#points. quinn ice

[zorphie]

hands him over to.you❤️

[vacz]

"Who are you looking at?" Bad End Friends (Comic)

I've spent all day trying to finish this comic! AHHHHH

So I present you an idea of a ship... Hunter x Ice Finn

"Why?" Well, if we think in the fact that in Adventure time's multiverse all the versions of Finn always ends up having a romantic relationship with a version of Huntress Wizard, and we take Bad End Friends as a canon alternative timeline where Finn didn't destroy Ice Finn's crown and so he later joined Bipper, how would Farmworld!Finn ends up with his version of Huntress Wizard as Ice Finn? Well the answer is simple: He doesn't end up with directly another version of her but someone who is similar to her... And guess who is more similar to Huntress Wizard?

That's right! Hun- Beast Wirt. I personally think Beast Wirt has actually more similarities with her since they both are like spirits of the forest who almost have the same personality, HOWEVER, I think Hunter and Ice Finn would have more CHEMISTRY and let me explain why:

They both are insane, they MATCH THEIR FREAK.

Ice Finn wouldn't be weird out for Hunter's appearance at all, like he did with the Lich, so Ice Finn would judge him according to his action and god- he gets it, At first he would hate him because Hunter is literally chopping people! But after getting an explanation of why he does this, Ice Finn would sympathize with the feeling of "wanting to protect your family" and want to help Hunter with his brother. Ice Finn proposed to Wirt the chance to save lives without having to change that much, and Hunter couldn't resist it, he could finally do something good for humanity! Maybe he could even redeem himself!

IT'S A KING AND KNIGHT DYNAMIC WITH SOME TONES OF PANTHERS IN CRIME

Hunter would watch around for people, and if he finds them then he should bring them to Ice Finn so he could freeze them. However, most of the time he spent it around Ice Finn himself, sometimes helping him with spells or other stuff like cooking, and other times just hanging around together. Their relationship is more equal than it seems, Hunter is just as enthusiastic as Ice Finn in saving lifes the way they do, Ice Finn constant joy and quick reactions are like fresh air for Hunter, who misses some real emotion in life, while Ice Finn has someone who actually cares about his safety and it's not manipulating him for his own selfish desires. Hunter loves Ice Finn's madness because it is a constant of movement, life and joy! While Finn isn't weird out at all by Hunter's more creepier madness, and actually finds him pretty cool and charming. They both don't judge each other and they are openly crazy together

Hunter is normally submissive, and has a craving for love to the point that he could fall really HARD for someone who shows him affection, of course Hunter would be protective and very jealous if someone tries something with Ice Finn, he thinks Finn as one of his more precious properties so Hunter would not let go this guy. Ice Finn is not innocent either, he was the one who kidnapped Hunter in the first place, Ice Finn makes him sleep on a cage even, you can say he also sees Hunter as a pet, one he loves so much but a thing at least...

However, even if they have these things that for normal people would be very toxic, for them is living a romance, a strange and delusional romance, where both souls lost deep in madness find each other to be their own guide though the black ocean of insanity

So tell me your opinion, I hope you guys like it! ^^

[victorianpuckbunny]

Jack slowly inheriting Quinn's ability to see the horrors/ ghosts.

[haunted hughes]

[hughes-your-daddy]

baby #2

paring: quinn hughes x fem reader

summary: life 6 months along with baby number 2 at the lake house

the cold air of the rink seeped through the think layers of your coat, six months pregnant and bundled up in your favourite hoodie, obviosuly Quinns, sitting comfortably on the bench closest to the glass, one hand resting gently over the curve of your belly.

down on the rink, quinn smiles, skating backwards in loops as your 4 year old clumsily chases the puck. jack and luke werent far behind, skating around behind him, mahhming it up for thr giggles that echoed in the arena.

you giggle seeing him shoot the puck into the net doing a little celebration, the boys laughing too.

"ok mister, time for you to go with mommy now, its time for the big boy practice." quinn says, rallying him up and over to the door where you move to wait.

"mommy, did you see me? i scored" he celebrates hugging your legs.

"i did honey, you were amazing." you gush, gently taking off his helmet, and brushing his hair our his face, "im gonna take him to the market, do you need anything?" you ask, pulling quinns hat further onto his forehead.

"ooh, could you get some of that nice bread you bought last week?" he asks, pulling you in by your waist.

"bread, got it," you smile pressing a kiss to his lips, "ill see you later, love you." you smile before pulling away to motion to rowden, "say bye to daddy, uncle jack and uncle luke baby."you smiel seeing him wave his little hand at jack and luke before giving quinn a leg hug.

"bye buddy, be good for mommy." he smiles, before you grab your bag taking rowdens had and leading him to get changed. you quicky chnage him out of his hockey gear, leaving it next to quinns bag in the locker room before dressing him in some little sweats and a t-shirt.

"ready to go to te market honey?" you ask bending down to tie his laces, as he kicks his feet.

"can i get a cookie please?" he asks flashing his little smile, the same as quinns.

"sure baby." you smile kissing his forehead and heading out, passign a few players who are meeting the boys for their summer practice, saying a quick hello to grandpa jim before securing him in his carseat.

you take off your hoodie, leaving you in your overalls, a small tshirt underneath, feeling the heat of the summer sun compared to the chill of the ice rink and changing from your uggs to your birkins before getting in the car yourself and heading to the market.

you let the summer air drift in through the windows as you drive into town, the streets filled with little stalls and shops.

you park up, quickly unbuckling rowden from the back seat, making sure he’s holding your hand before you set off, checking out each of the stalls.

you go straight over to the small bakery stall and picking rowden up to rest on your hip so he can see the options.

“can i get that one mommy? please?” he asks pointing to m&m cookie, a little smile on his face.

“sure baby,” you smile before turning to the stall keeper, “could i just get one m&m cookie please?” you ask and quickly pay before heading off to get the necessities.

you pick up that bread quinn wanted as well as some ingredients for food tonight as they’re doing a bbq. starting to get a bit tired from walking and hungry you decide to head into a small cafe, ordering a decaf coffee and pastry for yourself, while ordering a small fruit juice and sandwich for rowden.

yous sit down in the small window seat, pushing your sun glasses into your head, letting the small boy ramble on about him in the ice. you smile seeing how excited he gets about hockey, happy that he’s not being pressured into it, he really just loves it.

you chuckle at his animated talking before jumping at a hand in your shoulder.

“oh my god quinn, you scared me.” you laugh, moving along the small bench so he can sit down.

“sorry baby, jack offered to drop me off here.” he smiles, kissing your temple before turning to rowden. his arm rests over your shoulders, gently tracing circles on your arm as he listens in to rowden as well.

“you know, uncle jack said you were so good today, he’s gonna take you out on the boat to the lake.” quinn says, seeing the boys face light up.

“today?” he asks, kneeling on the seat to look at quinn better.

“yeh baby, you uncle jack and uncle luke.” quinn nods pushing his wet curly hair off his forehead.

rowden squeals, clapping in excitement causing you and quinn to laugh before he’s back munching on his sandwich.

“did you ask jack to take him out?” you whisper, seeing a sheepish smile on quinn’s face.

“well, i thought it would be nice for you to have a break, we can sunbathe, maybe go in the hot tub without any distractions.” he smiles and you can’t help but kiss him out of gratefulness.

“thank you.” you whisper against his lips, him pressing another quick kiss to them before settling beside you.

“mommy, daddy, i’m done, can we go back now? i want to go boat,” he asks, kicking his legs on his chair.

“sure baby, let me quickly get this in a to go cup,” you smile before quinn stops you.

“i’ll do that,” he smiles, taking your coffee over to the counter where the barista puts it in a to go cup for you.

“ready buddy?” he asks coming back over, he hands the cup to you before rowden makes grabby hands at him, quinn picking him up to carry him.

you swing your tote bag over your shoulder, cup in the other hand, before walking out with quinn hand in hand, heading back to the car.

you get there fishing out your keys handing them to quinn.

“you mind driving?” you ask as he takes them.

“not at all, you ok?” he asks, settling rowden in his car seat before closing his door, turning to you.

“mmh, my feet just hurt a bit.” you smile before he kisses your forehead, taking the drives seat as you get in the passengers seat.

he starts driving back to the lake house, one hand on the wheel the other on your thigh, rowden quickly falling asleep with the engine of the car.

“how’s little bug doing?” quinn asks, thumb brushing your thigh.

“she’s fine,” you smile, rubbing the curve of your belly, “maybe still a little hungry though?” you say, hearing quinn chuckle.

“when we get back, you go and get changed into some swim wear and i’ll make you up something yeh?” he says and you nod, taking his hand in yours.

“deal.” you chuckle, the rest of the drive going quickly.

you jump out, moving to take rowden out his seat, resting him on your hip before quinn comes over brows furrowed.

“i told you, let me get him. your backs worse as it is.” he sighs, taking the sleeping boy from you, before heading inside.

you follow, dropping your bag at the kitchen island before taking rowden back without letting quinn stop you.

“i can do it ok? im just gonna get him changed.” you say pressing a kiss to his lips to stop him saying anything.

“ok,” he smiles taking a breath before moving to make you some food.

you head upstairs to your room, laying him down on your bed, moving to grab him some swimming trunks and a tshirt to swim in.

you quickly change him, letting him sleep while you get changed yourself, into a bikini, throwing one of quinn’s button up shirts on top as a cover up.

you smile seeing the small boy start to wriggle, waking up.

“mommy?” his little tired voice calls out, as you walk over, lifting him into your hip.

“hiya baby, you ready to go on the boat?” you ask, moving to grab his swim floaties and heading downstairs. you walk into the kitchen seeing quinn plating up some sandwiches ready to take outside.

“daddy!” rowden calls out, quinn taking him from you, as you pick up the sandwiches. you head outside into the decking, where luke and jack are waiting by the boat ready to head out.

“hey y/n, how you doing?” luke asks, taking the swim floaties from you and into the boat.

“alright, we’ll probably be a couple of hours, have a little swim stop of for some food at the country club, that all good?” he asks and you smile, giving him a hug.

“i’m good yeh, excited for a bit of pirate and quiet.” you smile, as quinn moves past you, setting rowden on the boat, jack securing a small life jacket around him, as he bounces in his seat.

“literally perfect.” you say, pulling away before pressing a kiss to rowdens head, “you be good ok?” you say the small boy nodding excitedly.

“bye bye mommy, daddy!” he smiles, waving his little hand as jack starts the boat, moving away into the lake.

you watch them leave, jack driving while luke entertains rowden next to him, smiling as quinn snakes his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder as his hands rest on the bump.

“hot tub?” he asks, you giggling, bring an hand up to play with his hair.

“yes please.” you giggle, turning around as he leads you back up the dock onto a small decking area, where the hot tub is.

you shrug off your shirt, quinn getting in first before holding out a hand to help you get in. you step in carefully, settling next to him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you hum in delight.

“i don’t think you realise how nice this is.” you hum, leaning your head onto his shoulder letting your eyes close.

“helping your back huh?” quinn asks and you nod, his hand brushing up and down your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i’m really grateful for your brothers you know.” you smile, looking up to quinn his own smile widening.

“yeh, they really love you, you know. they’re always asking me how you’re doing, if they can visit. i’m starting to think they prefer you over me.” he laughs and you sit up, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“obviously they do, why wouldn’t they?” you tease, him pressing a kiss to your lips, hand resting on your bump in the water.

yous stay in the hot tub for a little bit until you start to get hungry again to decide to get out, and sunbathe instead. he pushes two sun loungers together, laying some towels out while you grab the sandwiches and your book, finally taking a seat.

you sit cross legged, quinn turning to sit opposite you as his share the sandwiches, sunglasses perched on your noses.

you finish them quickly, quinn leaning over to put the plate down on the ground beside you, before you’s move to be more comfortable.

you lay on your bad, book in one hand while quinn lays on his stomach, arm draped across the bottom of you belly, gently tracing shapes on your skin, while your other hand falls in his hair, getting tangled in the curls.

it doesn’t take long for quinn to fall asleep, exhausted from practice, leaving you to get through quite a few chapters. you continue to read until you start to feel baby girl begin to kick which must wake quinn up as well.

“baby girl, stop kicking your mama.” quinn mumble, pressing a small kiss to the side of your stomach.

“she’s active, probably another hockey player.” you smile seeing quinn interact with your belly, fingers still scratching his scalp.

“hey, if we’re lucky we’ll end up with a little hockey team.” he smirks, causing you to push him away.

“hey, i’m not pushing out a whole team ok? three max.” you say, quinn laughing, leaning up to kiss you.

“i’d love three.” he smiles, before moving to sit, his back against the lounger, you laying back into his chest.

it’s soon enough you see them pulling back into the dock, rowden fast asleep on luke’s lap. you sit up, pushing your sunglasses onto your head as they approach, luke carrying rowden while jack has all their stuff.

“he’s knocked out huh?” you laugh, as luke lays him down on a sun loungers next to you.

“he absolutely loved it, thought it was so cool being out without his parents.” jack smiles, setting down his stuff before sitting on the end of quinn’s lounger.

“think he’s also got a bit of a crush on one of the country club girls.” luke jokes, both you and quinn laugh, “he was really happy each time she came over.” jack adds, as rowden begins to stir alrighty beside you.

he wakes up, immediately crawling into your lap, as you position him to sit just ontop of your bump, laying back so he can lay against your chest.

“you have fun baby?” you ask pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“it was so good, m’tired mommy.” he yawns against your chest, as you push his slightly damp hair out his face.

“go to sleep rowdy, mommy and daddy will still be here when you wake up.” you whisper, him nodding half asleep already.

you lay there gently rubbing circles on his back as yous talk, jack showing some pictures he took while out on the boat.

“i’m gonna lay him down inside, so he doesn’t overheat.” you smile, carefully lifting him up to stop him from waking and lay him down on the couch, laying a light blanket over him to stop him from getting too cool from the air con.

you make your way back outside, taking your spot back on the sun lounger, bringing a foot up to rest on your knee, gently massaging the bottom.

“come here,” quinn says patting his thigh, you smile turning sideways and leaning against the sun lounger, feet up on his lap as he begins massaging both of them as you all continue to chat.

“trevor and cole are coming over tonight for some food fyi.” jack smirks knowing how crazy rowden gets when they’re around.

“at least he’ll sleep tonight.” you sigh, letting your own eyes close just for a minute. time goes on, the sun beginning to set so yous all head inside to get changed, quinn and jack needing to prep some food.

you head up to your bedroom, deciding to shower off the sweatiness, washing your hair when the curtain is pulled back, quinn stepping in.

“hiya.” you smile, tipping your head back to let the water rinse out the suds.

“hiya baby.” quinn says softly, hands on either side of your bump as you shower together. he helps wash the bottom half of your body since you can’t reach very well before you switch, lathering shampoo onto your hands, massaging it into his scalp.

“your head massages are fucking incredible.” quinn mumbles, eyes closing at the feeling.

“mmh, you better repay me tonight.” you say one of his eyes popping open, with a smirk.

“oh yeh? with what?” he asks, moving back to let the water rinse through his hair.

“back massage, not a chance your getting any action tonight.” you put plainly, causing him to laugh.

“whatever you need baby.” he says before yous step out, towel wrapped around your curved belly, quinn following as you change into a pair of his sweats and a slightly cropped tank top so your belly’s on a bit of show. you slip on your uggs and sliding on quinn’s jacket before dropping down onto the bed with a sigh.

“tired baby?” he asks, sweats hung low around his waist as he slides a canucks hoodie on.

“no, just tired of this.” you sigh motioning to your protruding belly.

“3 more months sweetheart,” quinn says softly, coming over to the bed and kneeling over you, hand on your cheek, “although you always have looked very sexy when pregnant.” he smirks pressing a kiss to the lips before your pushing him away laughing after releasing what he said.

“creep.” you laugh before he pulls you and head back down, quinn heading to the kitchen while you head back out to the decking where luke is setting up the fire pit, a few chairs and blankets set around in a circle.

“lukey boy.” you chirp making you’re presence know before dropping down into a chair, wrapping a blanket around you.

“ah the one and only y/n making an appearance.” he smiles, finally getting the fire started and sitting back to relax.

“so, any further plans on the wedding?” luke asks, sitting opposite you over the fire.

“i wish,” you chuckles, tying your hair up in a pony tail, “we put an pause on everything for now. there’s just too much with the baby, and quinn being away.” you sigh, luke sending you a sad smile.

“i can’t wait for you to like officially be my sister. it’s gonna be insane, like seeing you whenever and that.” he says all excited making you laugh.

“hey, you know if you ever need anything you can call me already?” you say, seeing him shrug.

“i know but like when your a hughes it’s gonna be so different, but like in the best way possible.” he smiles, as quinn and jack come back out with plates of food ready to be cooked, trevor and cole behind them.

“hey guys,” you smile, waving as they come over each of them giving you a quick hug.

“you you feeling? how’s the baby?” trevor asks sitting beside you, your childhood best friend who introduced you to quinn in the first place.

“good, we went to the rink this morning so rowden could play then the maket which was nice,” you smile, “then we’ve just relaxed to be honest, jack and luke took rowden out on the boat so we just layed out back here.” you smile, seeing cole and trevor perk up at rowden.

“speaking of, where is my favourite hughes?” cole asks leaning forward to look, as luke smacks him over the head.

“he’s sleeping, absolutely worn out from today.” you say and on cue hear cries from inside the house, “speaking of, i’ll be back.” you chuckle before heading inside, walking through to the living room seeing quinn already with rowden in his arms, but his cries don’t seem to quieten.

“i don’t know what’s wrong?” quinn asks, concern writing all across his face. you walk over, gently brushing back his hair, from his head that’s leaning on quinn’s shoulder.

“baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, furrowing your own brows at his cries, which only seem to get worse, turning his head away from you.

“do you wanna head upstairs and i’ll make him some milk or something?” you ask, quinn nodding before quickly whisking him away upstairs.

you move into the kitchen, heating up some milk into his sippy cup, waiting for the microwave to beep.

“is he ok?” you hear someone ask, seeing jack poking his head in the door.

“i think he’s just tired, gets like this sometimes,” you smile, jack letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, “i think we’re just gonna stay upstairs for the rest of the night. i’ll send quinn down to grab some food. you think luke will be able to help you cook?” you ask, taking the sippy cup out and seducing the lid, checking the temp on your wrist.

“yeh definitely, if yous need anything just shout ok?” he says, moving to give you a quick hug goodnight before you head back upstairs. you quietly push your door open seeing quinn laying with rowden on his chest, his cries now died down to hiccups and sniffles. his head whips over to you, at the sound of the door, instantly making grabby hands.

“mommy!” he calls out, trying to escape quinn’s grasp, but he holds the boy tight until your sat on the bed, back against the bed rest.

he immediately snuggles into your side, happily taking the milk you made.

“what happened honey?” you ask, as he slumps against you, hand brushing though his little curls.

“bad dream,” he mumbles around the sippy cup. you notice his eyes start to droop, thanks to the milk, so you change position, laying down so he can rest his head on your chest, in between you and quinn.

very quickly he’s back asleep, cup falling from his grasp as quinn moves it to the bedside table, turning on his side to face you.

“your an incredible mom you know?” he asks, arm coming up to pull you and rowden closer to him, his hand gently running up and down the small ohs back.

“can’t be as good without an amazing dad.” you smile, quinn leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

[hockeyluvrr]

The ‘tooth’ hurts || qh43

masterlist

summary: After getting a wisdom tooth removed (just one, thank you), you’re sore, numb, and a little grumpy—but lucky for you, your boyfriend Quinn is playing nurse for the day.

warnings: mention of medical procedure (wisdom tooth removal), mentions of pain, light teasing, quinn being a loving boyfriend

author’s note: this is a very self indulgent fic. I had one wisdom tooth removed yesterday (I’m in so much pain 😀) and I have to get another one out next friday (it better be healed enough by my birthday istg 😭), but I got inspired to write this because I need this right now ☹️

word count: 1,325

Your face felt like it had been inflated with a bicycle pump, and only on one side.

“Babe,” you said, or tried to say, as the numbness in your top right gums transformed your voice into a slurry of mumbles. “I can’t feel my face.”

