurt? Y/n was supposed to run into his arms like she always did and theyâd hug longer than friends would, until eternity. But no one would question that because they were long-time friends. They were friends. So why did it tear his heart to shreds when the lips he devoured earlier that day melted into the lips of another? What was so fucking great about Matthew? Or Colton? And why was he such a coward?
Y/n pushed Colton off her, startled and heart-yearning for comfort. But he was gone.Â
âQuite a shot you have,â Colton smirked, âC'mon, princess, I can give you my address and we can see what other party tricks you got.âÂ
âPass.â Gross. Only Quinn got to call her that, but he was nowhere to be seen after she knew he'd disappeared, like he always did when upset.Â
âSure? Because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, think about it. You could be losing your virginity to someone who knows what they're doing-â he never finished his speech. Zack called him over, letting him know that they were heading out for the clubs and with that Colton was gone. As if y/n never existed. Little did he know, though, that his offer was pointless. Little did he know.
Even after agreeing that The Vodka Incident would not happen again, the usual suspects (even Quinn had returned, but with a face of thunder), mostly drunk, sat around the fire pit, with cups of leftover beer and vodka orange. Luke joined in this time, though Jack wouldn't let him drink any alcohol. A small sense of deja vu washed over, memories of the last fire pit night bringing a small smile to her lips as she sloshed the beer in her cup around.Â
âI'm gonna be really real here, and you guys should too,â Brady pointed around the circle with his cup in hand, âI had my first kiss last year. Horrible.â
âOh yeah? Explain.â Cole asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of his drink.
âNeither of us knew what the fuck we were doing and we'd both just eaten tacos so yeah. Didn't taste nor feel great at all.âÂ
âNasty. Bro, at least pop a mint beforehand. I kissed two girls a couple of years ago, it was okay. Nothinâ special, but we did crash teeth for one of them. That was awkward.â Jack chuckled, almost cringing at the memory.Â
âPoor girl, the kiss probably meant something special to her, Rowdy.â Y/n absently pitched in, feeling Quinn's eyes on her, as if to say âWhat happens in my room, stays in my room.â Was he ashamed of it? What was so bad about the kiss? Or kisses?Â
âOf course, you'd say that,â Jack rolled his eyes, adjusting the backward hat on his head.
âWhat about you Trev? I know we joke about it but have you actually kissed anyone?â She sipped her drink.
âDoesn't matter. What about you, huh? Bet you haven't. Anyway, Cole hasn't either, or Luke. So I'm not the only loser.â Defensive Trevor was an amusing Trevor, he huffed his cheeks and flushed red.Â
âI have. Fifteen. It was good, actually. One of the most memorable.â She crossed her leg over the other and leaned back in her chair, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Brady's face. Quinn said nothing, and nor did he want to say anything. He just sank further into his seat and finished his vodka orange, stuffing the cup into the chair's cup holder. âBrady, you ever made out with someone? You said that no one could resist a Tkachuk.â
âAh, well- almost okay? Her dad turned up and we had to stop. Can't believe the guy, honestly.â The group laughed at his stammering, except Quinn, who'd probably heard the story a thousand times. âYou think it's funny, y/n? What about you, huh?â
She leant forwards, hands gripping the armrests and the same shit-eating grin smeared on her lips, âYeah, and it was hot. Would do it all over again.â
âBrady, you're forgetting Colton literally shoved his tongue in her mouth over an hour ago,â Trevor exclaimed, the musketeers giggling over the crackling of the flames.
Quinn's glare thickened, and Brady caught sight of it. Luke did too as he watched his brother abruptly stand up and head for the kitchen, his feet heavy on the porch steps. Her eyes softened and followed him, watching him slide the doors open with an aggravation alien for him.Â
âI'll be right back.â She spoke over Jack.
Jogging in her flip flops up the stairs and into the kitchen, closing the door gently. Cautiously, she followed Quinn to the fridge, watching him yank a Fanta from the shelf and close the door harshly.
âHey Q, are you okay?â She asked with a small voice, picking the skin on her thumb.