From the kitchen, Quinn peeked around his shoulder, holding a glass of water in one hand and a frozen bag of peas in the other. He smirked, but his voice was gentle. “You’re not supposed to feel your face. That’s the point.”

You flopped dramatically onto the couch, limbs spread like a puppet with half the strings cut. “But it’s weeeird,” you whined, pointing to your cheek. “I feel like I’m talking out of only this half of my mouth.”

“That’s because you are.” He walked over and set the water down on the coffee table. The frozen peas followed with a gentle thud. “Here, put this on your cheek before you turn into a chipmunk.”

“I already am a chipmunk.”

“You’re the cutest chipmunk I’ve ever seen.”

You gave him a lopsided scowl, which immediately shifted into a sheepish grin when he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you mumbled, trying not to laugh. “Because otherwise this would be a very unflattering day.”

Quinn chuckled and settled next to you, looping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you close. “You’re literally puffy on one side and drooling a little. You’re perfect.”

You groaned and buried your face into his hoodie. The comfort of his scent, clean detergent and something slightly woodsy, was enough to soothe some of the low throb in your jaw.

“They only took one,” you murmured into his chest, your words muffled by fabric and facial swelling. “Why does it feel like they pulled my whole face out?”

Quinn ran his fingers through your hair, slow and rhythmic. “Because they numbed just enough to make you miserable but not enough to knock you out and forget it happened.” He paused, tone affectionate but amused. “You were making faces in the car, by the way. Like, really dramatic ones.”

You pulled back to glare at him, at least, as best you could with a puffed-up cheek. “You’re lucky I can’t enunciate right now.”

He gave a faux look of fear. “Oh no, the wrath of the half-frozen girlfriend.”

You reached for a pillow and weakly swatted his leg with it. “Mocking the wounded. You’re evil.”

“Evil,” he repeated, laughing as he took the pillow and placed it behind your back for support. “Want me to list all the things I’ve done for you today, or…?”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Drove you to the clinic. Held your hand in the waiting room. Bought you two different kinds of smoothies. Got this bag of peas when we didn’t have ice packs. Bought you a bunch of cans of your favourite soup. Oh and I got you jelly.”

You cut him off with a grunt and pressed the peas to your cheek. “Okay, okay. You’re the best boyfriend in the history of boyfriends. Happy?”

He smiled, clearly satisfied. “Very.”

⸻

An hour passed in a quiet lull, with a cooking show playing at low volume while you dozed against his shoulder, the painkillers dulling everything into a fog. Quinn barely moved, keeping still so you could rest, only shifting occasionally to check the swelling or re-secure the peas against your cheek.

At one point, you stirred and blinked at him blearily.

“Did you see them take it out?” you asked, voice still slurred, but less so now.

He shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t let me back there. I tried though.”

“Scared you’d faint?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I’ve seen broken noses and lost teeth on the ice. I think I can handle you getting one little molar pulled.”

You poked him weakly in the ribs. “Still think you’d pass out.”

Quinn leaned in close, eyes playful. “Only if you started crying. That would wreck me.”

You smiled, touched in spite of yourself. “I didn’t cry.”

“I know. You were very brave, baby.”

⸻

Later, he helped you into the bathroom to brush your teeth—very carefully—making sure you didn’t poke the sore spot. He even read the post-care instructions twice, despite your protests that you could take care of yourself.

“I don’t want a dry socket,” he said grimly, holding up the little aftercare pamphlet. “This sounds like actual horror.”

“You’re not the one with a hole in your mouth,” you muttered, spitting delicately into the sink.

“Yeah, but I am the one watching you like a hawk.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“I’m concerned.”

“You’re obsessed.”

He kissed your temple. “With you? Obviously.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder and gave a small sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His arm wrapped around your waist and held you close for a beat longer. “Even when you’re drooling in your sleep.”

Your head snapped up. “Did I—?!”

“Oh yeah. Little puddle. Right there.” He pointed to the blanket.

You groaned again and shuffled back to the couch in shame. “Kill me.”

He laughed, bringing over a clean blanket. “Nah. I think I’ll keep you.”

⸻

By the evening, the numbness had mostly worn off, replaced by a dull ache and a very prominent swelling that made your cheek look like you were storing a walnut for later.

“Don’t touch it,” Quinn warned, seeing your fingers drift toward your jaw.

“It’s so round,” you protested. “I look like I lost a boxing match.”

“You look adorable.”

“You’re biased.”

“Damn right I am.”

He helped you curl up with your head in his lap, absentmindedly stroking your hair while you nursed a lukewarm smoothie and watched him scroll on his phone.

“Are you going to baby me like this if I ever get the other ones out?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Depends. Will you let me record you next time?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Absolutely not.”

He grinned. “Then I guess I’ll have to settle for just doting on you.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, snuggling closer. “Gross. Who raised you to be this sweet?”

“My mom,” he said, without hesitation. “She says if you love someone, you take care of them. Even if they’re cranky and drooling and threatening to stab you with a toothbrush.”

You snorted. “I didn’t threaten you.”

“You waved it in my direction pretty aggressively.”

“I was making a point.”

“A sharp one.”

You laughed, then winced. “Ow. Okay, no more jokes. My jaw hates joy.”

Quinn leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Okay. I’ll be tragically serious from now on.”

“You’re still a dork.”

“Even dorks can be good nurses.”

“You’re not a nurse. You’re a hockey player.”

“Same thing. We both deal with broken teeth.”

⸻

By bedtime, the pain had settled into something manageable. Quinn helped you brush your teeth one more time, carefully avoiding the tender area, then tucked you into bed with an extra pillow to keep your head elevated. You looked up at him from beneath the comforter, cheek puffed, hair messy, eyes sleepy.

“You sure you don’t mind this?” you asked softly.

He reached down and brushed a thumb gently across your cheek on the non-swollen side. “Taking care of you?”

You nodded.

“Babe,” he said, voice warm and sure, “I’d do this a hundred times. You took care of me all last season when I was dealing with that weird oblique injury crap. It’s not even a question.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers with his. “Okay. But next time, I get to baby you.”

“Deal.”

He leaned down and kissed you gently, carefully avoiding your right cheek.

“Goodnight, chipmunk.”

You glared at him as best you could, even as your eyes drifted shut.

“Love you,” you mumbled.

“Love you more.”

And with that, you let sleep pull you under—safe, sore, and completely wrapped in Quinn’s quiet devotion.

[ruinix]

can you do one where reader goes to one of his games and shows up on the big screen then it switches to quinn and him smiling looking up 🙇‍♀️ i fear this would kill me

( i love all ur writes they fuel me throughout the day esp w the cannuck season over )

Hello, lovely. This is such a cute prompt for a lil fluffy thought.🥺Thank you for reading, lovely, sweetie. I am sending you lots of forehead kisses, mwamwa. Apologies for only getting to your ask. Hope you're still there! (Game photo from Pinterest.)

A Surprise

18+. Fluff thoughts. No warnings except it might not be realistic. (Optional) Bonus content on your POV included!

Quinn would always want you to attend his games. He knew you would sometimes prefer sitting with the crowd, sometimes the family box. Depending on your decision, he would try to get you the seats you wanted, always eager to ask whether you would be going or not, especially for home games. Except for tonight, you told him that you had plans.

He was dejected. Of course, he was. He only wanted you to see the brief intermission featuring Fin—you've always loved Fin—and perhaps even get the chance to interact with Fin when the mascot roamed the crowd during the game. He would even make that happen, perhaps drop hints to the mascot wearer where you would be, but you would not be attending tonight.

However, instead of telling you that to entice you to cancel your plans, he didn't, fearing you would cancel your plans. He didn't like interfering with your plans no matter how much he craved your very presence in the arena. You were his good luck charm, but that included your presence wherever you were. As long as he had you.

Currently, Quinn was fucking thankful you weren't in the crowd. He was playing like shit. The Canucks were down a goal in a 2-1 game with no change in the score since the first. It was more than halfway through the last period. He tried to make plays but the puck was getting swiped away. It didn't help that he could feel his fatigue, his heart pumping hard, his nearly cramping.

Yet he pushed himself. He knew you would be watching, even by checking the NHL app for the score or play-by-plays. He had to do you right, especially when you gave him actual good luck kisses before he went out. He just—

A whistle was blown for a stoppage. Quinn swerved behind the other team's goal line, taking deep and regulated breaths, taking full control of himself, skating towards the bench when the coach called for timeout. He sighed, taking sips of water, listening to the strategy while he rested himself.

At that point, he was starting to get overwhelmed. From countless plays to be done, to the slight cramped spaces next to his teammates. Until he heard the crowd cheer, he dared to look up the jumbotron, seeing Fin holding a messily done sign.

In broad black markers, in fucking glitters, it said, "GO CANUCKS. GO QUINNY, MY LOVE!"

He nearly frowned until he saw you, jumping and cheering despite the frustrating score, wearing the signed home jersey and red-black-yellow outfit. He could read your lips, shouting "Go, Quinn! I love you!" before you spun to show off his number on your back.

Quinn laughed, earning looks from his teammates and the coaching staff, but he didn't fucking care, because you spun again, grabbing your sign from Fin and waved it in full avid fan energy. Nothing could ever bring him down, not even at the sight of his game-exhausted yet grinning face being blasted on the Jumbotron for at least a second before it flipped over to you cheering harder. So, this was your plan. Fuck, he loved this. So much.

"Huggy, do you hear me?" The couch called. "You either get back to the bench or—"

"I'm rested. I'll play," he said just as the whistle was blown, signaling the end of their timeout. He nodded at his teammates on the ice. Feeling renewed, feeling the burn of your kisses earlier, wishing that you were still on the jumbotron, he adjusted his helmet one last time. "Let's do this."

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

They won. The Canucks actually won 4-2 with Quinn having the game-winning goal. Three goals on the last 5 minutes.

With glitter under your nails, on your jersey that you purchased in arena store, on your seat, on the floor, you screamed with the crowd, waving your crumpled sign. Even more when Quinn got the first star.

You were shaking all over the place from the adrenaline, zooming onto Quinn when he went back on the ice to give out his Canucks hockey stick. You felt so proud of him. He played so amazingly, so breathtaking, especially after their timeout.

Your heart did backflips when you noticed him turning to your general direction before he skated away for an interview. Then there he was again on the jumbotron, his voice raspy, his hand running through his hair to keep it away from his face, yet a few wet strands fell on his temples. It should be a crime to be that handsome, no?

After Quinn disappeared, everything felt like a blur. You walked with the crowd, determined to go to a specific place in Rogers Arena to wait for him.

Your phone pinged with a message, "Don't leave. Wait on our spot."

Our spot, he said. You let out a giggle, ignoring the concerned looks you received. You called him and he instantly answered.

"My Love...hi." He sounded like he was breathless.

"It's our spot now, huh, Mr. Game Winner?"

There was a pause on the other line. "What else is it then?" You could hear the smile on his voice, could see the blush blooming on his face. Quinn has always been so simple. Shy but so eager to brag in his own way.

"Our spot," you echoed, giggling so much that you heard him chuckle. "Don't take long."

"See you in fifteen."

"Make sure to shower!" You whisper-yelled.

That made him laugh. The loud and cute laugh of his. The exact laugh you wish you had heard when he was on the ice after your quick five-second-jumbotron fame. You felt so soft all over, like you were swimming on the clouds with Quinn's laugh on repeat in your head.

"Longer then? Thirty?"

"Thirty. I'll wait for you, Quinny. I love you."

"I love you more."

You both spent a whole minute just listening to each other's silence before you ended the call with a soft kissing noise which made him laugh again, leaving you so happy as if you won the world when it was Quinn who won the game.

I tried my best. This was written with me who doesn't attend hockey games face-to-face (or any sports) as an avid TV watcher (i fear the crowds).

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[onlyquinns]

END OF THE BEGINNING, j. hughes & q. hughes

pairing: childhood bsf!jack hughes x pining!reader, bsf brother!quinn hughes x reader

wc: 5.4k (new record 😵‍💫)

cw: light swearing, age gap (19 and 21), mentions of sex but not actually explicitly written, reader is lowkey self sabotaging, kinda angsty to fluff, NOT A THREESOME SITUATION 😭

synopsis: being jack’s childhood best friend is tough, especially when you’re in love with him. but love isn’t hard to find in the hughes family—not when quinn’s always there to pick up your shattered heart.

the rink is split into halves, one side filled with little boys and girls in hockey skates and the other filled with kids in figure skates.

he watches you from the sidelines as you stumble off the ice, nose and round cheeks flushed and wind burnt. you’re wearing a rainbow tutu and a plastic tiara, crooked from falling over one too many times.

you hold yourself with poise, enough to ooze the energy of a princess, to show that you mean business even though you wobble on the padded floors. a teen girl is immediately next to you, taking your smaller hand in hers and helping you to the spot on the bench he’s sitting at.

“wow,” his mom says to you, smiling softly. “aren’t you dressed all pretty?” she turns to him and nudges him softly, “right, jacky?”

but jack isn’t listening. instead, his eyes drift over your tutu and down to your skates where you have your leggings stretched over the tops. his little brows furrow and his confusion spikes as his eyes finally settle on the weird, jagged front of your blades.

“your skates are weird,” he says to you. his mom gasps and urges him to apologize, but you humph and cross your arms.

your nose is upturned, offended at his words—for even daring to call you weird. “they’re not weird,” you tell him. “you’re weird. and haven’t you seen barbie? all pretty princesses wear these skates, not those ones.” you point a chubby finger at his small hockey skates, nose wrinkling as if it’s borderline illegal for them to be near your vicinity.

jack grins at your words even though he should feel hurt, or annoyed that you basically called his skates ugly. he giggles, happy that you know how to chirp back. your face morphs into a tentative smile, childish giggles trickling from your lips. there’s a gap in your grin where your two front teeth are missing, and jack subconsciously runs the tip of his tongue along the gums where he’s missing his, too.

ellen gasps delightedly and claps her hands together, smiling with the both of you. the teenage girl who helped you off the ice is long gone, now skating with the other kids.

“wow!” ellen says. “the two of you are matching!”

from there, you and jack quickly became friends. it was always you and jack—the electric hockey player and the strong headed figure skater.

with every shared rink and skate sharpening sessions, you found yourself falling in love for your childhood best friend. it had started as a childish infatuation—something your mom and ellen would tease the two of you for—but by the time the two of you were teens, it had developed into something more.

it was easy to love jack—he was easygoing, funny, and always doting on you. you were always there for him, going to every game you could attend and cheering for him the loudest. but being teenagers is tough on people and their relationships, even for you and jack.

you laugh at something your skating partner, elijah, said, throwing your head back as he chuckles next to you. the two of you stand side to side outside of the ice rink, waiting for your respective rides home after a tiring evening spent practicing jumps and spins. you’re still dressed in your warm-up clothes, stupidly having forgotten your jacket inside the now locked rink.

the season is on the cusp of winter, windy and slightly frosted over. your hands wrap tightly around your arms, rubbing at the goose flesh on your biceps. elijah glances over and sheds his hoodie, pulling the thick fabric over his head and handing it to you.

as you pull it down, you see jack’s truck pull into the rink’s driveway—really, you hear it before you see it. the rumble of its kitted out muffler thunders through the empty lot, a silly alteration he and quinn saved up for after jim had gifted the two his old truck. truthfully, it’s illegal beyond reason for jack to even drive the damn thing, not yet eighteen, but he doesn’t care—as long as he didn’t get pulled over, he claimed he’d be fine.

he pulls up in front of you and waves you in, and you grab your bag and wave goodbye to elijah.

“see you tomorrow,” you tell him, smiling shyly. “you did good today—i’m looking forward to competing with you.” you step inside the truck, and before he can say anything, jack races out of the vicinity.

“what was that?” he asks you. something strange churns in his gut at the sight of you with another guy—something he’s never felt before.

“what?” you ask. you’re in the middle of pressing your frozen hands to the vents in an attempt to thaw your icy fingertips. “elijah? i told you, rowdy—he’s my partner for the season.”

jack makes a noncommittal sound, something in between a hum and a gruff scoff.

“is that his hoodie?” he asks, turning into his parents driveway. luke shuffles out of the way, cheeks flushed and a hockey stick in hand. there’s a little goal net pressed up against the garage door, a puck nestled deep inside of it.

you blink down at the dark navy cotton, “yeah, is that an issue to you?” you ask. you know you’re being rude, but he’s being unreasonable with his questions. elijah was only being kind; you didn’t see him like that.

jack rolls his eyes, “jesus, princess,” he huffs, knowing the stupid nickname has a slim chance of winning you over. “i’m just making sure you’re not about to get your heart stomped on, okay?”

you scoff, turning away from him and popping the car door open. “as if you give a shit about hearts, jack. you break girls’ hearts all the damn time.”

jack freezes, body halfway out of the truck. you know it’s a low blow, that you don’t really mean it, but the words are out of your godforsaken mouth before you can stop yourself. you steel your nerves, too far to back down now, and slam the door behind you. jack lets out a gruff laugh, like he can’t believe you’re mad at him.

“y’know what?” he scoffs. “i don’t care anymore, but don’t come crying on my doorstep when you finally wake up and realize that not every guy ever is a good person.”

luke stares at the two of you wide eyed, glancing between you and his brother like he’s being forced to pick a side. you know he’s going to pick luke, and something in you boils over.

“whatever,” you growl. you grab your gear bag from the truck bed and toss it over your shoulder, feeling the weight of it pull you down. normally, jack carried it for you but you knew that wouldn’t be happening tonight. “thanks for the ride, i guess,” you say and turn on your heel, stomping across the road to your family’s house.

you ignore each other for weeks, glaring at the other across the road every morning before early practices. it’s easy to stay mad at each other, too stubborn to admit when you’re wrong. it’s stupid, but you don’t want to be the one to admit it.

you sit at the kitchen table, notebook laid flat as you work on homework for one of your classes. you tap the pencil to your cheek, thoughts suddenly interrupted when you hear a knock on the door.

“i’ll get it!” you call out to your parents, pushing away from the table to pad over to the front door.

you swing it open, letting it arc fully open to the sight of luke standing on your porch. “hi,” he says.

you blink at him, unimpressed. “did he send you?” you ask, referring to jack, and luke knows.

luke glances backward to his house and you position yourself to look around him. the two of you watch the living room curtain flutter shut, a clear tell that someone had been watching your interaction.

“yeah,” luke says, pursing his lips. “can you please just talk to him? he’s being really whiny and refuses to drive me to practice because he’s too busy moping. it’s kinda’ inconvenient.”

you sigh, “fine,” you relent, closing the door behind you.

you swallow your pride—because you know one of you has to—and follow luke across the concrete. your guys’ shoes crunch in the gravel that litters the hughes’ driveway. the moment the two of you step onto the wooden steps, the front door swings open and slams into the wall. you hear someone—probably ellen—reprimand jack for letting the door hit the wall, but he doesn’t listen.

“i’m sorry!” he blurts, and you blink at him, unaware that he’d already swallowed his pride before you did yours. “i was being a jerk, please don’t hate me.”

you suddenly giggle at his outburst and he stares at you with wide, worried eyes, as if he’s worried you won’t accept his apology. “jacky, i could never hate you,” you manage between laughs, and he heaves a relieved sigh.

“oh, thank god,” luke breathes, pushing past jack to get inside.

jack wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes tight, like if he lets go you’ll disappear into thin air. “i missed you,” he mumbles against the top of your head and you grin, holding him as tightly as possible.

he smells like axe body spray and his deodorant, a basic teen boy combination, but there’s something so jack about it. you breathe him in, unsure if there will ever be another time like this.

“i missed you, too,” you say softly, closing your eyes and pretending for a second that jack hughes—your best friend—likes you too.

your season goes well—surprisingly well. you and elijah finish overall third, better than what you expected and worse than what your coach had hoped.

after a long, loud scolding session from your coach, you’re finally set free. you roam the halls of the arena, still dressed in your outfit for your choreography and your makeup smudged beyond repair. your head aches from how tight your hair’s been pulled and pinned back, and your fingers twitch at the need to just tear it all apart.

you spot jack across the hall, half of his body blocked by the bend. he’s dressed in his hockey gear, standing taller in his skates and leaning heavily against his stick. your exhaustion melts away at the mere sight of him and you start jogging over, the skirt of your glittery teal dress fluttering against your thighs and knees.

you’re about to call out to him when you catch sight of a girl with him—the girl who’d gone after you and elijah and had practically ripped the breath from your chest. she’d been fucking amazing, and you’d texted jack the entire time she’d skated with her partner letting him know so.

you stop a few feet away, eavesdropping on their conversation. you know it’s sneaky but a part of you needs to hear it, needs to hear him just ask her out to solidify that he doesn’t want you. so, you linger and hold your breath.

the girl laughs at something jack said—a joke he’d stolen from you and repurposed. her hand covers her glossy lips delicately, something you thought no one other than preppy girls in movies did, but clearly jack’s intrigued by it.