âYeah, I'm fine,â He pulled the can's tab, the fizz echoing through the empty room. It was always âI'm goodâ, never âI'm fineâ. She'd known him long enough to know something like that, like how he always removed himself when he was in a bad mood, scared to hurt someone's feelings. âShouldn't you be with your new boyfriends?âÂ
He grumbled, barely looking her in the eye as he moved to leave out the porch doors, but she blocked his path, standing almost chest to chest with him, looking up. She hated that she found it attractive when he was mad, his voice always dropped. âNo. We haven't talked properly all day.â
âSo now you wanna talk?â He spun on his heel, slamming the can into the marble counter and pacing in the kitchen with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. It wasn't the time for the conversation, but a monster inside him taunted him with the idea that they may never have another opportunity.
âYes. So, what? And who are you-â She folded her arms, but he interrupted.
â-Oh don't play this game! I saw the way you were looking at Matthew, everyone saw. And Colton? You let him have a field day. How'd he taste? Like cheap beer and cigarettes? Or an adolescence of putting you before himself?â He snapped, staring as if waiting for an answer. She'd never seen or heard him yell like that. Fuck, Quinn had never properly yelled at her. Jack and Luke had relayed stories about what Quinn did to his teammates when they humiliated her, or what a pissed-off Quinn sounded like. But they were his brothers, he was supposed to get annoyed at them, he wasn't supposed to get annoyed with his best friend. He hadnât even yelled at Trevor like that, and that was saying something.Â
Putting you before himself. Her stomach emptied, just a pit of guilt spiralling yet her heartstrings yanked and toyed with. She couldn't bear to see him like that, his jealousy manipulated him in ways he had no idea could happen. She learned he was possessive, and she thought it was sweet. She liked it. But she wasn't his so why should she like it so much? There. She wasn't his. Not officially. Their attraction was obvious, lustful. But did he feel the same as her? Did his heart slow when tangled in each other's arms? Did he find her utterly intoxicating, wanting to kiss and fuck with love not just because they can and because it's easy to? Maybe her hints were too subtle, maybe she was too nice to Mila that one time. Maybe her glares in the hallways weren't threatening enough. Words left unsaid, they were convenient for each other, just like the kids at school said. Friends with benefits. Yeah, that's what they were. And it used to keep the peace.
She never answered his question, but it did eat at her. âQuinn, what the fuck? Look, I'm sorry I upset you, I really am, you know I am. You know I never want to hurt you but can you blame a girl for wanting to hang out with other girls? I had no idea where Layla was leading me, and I don't know what came over me. Just, having guys call you pretty does things, emotional things and it's different when you do it because we're friends. And I know you're pissed about beer pong, if I could have been with you I would have 'cause I did not ask nor want to be kissed like that,â She pleaded, watching his eyes gloss over as he sniffed. The last thing she wanted to do was make him cry. Then she remembered that all of whatever was going on between them was nothing but fun, and Quinn was the one who showed her that. âBut why do you care so much about a fucking kiss? We're not even together.â
He turned away and sighed, face buried in his hands. He didnât mean to shout. He didn't want to cry but the tears welled and rolled down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with his palms, heart pulsing in his ears and with the little energy he had left, he turned again to face her.Â
âI care because I thought we were something, y/n. I thought this,â he gestured between them, voice trembling, âmeant something real. Friends don't do the shit we do. I hated the way he touched you, you're supposed to be mine.âÂ
Her eyes watered, bottom lip quivering, hearing confession so raw. The confession of a confused and broken young man. They were only seventeen but the level of emotion in their argument made them sound like they were going through a horrendous break-up after a long-term relationship. âAm I? That didn't matter when you were shoving your tongue down Chloe's throat. I thought we were something too, Quinn.âÂ
The night she needed him the most, the night Leo dumped her, she found him in cahoots with some girl in their cohort. That was the moment she realised that perhaps she was just a placeholder.Â