“so,” he says, “can i get your number? i’d love to see you again.”

you hold your breath, eyes burning with unshed tears. you catch glimpse of a bouquet tucked under his armpit, the petals smooshed and fluttering to the floor from being pressed into his pads. when she agrees, you turn on your heels and run away, ignoring when jack finally notices you and calls after you.

you tuck yourself into a dark corner in the back of the rink—a little area that reeks of mildew and sweat. your knees are curled into your chest as you cry, cheeks stained with mascara. your hair is finally pulled free from the millions of bobby pins that held the locks captive, the little bits of metal laid flat on the tiled floor in front of you. you sniffle and wipe at your cheeks, smudging black tears across the delicate skin there.

“hey, queenie,” someone says softly, and you look up.

quinn stands over you, smile soft. you’d forgotten he’d been in town for the week, having booked a flight to watch you perform and watch one of jack’s games in the same week. you wipe at your cheeks in an attempt to make it look like you haven’t been crying, but it’s too late. quinn crouches down in front of you, eyes tender and lips upturned in that gentle smile of his. he holds out a little bouquet of flowers, the petals pristine and all too perfect.

“you were amazing out there,” he says to you, and you smile back. you take the flowers into your arms.

“thanks, q,” you whisper, and he smiles. he stands from his position and gives you a hand, letting his warm fingers wrap around your own as he helps you up.

quinn walks next to you as the two of you make your way back to the main arena. you cradle the flowers to your chest, something warm blossoming in your chest at the thought of quinn thinking of you.

“what did jack do this time?” he asks you, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his sweats.

you think college looks good on him—makes him look more mature. it makes you feel strangely childish for your reaction to seeing jack flirting with a girl.

you bring the bouquet of flowers to your nose, using the delicate petals to cover the stupid frown on your face and the dark stains on your cheeks.

“he didn’t do anything,” you say, glancing over at quinn as the two of you stop at the boards of the ice rink. jack and his team skate back and forth, playing against another 17u team. “i just happened to see something that made me upset.”

quinn nods understandably at your words, humming as his eyes track jack’s speedy figure dart back and forth. “he asked for her number, didn’t he?”

you lower the flowers slowly, “how’d you know?” you ask, looking at him quizzically. quinn glances back at you, giving you a knowing look.

“c’mon, queenie, i’m not dumb,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side. “everyone knows how you feel about jack—everyone except him, that is.”

you frown, ready to disagree, but your words melt away as two players slam into the boards in front of you. you jump at the loud bang that echoes in your ears, watching the intent looks on both of their faces as they fight for the puck.

“just know,” quinn starts, “he isn’t trying to hurt you. you just gotta talk to him, yeah?” you want to disagree, but you know quinn’s right—he’s nearly always right. “just think on it, okay?” he gives you a crooked smile and you nod, swallowing thickly.

and after jack’s game, he comes up to you with sweat-damp hair and a goofy grin, that crushed bouquet outstretched toward you like a peace offering. you silently compare it to the one you’re already holding, the one now slightly wilted but picked for its perfection by his brother.

summer rolls around, slow and creeping like if it came too fast it would stun you into a heart attack. it’s locker clean out, an annual event at the rink for graduating guys to come in and take their shit home.

“jesus, jack,” you say as you enter the locker room, nose wrinkling. “does it always smell like this?” you tease, looking around at all of the guys spread out in the room. jack laughs.

“you should know,” he says, grabbing old compression shirts and chucking them into his gear bag. “you’ve spent more time here than i have.”

he’s right but you don’t give him the satisfaction, choosing to ignore his words. you linger behind him, watching as he shoves random things into his bag until the wood of the built in benches is visible once more. when he moves to grab a container of clorox wipes, you catch a glimpse of a little picture taped up in his space.

it’s a picture of the two of you as kids, one side of it showing clear cut marks. you know the picture—it’s supposed to be you and all of the hughes boys, but jack had clearly taken a pair of scissors to his brothers. you’re wearing your signature rainbow tutu and plastic tiara—something you’d never leave home without as a kid—and jack is in basketball shorts and a neon green tank top. his knees are scraped and the two of you are missing your front teeth, signs of your adult ones peaking through.

something lingers in jack’s expression as he stares down at the picture, “we were some pretty cute kids, huh?” he says, grinning playfully. he folds it in half gently, creasing—ironically—in between the two of you and sticks it in his wallet. “well, i guess we’re done here,” he says, and you nod.

“yeah, guess we are,” you respond, your words holding bit more weight than they should.

you bite at your nails, eyes glued to the television screen. the camera pans to jack on the bench, the new pretty boy nhler angry and bashing his stick against the boards. you barely hear the commentary that follows his outburst, your mind glued to jack, his name on your mind like a mantra.

the two of you barely talked now, not after you’d split ways during that last summer where you’d helped him clean his locker out. you knew your response sounded like a sort of insinuation, but you didn’t think jack would’ve dropped off the face of your earth—because, clearly, he existed for people.

you feel ill thinking back on it, especially since the two of you had been glued to the damn hip since meeting, but you tell yourself it’s for the best. you watch him breakdown on television nearly every night of the season, watch as people berate and criticize him online. you don’t know what to do, because the harsh words people spread about him aren’t the jack that you know—it’s some stupid persona forced into him, one that makes your mouth dry and taste like sand.

you heave a sigh and force yourself to turn the tv off. you can barely think of anything other than jack’s pissed face, how you know he feels so devastatingly alone in the nhl and you can’t do shit about it. you sit silently in your parents house, mind rerunning the clip over and over.

“hey.”

you look away from the dark tv screen, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the living room. luke stands in the threshold, face similar to yours—all broody and probably thinking of jack.

“wanna go skating?”

and who are you to say no.

the rink is empty, no random stragglers so late at night. the two of you lace your skates in complete silence, just two teens side by side in an understanding silence. luke is on the ice before you, choosing one side of the rink to tear up and leaving the other for you to dig your toe picks into—an easy balance that was established earlier in your lifetime with the hughes.

you skate in slow circles, mind barely with you as you glide. luke watches you, looking through curls at your sad figure, stick in hand as he pretends to be interested in shooting pucks. he knows you’re upset, that it’s destroying you beyond belief to be far away from jack even if it was a long time coming. still, he watches, keeps an eye on you, as asked of him by his brother.

you release a breath, emptying your chest, and finally skate like you mean it—because at some point, that’s how you learned to cope. and it never failed you.

luke lets you twirl and leap over the ice, listening to the scratch of your blades as you land each impressive jump after the other. he thinks about what he’s going to tell him, tell jack. for now, luke thinks he’ll tell him a lie—just for a little while, he tells himself, just until he adjusts to the league.

so, by the time you’re done and heaving, luke’s already sent a quick text to jack—a brief ‘she’s okay’ to ease his brother’s feelings, to ease the guilt of leaving you. you’re hunched over on the ice, bottom lip trembling, and overwhelmed with feeling lost without your best friend. and luke gulps, thinking about that text he’d sent, but he knows how much the nhl means to jack—so, he doesn’t say anything.

“let’s go home,” you mumble, tears dripping onto the ice and freezing in little lumps. luke agrees and skates off the ice, scooping up his stray puck. you take your time, still dripping tears and sweat, and still thinking of jack’s broken anger as a rookie.

you curse yourself for being a coward, too afraid to listen to quinn’s advice and talk to jack, too scared to tell your childhood best friend that you love him too much. so, you inhale as deep as you can and steady your breath before skating off, finally joining luke where he stands with your bag and your car keys.

“he misses you,” luke says softly, always the mediator, always the messenger between you and jack because the both of you were too arrogant at times to just text the other. a common flaw that must’ve developed at the same time. “just text him a little, yeah?”

and you curse him in your head for giving you advice you’ve already heard—already heard from quinn—but you keep it in mind, fully ready to text him when you get back home. just a check in, a little hi, a simple good luck.

but it’s never that easy with jack.

he texts you for hours, as if the two of you are middle schoolers again who just got their first phones. it’s easy to talk to him, to let him back in and give yourself back. so, when you see him on tv again, you’re glad that he looks happier again. as if hearing from you fixed his slump. and hearing from you, pulled you from yours.

until he suddenly calls and you’re half asleep, too tired to even say hello.

“i met the one,” he tells you, and that wakes you fully. “well—we met a long time ago. remember rachel?” and of course you do, because she’s the same damn girl he’d asked for her number at your last comp. the damn girl you stupidly let haunt your mind.

“yeah—yeah, i do,” you say, forcing a smile he can’t see. “i bet you guys look good together, huh?” and jack laughs.

“you have no fuckin’ idea,” he tells you, and you let him ramble late into the early morning. until he tells you he’s tired, as if he wasn’t the one to call while you were already half asleep.

you wish him goodnight and good luck with rachel, and hang up.

the next time you see all three of the hughes brothers together again is during summer, having conveniently missed them every other time because of your own family trips.

it’s hard to look at jack, your jack who looks at rachel with hearts and clings to her like she’s his lifeline. your jack who really isn’t yours anymore.

you’re lounging in the backyard, a beer in hand despite only being nineteen—just perks of having quinn around.

you’re in a two piece, colors making your skin basically glow. quinn eyes you from his spot at the grill, squinting his eyes at the way you nurse your beer. he knows you’ve drinked before, knows what your favorite beer is, so he watches to see if you’ll actually drink.

you catch his eye and smile, raising your beer in a toast. he nods and watches as your eyes drift back to jack and rachel, who sit leaning into each other on a picnic blanket.

quinn calls you over and you get up. jack watches, eyes drawn to your figure, a weird feeling filling his chest when you laugh with quinn and let him feed you a piece of fruit from the fruit salad ellen made earlier in the day. rachel stops laughing and draws her attention to where he’s staring, scoffing when she finally sees what has his attention from her.

you giggle quietly next to quinn, wiping at fruit juice on your chin. quinn looks down at you, smiling tenderly that feels different than all of the other times he’s done so. you think he’s cute—handsome, even.

“the nhl looks good on you,” you tell him, teasing and bumping your hip to his. he chuckles and turns his attention back to the grill, flipping burgers.

“yeah?” he goads. “well, what about you, miss-future-olympian? heard you’re skating doubles in the winter.”

you gape at him, shocked that he knows. you always assumed he stopped keeping tabs on you and his brothers after he moved out, but you should’ve known better.

“yeah,” you say finally, picking up another piece of fruit between your forefinger and thumb. you offer it to quinn, who takes it between his lips and sucks it into his mouth. you try not to think too hard on the action. “i’m excited. it’s gonna be fun.”

quinn nods thoughtfully, “i can’t wait to see it,” he says softly, and your chest warms at his words. words that you’d been dying to hear from someone—and then he says more that feeds into the fuzzies in your chest. “i’m proud of you, queenie. insanely.” he smiles at you—grins, even—and your cheeks feel warm at the sight.

when did quinn hughes suddenly become so pretty?

the thought punches you in the gut. it’s like one of those punches in cartoons that make their eyes pop out of their sockets, and leaves a fist shaped mark in your stomach.

you catch jack’s eye, his gaze on you, scrutinizing your sudden closeness with his brother. you think you see a hint of jealousy in his stare but it’s gone in an instant when rachel sighs dramatically and presses her chest into him, her boobs pressed together by her stringy bikini top. you pull your eyes away immediately, suddenly very interested in your fingernails and everything but rachel and jack.

you distract yourself with quinn, laughing and joking with him instead of thinking of jack. it feels easier—to play into quinn’s suddenly long gazes and his smug smirks, instead of letting yourself linger on feelings for a boy who doesn’t seem to care for you.

suddenly, your texts with jack are now texts with quinn. just long talks about vancouver and how he’s doing with the canucks and how annoying and arrogant your new skate partner is compared to elijah. quinn listens and it makes you feel undeniably seen, like he can read into you and in between your lines unlike jack, who skimmed your surface and searched for the easy way out.

your relationship with quinn was always good; he was your best friend’s older brother, someone the two of you always involuntarily looked up to—someone who was supposed to be out of reach. but, now, he was right there—so close your fingers could brush the outline of what could be.

it doesn’t take long until he invites you to a game in vancouver. you don’t tell jack or luke, convinced it’s not a big deal.

you stand outside of the airport, face flushed from the nipping wind. your phone is in one hand, messages from quinn on display and other texts from jack left unread. your brain is too much in awe to even respond or read the texts from your supposed best friend—all you can think about is how perfect vancouver feels to you, how right it is to be in the city away from home.

you’re about to call quinn when you’re pulled into a warm hug, the scent of tom ford thick in your nose. you can tell it’s quinn just by the way he holds you, like he’s making up for time and for lost opportunities to hug you in the past.

“hey, queenie,” he breathes into your hair, lips brushing through the stands and the soft snow flakes that leave dewy marks akin to glitter. “missed you.” and you know he means it, not like when his brother says it to you.

you grin wide and hug him back, squeezing tight. he’s warm and smells good and is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. “missed you too, q,” you say back, and you feel him smile and nuzzle his face into your hair to hide it.

he takes you home after, carrying your bags and takeout into his apartment. it’s so easy to fall into the quiet atmosphere that quinn brings, to let him hold you on the couch while the two of you eat and chat and watch a movie. and it’s admittedly easy to kiss him back when he leans in halfway through the stupid movie and presses his lips to yours, tongue peaking past the seam of his lips to brush the bottom of yours.

your heart nearly explodes, thoughts of jack gone in an instant. really, he’s barely been on your mind at all, quinn having replaced him some time back without your noticing.

quinn’s hands are in your hair, tangling long fingers through thick strands and lightly tugging. a soft keening sound leaves your lips, mind hazy with every touch. the two of you get lost in each other, tangled limbs on the couch and soft touches on each other’s skin. he’s gentle with you, doesn’t rough his way through your body like every other guy you’ve been with, and holds you like you’re his entire world—and he tells you that you are, whispers it when he makes you come undone in his strong arms.

quinn doesn’t let go of you after, instead holding you to his chest and whispering soft praise until you fall asleep with your ear to his chest, the quick pounding of his heart music to your ears.

when the season comes to an end that year, you find yourself at the lake house again. this time, you cling to quinn, body and soul feeling lighter without the constant stress brought by pining for someone who never wanted you.

you laugh, holding tight to the rope connected to the boat. you’d taken the risk to go wakeboarding, letting the boys convince you. cole and trevor cheer you on, luke hooting and recording as you maneuver the board through the choppy waves. your feet suddenly slip and you fall off the board, laughing louder when you resurface. you flip your hair backward and reach a hand out for help. jack gets up to pull you back aboard but quinn beats him to it, leaving his seat as the designated driver to pull you into his arms.

“did you see that?” you ask breathlessly, asking everyone around you. cole, trevor, and luke cheer and chatter like your biggest fans and quinn reassures you he’ll definitely watch the video luke took later.

jack watches the two of you silently. he takes in the way quinn cradles you to him, how his hand is splayed across your side, palm pressed to your damp skin and thumb slipping under the string of your bikini top.

his chest feels weird, like it’s tightening up and burning him inside out. he doesn’t have rachel with him this summer, something you’d commented on at the beginning of the trip. a harmless, “where’s your girlfriend?” turned to an, “oh, i’m sorry.”

jack’s mind is brought back to the present when he watches quinn press a sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering something he can’t hear into the shell of your ear. it’s enough to make your sun-kissed skin warm even more and jack thinks back to what rachel had told him before she’d ended it with him, that he needed to get his shit together and just ask you out.

but as he watches you press a kiss to his brother’s mouth before quinn takes the life jacket from you to wakeboard, jack knows he’s too late.

[brainddeadd]

Quinn and Luke watching Jack fall in love

The First Game You Attend

The arena is buzzing with excitement, but Jack’s focus has narrowed down to a single point: the section where you’re sitting, bundled up in his team’s colors, eyes bright as you look down at the ice. Jack sneaks glances every chance he gets, his usually cocky demeanor giving way to a barely-hidden softness.

Quinn, catching his little brother’s gaze flicker to the stands, nudges Luke. “He’s practically looking for her approval every shift,” Quinn murmurs with a smirk. “Bet he’d trip over his own skates just to impress her.”

When Jack scores, his grin spreads wide, and the moment he gets off the ice, he looks up, finding you in the crowd. Luke snickers. “Did you see that? He’s totally gone.”

Back in the locker room after the game, Jack’s still riding high, but Quinn and Luke are ready to bring him back to earth.

“So, Jack, didn’t know you were out there just playing for her,” Quinn teases, feigning a concerned look.

Jack’s cheeks redden instantly, but he tries to shrug it off. “Nah, it’s just another game.”

“Oh, sure. Just another game. That’s why you looked like a love-struck puppy every time you looked up in the stands,” Luke snickers.

Jack rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the smile from his face. And Quinn and Luke, for all their teasing, can’t help but be a little thrilled to see him so happy.

The Double Date Disaster

The evening’s supposed to be relaxed—a casual double date with Jack, you, Luke, and his own date. But when Luke’s date cancels last minute, he shrugs and decides to tag along anyway, figuring he’ll grab a drink and keep an eye on things. But as soon as he realizes how smitten Jack is, he pulls out his phone and quickly texts Quinn.

Within twenty minutes, Quinn’s at the bar too, claiming he “just happened” to be in the neighborhood. Jack glares as his two brothers settle in at the table, turning what was supposed to be a romantic night into a full-blown family gathering.

“So, did Jack ever tell you about the time he tried to jump off the roof pretending to be Batman?” Luke starts, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.

Jack groans, turning pink. “Luke, don’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Quinn cuts in with a grin. “You should know what you’re getting into.”

You laugh, completely charmed by the stories, and Jack, despite being mortified, can’t help but melt a little at the sight of you genuinely enjoying yourself. He lets out a resigned sigh, finally surrendering to the chaos as you smile at him, his heart skipping a beat.

The Teammate Gossip

Practice is winding down, and the team is gathered around the benches, catching their breath when Quinn overhears a few of the guys teasing Jack.

“I swear, man, he’s always texting,” one of them laughs, glancing over at Jack, who’s grinning down at his phone. “Guess he’s got a mystery girl.”

Quinn can’t resist, striding over with a smirk. “Oh, she’s real alright. Trust me, he’s got it bad. I’d bet good money he’d trip over his own skates next time she’s around.”

Jack’s head jerks up, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flashing across his face. “Come on, man,” he mumbles, trying to defend himself. “I’m just—texting.”

Luke chimes in with a smirk, walking up with his stick over his shoulder. “Guess you’re in love if you’re making us look like the stable ones, huh?”

Jack just groans, but the flush in his cheeks doesn’t go away, and the guys all laugh, patting him on the back as he looks away, still smiling.

The Midnight Confession

It’s a rare night where all three brothers are home, sprawled out on the couch with pizza boxes and empty soda cans littering the table. They’re laughing, sharing stories, but Jack’s mind keeps drifting elsewhere, and his phone screen keeps lighting up with your messages.

Quinn notices first, nudging Luke with a knowing grin. “You gonna tell us, Jack? Or are we supposed to guess who’s got you smiling like that?”

Jack sighs, fighting a smile. “I don’t know, guys. She’s just…different.”

Luke leans in, intrigued. “Different how?”

Jack shrugs, searching for words. “She makes me feel like I don’t have to be anything but me, you know? Like I can just…show up, flaws and all, and it’s enough.”

For a moment, his brothers are silent, sensing the depth in Jack’s words.

Quinn clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Well, I’ll say this—don’t screw it up. ‘Cause I think she’s got you in a way no one else has.”

Jack chuckles, looking down, but there’s a look in his eyes that tells Quinn and Luke this is more than just a passing romance. As they drift into easier conversation, both brothers can’t help but feel happy to see Jack falling, finally finding someone who makes him feel at home.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

win ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

A/N: okay.. I couldn’t come up with a title for this. Sue me.

Warnings: dad!quinn, rose is your daughters name (: all fluffy . short lil Drabble

summary: during one of your husbands hockey games, you and your daughter decided to surprise him!

MASTERLIST

As you gently placed the noise-canceling headphones over Rose's delicate ears, a soft babble escaped her lips. You gave her a boop on the nose before opening the door, her eyes fleeting around the unfamiliar place.

She was dressed in a little “daddy’s number one fan” onsie with denim shorts on and cute little bows in her hair.

A warm smile spread across your face as you stepped into the arena, the atmosphere wrapping around you like a blanket.

It’s been months since you’ve gone to a game, mostly because of Rose. You hadn’t even known you missed it so much until now. With your husbands jersey over your shoulders, you made your way into your front row seats, holding your daughter close to your chest and bouncing her on your lap.

It was then that you heard music play, and the time for warm ups began.

The opposing team began to skate out onto the other side of the ice, before the canucks did the same thing, all of them scattering around the ice.

Then, you saw your husbands number amongst them, a large grin making its way onto your face. You heard his name being announced, being introduced on the Jumbotron.

You glanced down at your daughter, pointing to the large screen on the ceiling. “Who’s that? Who’s that? Is that daddy?” You asked her, her eyes looking up at it curiously before letting out a little gummy smile when she saw her dad’s face show up.

She let out a babble, almost sounding like “dada.” You smiled down at her, nodding at her while laughing. “Yeah! Yeah, it is!” You cooed at her, turning to look back at the ice.

You noticed one of his good friends and teammate, Elias Petterson, point his stick in your direction, Quinn now looking at you, eyes widening.

In an instant, he was in front of you, a smile visible on his face as he stood there behind the dasherboard.

You stood up, placing your daughter on your hip as you showed her Quinn. He gave her a wave, smiling at the both of you.

Her babbles became more excited, reaching her little hands out, placing them on the plastic. He did the same with his glove, saying an estatic “hi!” to her, despite the crowd drowning out the noise.

You smiled at the interaction, watching him glance behind him, knowing he’d have to leave to go actually warm up soon.

He looked back at you, taking his hand away from the glass, sending you a smile and waving goodbye to her as he skated backwards, watching her raise her tiny fingers back at him in an attempt to wave.

He smiled at it, turning around but not before sending one last glance to the both of you, new goal in his mind.

Win, for the both of you.

[lee-laurent]

In Your Shadow - Luke Hughes

Summary: In which Madi Sheridan hates Luke Hughes with every bone in her body. Or in which Luke bickers constantly with the hottest girl he's ever seen.

content: angst, arguing, underage drinking, not quite smut... but close

wc: 10k

notes: enemies to lovers, he falls first! sooooo this isn't the one that got voted to come out first... but i had more inspo for this one soooooo here we are!!! enjoy!! quinn fic in progress

The whistle blew, it's sharp trill filling the air.

"Let's go, Sheridan! I want fire under those spikes!" Coach Mallory barked from the edge of the track, clipboard in hand and zero sympathy in her voice.

Madi didn't respond; her feet were already moving.

The air was cold enough to burn in her lungs, but that didn't matter. Neither did the sting in her thighs, the pounding in her ears, or the way the lane lines blurred as she hit top speed. Just the next fifty metres daring her to quit.

She didn't.

Coach yelled again, something about pushing past limits, but it faded into the background. Madi hit the finish line and slowed only when her legs threatened to buckle. Her breathing came in short, measured gasps. She folded forward, hands on knees, sweat dripping down her back.

"Good pace," Coach muttered as she passed. "But don't get cocky. You've got two more sets."

Madi just nodded, still catching her breath. She was used to the grind. Thrived on it. She didn't run for applause or Intagram likes. She ran because she had to, her scholarship depended on it. Her degree depended on it. The life she was building, the one no one could take from her, depended on it.

That was enough to keep her running.

~~

By noon, she was two workouts deep and dead-eyed in the back of her econ lecture.

She sat in her usual seat, third row from the back, directly under the overhead vent that always blaseted Artice wind. Her laptop was open, notes scrolled in neat, bullet-pointed order. Her hair was braided tight against her scalp, hoodie sleeves pulled over her fingers, earbuds in. Not for music, but for the illusion of being unapproachable.

Next to her sat her holy trinity: a large iced coffee, a half-eaten protein bar, and an energy drink she'd already forgotten buying. Survival mode.

Professor Dawes clicked through slides at a painful speed.

"Inelastic demand curves reflect products that remain essential regardless of price fluctuations..." he droned.

Madi sipped her coffee and typed with ruthless effciency. She didn't glance at the two girls whispering in front of her or the guy on her left who kept trying to catch her eye. She wasn't in econ class to make friends. She was there to get the grades she needed to walk across a stage in two years with zero debt and multiple options.

He phone buzzed against her thigh.

Beckett: Wanna grab food after practice later?

She stared at the message for three seconds, expression flat, then locked her phone without answering.

He'd ask again.

~~

The house smelled like eucalyptus and leftover takeout when she got home.

Maia was in the kitchen with a clay face mask on and a spoonful of peanut butter in her mouth. Izzy was curled up on the couch, buried under an anatomy textbook and a heating pad. Val's shoes were already at the door, track bag open and spilling contents like a crime scene.

"You look like you got hit by a bus," Maia said cheerfully as Madi dropped her backpack by the door.

"That's because I did," Madi muttered. "Its name was Coach Mallory."

Maia grinned, peanut butter still in hand. "Tell me she made you run the pyramid."

"Twice."

Izzy looked up with a groan. "Why are you like this?"

"I'm funded by the university to sprint in a circle like a glorified lab rat," Madi said, toeing off her sneakers. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Val emerged from the hallway, towel around her neck, sports bra soaked. "Honestly? She was kiling us too. I thought that one lanky kid was gonna throw up on the turf."

"I wouldn't have stopped him," Madi said. "Natural selection."

Maia raised an eyebrow. "You're so mean. It's hot."

Madi shrugged, pulling her hair loose from the braid. "You either burn out or you make it out. No in-between."

"That sounds like a quote you'd find on Tumblr with a graphic of a wolf running through fire," Izzy said.

"Whatever. I'd rather die successful."

Maia dramatically clutched her peanut butter like a mic. "And there it is, folks. The thesis of Madeline Sheridan."

"I'm gonna shower before I start on my econ project," Madi said, ignoring them. "Also Beckett texted."

"Ooooooh," Val sang from the fridge. "Are we still playing that game?"

"There's no game."

"Sure," Maia said, already texting someone. "And I don't have a list of list of every cute guy I've seen on campus."

"Sher," Izzy said in a fake-Beckett voice, "you're the only girl I know who could break my heart and my legs at the same time."

Madi flipped her off without looking back.

~~

Her phone buzzed again after dinner.

Benders + Bitches Eddy: pregame at ours tonight Nolan: 8 sharp... don't be late Maia: if i get stuck talking to that one guy who smells like axe and sweat again i'm jumping off the roof Izzy: shotgun not dealing with Luke and Madi's sexual tension this time Madi: there's no tension. he's just annoying Maia: you say that, but you're already typing again Madi: because I have to mentally prepare to be in the same room as a dude whose ego could crowd out the whole team Val: let her cook

Madi tossed her phone face down and groaned into her pillow.

Of all the people she had to tolerate on a weekly basis, Luke Hughes topped the list of "least likely to survive if she were left alone with him in a locked room." Something about him just... grated. It wasn't that he was bad at hockey--he wasn't. He was good. She'd admit that. But the golden boy status? The name? The coverage?

Overhyped. Overcelebrated. Over it.

And he knew it. That was the worst part. The smug little smile when he got chirped on campus. The way he leaned into the whole "Hughes Dynasty" thing like he didn't care, but definitely did. She'd seen enough of TikToks of him to last a lifetime.

She scrolled up in the chat.

pregame at ours tonight

Gold help her.

Because she'd be there. Of course she'd be there. Everyone would be.

And if Luke opened his mouth one more time, she was absolutely going to break the no-fighting-inside-the-hockey-house rule.

~~

Pregame? More like party.

The house was LOUD by the time the Madi and the girls rolled up.

The living room smelled like Febreeze. Someone had dimmed the lights just enough to make the mess less obvious. Beer pong cups stacked on the table, bluetooth speaker fighting to be heard, at least three-finished Natty Lights laying around.

Madi took it in with the same energy she approached everything: calculated.

Val beelined for the pong table. Maia started chatting up a guy in a Michigan hoodie she'd definitely ghosted two months ago. Izzy wandered off to hunt down tequila. Madi found a spot in the corner, wedged between the arm of the couch and a shelf stacked with empty bottles.

She nursed her cooler, eyes scanning the room, already clocking how chaotic the night would be.

"Sheridan," Ethan called as he passed, giving her a little salute with his beer. "You looked thrilled to be here."

"I'm about to set this place on fire."

Nolan walked by next and clapped her on the shoulder like they were teammates. "Try not to kill anyone until after beer pong."

"No promises."

She didn't hate the hockey guys... most of them, anyway. They were loud, sure, and always smelled vaguely of Gatorade and testosterone, but they were fun. And, to their credit, they hadn't treated her and her friends like groupies when they met during frosh week. They were just... their friends. Madi knew how to handle them. She liked how easy it was. The mutual respect they all had for each other.

Except for Luke.

Luke was a different breed of infuriating.

And as if right on cue, the front creaked open.

He walked in with Luca and Mark, nodding at a few people, eyes sweeping the room, completely relaxed in his own skin. That whole effortlessly cool thing? It would've worked on her, if she hadn't already built a mental firewall to block it.

Madi raised her can.

"Well, well. The prodigal son has returned," she said loud enough for him to hear. "Did you trip over your ego on the way here?"

Luke didn't even blink. "Still faster than you."

There it was.

A few heads turned. A couple of laughs bubbled up from nearby. Madi's smirk sharpened.

"Bold talk for someone who spends most of the game glued to the bench," she said.

He shrugged, completely unbothered. "I only need one shift to make it count. You wouldn't know anything about that."

"Oh," Madi said, stepping forward, "if I had your PR team, I'd be on a fucking Wheaties box by now."

Luke smiled, and not the friendly kind. The "I could fight you or fuck you and I'm not sure which is worse" kind.

"Keep dreaming, Sheridan."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, pulse annoyingly elevated. He always did that. Always got the last word, like it was competition only he knew the rules to. And she always let him.

~~

Twenty minutes and a vodka soda later, Madi had settled into a buzz. The music got louder, the bodies packed tighter, and the familiar haze of house party chaos started to dull her irritation.

Maia came up beside her, cheeks flushed. "Okay, hot take: that guy I was talking to definitely cried during The Notebook."

"He looks like he owns a guitar he only knows how to play Wonderwall on," Madi muttered.

Izzy reappeared. "Okay, mean girls. Chill."

"No mean," Madi said. "Accurate."

"Speaking of accuracy," Val said, sliding in from the kitchen, "Eddy just told me he thinks Luke and Madi are gonna hook up before the semester ends."

Madi nearly choked on her drink.

"Absolutely the fuck not," she said, coughing. "That man gives me hives."

"Sexy hives," Maia offered.

"Stress hives," Madi shot back.

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "He's hot though."

"Statistically? Maybe. Personally? He's a walking migraine."

Maia leaned in close. "Yet somehow, he still gets under your skin faster than Beckett."

The name didn't hit her the way it used to. That was... interesting.

"Speaking of," Izzy said, glancing toward the door, "look who just walked in."

Madi turned her head, and there he was. Beckett, all tan and grins, shoulders draped in a windbreaker like he was in a Nike ad. His blond hair was messier than usual. He spotted her instantly.

"Sher," he called, moving through the sea of bodies.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders like it was second nature. Madi didn't push him off, but she didn't lean in, either.

"Hey," she said, her tone neutral.

"You look good," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her temple. "Missed you at the game last week."

She shrugged. "Coach had us running circuits."

He nodded, not bothered. That was the thing about Beckett... he never got bothered. Never asked too many questions. Never pushed too hard. He was safe, predictable, easy.

She let him stay there, arm draped casually, while her eye flicked across the room.

Luke was at the kitchen counter, half-listening to Nolan talk, red solo cup in hand. His jaw was set, shoulders tight. He hadn't looked over once.

But Madi knew he'd seen.

Ten minutes passed. Beckett was off catching up with someone from the soccer team. Madi stayed where she was, a new cup in hand, cheeks flushed from the heat.

Luke walked by, brushing past her without a word.

She didn't even know she'd been waiting for something until he gave her nothing.

It irritated her more than it should have.

She turned to find Maia already watching her.

"What?"

Maia tilted her head, voice low. "He gets so weird when Beckett's around."

Val nodded. "Jealousy looks good on Hughes."

Madi scoffed. "Please. He's not jealous. He's just mad I'm not impressed."

Maia smirked. "You sure you're not?"

"Positive."

But her stomach was doing something weird, unsettled. She hated it because she didn't like Luke. Not even a little...

Right?

~~

The locker room was quiet. Not silent though, it was never silent.

Luke sat in his stall, elbow resting on his knee, towel drapped over his shoulders, curls wet. Practice had been fine. A little sloppy. He wasn't in his zone. Coach hadn't mentioned it, but Luke could feel it in his movements.

He knew why, he just didn't want to admit it.

He leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his face. The buzzing in his head wouldn't stop.

Madi fucking Sheridan.

He pulled his phone from his bag and stared at it. No notifications or messages. Just the time and the way it mocked him. Four hours until conditioning. Probably six until he'd run into her again.

And she'd look right through him. With that sharp little smirk and her eyebrows cocked like she was perpetually unimpressed.

It had all started before he even knew what was happening.

He remembered the first time he saw her.

Everyone was still new, new campus, new teams, new people to pretend to be chill around. There was a mixer at one of the dorm rec rooms. Someone had ordered pizza, someone else had brought a speaker. Everyone was awkward in that freshman "we're all pretending not to be terrified" way.

Luke had been talking to a couple of guys from the swim team when she walked in with her (now) roommates. Confident, not trying at all. She was wearing bike shorts and a hoodie that said "St. Georges Track and Field" in peeling white print.

She didn't even look at him. That alone should've told him.

Eventually, someone had introduced them. Her name was Madi. Short for Madeline. She said it like she didn't care if he remembered it or not.

"You play hockey?" she asked, sipping root beer from a solo cup.

"Yeah," he said. "My name's Luke. Hughes."

She blinked once. "Cool."

That was it.

No follow-up. No "Oh my God, Hughes like Jack?" No fake excitement or name-dropping or asking what position he played. Just a flat, polite cool and then she turned back to Val to talk about which bathroom had the best lighting.

He'd never wanted someone to look at him twice so badly.

He remembered other things too.

The time he made a joke about sprinters being short-distance specialists because they were scared of endurance and she replied, "Don't be mad that my entire event lasts less than your warmup and still requires more skill."

The time he tried to cut in line at the on-campus café and she'd stepped in front of him with a, "Who told you that you could stand with me?"

The time she absolutely bodied a guy on the intramural field during a co-ed dodgeball game and didn't even celebrate. She just turned and walked off like it was nothing.

She didn't attention.

Madi wanted control.

And she had it, always. Perfectly. Except when she was arguing with him.

That was the only time she cracked.

~~

A week ago, he'd gone to her meet.

He didn't tell anyone, just pulled a hoodie over his hat, grabbed a protein shake, and stood near the bleachers where none of the team parents were sitting. Her event was the 200. He knew that, had Googled it more than once.

She exploded out of the blocks like her feet were made of fire.

Arms tight, form clean, controlled chaos. She didn't lead until the curve, but by the final stretch she was untouchable. The rest of the heat faded behind her.

She crossed the line and didn't even smile.

Just bent at the waist, hands on knees, and breathed through it like it was all routine. Like winning was the bar.

He left before she saw him.

~~

He wasn't used to be being subtle. He didn't know how to do it. With everything else, he just showed up, played hard, let the results speak. And yeah, okay, sometimes the name helped. He wasn't blind to that. He just didn't let it define him.

But with Madi?

With Madi, the name meant nothing.

Wore than nothing. She hated it.

Which made no sense. Because if it were about fame, she could've just ignored him. Most people who thought he was overrated just kept it moving. Not her.

She hunted him like a sport, gave him shit in front of everyone, picked him apart like she was trying to prove a point to the universe.

It should've pissed him off. And it did. Sometimes.

Bust most of the time?

Most of the time, it made him think about the way her mouth looked when she said his name. The way her tone always landed somwhere between sarcasm and challenge. The way she never smiled at him unless she was about to gut him.

He could deal with hate. He couldn't deal with indifference.

And she rarely ignored him.

~~

The other night at the party?

She'd looked good.

Not trying-good. Just her usual ponytail, jeans, crop top, usual drink in hand. But when she'd raised her voice from across the room to mock him, something in his chest snapped.

He didn't even think. Just shot back, easy as breathing. "Still faster than you."

She smiled. Not nice. But real.

And then Beckett showed up.

Fucking Beckett.

Luke had no issue with the guy in theory--nice enough, decent soccer player, one of those effortlessly chill dudes who got by on charms and abs. But the way he said "Sher"? The way he wrapped his arm around her like he had access?

Luke had bailed to the kitchen before he did something stupid. And that's when it hit him.

He wasn't just annoyed. He was gone.

No version of normal crush territory would have him memorizing her event times or noticing the exact cadence of her laugh when she was having a good time.

She didn't like him. She'd made that clear.

But he still wanted her to look at him like he was more than just a name.

Madi hated him. Maybe not in the "wish you were dead" way, but enough to make it impossible to say anything real to her without getting sucker-punched emotionally.

And yet, he couldn't stop looking at her, like she had him in a headlock he didn't want to escape.

~~

The living room looked like a Pinterest board. Textbooks were stacked on the coffee table, highlighters bled through paper, half-eaten snacks in mismatched bowls. Someone's laptop was blasting a Spotify "Focus Mode" playlist that wasn't helping anyone's focus.

Madi sat cross-legged on the floor, her notes spread in front of her like a crime scene.

Across the room Maia and Nolan were playing footsie instead of studying. Val had her laptop open but hadn't typed in twenty minutes. Ethan was half-asleep against the armrest, earbuds in, hood up.

Fake study night. Classic.

She needed caffeine if she was going to power through this next chapter without stabbing herself.

She stood, stretched her legs, and made her way into the kitchen.

The second she stepped in, she regretted it.

Luke was already there.

He had his back to her, rummaging in the fridge like he lived there. Which, to be fair, wasn't far from the truth. The hockey guys were over often enough that their beer took up a drawer on the bottom shelf.

Madi inhaled once, calm and centered, and stepped around him to grab a mug.

"I'm not in the mood," she said flatly.

"For what?" he asked, still not turning.

"Whatever stupid comment you're about to make."

He finally looked over his shoulder. "You think I wake up every day thinking about ways to piss you off?"

"No," she said, pouring water into the kettle. "I think it just comes naturally."

He let the fridge close with a thud. "Cool. Thanks for the insight, Dr. Sheridan."

She arched a brow. "Did you just call me a doctor because I'm smarter than you, or because you're hoping I'll diagnose you with whatever makes you such a dick?"

Luke smiled. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"That defensive little jab. Every time."

"Maybe it's less defensive and more observational," she said, dropping a spoon into her mug. "Like noticing how you only ever show up with your boys and a half-assed opinion."

His eyes narrowed. "Why're you always on my ass?"

Madi didn't flinch.

"Because I don't like frauds with press coverage."

The air changed.

There was no one else around. No music or Val's cackling laugh. Just the two of them in the dim kitchen light, surrounded by the hiss of the kettle and buzz of the fridge.

Luke didn't move, his jaw twitching once.

"You don't know a thing about me," he said quietly.

Madi looked up, holding his stare.

"Don't need to."

They were close now. Not physically, there was still a sliver of space between them, but the kind of close that made goosebumps form on the back of her neck.

It wasn't flirtation or heat.

It was pressure.

He looked at her like he wanted to say something. Maybe scream it, throw it in her face. She wasn't sure which and she wasn't sure she cared.

The kettle clicked off behind her.