Quinn groaned in frustration, not at y/n, but at himself but there was no excuse left for him to make as he spat venom at her, âLike you, she took me by surprise. We were drunk. But didn't think you'd hold onto that since Matthew is soooo dreamy and tall and pretty, probably hoped it was him trying to rip your clothes off, hoped Colton would make him jealous. That's why you've been using me as practice, for someone better, huh?â
âFuck you, Quintin!â she screamed, âthe fuck are you talking about? Using you? Is that how little you think of me?âÂ
He pointed at her, firmly, âYou and I both know it wasn't supposed to go this far!â
The silence that fell on them was thick and uncomfortable. Their gazes locked into each other as chests panted. Tears streamed from red, sore eyes as arms fell to their sides. Neither party felt victorious, deep down they really wished they hadn't said a word at all but the lake house makes emotions surge and disturb the serenity. It always had, with and without y/n, Cole and Trevor. He just wished heâd said something sooner, then he wouldn't have lost her like that. Once again, he was a coward and let her slip through his fingers.Â
Y/n exhaled deeply, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, âMaybe. But part of me was glad it did,â her voice calmest as she stepped backwards and started heading out the patio doors, âOh, and for what it's worth, I shoved him off. He didn't taste like hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. Iâd choose that over anything.â Â
And she left for the boys. Quinn's heart dropped and shattered, the tears falling like waterfalls and he didn't even want the drink anymore. He left it on the counter and shuffled upstairs. Hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. Their hockey game combo they share, just the two of them and they had been doing that since they'd met at ten years old.Â
*
Y/n didn't sleep in Quinn's room after that. She didn't speak to him for the next passing week, occupying herself with Luke or Cole. She played video games with Luke, baked cookies with him, took him and Cole out on the boat (just to spite Quinn), and played pool in the basement. Quinn watched, unable to exit the proximity of them. He wasn't seething. He was deflated. Like a sad, wet, cat. Most of all, he was lonely. And he hated sleeping alone.Â
Jack placed his plate next to the sink, watching Quinn's shoulders slump at yet another dish to clean. Sunday's were his day to clean dinner dishes, and usually, y/n helped him dry and put them away, but since he'd bitten her head off a week ago, he struggled alone. Jack hated seeing his brother dejected, it was the same hollow eyes that a lost hockey game caused. One where you tried so hard just to fuck it up. He grabbed the tea towel off the ovenâs handle and started drying the dripping dishes from the draining board.
The middle Hughes. Rowdy with ambition in his blood, but also a brother. Jack took a plate, âSooo, y/n's been spoiling Luke a lot this week. Why'd you get demoted?âÂ
Quinn glared from the corner of his eye. He knew Jack just wanted to lighten the mood, but he also knew he wasn't tuned in with comfort at his age. âI fucked up. Said something I shouldn't have said, an in-the-moment thing.â
âLike?â Jack placed a plate down, taking another like a system in a machine, Quinn washed, he dried, plate added to the pile.
âI- It's-,â Quinn stammered, remembering that no one had a clue what they were up to, âWe just had a misunderstanding and instead of being mature about it, I said some stupid things.â
Jack thought hard, barely looking at him and set his gaze out the window into the garden, watching his dad put the covering over the boat. âYou're my big brother, and if you think for a second that I'm gonna take that as an answer, you're wrong. At least tell me the root cause of it.âÂ
Quinn paused, his tone coming across as more irritated than intended, âI was jealous, Jack...sorry. And I walked off instead of apologising and here we are.â
âYou're a real idiot, you know that, right?âÂ
*
Sunday night, a whole week of sleepless nights due to Trevor. And even Cole had started getting irritated. How could one guy snore so badly? And he was only sixteen. She lay wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Had she been too harsh on Quinn? Was silent treatment really necessary? She wouldn't have been surprised if Quinn was miserable too, they had been each other's pillars for years.Â
Her trance of thoughts was broken by a âthudâ from the bed. She shot up, only to see Cole's pillow over Trevor's face, a disgruntled Cole still gripping it.
âSmothering crosses my mind.â He deadpanned.
Trevor sat up with urgency, letting the pillow fall into his lap, tank top crumpled to his stomach, âWhat the fuck? Why are you two awake? You should sleep.â
âDude, your snoring is so bad, you gotta do something about it,â Cole said, taking back his pillow.
âI literally have to move rooms because of it.â She added, laying back down.
âThen why are you here?â Trevor lay back down, pulling the duvet to his chest. âActually, why haven't you been with Quinn this week?â
She hesitated, âQ and I had an argument. We're not on speaking terms. And honestly, I don't think he wants to see me.â
All three of them lay facing the ceiling, listening to the whirr of the fan fill the void. The boys knew something was wrong, Quinn and y/n's separation wasn't hard to miss but keeping normality was best. Nobody wanted a ruined summer.Â
âI think all he wants is to see you. You're his world and he just mopes without you. What was it about?â Cole's voice was soft and quiet so Jim or Ellen wouldn't come barging in again. That happened once when they were younger, all three had the giggles and Jim had to threaten to separate them.Â
âJust a stupid misunderstanding. He said shit, I said shit and we both just hurt each other in the endâŚâ she sighed, âI don't know what to do, guys.âÂ
They didn't pry, they weren't sure if they wanted to know what was said. After so many years of watching Quinn and y/n hopelessly pine over each other, an argument couldn't ruin that.Â
âWell, as a start you could apologise. Make up, make out, whatever you two do. And for fucks sake, just talk. Like, really talk about whatever's going on.â Trevor replied, not really knowing what he was saying but he tried to be helpful when he could.Â
She kicked the sheets off and opened the guest room door and whispered, âThanksâ before slipping out. He didnât mean right then and there but he shrugged, letting Cole fall asleep first before his snoring continued.Â
Like a creep, she stood with her back against his door, mustering up the courage to talk and pushing her pride aside. She sighed and tiptoed over to his bed, and lay on her back next to him. His sheets were warm and cosy but heat radiated off his body. Neither said anything, but he felt her presence and it took everything he had to not engulf her in a hug and spill his apologies, he was still an insecure young man deep down. But hearing her breathing, he was also weak.Â
âHi,â she greeted into the silence, voice above a whisper. Quinn slowly turned over, threw his arm over her torso and buried his face into her neck. She didn't respond for a few seconds, but when she wrapped her arms around him, his chest fell weightless. âI'm so sorry, Q.â She mumbled into his shoulder, fingers finding themselves in his hair.
âNo, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come at you like that or said any of those things,â he pushed himself onto to elbows, eyes glassy but red, âI was jealous and I took it out on you. I'm so, so sorry.â
âI shouldn't have brought things up either, seeing you with a girl justâŚyeah, makes me jealous too, especially because neither of us communicated well. I take back everything I said, except the last bit.â She smiled slightly, her palm on his cheek.Â
âI missed you,â his lips fell into a sad smile, his head falling onto her chest.Â
âI missed you too.â She held him tight, âWhy did you think I was using you?â
âSome kid at school brought the idea of just being convenient. And then when Brady came over with the vodka, you said Matthew was attractive. And I stupidly put the two together. Regretted it when you mentioned hot chocolate. I should've helped you, but instead, I got jealous and ran away.â His voice was hoarse, hand slipping under her shirt and thumb rubbing the skin on her stomach.
âIt's okay. I should've helped you at the party instead of crying like a bitch. Guess we're both stupid.â She chuckled.
Minutes passed and neither dozed off, but neither spoke. His thumb caressed her skin, while her fingers played with his hair, their breathing pattern slowly falling into a synchronised rhythm. Once again, they lay in his bed, tangled in each other's limbs and once again they both rendered the same question. If they hadn't been afraid of all the possible answers, they could be happily skipping through meadows or sleeping alone again.Â
She took a deep breath, and he felt her chest rise and fall. With enough courage, she muttered, âQ? What are we?â
He didn't answer immediately, but he pulled his hand from her shirt and hovered over her body, his eyes following hers: lips to eyes, lips to eyes.
âMore than friends.â He licked his lips, but he couldn't read her expression, âI don't wanna be friends with benefits, and I don't wanna just be your best friend anymore.â
âQuinnâŚâÂ
He clambered off her and sat against the headboard on his side of the bed. Giving her no chance to react, he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs straddling his. Quinn's hands cupped the globes of her ass, and the soft flesh reminded him of how much he missed kneading and pawing at them.Â
âPlease, let me get this off my chest, I've been a coward.â He started, the fire inside him igniting when her palms slid down his chest and sat comfortably on his pectorals. Where they belonged, if you asked him. Quinn wasn't good with words, or feelings, it was something all the brothers had in common, and y/n eyebrow raised at how choked up he suddenly became when admitting to trying to not be a coward. âShit, this is harder than I thought. Fuck- Uh, okay. When I said I spent my adolescence putting you before myself, I meant it. Valentine's Day, when we were fifteen, I meant to give you those chocolates after the second period, but my friends roped me into helping someone ask this girl out. That evening when you came to see if I was okay, and we fell asleep for the first time, my heart went crazy, I was sweating so much âcause I wanted you to be comfortable and I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did.â
She took his face into her hands, feeling the heat rise in his skin and spill his mind. He pulled her closer to him, her stomach tingling at the way he massaged the flesh like his personal stress toy.