Madi didn't turn around. She walked right past him instead, mug in hand, and didn't pause until her shoulder clipped his arm hard enough to jolt them both.

He didn't say anything.

But when she glanced back over her shoulder, just for a second, he was still standing there.

Fists clenched. Jaw tight. Eyes completely unreadable.

~~

Another week, another party at the hockey house. Another night of shitty music, too much alcohol, and too many people Madi disliked.

She was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, nursing a solo cup of something vaguely lime-flavoured and far too sweet. Her cheeks were flushed, her ponytail a little looser than it had been when she left the house, and her buzz was just strong enough to mute the part of her brain that kept her from running her mouth.

"Sher!"

She turned as Beckett appeared, golden and grinning as always, like he was the model in an expensive cologne ad. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tan forearms that were probably illegal in some countries. He slid up beside her like he hadn't been flirting with half the girls in their one shared class earlier that week.

"Figured I'd find you near the alcohol," he said.

"Figured I'd find you still pretending you're not a lightweight," she replied, tipping her cup toward him.

He smirked and leaned in, way too close, breath warm on her cheek. "Admit it. You missed me."

Madi gave him a slow look. "I missed quiet."

He laughed and grabbed two shot glasses from the counter. "We're celebrating. Take one with me."

"They tied," she said flatly.

"A moral victory."

She rolled her eyes but didn't say no. They clinked plastic and tossed them back. Tequila, cheap and brutal.

He grimaced. "Yeah, I still hate it."

"That's because you're weak," she said, tongue scraping across her teeth. "Grow up."

Beckett just laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Luke watched the whole thing from the other side of the kitchen. He was near the wall, drunk untouched, jaw set. Nolan was talking next to him, something about the second period and missed calls, but Luke wasn't listening. He hadn't been listening for the past twenty minutes... not since Madi had walked in wearing black jeans and that cropped Michigan track shirt that made his blood temperature shift.

She looked good. Annoyingly so. Confident, relaxed, loose in a way he never got to see her. Unless it was aimed at someone else.

Someone like Beckett.

And when she threw her head back laughing at whatever the hell he said? Luke thought, briefly, about walking out the front door and never coming back.

But instead, he stood there, watching and waiting. His fingers curled tight around his beer.

Across the room, Madi climbed up to sit on the counter, leaning back against a cupboard, her girlfriends had come to talk with her.

"Okay," she said fairly loudly, eyes scanning her group, "honest question."

Izzy groaned immediately. "No."

"Yes," Madi insisted, grinning. "Important cultural debate."

Maia laughed. "God, here we go."

"If," Madi said, drawing out the word like a dare, "you had to choose one Hughes brother..."

Beckett booed. Some girl shouted "don't make me choose!"

"I'm just saying!" Madi went on. "One night. One chance. Who are you choosing?"

"Jack," Val said, sipping her drink.

"Wrong," Madi replied.

Maia shrugged. "I'd climb Quinn like a tree."

"Thank you," Madi declared. "See? Finally, someone with taste."

Across the room, Luke's expression changed. Just barely.

She went on. "Quinn Hughes? Now that's a man I'd risk it all for."

One of the girls giggled, "Someone text Vancouver!"

Luke didn't laugh.

"I mean, come on," Madi added, tequila coating her tongue. "If I got just half an hour with him--"

She didn't finish the sentence.

Didn't need to, her friends were already laughing.

Luke downed the rest of his drink and disappeared into the other room.

~~

Fifteen minutes later, Madi stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing her hands dry on her jeans.

The hallway was empty. Just dim string lights overhead and music muffled by the door behind her. She didn't even see him coming at first... not until he stepped forward from the shadows by the coat rack, blocking her path.

She blinked. "Jesus. You lurking now?"

Luke's voice was low.

"Say it again."

Madi frowned. "What?"

He stepped closer. "What you said earlier. About Quinn."

She tilted her head. "Are you seriously still mad about--"

"Say it again," he repeated.

Her mouth curled up. "Quinn. Is. Hotter."

It happened all at once.

One second he was glaring at her, chest rising and falling like he was trying to calm down, and the next... his hand was in her hair, and his mouth was on hers.

Hard.

Not sweet or careful. Just full-on, pissed-off, tension-snapping chaos.

Madi froze.

Every nerve in her body lit up like someone had flipped a switch she didn't know about.

And then--against all logic, all sense, all everything-- she kissed him back.

Furiously.

Their teeth clashed. He backed her into the wall, one hand still in her hair, the other braced next to her head. Their mouths moved like they were trying to erase every insult, every eye roll, every "you're so fucking annoying" they'd ever thrown at each other.

She hated how good it all felt.

Hated how badly she wanted more of it. Hated him.

But she didn't stop. Not until reality slammed back in.

Madi shoved him off with both hands, breath ragged, chest heaving.

He stumbled back, blinking like he didn't know where he was.

She stared at him, fury sparking like static on her skin.

"You're such a fucking asshole," she said, voice shaking.

He didn't speak. Didn't move. She turned and walked away, not bothering to look back.

And Luke?

He just stood there, alone in the hallway.

~~

The kiss never happened.

That was the rule.

Madi decided it the second she walked out of that hallway, still breathless, lips stinging, skin buzzing like she'd touched an exposed wire. She went home, peeled her shirt off like it was choking her, stared at her ceiling, and by morning?

It didn't happen.

That was that.

No one mentioned it. No one knew. And Luke sure as hell hadn't tried to bring it up... not that she gave him the chance.

She ghosted him. Effortlessly, professionally. Like it was her Olympic event.

At the next group hang, she made sure to sit at the far end of the room. Didn't acknowledge him. Didn't even look in his direction when he coughed just loud enough for her to hear.

When he passed her on the way to the kitchen and said a low, "Hey," she reached for the salsa and acted like the air had spoken.

Ice him out mode. Activated.

It wasn't that she regretted it--the kiss. Not entirely.

What she regretted was that she kissed him back.

Worse: she wanted to. Like, actually wanted to. Like some sick part of her had been waiting for it.

And that? That couldn't happen.

Because Luke Hughes was the exact kind of guy she didn't have time for.

The cocky, media-groomed, perfectly tousled poster boy of Wolverines hockey. The guy everyone loved because of his name and his stats and his shiny, effortless charm. The guy who had never once had to work for attention... until her.

She didn't want to be one of the girls in his comments. Or his DMs. Or in some whispered story after a party. She didn't even want to like him.

So she didn't.

Problem solved.

~~

The days that followed were filled with controlled chaos.

Madi buried herself in training. She stayed late after track practice, doing extra intervals until her legs screamed. She told Coach she was prepping for a new time trial, even though there wasn't one. She left the house early. Avoided the usual run-ins. Dodged group texts with, "sorry, busy" even when she wasn't.

She picked fights with her roommates just because.

One morning, Maia knocked on the door of their shared bathroom, groggy and half-dressed. "You've been in there forever. Are you doing your taxes or shaving your legs?"

"I'm trying to shower without commentary," Madi snapped, flinging the door open.

Maia blinked. "Okay. Jesus."

Madi rolled her eyes and brushed past her without an apology.

Later, she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop and three empty iced coffee cups and chewed at the end of her pen until the plastic cracked. She scrolled through her econ notes three times and retained none of it.

All she could hear was his voice.

Say it again.

All she could feel was his hand in her hair, his mouth on hers, the way her heart jumped out of her body like it wanted to sprint from the room first.

She slammed her laptop shut and grabbed her keys.

Luke saw her across the quad two days later.

She was walking fast, track girl pace, earbuds in, sunglasses on, hair braided so tight it looked inpenetrable.

She didn't see him.

Or she did... and she ignored him.

He couldn't tell anymore.

He sat on the edge of the stone fountain, thumb running over the seam of his coffee cup. He hadn't said anything to anyone. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know what to say.

They'd kissed. She kissed him back. Then shoved him off like he'd spit on her.

And now?

Now she wouldn't look at him.

At practice, he'd snapped at two teammates and missed an easy drill. At lift, he added extra weight just to push himself. At night, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling replaying the exact second she said, Quinn. Is. Hotter.

It wasn't even about Quinn.

It was about her looking at him like he didn't matter.

And that? That messed him up more than he could explain.

~~

"Dude," Ethan said the next morning, stepping into the locker room, "what's with you lately?"

Luke didn't look up. "What?"

"You've been all weird and quiet and... intense." He tossed his gear down. "Did you piss off Madi or something?"

Luke paused.

Then shrugged. "No idea."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You guys are usually fighting by now. Now you're just... silent. It's freaking everyone out."

Luke didn't answer. He didn't have one.

~~

There was a Jenga tower on coffee table, a charcuterie board on the kitchen counter that no one had touched. A half-played game of Uno in one corner and a speaker playing Izzy's playlist in the other.

Group hang.

One of those things where everyone pretended it was just for the vibes but half the people there were just waiting to see who would crack first.

Madi sat near Val, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. Her entire body language screamed don't start with me.

Luke was on the other side of the table with Mark, sprawled in a beanbag chair like he didn't have an insane amount of tension in his shoulders.

They hadn't looked at each other once.

But the air between them was thin.

"Alright," Nolan said, clapping his hands together. "Everyone's here. Time for a real question. Let's get straight into it."

"Oh god," Maia groaned, curling up against a pillow. "If this ends in trauma dumping, I'm leaving."

"No trauma," Ethan promised, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Perfect," Val nodded.

"Okay, first question." Nolan grinned. "If you had to fight one person in this room--"

"Luke," Madi said immediately.

Heads turned.

Maia made a sound that was mostly air. "Damn."

Luke didn't move.

"Wow," Nolan mumbled. "Didn't even let me finish."

"Didn't have to."

Luke finally looked up. "You're obsessed with me."

"In the way people are obsessed with plane crashes," she replied. "It's the horror."

Maia shot Val a look. Ethan whistled lowly.

Luke sat up straighter. "You've been on my ass for two weeks."

"I've been avoiding your ass for two weeks."

"Oh, avoiding? That's what you call it?"

Madi arched an eyebrow. "Jesus. Do you need attention that badly?"

Luke stood.

The room got quiet.

"Jesus," he snapped, "do you ever shut up?"

And just like that... silence. The kind that makes your skin go cold.

Madi didn't even flinch.

"Only when I'm not near clowns with NHL dreams and zero personality."

It was sharp enough to bleed.

Maia slowly stood up.

"Okay!" she said too brightly. "Game night's over. Everyone go... do something else."

Izzy frowned. "I didn't even get a turn, I--"

Val grabbed her wrist. "We're leaving before someone flips the fucking table."

Luke stormed into the kitchen. Madi stayed exactly where she was.

The rest of the room scattered, pretending they hadn't just seen two people emotionally detonate in front of a game of Jenga and a charcuterie board.

When the girls got home, the living room was quiet. Just Val and Madi on the couch, the others already in bed.

Val didn't say anything for a while, just scrolled on her phone.

Madi finally exhaled, putting her phone down.

"Was I out of line?"

Val looked up slowly. "Do you want the answer that makes you feel better or the honest one?"

Madi groaned. "Forget it."

Val shot her a look. "Why are you like this with him?"

"Because he's Luke."

"Okay, but like... why are you like this with him?"

Madi didn't answer and Val decided not to push.

"Night, Sher."

~~

Luke stared at his phone. The message sat there on his screen in blue, taunting him.

Luke: We need to talk

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. The read receipt popped up and that was that.

After a minute, he unsent it.

Then tossed his phone on his bed and yanked a hoodie on. By the time his feet hit the sidewalk, it was past midnight. But Luke didn't care, he just needed to clear his head.

~~

It had been a long practice. Sprints on dead legs, hurdle drills that just felt like punishment. Her tank was soaked through by the end, her patience buried somewhere back at the start line.

She just wanted a protein bar, a hot shower, and to not think about Luke Hughes for five goddamn seconds.

So naturally, he was waiting outside the fieldhouse.

Madi's breath caught, then she tightened the straps of her backpack and kept walking, like maybe if she didn't break stride, he'd evaporate into the sidewalk.

No such luck.

"Sheridan."

She ignored him.

"Hey." His voice was closer now. "We need to talk."

She didn't slow down. "No, we don't."

"Madi--"

She stopped and turned around so fast it startled him.

He stepped back half a pace, but not enough.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said flatly. Final.

Luke looked at her like she'd just slapped him... which, to be fair, was still on the table.

"You kissed me like a joke," she went on. "And now what? You want a reaction? A conversation? You want to process it together like we're on some after-school special?"

His jaw tightened. "It wasn't a joke."

"Yeah? Could've fooled me." Her arms crossed over her chest, fists curling in her sleeves. "You didn't even say anything. Just ambushed me. Like you couldn't handle one more second of not being the centre of attention."

"That's not--"

"You don't get to do shit like that," she snapped, cutting him off. "Not when I've made it very clear that I'm not interested in playing your little golden boy games. You think you can just kiss whoever you want and walk away like you did something brave?"

Luke's face went blank. But his eyes were still lit. Still watching her like she was something he couldn't stop studying, even if it was tearing him apart.

She hated it.

Hated that he was listening. That he looked like he wanted to explain himself. That some part of her was still curious what he'd say if she let him talk.

So she didn't.

"Next time," she said, voice like frostbite, "find a puck to make out with. Maybe it'll be impressed."

He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood there, stunned... blinking at her like she'd winded him.

Madi turned on her heel and walked away.

~~

Maia was eating dry cereal out of a mug, legs tucked under her on the couch. Izzy was halfway asleep on the floor and Val was scrolling through her phone like she was getting paid to.

Madi stood by the kitchen, pretending to read something on the fridge that had been there since August.

"You good?" Maia asked casually, not looking up.

Madi shrugged.

"Gym looked brutal," Maia added.

"It was fine."

Maia didn't press, just let the silence hang for a minute. Then, as if out of nowhere: "So are we just not gonna talk about the fact that you and Luke are acting like you've got Cold War level beef and shared custody of a secret?"

Madi's spine went stiff

"I'm serious," Maia continued. "You don't even look at each other anymore. And you used to, like, actively hate each other. That was engagement. This is silence. This is, like, avoidance. It's weird."

Izzy looked up from the floor, bleary-eyed. "Something definitely happened."

Madi rolled her eyes and grabbed a water from the fridge. "It didn't mean anything."

Maia turned slowly. "So something did happen."

"I didn't say that."

"You just did."

"I said it didn't mean anything."

Maia stared at her.

"I don't care," Madi added.

Nothing.

No response. Just Maia's eyes, unblinking.

"You're such a liar," she said softly, getting a huff in return.

~~

Beckett texted her two nights after run-in with Luke.

Been a minute. You still alive?

madi: barely

Beckett: Wanna come and not talk about it?

She didn't have to think twice about that. Just: omw

It was muscle memory. Beckett was easy, familiar. He was predictable in a way that didn't make her blood pressure spike. He never cornered her to talk about feelings or looked at her like she was a puzzle he had to solve in a time limit.

Beckett didn't make her feel nervous. In fact, he didn't really make her feel anything.

So she let him make her feel nothing.

The hookup was what it always was: casual, good, and forgettable the second it ended. No messy silence or fallout. Just a sleepy, low-commitment kiss on her shoulder before she pulled her hoodie on and left.

He texted again the next morning. Then again the day after that. They fell back into a rhythm, quick coffees, late-night couch makeouts, her name saved in his phone with a fire emoji.

She didn't call it anything. Didn't tell anyone either.

At least not until Maia cornered her in the kitchen and said, "You've been walking around with post-sex smugness for three days. Spill."

Madi blinked. "What are you even--"

"I know the difference between a protein shake glow and a 'someone just rocked my shit' glow," she said, grabbing a banana from the counter. "Don't play me."

Madi shrugged, trying to be casual. "It's not a thing."

"What's not a thing?"

Nothing.

Val walked in just in time to see the look on Maia's face and groaned. "Did she finally admit she's back on the Beckett train?"

Maia gasped like she'd won a game show. "I KNEW IT."

"It's not a train," Madi mumbled.

"It's a carousel," Izzy called from the other room. "Same scenery every time, but you're still dizzy."

"Girl's been getting the same dick for two years," Maia added. "Must be good."

Madi chucked a raspberry at her head. "It's consistent. That's all."

"Consistently what, though?" Val deadpanned.

~~

That night, they were all crashed in the living room watching Pitch Perfect for the hundredth time when Val hit pause mid-song and said, "Real question."

"Again?"

"No," Madi shook her head.

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask!"

"You were gonna ask about Luke."

Maia sat up with scary speed. "Aha! Something happened!!"

Izzy raised a hand. "Wait. Shut up. No way. Are you telling me you and Luke like kissed?!"

Maia gasped so loud the neighbours probably heard it. "I knew it! I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT ENERGY WASN'T PLATONIC!"

"WHEN?" Val demanded. "Where? What--how?"

Madi groaned and covered her face. "It was nothing. We were at the party. I made a stupid joke. He kissed me. That's it."

"That's it?" Maia shrieked! "You two have been dancing around each other like you're in a fucking made for tv drama and he just kissed you?"

"It was a mistake."

"His or yours?"

Madi didn't answer.

Maia leaned over and grabbed her face. "Tell me right now... was it hot?"

She stared at her, deadpan. "Disgusting."

"You're such a liar!"

"You're telling me you've been hooking up with Beckett post-kiss with Luke Hughes and you haven't gone fucking insane?!"

Maddi shoved her face in a throw pillow. "Goodnight."

"Admit it!" Maia cried.

"No!"

"Then say you'd never sleep with him!"

"I would never sleep with him."

The room went silent.

And then Izzy said, "You're so gonna sleep with him."

~~

Luke saw them together outside the library.

It was 9:05 a.m., and he was walking back from class, earbuds in, half-distracted, when he saw Beckett's hand slide into Madi's back pocket like it belonged there.

She didn't shove him away.

They laughed about something and Beckett kissed her cheek. She leaned into it.

Luke walked faster.

At lift, he snapped at a freshman for dropping a dumbbell too loud. He showed up late to film, didn't speak to anyone except to curse when he missed something on the whiteboard.

Ethan pulled him aside after. "Dude. What the hell is going on?"

Luke just scowled.

The next time he saw Beckett, the soccer player was leaving the girls' house. It was early, sun still low. He had his hood up as he kissed Madi on the forehead before walking down the block back to wherever he lived.

Luke saw it from his car, parked a couple houses down.

He wasn't really supposed to be there. He had been dropping Nolan off to "see Maia." But when he saw the door open, he sat there like an idiot until the guy finally left and Madi went inside.

He was going to lose his fucking mind.

~~

"You know what you're doing, right?" Val said, knocking her shoulder playfully against Madi's.

"What?"

"Hooking up with a guy who seems to actually want you," Val crossed her arms. "And pretending it's about him."

"Better than hooking up with a guy that doesn't."

"Madi..."

~~

Madi's whole body buzzed with the afterglow of her last race. She'd PR'd in the 200, gold medal around her neck. Her coach had nearly cried, Maia had screamed herself hoarse.

Now her legs ached in a good way, her curls were slicked back with sweat and hairspray, and there was a cup of jungle juice in her hand that tasted like warm sprite and way too much vodka.

She was glowing and she knew it.

Maia kept grabbing her arm and yelling "fastest bitch ALIVE" while Val filmed it all for their group chat. Even Izzy was dancing. The hockey boys were scattered around, freshly showered from their own win earlier that afternoon. Spirits were high.

Except for Luke's.

He hadn't spoken to her all night. Hadn't even looked her way. Which was fine. Great, actually.

She didn't need him too.

Didn't care.

Didn't--

She saw him from across the room.

Ball cap backwards, black tee, leaning against the wall with a beer bottle in hand, watching with the quiet, brooding look he always had when he wasn't really in the conversation.

He looked good.

An hour later, she found herself alone in the kitchen. The noise was distant, muffled by the walls.

She leaned against the counter, sipping a new drink that was 90% tequila and 10% lime. Her medal clinked softly as she moved.

She felt a shift in the air before she even saw him.

Turned her head.

Luke.

"What?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the counter. But as she moved to pass him, he reached out and caught her wrist.

"What're you doing?" she grimaced.

"You're not even mad at me," he said quietly. "You're mad you liked it."

She pursed her lips for a moment before kissing him, hard.

It was setting a match to dry grass. Instant, violent, and desperate.

His hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer like he'd been starving. She pressed into him.

Their mouths collided. He tasted like whiskey and pure frustration. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, yanking him forward, needing him closer and hating herself for it.

They stumbled, bumped into the doorway, and laughed bitterly against each other's lips.

He backed them into the hall, half-blind, gripping her hip, walking them until they hit a door. She fumbled for the handle, shoved it open, and they tumbled inside.

It was a spare room, barely lit, with no else around.

The door clicked shut behind them but they didn't even make it to the bed.

His hands were under her sweatshirt, rough palms on smooth skin, while hers found the hem of his shirt and dragged it up over his head. He ducked down, lips on her neck, collarbone, biting just enough to make her gasp.

"Shut up," she whispered when he groaned "Don't talk."

He didn't.

He kissed her harder, knees hitting the floor. Her back hit the wall with a thud. They were both breathing like they'd just a finished a sprint.

Jeans shoved down, hoodie tossed somewhere, fingers tracing the waistband of her underwear like he was daring her to stop him.

She didn't. She wanted this. Needed it like air.

Her hand found the back of his neck, nails digging in as he moved. Their mouths met again, clumsy and hot, teeth knocking, hands everywhere.

His name slipped from her mouth.

She hated that but she didn't stop. He didn't either.

When it ended, they were both wrecked. Breathing like they'd run five miles uphill. The air was thick with sweat and something that felt close to honesty.

She didn't speak, just pulled her underwear back up, fixed her jeans, and grabbed her sweatshirt, not bothering to look at him.

"Don't think this means anything," she said.

Luke, still catching his breath, didn't meet her eyes either.

"I won't."

Both of them were lying.

~~

He ghosted her.

Not literally. Not like he blocked her or changed his number or dropped off the grid. But Luke Hughes disappeared in the most infuriating way: he went quiet.

No texts. No looks. No glances. Nothing.

They were in the same friend group, for god's sake. Same house parties, same campus circles. He had no excuse to vanish like that.

But he did.

And Madi?

She was losing it.

Not outwardly, of course. Outwardly, she was fine.

She woke up early, went to practice, blew past everyone in sprints like her lungs didn't matter, hit the weight room twice a day, and took on extra sets just to punish her legs.

She was sharp in lectures, sharper with her friends, snapping over nothing.

Maia coughed too loud during Love Island? Madi tossed a pillow at her head.

Izzy finished the oat milk without replacing it? Madi wrote a passive aggressive sticky note.

Val looked at her wrong once and Madi stormed out of the room.

So... maybe she wasn't completely fine outwardly.

The worst part wasn't that Luke wasn't talking to her.

It was that he wasn't reacting to her.

Not even a side-eye.

At their next group hangout, she looked good and she knew it. Beckett was there, throwing his arm over her shoulders, whispering dumb things in her ear. She let him.

Luke didn't even blink.

Didn't roll his eyes, didn't mutter a single snide comment, just leaned back in his chair and scrolled through his phone like the room didn't include her at all.

Which pissed her off more than if he'd screamed.

~~

"Spiralinggg," Val sang out.

"I'm not spiraling," Madi said, scooting over on her bed to make room for her best friend.

"You iced out Beckett for like two weeks and now you're hanging off him like he's made of nicotine patches."

"We're friends."

"You think he's boring."

"I-"

"Mads. Whatever happened with Luke, you don't have to pretend you're fine."

"I am fine," she said, too fast. "He's the one acting weird."

"He's not acting. He's just... done."

That hit harder than she thought it would.

~~

That Friday, the group met up at a bonfire party hosted by some people on North Campus. It was chilly out and Madi wore her team jacket over a tiny tank top that barely held her boobs. She was halfway through her second glass of cheap wine. Beckett handed her another and she took it.

The girls hovered nearby, whispering.

Luke was there too. He didn't look at her.

He stood by the fire, quiet, arms crossed, hood up.

At some point, Maia nudged Madi. "He hasn't said a word all night."

"Who?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Don't."

Val added, "You know you could just talk to him."

"No thanks. I like being ignored. Super hot."

Izzy rolled her eyes. But just as she was about to speak, someone suggested a round of Kings.

People sat in a circle, legs tangled over blankets and beer cans. Madi sat on one side, Luke on the other.

He barely participated.

Beckett made her laugh once and she exaggerated how loud she was.

Luke stood up five minutes later and tossed his half-finished drink into the bushes.

"Dude, you good?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah. I'm out."

He didn't say goodbye.

Madi stared after him until someone asked her to pick a card. She didn't hear the question. She just felt... stupid.

~~

She hadn't meant to tell them.

It was supposed to be a regular girls' night. Candles, sweats on, eating Thai in the living room while watching trashy reality TV. The normal.

But Maia had a certain look in her eyes.

And Val kept glancing at Madi like she was tracking her movements.

And Izzy had lowered the volume on the TV.

"Okay," Maia said, crawling down to the floor to be eye level with Madi. "What the actual fuck is going on with you?"

Madi looked up from her noodles. "What?"

Val leaned her chin onto her palm. "You're being extra weird. Like extra extra."

"I'm literally just eating Pad Thai."

"I think I've seen you take about two bites since we sat down."

"I'm focused on the show."

"Correction. You're focused on something in your head.

Madi stabbed at her food. "I'm. Fine."

Val snorted. "Sher. Come on."

She hated when they used her last name in moments like that.

She sighed. "Okay, maybe I'm not fine. But it's not a big deal."

Pause.

Madi looked down at her bowl, then set it aside.

"Luke and I..." she started, then stopped.

"You didn't."

Izzy practically dropper her chopsticks. "You did."

Maia just blinked. "When?"

"After the meet," Madi chewed on her bottom lip. "The party. We were alone. I don't know. We just... happened."

"Sooo," Val said slowly, "was it good?"

"Val," Madi hissed.

"What? I'm trying to gauge the emergency level."

"It was..." She ran her hand through her hair. "It was messy. An fast. And intense. And..."

Maia leaned forward. "And?"

Madi exhaled. I liked it."

Silence.

"I liked him." She stared at her hands. "And I hate that I liked him."

Maia was the first to speak. "You just hate not having the upper hand."

Izzy nodded. "Or he made you feel something and now you're freaking out."

Val tilted her head. "And now he's ghosting you."

"He's not ghosting me."

They all looked at her.

She groaned. "Okay, maybe he is. I don't know. He hasn't said anything. He hasn't looked at me. It's like he flipped a switch."

"So talk to him."

"No."

"Why?"

Madi shook her head. "Because then it becomes real, and I don't want it to be real."

Izzy leaned back, arms crossed. "Because if it's real, it can hurt you."

No one said anything for a moment.

Then, quietly, Madi added, "I don't want to get hurt."

But she already was.

~~

She made it clear what it meant.

That's what Luke told himself. Every morning. Every second he found her across the quad like reflex he couldn't seem to shake.

She made it clear.

It was just a hookup. Just a mistake. Somethig she wanted to forget.

So he let her.

He'd gone quiet before, sure. But this time was different.

This wasn't about ego or being mad. This wasn't about giving her the silent treatment to see if she'd crack first.

This was about survival.

Because if he kept looking at her the way he wanted to? If he let himself hope?

It would ruin him.

So he pulled back. All the way.

He stopped sitting across from her when the group was together. He skipped certain hangouts he knew she'd be at. He unfollowed Beckett on Instagram, then blocked him, and then unblocked him like a coward.

He shut down the part of him that cared.

Or at least he tried to.

But she was everywhere.

She was in the gym, muttering about how they were out of frozen strawberries. She was at the crosswalk outside his lecture, bouncing on her heels while waiting for the light. She was on the track, numbers posted on the athletic board like a punch to the chest. 200m: M. Sheridan. 23.02.

Her name haunted him. Her voice echoed. Her laugh hit him like a bullet every time he heard it.

It didn't help that the guys noticed.

Ethan had cornered him. "What's your problem now?"

"I'm tired."

"No, you're not. This isn't tired Luke. This is like full criptic mode Luke. Is this about Madi?"

Luke didn't respond.

"So it's about Madi."

Nolan had walked over to them, clapping Ethan on the shoulder. "You good?"

Luke shrugged. "She wins. I'm done."

Neither of them asked what that meant.

They just nodded.

~~

It was Thursday, Luke had just finished practice, shirt still damp, headphones in. He walked into the rec centre, hoping the gym would be empty.

It wasn't.

Madi was there.

Leg press. Ponytail. Bike shorts.

He thought her could feel her before he saw her.

He should've turned around. Left. Come back later.

He didn't. He kept walking. Straight past her.

He didn't glance, didn't slow, just walked by like she didn't exist.

Her head turned, just slightly. Enough for him to catch it in his periphery.

She said nothing.

But when he looked back, just for a split second, her hands were still on the machine, unmoving.

Like she'd frozen.

Like it hurt.

He turned back around and kept on walking.

~~

It wasn't about Luke.

That's what she told herself when she opened the door at midnight, hair damp from her shower, hoodie zipped up all the way.

Beckett stood there in a backwards hat and that dumb grin that used to do something for her.

Used to.

"Hey, Sher," he said warmly.

She didn't cringe or roll her eyes, just stepped aside and let him in.

It wasn't about Luke.

Beckett didn't look at her the way Luke did. He didn't kiss her like it was a dare. He didn't make her feel like the floor had disappeared under her feet.

He was routine. Safe.

She didn't have to think.

They didn't talk much. He didn't ask questions, just leaned against her headboard like he belonged there.

He rolled onto his side and tugged at the blanket after.

"You want me to stay?" he asked, not pushing, just casually.

She hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Yeah, it's fine."

But when he reached for her, she shifted onto her side, back to him, pretending to scroll through Instagram.

There was a full six inches between them the whole night.

And she didn't sleep.

~~

Luke saw him leave.

He really hadn't meant to.

It was a morning walk, something he'd started doing just to clear his head before classes, music on.

He turned the corner past the girls' house, not thinking, not expecting...

And there he was.

Beckett.

Walking down the steps, shirt wrinkled, hoodie slung over his shoulder.

Beckett didn't see him.

But Luke saw everything.

The way he adjusted his snapback, the satisfied smirk, the relaxed saunter down the sidewalk.

Luke didn't flinch or scowl, he just kept walking all the way to the rink and straight into the worst practice of his season.

He missed passes, line changes. He was late to warmups and didn't say a word unless someone asked directly. And even then, it came out clipped.

At one point, his coach had barked, "Are you even awake, Hughes?"

Luke just nodded.

Ethan tried to talk to him about it again.

"Alright, what the fuck is up?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You haven't been fine since the track party. And now you're showing up late, looking like you haven't slept in a month?"

Luke shrugged.

"Whatever happened with Madi..."

That did it. Luke looked up, sharp.

Ethan continued. "I'm not saying fix it. I'm saying get your fucking head on straight."

Luke exhaled through his nose. Then, after a beat, he said, "I don't think she wants me to."

~~

Madi saw him sitting in the corner of the little cafeteria in the gym building. He was sat with his headphones on, hat pulled low, stirring something into his coffee, jaw tense.

And somthing in her cracked.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't looked at her in two weeks. Maybe it was the way he acted like everything didn't happen. Maybe it was just that she missed him.

But whatever the reason was, she walked right up to his table.

He didn't look up.

"That the new thing now?" she asked. "Pretending I don't exist?"

Luke blinked slowly, pulling out an airpod.

"Hi, Madi," he said flatly.

She tilted her head. "Wow. A greeting. Progress."

"What do you want?"

She crossed her arms. "Nothing. Just checking to see if you're still sulking."

"I'm fine."

"You're always 'fine.'"

Luke stood, grabbing his coffee. "I'm not doing this here."

She stepped in his way.

"Of course you're not. Because that would involve dealing with something instead of running away from it."

He stiffened.

Madi smirked. "What? Too close to home?"

Luke didn't respond.

And she wasn't done.

"You know what's funny? For someone who acts like he's so above it all, you're actually the most dramatic person I know."

Still nothing.

So she said it.

The line she knew would cut.

"Maybe you should go back to being your brothers' shadow. At least then people will like you."

That did it.

His eyes snapped to her.

And finally, finally, he let loose.

"You act like you're too good to feel anything," he snapped. "But you do. You just hate that it's me."

Silence.

Madi didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

She just stood there, the wind knocked out of her, all her armour suddenly weightless.

She didn't deny it. Didn't throw something else back.

She just walked away.

~~

Their next conversation was quiet.

No yelling, no pointed jabs.

Madi sat on the bottom row of the empty stands beside the track, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. The sun was setting, castling a golden glow across the rubber lanes. She could hear her teammates laughing on their way back to the showers.

Luke didn't say anything when he walked up, just dropped his bag and sat two feet away.

Neither of them moved for a good five minutes.

"You weren't supposed to matter," Madi said finally.

It wasn't as bitter as he'd expected.

Just honest. Raw.

He exhaled. "You weren't supposed to matter either."

Her fingers fidgeted with the fraying edge of her sleeve.

His hands stayed clenched between his knees.

Neither of them moved closer or reached out.

But something had softened.

Finally, she spoke again. "I don't know what this is."

Luke didn't even look at her.

"Then figure it out," he said quietly. "I'll be here if you do."

She looked down at her shoes.

She didn't nod or run.

Just sat there.

With him.

And for once, she didn't want to punch him in the face.

~~

Game night wasn't dramatic-loud for once. Not fight-loud. Just normal, pre-finals, everyone's-burnt-out-and-living-off-caffeine-loud.

Cards scattered the coffee table, chips in a bowl, Mark yelling at Ethan over a rule he absolutely made up. Luca had put on a playlist that sucked but nobody could be bothered to change.

Madi walked down from her room like she hadn't spent the last half hour trying to decide if she should come down or not.

Iced coffee in hand, track hoodie half-zipped, hair braided. She was trying to give the illusion of being calm.

The other girls had already been down there.

And so had Luke.

He was sunk into the left corner of the couch, hands behind his head like always. He looked up at her when she walked in.

She didn't hesitate or hover. Didn't wait for him to ask.

She just walked over and sat... right in his lap.

Luke didn't flinch or blink. He adjusted slightly, one arm coming to rest casually around her waist like it was nothing new.

Because it wasn't. Not anymore.

The room went still.

Maia's eyes here huge. Val's jaw actually dropped. Rutger looked between the two of them like he was waiting for the punchline.

Mark shook his head, "So... you two finally fucked and made up?"

Madi took a sip of her coffee, deadpan, "That's a bold assumption."

Izzy smirked, "So not a denial."

"Not a confirmation either."

Val cocked a brow. "Madi."

Luke said nothing. He kept his arm where it was, fingers lazy against the hem of her jacket, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Maia leaned forward dramatically. "I just wanna thank god and Luke's actions for this moment."

They played some dumb game Luca had invented halfway through a game night a couple months before. Something with timers and too many cheating accusations to actually work.

Madi usually hated it.

Tonight, it was fine.

Better than fine.

Luke kept murmuring shit in her ear just loud enough to get her to elbow him in the ribs.

She stole food from his plate and he let her.

The thing was?

It wasn't performative. Wasn't about proving anything to anyone. They weren't making a scene.

They were comfortable. Real.

Finally.

Izzy raised her glass. "A toast to these two getting their shit together."

"I hate you," Madi muttered.

They weren't perfect. There were still sharp edges, still things unsaid. Still days where she wanted to punch him for looking at her for too long and days he wanted to shake her until she understood it wasn't a joke to him.

But they were trying. And that felt... good.

Real.

[lovesickhughes]

locker room | quinn hughes

a/n: hahah okay wow. this one definitely is a different type of fic from my usuals. that being said, please attend to the warnings listed below, and if any of the listed warnings make you uncomfortable in any way, please do not interact. i'm quite shocked at myself with this one. i wrote it all in one sitting, and idk what came over me, BUT i was determined with this one! that being said, i hope you enjoy a little slutty piece of our beloved quinn 🙂‍↕️❤️‍🔥😜

summary: you want nothing more than to comfort quinn during his rough season, so you take a different approach

warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT– mdni [18+]. some angst, a glimpse of sad!quinn :( ROUGH SEX, dom!quinn, oral (m!receiving), p in v, choking, exhibitionism and hints of coercion (but very light), praise kink, unprotected sex (please remember to always practice safe sex!). if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count: 3.8k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Although you weren’t ever directly involved in Quinn’s games, it pained you to watch the effort he puts into each and every period he plays, injuries upon injuries stacking up, and the weight of a team trying to navigate a win increasing. The observations leaving you wanting nothing more than to take away his pain and suffering. 

His tired eyes would meet yours when he would drag himself into your shared apartment, the glow of downtown Vancouver casting shadows in the living room. You would have the replays of the game playing quietly in the background as you averted your gaze to the brunette whose shoulders would slump over his frame. It had become a routine; he would enter your apartment, fall into your arms as you came to his aid, attempting to distract him from the fact he was on the verge of his breaking point. 

“Quinn, we’ve talked about this– you can’t keep expecting good things to happen if you’re not taking care of yourself. I mean, look at you–” You would argue, a sorrowful gaze meeting his tired, dark eyes that would quickly dart to focus on something else when you brought up a conversation that was known all too well. 

“Y/n, I can handle it. It’s all a part of the game and being captain.” He would push back, growing cold and tight-lipped. You desperately tried to avoid evoking Quinn further in distress, your main effort being to support him when he needed, but considering it was a sensitive topic, you felt as though you were walking on thin, cracking ice, not knowing when Quinn would reach his limits and have the pressure all come crumbling back down upon him. 

It was another night, another tough loss, that you unfortunately witnessed in person, and the atmosphere of the arena carried a mournful feeling as fans exited their seats. You were in a suite among a few other wives and girlfriends, consoling one another after the rough game, before walking across the concourse and down to the floor that held the quiet, tension-filled locker room. 

You waited along the wall with a few other family members of the players, quietly conversing with one another, but the unspoken weight of the loss hung over everyone’s heads. As if you were all avoiding the real topic at hand– how difficult it was to see the players lose.

The coaching staff walked quickly out of the locker room and down the hall to their offices with determination and disappointment coursing through their steps, and as time slowly passed by, the sorrow-looking hockey players eventually made their way out of the locker room to reconnect with their family members. 

You watched as slowly, one by one, as the waiting area got smaller and more quiet as the night continued on. By the time you had started growing concerned that Quinn had not made it out, you had checked your phone to see the time read 11:36PM, an unusual time to still be lingering around the arena. 

You were conflicted with what to do– you knew Quinn was still in the locker room, but the silence was deafening and caused you to grow uneasy, standing all by yourself in a dimly lit part of the arena. 

You knew it would be frowned upon, but considering you were not alone and Quinn was still getting ready to depart, you felt your feet drag you closer to the doors that would lead you through to the room you had only ever heard stories about, and pictures and videos of.

You peered around the corner of the arch, dividing the hallway to the locker room, seeing each empty cubby with each player's name written across the boarder with their hockey equipment neatly hung.

Slowly, you walked further, more of the room becoming exposed before you were welcomed with the sight of your boyfriend, Quinn, sitting in his designated spot, his lower half of hockey gear still tightly hugging his body, but nothing else– exposing his torso and more. 

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the sight, his head hung low, wet curls falling forward, a few sticking to his head as his shoulders raised up and down in a slow manner. The sound of your quiet steps must have been enough to catch his attention from his focused gaze below him. 

Quinn did a double take, seeing you standing opposite from him, in a room you would never be allowed in, in any other circumstance, which caused his brows to furrow in confusion. 

“What are you doing here? Y/n– you shouldn’t be in here.” He said through a low grumble, a rush of urgency washing over his face and standing up immediately to walk over to you. His body was mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching your own as you were left speechless, because for a matter of fact, you had no idea what you were doing in the locker room. 

But being left waiting for almost two hours past the end of a game, and growing worried, you felt like there was no other option, other than to take a different approach to console your boyfriend. 

You inhaled sharply at the close proximity, feeling Quinn’s breath on your face, watching his muscles contort in ways that you scolded yourself for finding attractive and causing an ache to pulse through your core. The tension that filled the space between you two, as you both looked into each other’s eyes, made it almost suffocating, your breathing growing irregular.

You blink harshly to refocus yourself, reaching your arm to place delicately against Quinn’s exposed bicep. 