âRemember the concert? You clung onto me like I was your lifeline, I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And the Maple Leafs game, God after the Maple Leafs game. I'll never forget the way you looked at me like I was fucking treasure. Like I was your everything.â He stopped his babbling, hands giving her ass a rest and holding onto her hips, a small part of him kicking himself for sitting her too close to his crotch.Â
âI never wanna hear you say that you're not good with words again.â Y/n felt her heart pound in her throat, stars in her eyes at every word of his laced with a sweet desire for redemption. âEvery second I've ever shared with you was the highlight of my life. Since the day we met, you've been everything. I just wanted to be your everything too.â
âI feel like the luckiest man alive. Every day, all the time.â A glint of carnal passion glazed over his eyes as they steadied on hers. Her thumbs rubbed his cheekbones, his hands holding onto her for dear life. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering, the emotions that swirled had to be released. The butterflies had to be set free, the fluttering raging and heat in her core inappropriately bubbling. Quinn's room was silent, just the hum of his fan filling the crumbs of awkwardness as they refrained from pouncing on each other. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out and took a risk bigger than any he'd taken in hockey, a risk with worse consequences. He could get over hockey but he couldn't get over her smile, or laugh, or existence. âY/n, I have been in love with you since we were fifteen. You're the only person who makes me feel this way.â
âQ,â She breathed, pushing herself into him, closing the painful gap between them and connecting their lips into a long kiss, âCan we be real? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend real?â
He nodded, planting kisses over her face and down her neck, âYes. Yes, please. You're mine and I wanna be yours. God, you have no idea how happy I was when you told me you didn't kiss Leo, you were still all mine.â
She giggled, his breath on her neck tickling her skin and the arousal pooling in her stomach dripping into her underwear, âCome here, I wanna kiss my boyfriend. Maybe show him how much he means to me.âÂ
She kissed him softly, hands sliding from his cheeks to the back of his neck, where her fingers tangled between the curls on the nape of his neck, tugging gently to tease a grunt or groan from him. His grip on her hips loosened, and his hands ran along her thighs until they groped at her ass again, encouraging her to roll her hips into his. They'd kissed before, but this time it was meaningful. It was something clear, not a bundle of questions of âwhat ifsâ. When her teeth gently bit his lower lip, to refuse would have made him a criminal. The bliss that cradled him when their tongues met once again was different too, it was just his to taste. No one else's, he could lap at hers until they dribbled down their chins, delirium rushing to their heads when they moaned and whimpered when someone pulled away to breathe.Â
The best part was the peace of mind. She didn't have to think about anyone touching him the way she did as she slipped their shirts over their heads again, hands roaming each other's curves and dips like it was their first time all over again. Before Quinn knew it, his hand was rummaging through his nightstand again, her clothes would be on his bedroom floor, his skin would be pressed against hers, and they would be under his sheets, rasping and whining as quietly as possible as his cock hit new angles, or as her throat took more than either had thought. The difference this time was that having sex came with a meaning, a feeling other than lust. It wasnât a fun game, it was intimate and exclusive. It was with the red thread of fate, tied around their pinkie fingers, and it had finally led them into a sublime vicinity.
The usual suspects sat where the best times of their lives began. The night was young, the sun only just falling into slumber as the crickets chirped. Wrapped up in hoodies and lounging in lawn chairs, summer evenings nearly ended the same every day. Brady, y/n and Quinn with a box of beer between them, Trevor, Jack, Cole and Luke with non-alcoholic equivalents y/n had found, even though sheâd seen them grab a real bottle when they thought they were slick, around the fire pit at the lake house.Â
The harrowing thing about good times is that they fly too fast, and you're left wondering why you didn't have enough time. There are two kinds of people. People like Quinn who prepared to open a new chapter in his story, a new door in his life. And people like y/n who clawed at the door to keep it open, screaming for more time. Not more time with Quinn, they both got into the University of Michigan and after a year of dating, they still had many in their journey. But Brady was off to Boston University, and Jack, Cole, Trevor and Luke still had high school and their lives together would carry on.Â
Brady broke the silence first, âDo you guys have any regrets?â
He didn't expect Luke to answer, given his life had only just begun.