“I know, I shouldn’t be here– I know,” You started, looking at Quinn with a more serious demeanour, “but I was getting worried, and you know I hate seeing you like this.” You coo, running your hand up and down the warm skin of his arm. 

“Y/n, you don’t need to worry, we’ve been over this how many times– I can handle it.” He said through a groan, tilting his head back. And you couldn’t help but watch his features as he leaned his head back, his defined collarbone and shoulder muscles, bulging from their recent overexertion from the game.

You scolded yourself again at the fact the only thought that filled your mind was how attractive Quinn looked, the way he was only covered by his lower half of hockey gear, his muscles shifting as he breathed and stood before you. You knew it was wrong, but the only thought that consumed you, was that you wanted nothing more than to please him, and show him other ways you were there for him. 

That was when it felt like a lightbulb lit up in your mind. You knew it wasn’t right, but just that made you crave more. 

“What are the odds other people are still here?” You questioned, glancing your eyes to the side and out the archway to the hallway. Quinn’s expression grew only more confused.��

“Uh, I mean it’s getting pretty late, so probably not a lot.” He said slowly, squinting his eyes at you for the odd question. “Why, Y/n.” 

You shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “oh, no reason– just wondering.”

“Y/n, what are you trying to get at?” Quinn pressed further, reaching a hand to your jaw to pull your focus back on him.

“Well, y’know– I just had a thought.” You said, failing to hold Quinn’s piercing eye contact, but when you do briefly, his gaze lingered more lustfully. 

He stepped closer, if it was even possible, causing you to sharply inhale. “Y/n, tell me why you think it’s okay for you to waltz your way into my locker room, when you know it’s probably prohibited.” 

“Because!” You exasperated, “Because, Quinn. I hate seeing you like this, and I want nothing more than to stop you from feeling like this. Clearly my previous antics haven't worked.” You scoffed quietly. You watched for Quinn’s response intricately, watching his face contort as he processed your confession. 

His tongue toyed this inside of his cheek, a grin peaking out, “is that so?” 

You nodded your head, holding his gaze with your own, looking at him with doe eyes, which caused a soft groan to fall from his lips. 

“I have another idea to make you feel better though.” You continued, Quinn’s head perking in interest. “Come, sit.” You ushered him to sit back in his designated spot in the locker room. You sat close to him, feeling the heat of his body emit onto you. You reached for his hand with one of your own, your other finding his bicep and softly gripping the flesh. 

The two of you hold an intense gaze, anticipating each one of you to make a move first, the tension between you both turning from angstful to more sensual. Without a second doubt, Quinn reached his hand to your jaw, pulling your face to his and connecting your lips. You both inhale at the contact, before melting into the feeling and release of pressure. 

You bring your own hand to his face, feeling the scruff of his facial hair, roughly brushing against your skin. You moan softly against his lips, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth, enveloping you into a feeling of pure bliss as your mouths molded together. 

You then pull away, breathless and inspect his face, searching his features and seeing his lips a darker shade, swollen and wet. 

“Is there somewhere more private in here?” You asked softly, quickly pressing another slow, wet kiss to his lips. 

Quinn looked around the room, searching for an answer, before his gaze stopped on the door that held a bathroom behind the frame. 

“The bathroom will probably be our best bet, if we really do this.” He said, turning back to you. 

Your tongue wet your own lips in anticipation, an excitement rushing through your body. 

“Then let’s be quick.” You smirked, standing up before Quinn, walking towards the closed door of the bathroom, hearing Quinn quickly shed his bulky hockey gear, leaving him in his compression pants and nothing more.

As you stepped into the tiled room, you shrugged off your jacket, hung it up and searched the room for any area that could make your plan easier. The door quietly clicked shut, bringing your attention to Quinn, who quickly approached you, softly pushing you against the wall, placing an arm near your head and the other gripping your waist as he held you in his embrace. 

His lips found yours again, eager and determined to create more desperation between you both. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, and then down your neck, his breaths causing electricity to pulse through your veins, and your back to arch and a moan to fall from your lips when he sucked softly on your sweet spot. 

Your arms found his shoulders, stopping his advances and he looked up to meet your eyes, searching yours for answers. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I want to make this about you, baby.” You said softly, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck and delicately tugging on his curls, causing his eyes to shut softly. 

“Wanna show me then, hm?” He asked, his eyelids hung low. You bit your lower lip in excitement, holding his gaze as you swapped places with him, before falling to your knees below him, never losing his sight. Your hands steady yourself against his strong thighs, sliding up to caress his exposed torso, feeling the muscles respond to your touch as you reached around to explore. 

Your fingers then hooked under the hem of his compression pants, tugging the fabric down to his knees, enough to expose his throbbing cock, the tip swollen and pink, desperately waiting to feel some sort of release.

You gripped the base of his cock with your hand, carefully, as your mouth practically salivated at the sight of Quinn watching your every move, never breaking eye contact. And when you reach your mouth to place a kiss to the side of his aching member, the sight of Quinn’s eyes fluttering shut, creates a warmth between your own legs. Your mouth began to go to work, placing kisses along his shaft and pumping his cock once before delving into your masterwork, as Quinn would define it. 

You kitten lick his tip before sliding his cock between your lips, his thick member filling your mouth, even just the feeling causing you to moan. Quinn’s hands instinctively find the wall and the side of your head to balance himself. You begin to go to work, bobbing your head along his shaft, pumping and massaging whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, and the sounds of your saliva mixed with his excretions, tied in with his whines in response, caused you to grind in your own spot, feeling warmth spreading through your own body. 

You then look up to Quinn through your eyelashes, watching his face contort with your pleasuring, and his chest rising and falling shakily. You held eye contact with Quinn as you slid his member farther into your mouth, until it couldn’t possibly move any farther, and you ran your nails against the skin of his thighs simultaneously, Quinn erupting in a series of groans and profanities at the feeling.

“Fuck, baby, look at you. So fuckin’ pretty taking my cock so well.” He groaned his head tilting back against the wall as his hand gripped the back of your head and pushed lightly to stretch your mouth wider. You almost gag on the pressure, eyes watering, saliva dripping from your chin– making you a complete mess. You then slowly release him from your mouth, a trail of spit hanging between you and his solid cock, and you place a messy kiss on his tip, causing it to twitch in response to the contact. 

“Want me to keep going?” You asked eagerly, hands still placed on his thighs, waiting for him to direct you in the situation. 

Quinn bit his lip, contemplating how he wanted you, before he grabbed your hands and brought you to your own feet. 

“Pants off, now.” He said sternly, his lips attaching to your neck and hands finding either side of your waist. You nodded in compliance, even though you knew he couldn’t see you, and you shimmy out of your tight pants, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving you in nothing other than your top and lace panties. 

Quinn’s hands roamed your body as his mouth continued to do work against your skin, your own hands finding their place on his shoulders, gripping tightly. And you almost bite down on his broad shoulder to contain the high-pitched squeal you feel erupting through your throat at the feeling of his hand slipping between the fabric of your panties and dipping into your core. 

Quinn groans in pleasure at the feeling, “fuck, baby, sucking my cock really got you this wet?” He murmured against your collarbone, still decorating your skin with his kisses. 

You hummed in agreement, tugging at the curls by his neck as a way to let him know you needed him instantly. He pulled away from attacking your skin with love bites, meeting your gaze with hungry eyes, and turning you around so your back was flush against his chest. His hands roamed your body, groping the curves and all his favourite parts of you. 

“Panties off, now. I want you bent over that counter.” Was all Quinn said before he guided you urgently towards the sink’s countertop, a mirror hung on the wall, exposing the sex-filled sight of the two of you. 

You complied to his demands, scurrying to fold your hips against the cold countertop, each of your hands pressed against the surface to steady yourself. It wasn’t long before Quinn was positioned behind you, but before he continued, his fingers hooked under your own shirt, and swiftly discarded it, leaving you bare and the cool air and feeling of the counter touching your exposed skin. 

Quinn stroked his own cock a few times, collecting a wad of spit from his mouth to wet his hard member, and you watched intently at his every moves, and as he stepped closer to your frame, you anticipated the feeling of the tip of his cock coming into contact with your throbbing core. 

His one hand was held firmly at the base of his cock, while the other tightly gripped your hip, aligning himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed forward, bottoming you out completely, the stretch and rush of pleasure leaving your mouth hung open. Quinn’s bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he let the feeling of your core envelope him, clenching against his cock, and his hands roamed your body while you adjusted. 

He reached down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, ‘kay?” He asked softly, barely audible into your ear. 

You only nodded, unable to form words as Quinn stretched you out in all the right ways. He then slowly began to thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. The anticipation of the way he was going to fuck you, leaving you in a puddle of your own arousal. His hands balanced himself on your hips as his thrusts slowly progressed in speed, his cock sliding along the walls of your core, the contact eliciting a rush of euphoria through your body. 

It was as if a switch had been turned on in Quinn, because his slowly increasing thrusts turned into rough poundings as a shock of pleasure was sent to your clit at the contact of his hips against yours. 

Your mouth continued to hang open in pleasure, watching Quinn determinedly fuck you. Whatever pent up stress, anger, or frustration he had, you knew you had to let him get out, even if that meant it was through destroying you. 

The sounds of your wet pussy slapping against his skin echoed through the bathroom, and Quinn’s grunts that left his mouth followed after each thrust. 

His eyes then shifted from watching his cock slide in and out of you, to meet your eyes through the mirror. He grinned slyly at the sight of your flushed face, his hands roaming your body and coming up to plant themself just tightly enough on the back of your neck while maintaining his speed of thrusts. Your head leaned back into the feeling of his hand on the nape of your neck, holding you tightly in place, the pleasure that erupted through your body feeling so blissful, you weren’t able to formulate words– only small noises of pleasure with each thrust. 

“Look at you baby, so fucking cock drunk– you love when I fuck you like this, huh?” Quinn said through gritted teeth, his own pleasure rushing through his veins. ‘Fuck, Y/n. You feel so fucking good around my cock– so fucking good. Taking me so well.” He praised as he watched intently as you responded with moans to the feeling of his cock bottoming you out with each strong thrust. 

Your eyes shut as you focus on the feeling of Quinn thrusting into you from behind, so harshly, and the shock of pleasure that follows each thrust. And you feel his hand release from the back of your neck, grazing along the side of your face until you feel his two fingers find your open mouth, stuffing his digits into your mouth. As if it were second nature, you began to suck on his fingers, a loud moan falling from your throat at the feeling that now tied in with each thrust, and you started to feel the familiar warmth begin to spread through your body as the knot began to loosen in your core. 

“Just like that, baby. Look at you. Sucking on me so well, your pussy and mouth were fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned, his thrusts increasing to a speed you didn’t even know was possible. You shifted in your position, letting Quinn know through your body language that you were close, and he took that as an invite to hoist your one leg up to rest on the countertop, allowing for Quinn to hit even deeper into your core, a loud moan coming crying out of your throat, being muffled by his fingers. 

Quinn’s hand left your mouth, a string of spit following as you reopened your eyes, seeing your flushed face, smudged mascara and tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, Quinn, I’m so close.” You whined, tucking your head into your chest before looking back up to watch Quinn move from behind you. A moan left your lips in synchrony with each thrust Quinn sent through your body, and you could tell he was approaching his own climax as his thrusts faltered, and began to fall more inconsistent.

“Come for me, baby. Such a fucking good girl– taking me so well. This pussy was fuckin’ made for me” He encouraged again, his one hand slipping between your core and the countertop, his fingers finding your sensitive clit, and sending shocks of pleasure through the bundle of nerves, ultimately leading to your release around his cock. You whine loudly as the rush of euphoria takes over your body, flooding your veins with pleasure and a tingling sensation as you ride your high. Quinn continues to thrust into you, slowing his movements as he approaches his own release. Not long after, he releases into you, his warm, thick excretion filling you to the brim as he stays inside you for a mere minute, before pulling out, leaving your core to ache at the loss. 

He pulls you up from your position over the counter, hugging you against his chest and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay? I wasn’t too rough?” He mumbled against your head, and you turned in his embrace, looking up at him with a loving gaze and planting a quick kiss to his lips. 

“No, that was so good.” You smiled sheepishly, your chest heaving up and down as you came down from your orgasm; the high causing you to feel an immense amount of bliss. “But that wasn’t what I planned, it was supposed to be all about you and making you feel better.” You playfully pout, sticking out your bottom lip and batting your lashes at Quinn. 

He only laughs, pulling you into a tighter hug, “hey, making you sound like that, and just having you like that, already makes me feel ten times better.” 

You dramatically roll your eyes, “fine, so it’s a win-win.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely a win-win.” 

[captain-huggy-bear]

Fishbowl Blues

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, talk about blood/injuries

Summary: You're more stressed and worried over Quinn's busted lip than he is.

Notes: I really hope we're all wrong when we're speculating that Quinn is feeling self conscious of his lip because he is handsome all the time, and he's too good a captain to feel self-conscious. I also hope he heals quickly because I bet its a bitch to eat with.

Also i'm on X-Mas holidays from teaching sooooo feel free to send me your Quinn (and maybe also Jack) thoughts.

You're right at the glass when it happens, a front row seat to the way the stick smashes into his face and the way Quinn slams into the ground in response. Your hands press to the glass urgently as you try to look around the bodies on the ice to see what the damage is. Even as the jumbtron jumps between filming him on the ice and filming you at the rink side. It's not the first time he's been injured on the ice, but usually he pops back up almost immediately, has a sarcastic word for the linesman or complaint and then continues on. Shrugs it off as if its nothing. A few bruises, a little cut, nothing more, nothing less.

Not today.

Today all you see is Quinn down on the ice for longer than he should be, a puddle of bright red, oxygenated blood contrasted against white ice. You push to the side until you can see him clearer as he pushes to his feet, mouth bleeding, hand pressed to cover it. Your eyes lock through the plexi, yours wide, worried, his grimacing in some sort of attempt to reassure you as he skates away across the ice and down the tunnel. It was not, in fact, very reassuring.

It's the worst 15 minutes of your life so far, you feel physically sick knowing you can't follow him, but wanting desperately to, to know if he's okay. Your mind thinking up 101 different possibilities for how damaged he might be. Had he lost teeth? Was it his lip that was split? Was his nose broken? A jaw? A cheekbone?

When he finally skates back out on the ice, fishbowl on, you're worry dials back a step or you think it does, that underlying buzz is still there under your skin. You no longer feel sick as you watch him skate confidently across the ice, score a goal and keep pushing through the rest of the game. The worry doesn't disappear entirely though, you're still unsure what the damage is, but know its enough for them to want him to cover his face from any more harm.

You also know your boyfriend, you know what he's like. He'd keep playing even if his arm was hanging off, it's just the way he is, so the fact he's skating fine doesn't actually reassure you. If anything it worries you more that he's hiding how hurt he is.

When the game ends you're one of the first to rush to the locker room, bouncing on the balls of your feet with nervous energy until you see him. Beanie back in place to cover his curls, suit more rumpled than it was when he arrived at the arena hours prior.

"Quinn..." The buzz of anxiety and adrenaline comes back full force under your skin, your hands shaking as your leg bounces.

"I'm okay..." It's mumbled, barely audible, he winces at the pull on his lip as he tries to talk, stitches stark against his lip. He's swollen, bruised, and clearly in pain but still tries to reassure you as you gently cup his face in your hands. He doesn't want you to worry, can see it in your face, the way our hands shake as they hold him so gently like he might actually break apart from a single touch. He hates it, hates feeling so fragile when he's normally your rock.

"Stop talking, you're going to pull your stitches." You scold him even as your eyes well with tears at how painful it looks. His chuckle at your teacher voice coming out quickly cut off by a hiss of pain, stopped short before it can grow. It's worse than you thought, his lip split in two, held together by a line of stitches. There's bruising under his nose, across his cupids bow and his mouth is swollen to the point where even that looks sore.

He wants to reassure you but talking hurts and he knows you just need to fuss over him, so he lets you brush your thumbs across his cheeks, lets you kiss his nose and chin gently. He lets you lead him out to the car, but refuses to let you carry his equipment.

"I'm driving," you hold your hand out expectantly, waiting for the keys, and he just raises a brow before opening the passenger side door, holding it open for you and waiting. He loves you, but he's not incapable of driving and as much as he'll support your fussing to a point, he'll draw the line here. Especially when he can see you're still shaking as much as you try to hide it.

"Quinn, you got the shit beat out of your face, just let me drive home!" Your hands make their way to your hips, brown furrowed as you glare at him. He can imagine that's the same look you give your high school students when they're being particularly difficult, but it's not working on him.

"No, not happening. Get in, sweetheart." It still hurts to talk and maybe he's a bit quiet with it, trying to move his lip as little as possible, but he's not spending the next god knows how long mute.

"Quinn..." The worry on your face is so clear that he almost considers giving in, you're nervous, you're worried, hell, he might even say you're scared. But, he knows he's okay, or at least, okay enough to drive. He's trying not to think about brushing his teeth or eating dinner right now. Fuck, he just wants a burger and he knows that's an impossibility...or some salty fries...fuck.

"I split my lip. I'm not an invalid." It's the shortness of his tone, the annoyance starting to breach the surface that has you giving in. You want to fuss, but you can see it, this is the hill he'll die on and you can compromise on this. For him. You can compromise for him, if it helps him keep a sense of strength, a sense of masculinity after a shitty day.

"Okay..." you slip into the passenger seat and let him do your seatbelt for you, knowing he needs to feel useful and not being entirely sure you'd manage with how much your hands are shaking. You try not to watch him as he drives, but still find yourself looking from the corner of your eye. You catch each wince, each grimace and it only makes it harder for you not to fuss. Makes that panic in your chest start to rise again as the minutes tick by, the drive feeling so much longer than it is.

Still, you resist talking, resist fussing, even as you can feel the tears welling again because fuck, you'd been absolutely terrified tonight. It's as Quinn pulls into his parking spot that your head presses back into the headrest behind you, eyes blinking back tears as you stare the roof of the car. Hands clenching and unclenching in fists in your lap as you try to will the tears back.

He's watching you from your peripheral vision, hand reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, even as you bite your lip hard to try to keep the tears at bay. You fail absolutely spectacularly.

The tears come streaming thick and fast down your cheeks, quicker than you can brush them away as you start burbling on. The fear, the worry, the anxiety and stress of the game finally boiling over in the safety of the parking garage.

"This is so stupid, you're the one who got hurt...you s-should be crying, n-not me." You feel ridiculous, even as you can't stop the tears from coming, "why am I c-crying, this...this is s-so s-s-stupid..."

If it's possible it makes Quinn love you even more, the way you love him so much that a high stick to the face has you more stressed out than him. He doesn't love the tears, but fuck, he loves how much you care.

"Hey, hey..." it's a soft murmur, interspersed with a few hisses of pain which don't help your tears any, even as he pulls your face towards his, fingers brushing the tears from your cheeks and rubbing softly across your bottom lip which you've bitten nearly to bleeding point. "It's okay, i'm okay...eating'll suck for a while and fuck, i'm going to miss kissing you, but i'm okay, baby..." He actually might be most upset about the fact he can't kiss you when he comes to think of it. He can handle soup for weeks, can handle mint toothpaste stinging his lip, but not kissing you? An actual crime against him.

"B-but, what...what i-if you..." You're stopped in your tracks by him lightly smushing your cheeks together.

"No. No...we're not doing what ifs, not happening, sweetheart, okay?" He lets your face go, fingers combing through your hair, brushing gently across your forehead and down your jaw.

"I..." you're still inhaling sharply with every word, almost hiccuping, the panic still there, if slowly easing down. He hates it, that you're this upset over it. It makes him want to wear a stupid bubble all the time, just to avoid how you're looking at him right now.

"Look at me." There's a pause where he waits for your breath to ease a little, the sharp inhales starting to smooth out with each brush of his fingers , "I'm okay and i'll be okay next game and the next and the next...sure i'm about to get reallllll grumpy without being able to kiss you and, sure, i'm going to be a pain in your ass for a few weeks, but that's not worth your tears, baby."

"I c-can...I can still kiss you though, right?" It makes him huff out a laugh, the way your wet, wide eyes look at him like you're only just realising that you too are going to be punished without kisses from Quinn for weeks.