âI regret not talking more to new people,â Cole replied, listening to the crackling of the burning wood. âFeel like I would have friends like Jack and Trevor, be remembered as me not known as âJack and Trevor's friendâ, yunno?â
âDude, no! People know you as Cole! You're not just a third wheel!â Jack protested, hurt in his tone.Â
âCole, you're not our third wheel! We love you, buddy!â Trevor added, his guilt creeping up on him.Â
âI don't have any, yet. Aside from being born so far apart from you losers.â Luke smirked, all smug like fourteen-year-olds were. Y/n grinned and shook her head at him. If there was one person who had a soft spot in her heart, it would always be Luke.Â
âAnd it better stay that way,â she laughed, âLuke, I just wanna put you in my pocket and take you everywhere.âÂ
âAhem, what about us?â Jack gasped dramatically, pointing at himself and his two musketeers.Â
âEw, you're annoying and Trevorâs snoring can only get fucking worse. Cole and I actually considered smothering him once!â y/n joked, looking around the group to see smiles.Â
The laughter died down, and they went back to sipping drinks and watching the fire, minds wandering in separate directions.
âYou guys will come visit, right?â Trevor asked, his voice the quietest it had ever been.Â
âOf course. We'll be back during the summer, and we can hang out again.â y/n's voice was the softest it could have been with Trevor, usually she nagged as if she were his older sister.Â
*
All good things must come to an end, and carefree days slowly dissipated for Quinn, y/n and Brady. The three stood out the front of the Hughes lake house, waiting for Matthew to pick Brady up on his way through. Not one of them dared to say much. They'd had their sappy talks earlier and if they started again late at night, tears were guaranteed. Especially since both boys were due in the upcoming NHL draft, that was one of the scariest parts.Â
But she did say something. She wasn't sure if she'd ever see Brady again, and while she hadnât known him long, she kept him close.Â
She held her fist out to the middle Tkachuk with soft eyes, âGood luck, Brady. At Boston and in the draft.â
Brady breathed and pulled her by her wrist into a sudden bear hug, âThanks, y/n. Good luck at Michigan. And if Quinner ever hurts you, you tell me, okay?â
She giggled as they pulled away, âGot it. Hear that Q?âÂ
Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, âYeah, yeah. God, as if I'd want to do thatâŚor have Brady rock up at my door ready to hit me.â
âI've done it before and I'll do it again!âÂ
Shortly after, Matthew's truck pulled up. The three bid their final goodbyes of the summer before Quinn and y/n watched the Tkachuks disappear down the road.Â
âHe'll go far, Q. So fucking far.â She uttered, her eyes wide with a childlike admiration.Â
Quinn snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, âToo far for his own good.â
âAnd I expect to see you both on TV, okay? Don't hit each other though, leave Brady and Matthew to brawl.âÂ
âI'll do my best.â He paused, his smile fading, âWhat happens if I get drafted? What happens next?â
âYou'll get drafted, and you'll either jump straight in or play at UMich for a bit. I'll finish university and who knows? We'll call and text, we'll figure it out and we'll see each other in the summer. Right here. I'll go wherever you go.â
âBut what do you want to do? Like after you graduate? I don't wanna hold you back.âÂ
She cupped his cheek, âI donât know. I don't know yet. I'll probably do something media or hockey-based, you know that.â
He nodded, giving her a slow and warm kiss on her lips, as if he were to never kiss them again, savouring the flowers that bloomed inside, all the fireworks exploding at once and the reassurance that in the end, he got his girl. The future was scary, and no one could know what would come next. But y/n finally stopped clawing at the closing door that she desperately tried to keep open, and hand in hand followed Quinn into the next chapter of their story.Â
âI love you, Q.âÂ
âI love you too, y/n.â
[Masterlist]
[Requests CLOSED]
small worlds taglist | @bunbunbl0gs
2024 Š STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.
Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut#nhl smut#nhl x reader#this has been circling my mind for too long#hockey smut#âĄqh43#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes imagine
1K notes
¡
View notes