"Yeah, baby, just, avoid the lips, yeah?"

"O..okay, I can do that." You nod your head to yourself as if you're considering the logistics of it all, which you are. You're contemplating all the places you can kiss him pain free: his forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin...

Quinn watches you for a minute, the redness of your eyes, the way your chest has stopped heaving and for a minute he forgets it all.

"Let's go instead, yeah? I'm okay."

It's quiet, the way you sort yourselves out for the evening. You potter about to reheat some soup you made the other day for him, while he changes into comfy clothes. You eat quietly together, you watching him intently as he eats, every wince noted but the panic isn't there this time. You can breathe, you still hate the fact he's hurt, but the feeling of impending doom is gone, the dread, the fear, it's been eased by his insistance that he's okay.

Quinn navigates brushing his teeth, it takes him twice as long because of how careful he has to be, but he manages. Finally, lying down next to you and pulling you into his arms feels like a reward. The way you curl into him, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder and jaw as you tuck your head under his chin, it makes him feel normal for the first time since he took a hockey stick to the face.

The remaining adrenaline of the day slips away with every rub of his palm against your back, every rise and fall of his chest underneath you, every steady thump of his heart. He's okay, and maybe you're scared he won't be next time, but you knew what you signed up for when you started dating a hockey player. Besides, he's worth every single second of fear.

[theemporium]

could you do a blurb for nico, luke, or quinn that’s kinda based off the song sleep without you by brett young, basically he just can’t sleep without the reader and he is fine with her going out but is just in bed like 🧍🏽 waiting for her to get back 😭😭😭

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

If there was one thing about Luke Hughes, it’s that he loved sleep.

It was a known stereotype for hockey players to enjoy a nap and he was no different. He wasn’t as strict or meticulous as Jack was with his pregame naps. He just slept whenever he wanted, whenever he could. The NHL was no joke and as much as people teased him for how much he ate, it was only followed by a similarly high amount of sleep. 

There was a very little in this world that could stop Luke from sleeping. 

But one of those things was you. 

It wasn’t as though he couldn’t sleep at all if you were not around. That would be pretty stupid. And honestly, quite a big problem with how much time he spends on the road during the season. He didn’t know how to explain it. He had tried once, on a phone call to some of the UMich boys but they couldn’t seem to wrap their head around it either. 

Luke just couldn’t sleep. Not comfortably. And tonight was no different.

He had a late afternoon training session that wouldn’t get him back in the apartment until dinner time. And you would already be gone and out to meet your friends by that point. Luke had kissed you goodbye, muttered something about sending him which outfit you chose before he was running out the door to meet Jack (who was impatiently waiting on him). 

Luke had liked the message when he got off the ice a few hours later, grinning at the stream of messages that followed before you eventually left the house yourself. He got himself dressed, grabbed some dinner at Jack’s place and made his way back home with the intention of fucking around the apartment until he eventually attempted to have an early night in.

Until Luke found himself lying on his side of the bed, two hours after he attempted to turn in for the night, still awake and unable to even doze off no matter what he tried.

He felt unsettled, a feeling in his chest that he couldn’t ignore no matter what he tried. For a panicked moment, he thought something was wrong. He scrolled through so many google searches and random articles before deciding that the chance of him—a healthy twenty-one year old—having sudden, onset heart issues was very low. 

Instead, he found himself shuffling towards your side of the bed, his face squished against your pillow and the faint scent of your perfume still notable as he tried to count aimlessly until he fell asleep. 

But sleep never came and the feeling in his chest remained and Luke found himself really missing you. 

He felt bad for wishing you were there. He knew you had been working your ass off recently, knew that you barely had time for yourself between classes and work. But you finally found a night that worked for you and your friends and he wanted you to enjoy yourself. He wanted you to have that night off that you desperately deserved. 

But there was another voice in his head—a more selfish one—that wished you were curled up next to him. That wished he could listen to you tell him about your day, to catch him up on petty gossip whilst you played with his hair and he told you about the dumb shit the boys did in the locker room. He just really wished you were there. 

Luke could see the surprise on your face when you stumbled into the flat just after midnight, swaying a little from the drinks and smiling at the night you had when you eventually saw him on the couch. 

“You waited up for me?” You asked, sounding so soft and touched by the act—if not a little confused too.

“Couldn’t sleep without my favourite girl,” Luke replied easily, sincere in a way that only made your face light up more. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” you murmured, reaching your hand out and giggling as you tried to pull him off the couch, to lead him down the hall towards your bedroom.

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke grinned with his hands already moving to your waist to guide you down the hall, the feeling in his chest quickly disappearing as you leaned into his touch.

.

[be4chywritez]

family | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

you feel happy that your boyfriend’s brothers like you

my masterlist!

prompt list!

You stood in front of the mirror, carefully applying the final touches of your makeup. The room was filled with the sounds of Luke humming a tune and Jack’s playful teasing. Luke was sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV while Jack lounged on the other bed, tossing a hacky sack with his good arm.

“You almost ready?” Luke asked, watching you with such love.

“Almost,”you replied, glancing at him through the mirror with a smile. “Just need to fix my hair.”

Jack smirked and chimed in. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just a game. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

You rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “It’s family night, Jack. I want to look nice.”

Luke sat up and moved behind you, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You always look beautiful,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Ugh, you two are so gross,” Jack groaned, adjusting the sling that held his arm. “Get a room!”

“We have one, and you’re in it,” Luke shot back with a grin, catching the pillow Jack threw at him and tossing it back.

-

Family nights at games were always a highlight for the Hughes clan. Tensions buzzed in the air as you arrived at the Rogers Stadium.

you felt slightly uncomfortable going, but Ellen insisted saying that you’re “practically family” at this point with how long you’ve been with Luke.

Ellen helped you onto the ice while Luke tied his skates. Quinn skated over toward Ellen, giving her a hug, then Jack, Jim, Luke, and finally, you. He pulled you into a hug, which was rare for Quinn but made you feel giddy knowing that your boyfriend’s brother liked you.

Quinn pulled away, giving you a small but genuine smile. “Good to see you, Y/N.”

You returned the smile, feeling warmth spread through you. “Good to see you too, Quinn. Excited for the game?”

Quinn nodded, glancing around at his family. “Yeah, it’s always better with everyone here.”

Luke skated over, slipping his arm around your waist. “You wanna skate around with Dad and me?” he asked. You looked over at Luke. Quinn watched how much warmth radiated from you when you were with Luke; it made him happy.

You nodded, grabbing Luke’s outstretched hand. He gave Quinn a nod and you smiled at Quinn. “Hey, be careful out there,” Quinn called out, knowing how reckless his younger brother could be.

Jim helped you stay steady on the ice when Luke decided it would be funny to pick up the pace, Jim tighten his hold on you as you scolded Luke to slow down.

eventually the family hour was coming to a close and the game getting closer, photographers swarming to get photos of players and their families.

A photographer approached. “Can we get a Hughes family photo?” he asked, camera at the ready.

You instinctively stepped back, giving the Hughes family space for their moment. You watched as Luke, Jack, Ellen, and Jim gathered together, a perfect picture of familial love and support.

Just as the photographer was about to take the picture, Quinn looked up and noticed you standing off to the side. His usual stoic expression softened. “Y/N, get in here,” he called out, his voice carrying a tone of insistence that left no room for argument.

You face scrunched in confusion, he waved you over once more, quickly skating to Luke’s side. Luke wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The photographer snapped the picture.

after the photo was taken Quinn hugged all of you before y’all were guided off the ice and into your seats.

-

Later, as you left the arena, you felt a warm hand slip into yours. You looked up to see Luke smiling down at you, his eyes filled with love.

Luke cleared his throat . “Quinn doesn’t usually do things like that. He really cares about you.”

you looked up, cheeks heated, “Yeah, I’m really happy. I’m just kinda bummed he just started liking me,” you said, half-joking, half-not.

Jack, walking behind you, snorted. “Quinn liked you since the very first time he met you. He kept on saying, ‘I like how Luke’s girl doesn’t post only when she’s with us. Luke’s girl this and that.’” Jack mocked him in a teasing tone.

“Shut up, dude,” Luke said, laughing. “But as he was saying, Quinn really likes you.” He smiled, kissing your cheek.

Jack obnoxiously gagged. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s get to the car.”

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) everything

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : extreme fluff no warnings

summary : you and quinn spend christmas eve together and it ends with a beautiful surprise

the apartment smelled like sugar and cinnamon, warm and inviting. the faint hum of a christmas playlist played in the background, filling the air with soft jingles and cheerful tunes. it was december 24, and your favorite tradition with quinn hughes was in full swing: decorating cookies.

you sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, armed with piping bags filled with brightly colored icing, sprinkles scattered across the counter. quinn stood across from you, wearing an apron he’d claimed he didn’t need—though his flour-dusted hands and icing-streaked cheek suggested otherwise.

“alright, quinn-casso,” you teased, pointing at the lopsided tree he’d just decorated. the green icing was uneven, and the star looked more like a blob.

he held it up, feigning offense. “what? this is art. you just don’t get it.”

you laughed, snapping a picture with your polaroid camera. the flash caught him mid-eye-roll, flour still smudged on his cheek.

“add it to the collection,” you said, shaking the photo and setting it on the counter to develop.

the collection was an assortment of candid photos you’d been taking all month—quinn tangled in christmas lights, the two of you picking out a tree, him wearing the santa hat you’d forced on him. the pictures were scattered on the fridge, a chaotic but charming timeline of your holiday season together.

“fine,” quinn said, grabbing another cookie. “but if you’re going to document this, i’m going to make the best-looking snowman you’ve ever seen.”

you leaned on your elbow, watching him carefully pipe white icing onto the cookie. his tongue poked out slightly in concentration, a detail that made your heart swell.

“not bad,” you admitted as he added tiny sprinkle buttons.

“‘not bad’? that’s perfection,” he said, placing it on the tray with a satisfied grin.

you shook your head, laughing softly. “i guess i’ll give you that one.”

the two of you worked through the tray of cookies, decorating everything from candy canes to reindeer. you captured moments on your polaroid as you went: quinn sticking sprinkles on his nose to make you laugh, you holding up a cookie shaped like a heart, and the tray of finished cookies, a chaotic mix of skill and whimsy.

when the cookies were done, you both collapsed onto the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. the christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner, the ornaments catching the glow of the lights.

“i think we outdid ourselves this year,” quinn said, holding up a cookie shaped like a stocking.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, holding up one of your own. “mine are way better.”

he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smiled, leaning into him. “i know.”

⋆˙⟡

as the night wore on, the stack of polaroids grew. quinn had taken over the camera at some point, snapping pictures of you mid-laugh or caught off guard. one photo in particular made you laugh—a close-up of your face, icing smeared on your cheek.

“quinn! i wasn’t ready for that one!”

“that’s the point,” he said, smirking.

eventually, it was time for the part of the evening you both looked forward to the most: exchanging gifts.

“okay,” you said, hopping off the couch and grabbing a small, neatly wrapped box from under the tree. “you first.”

quinn set his mug down, his eyes lighting up as he took the box. “you know you didn’t have to get me anything, right?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “just open it.”

he carefully unwrapped the box, lifting the lid to reveal a vintage hockey puck encased in glass. his jaw dropped.

“is this…”

you nodded, grinning. “it’s from your first-ever college game. i found it online, and the guy who had it was willing to sell. i thought you’d want to have it.”

he stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing the glass. “this is amazing. thank you.”

his voice was soft, and when he looked up at you, his expression was full of gratitude. he set the puck down and leaned over to kiss you, his lips warm and lingering against yours.

“alright,” he said, pulling back. “your turn.”

he stood and grabbed a box from behind the tree. it was big, wrapped in shiny gold paper with a perfectly tied bow.

“wow,” you said, taking it from him. “someone went all out.”

“just open it,” he said, his grin mischievous.

you tore into the paper, lifting the lid to reveal… a polaroid camera. not just any camera, though—it was a custom design, your initials etched into the side, and the strap was embroidered with tiny snowflakes.

“quinn,” you breathed, running your fingers over the details.

“i know how much you love taking pictures,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i thought you’d like something a little more special.”

you set the box aside and threw your arms around him, holding him tightly. “it’s perfect. thank you.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other. the night felt perfect, like something out of a storybook.

“actually…” quinn pulled back slightly, a nervous edge to his voice.

“what?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

he reached into his pocket, and he took out a neatly wrapped box. it wasn’t the biggest gift, but there was something about the way he held it, his expression a mix of nerves and excitement, that made your heart race.

“quinn…” you started, but he cut you off with a small smile.

“here.”

you unwrapped the box carefully, lifting the lid to reveal a delicate silver ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, a small diamond set into the band, understated and perfect. your breath caught in your throat.

“it’s not what you think,” quinn said quickly, rubbing his left arm. it’s not… you know, that ring. not yet, anyway.”

you looked up at him, your heart pounding. “so it’s—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “i know we’re not there yet, but i wanted you to know how serious i am about us. that i want this—you—for the long haul. this is my way of saying i’m all in, even if we’re not at the finish line yet.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared at him, at the boyish grin on his face and the sincerity in his eyes.

“quinny…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“i love you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “and i just wanted you to know that.”

you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you let him slide the ring onto your finger. “i love you too. so much.”

he let out a breath, relief washing over his face as he pulled you into his arms. for a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other.

when you finally pulled back, you held up your hand, admiring the ring. “this is perfect. you’re perfect.”

quinn smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “i wouldn’t say perfect. my cookies were… mediocre.”

you laughed, swatting his arm. “hey, don’t ruin the moment.”

the night went on, filled with more moments that you knew you’d treasure forever. and as you sat there, leaning against quinn with the soft glow of the tree around you, you couldn’t help but think that this christmas was everything you’d ever wanted—and more.

© amourquinn

[rgwriteshockey]

side by side w/ quinn hughes ⇒

quinn hughes x gf!reader

summary: quinn hughes gets named captain of the vancouver canucks, and his girlfriend of five years, y/n, is right there with him. from the hype of the announcement to the pressures of being captain, she’s his rock. as quinn steps into the role, he juggles the weight of leadership and the challenges of the season, but with y/n’s support, he stays grounded. they continue to grow together, face tough moments, and celebrate the good ones. through it all, they prove that they’re stronger together—both on the ice and off.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mild language, happy relationship

a/n: fic #2!! hope yall enjoy and don't forget to like!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

quinn hughes had always rolled with the changes. from the days he spent watching hockey games from the sidelines, dreaming of being in the nhl, to getting drafted by the vancouver canucks, and now, stepping into the role of team captain. it felt like all those late nights, tough games, and moments of doubt had led him to this point.

but the one thing that made all of this feel even more meaningful? you being there right beside him.

you and quinn had been together for five years, through all the ups and downs that came with being in a relationship with someone who lived such a high-profile life. you’d been there for his breakout moments, when he nailed an insane assist or made a game-saving play. but you’d also been there when things didn’t go right—when the team wasn’t performing well, when he got hurt, or when the pressure of living up to expectations seemed like it might break him.

through all of it, you’d been the person he could lean on. and now, as he stood at the threshold of a new chapter—becoming captain of the canucks—it felt surreal, but it also felt like something he truly deserved.

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it was a crisp morning when quinn was officially named captain of the vancouver canucks. the press conference was packed with reporters, cameras flashing, and everyone eager to hear what quinn had to say. the excitement in the air was contagious, but you could tell that quinn was feeling a bit of the pressure too. he stood there, looking calm on the outside, but you could see the nerves in his eyes. this was a big moment.

you sat in the front row, next to his family. jack, his brother, had flown in to support him, and you could see the pride in his eyes every time he looked at quinn. you weren’t the only one who was proud—everyone in the room could feel the weight of this moment. but even so, quinn’s demeanor was humble as ever. he didn’t seem to let the spotlight rattle him.

"thank you all for being here," the canucks' gm said from the podium. "it’s an honor to introduce the new captain of the vancouver canucks: quinn hughes."

the room erupted in applause. quinn gave a modest nod as he stepped up to the microphone. you could see how much this meant to him, but he kept his composure as always. he adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and started speaking.

“it’s an honor to be here today,” quinn said, his voice strong, but there was a bit of a nervous edge to it. “being part of this organization has been incredible, and it means the world to me to have the chance to lead this team. but none of this happens without the people who’ve been there for me along the way—my teammates, my coaches, my family, and, of course, my girlfriend, y/n.”

your heart skipped a beat as quinn’s eyes found you in the crowd. the moment felt surreal, as all the eyes in the room turned to you. it wasn’t something you expected—being called out like that. but there he was, giving you that soft smile, the one you loved so much, as if to say, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

you quickly wiped a tear from your eye, feeling all sorts of emotions hit at once. quinn wasn’t just a hockey player to you—he was your partner, your best friend, the person who made all the long nights worth it.

“y/n has been there for me through everything,” quinn continued. “She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock. I’m proud to share this moment with her.”

the room erupted in applause again, and you felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. it was overwhelming, but in the best way. quinn’s words made everything feel like it was meant to be.

after the press conference ended, reporters started to trickle out, but quinn didn’t rush. he made his way to you, his family following behind, and you met him halfway.

"hey," quinn said, his voice low, as he wrapped you in a hug. "thank you for always being here. for everything."

you hugged him tight, your heart full. “you deserve this, quinn. I’m so proud of you.”

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

you both stood there for a moment, away from the chaos, just the two of you. no words were needed. you both knew this was just the beginning of something huge.

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the next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of excitement and adjustment. quinn was officially the captain now, and it came with a lot more responsibility. he was taking on extra meetings, spending more time at the rink, and handling pressure that he’d never had to before. but through it all, he kept his calm. he took the responsibility seriously, but he didn’t let it consume him.

you saw the subtle changes in him—he was more focused, more aware of how his actions affected the team. he was always the first one on the ice, pushing the younger players to work hard. but he also made sure to check in with everyone, making sure the guys knew they had his back. he wasn’t just the captain on paper—he was earning the respect of his teammates every day.

at home, it wasn’t much different. after a tough game, where the canucks had lost in overtime, you found quinn sitting on the couch, staring out the window. the city lights below twinkled, but he seemed lost in thought.

“rough game?” you asked, walking over and sitting beside him.

quinn let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. “yeah, we just couldn’t get it together. I made that last pass, and I messed it up.”

you gently squeezed his hand. “you can’t win them all, quinn. you’ve been killing it all season. one mistake doesn’t change that.”

he gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was still frustrated. “I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. I’m supposed to be the leader.”

“you’re doing great,” you reassured him. “nobody expects you to be perfect. your team knows you’re doing everything you can, and they look up to you for it.”

quinn looked at you, his eyes softening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n. you make everything easier.”

you grinned and gave his hand a soft squeeze. “I’m always gonna be here, quinn. don’t ever forget that.”

he pulled you into a tight hug, and for a while, that was all you needed. just to be there together, away from everything. the world outside could wait.

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as the season wore on, quinn settled into the role of captain. the canucks started clicking as a team, and with quinn leading the charge, their play was getting better and better. he seemed to grow more comfortable with each game, more confident in his leadership abilities. but despite the growing success, he stayed grounded. he was still the same quinn you’d known from the beginning—humble, hardworking, and always ready to laugh at the little things.

one night, after a huge win, quinn and the team went out to celebrate. you stood at the back of the room, watching him interact with his teammates, joking around and laughing. he looked like a natural leader, fitting perfectly into this new role. but it was when his eyes found yours across the room that your heart skipped a beat. you could see the pride in his gaze, the quiet appreciation that you were there, supporting him every step of the way.

later that night, when most of the team had left, quinn pulled you aside in the quiet of the hallway. he looked at you with a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

“you’ve been with me through everything,” he said quietly, taking both your hands in his. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I’m so thankful for you, y/n.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m proud of you, quinn. you’ve earned this.”

quinn stepped closer and pulled you into a kiss—gentle, full of meaning, and everything you’d ever needed. the world outside seemed to disappear as he kissed you, and for a few moments, it was just the two of you. the pressure, the expectations, the challenges—they didn’t matter. you were together, and that was enough.

and as the season continued, you both knew that this was only the beginning. quinn’s leadership was just taking shape, and with you by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t face. the road ahead was full of possibilities, and you’d be there with him every step of the way.